#if they hurt one hair on his sculpted forehead

[iwasbusythinkingaboutbois]

I have teen wolf movie down and loaded

I hope derek burns the whole town down❤

[prythianpages]

When I Kissed the Teacher | Azriel

Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

Warning: reader thirsting for Az and fluff for my batboy ♥

A/N: @daycourtofficial suggested this song and idea! Though I did a poll and Az won, I couldn't help myself and also write a version for Cas (you can read it here) as a huge thank you for following and reading my stuff. I just reached 1K followers ♥

This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (:

The first moment you saw Azriel, you were instantly drawn to him. 

His sun kissed skin radiated warmth. The hazel depths of his eyes hinted at wisdom earned through ages. His dark hair, a cascade of silken strands, framed a face sculpted to perfection. The Illyrian leathers he wore were a gift from the gods themselves as they only highlighted the well-defined muscles that lay beneath…

And his wings? Gods, those wings of his. They were massive yet delicate and iridescent. The way they always unfurled with such grace had your own wings fluttering in response.

But it wasn’t just the arresting beauty that surpassed all males you’ve encountered that drew you in. It was the impeccable way he carried himself. The mastery he exuded in combat, the patience he had while training you because if you’re going to be honest, you’re sure you pushed him past his limits. Yet, no matter how tough he was on you during training, Azriel was always kind to you outside of training grounds.

It didn’t take you long to fall for him and it didn’t matter how much you unleashed your inner turmoil onto the punching bag. Nothing could shake the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach every time your mind drifted to him. It’s like there were a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Sweat glistens on your forehead and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, too lost in your thoughts to pay mind to the silent spectator that had arrived minutes ago…until he finally steps out from the shadows and speaks.

“I’d hate to be the one on your mind right now.”

A misplaced punch lands awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your hand. “Azriel,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing as you cradle your hand close to your chest. If only he knew…

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hazel eyes flashing with concern. He swiftly closes the distance between and gently takes your injured hand into his, inspecting it with a small frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You could never scare me.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Is that so?” He replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think I may be going too soft on you then”

“Soft?” You exhale in an incredulous manner, remembering the way your last training session with Azriel had ended. 

He had taunted you and your Illyrian blood had heated at the challenge in his words, allowing him to coax you into combating him. Of course, you were no match for him. You had begun training only a year ago, thanks to Emerie’s invitation. Azriel had centuries on you. Your muscles were still aching from the aftermath.

Azriel chuckles. “Come,” he says, guiding you back into the house. His hand holds onto your wrist lightly, being careful so as not to hurt your injured hand further. “Let’s get you patched up.”

**

As Azriel carefully attends to your hand, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on him. His features are tense with concentration and concern, unbothered by the dark fringe that falls slightly over his eyes. Your uninjured hand is itching to run through those dark strands and brush his hair back for him.

You swear your heart skips a beat when Azriel lifts his gaze, catching your brazen staring. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, missing the subtle, self-satisfied smile that graces Azriel's lips.

The sudden intrusion of Nesta breaks the spell, her figure leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, an amused twinkle in her gaze. While you were oblivious to Azriel's reaction, Nesta, caught the soft smile he allowed himself.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both of you turn your heads to find Nesta. There’s a smirk on her face as her eyes flicker between you and Azriel.

“Uh, no. Not at all,” you stammer, attempting to mask your embarrassment. “Just a little injury, that’s all.”

“Nothing to worry yourself over, Nesta,” Azriel chimes in, lowering his gaze to secure the bandage wrapped around your hand. “All done.”

“Thanks, Azriel.”

Azriel rises to his feet, and the shadows that dance around his shoulders seem to buzz with excitement over the soft way you had said his name. He pats your thigh, suppressing his smile as he stands.

Nesta's smirk transforms into a sly grin, her keen eyes not missing the way Azriel keeps his gaze averted from you to save you from further embarrassment. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His shadows are happy to inform him of the mortified look you send Nesta’s way followed by the way you silently mouth “stop” at her. 

"Well, that’s great news,” Nesta replies, grasping your uninjured hand and pulling you to your feet. “Thank you for taking care of her, Az. Now, if you don’t mind, y/n here is late to girl’s night.”

As Nesta ushers you out, Azriel watches with a mixture of amusement and warmth in his hazel eyes. Unbeknownst to you, the unexpected emotions that had taken residence in your heart were mirrored in Azriel’s.

**

Under the soft glow of fairy lights, you sit cross-legged on the plush rug, facing Nesta while Emerie and Gwyn sit on either side of you. An array of snacks, provided by the sentient house, sits in the middle of the circle you and your friends formed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night without the age-old game of truth or dare.

“Your turn,” Emerie grins at you, exchanging a knowing look with the other two females. “Truth or dare?”

Given the mischievous glint in Nesta’s eyes, it was an obvious choice for you. Truth would be the safer option. Emerie’s grin falters, disappointed by your choice.

However, Gwyn sees an opportunity. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her spot eagerly. She leans forward to grab a chocolate covered strawberry before nonchalantly asking: “Do you like Azriel?”

Nesta scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Like we even have to ask.”

“True,” Gwyn giggles. “But I want to hear her say it.”

Heat rises to your cheeks for the third time tonight, creating a persistent warmth that makes you wonder if you might give yourself a fever. Your friends collectively hold their breaths in anticipation. Nesta’s gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering.

“Yes.”

The room erupts into squeals and teasing remarks, and your eyes widen, urging them to hush, terrified that Azriel, who is upstairs, might hear. It’s a futile attempt as their cheers only grow louder, making you bury your face in her hands.

“He likes you too.”

Your peak out from beneath your fingers. “What makes you say that?”

Nesta laughs in response but Emerie and Gywn are quick to tease you even further.  Gywn assumes the role of Azriel while Emerie assumes the role of you as they exchange glances and lingering touches. The two females jump to their feet and wooden swords appear in front of them. You look up with a glare directed at the sentient house.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Gwyn uses her wooden sword to knock Emerie’s out of her hand. “Again,” Gwyn nearly growls as she tries to mimic Azriel’s deep voice.

“I can’t,” Emerie replies, feigning shyness.

“I don’t sound like that!” You cry out in disbelief, turning to Nesta. “I don’t sound like that, right?”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, eyes sparkling with mirth at the scene before her. Emerie and Gwyn ignore your protests, continuing to pretend to be you and Azriel.

“Oh, Azriel, my love,” Emerie swoons, the back of her hand flying to her forehead while her other hand hangs in the air. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

Gwyn gasps dramatically, diving in to catch Emerie before she could fall back against the fortress of pillows behind her. “No, not my sweet y/n, who I’m absolutely smitten with” Gwyn coos, bringing Emerie’s “injured” hand to her lips and kissing it.

Then, Gwyn and Emerie absolutely lose it, the two females falling onto the fortress of pillows as laughter consumes them, unfazed by the glare you’re now directing to them. Nesta stifles her own laughter, turning her attention back to you.

“He definitely likes you,” she repeats, her words awakening the butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if she can hear them fluttering too. “But he won’t make the first move. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Absolutely not!”

 Nesta grins at you. “We’ll see about that.”

“Whatever,” you huff out. “It’s your turn now. Truth or dare?”

The night wears on, filled with more laughter, more shared secrets, and the occasional embarrassing dare. You got your friends back by daring them to have multiple spoonfuls of ice cream and tomato sauce. The house keeps you well supplied with snacks and your glasses of wine never go empty.

When it’s your turn again, you hesitate for a moment. You had thought “truth” had been the safer option but now, you know there is no safe option.

This time, you decide to be brave.

“Dare.”

"Fucking finally," Emerie grins, looking at Nesta while Gwyn smiles at you. Their plan is unfolding seamlessly...

“We dare you to kiss Azriel tomorrow after training.”

Your eyes widen in panic. “What? No way!”

Nesta, seemingly unfazed, inspects her nails with feigned boredom. "Coward," she mutters under her breath.

Her words, though hushed, ignite something deep within you. Your Illyrian blood stirs, the challenge resonating in your veins. Your eyes narrow, fixing on Nesta. "What did you say?"

Nesta meets your gaze as she repeats herself. Louder, this time. “Coward.”

The room falls into a hushed silence as your friends await your response. You bite your lip, contemplating the audacious dare. It was not in your nature to back down from a challenge.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a deep exhale.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

**

You didn’t sleep at all last night but as Azriel circles around you, his eyes holding a glint of challenge, you are wide awake. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta watch from the benches facing the sparring grounds while Cassian watches from a closer distance, keenly assessing your every move. Too caught up in your feelings over Azriel, you had failed to realize that this morning’s training session was an evaluation of the skills you had been working on over the past couple of months.

To say you're nervous was an understatement because not only did you have to prove yourself as the aspiring Valkyrie you’d like to become, you also had to prove to Nesta that you were not a coward. Taking a deep breath, your grip tightens on your sword.

Azriel, with his wings casting shadows on the ground, moves with grace. Each movement is precise and deliberate as your swords meet in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel ringing in the air. Though you struggle, you do your best to keep up and hold your ground, determination burning bright.

Sweat begins to cling to your skin and your envious of the way Azriel hasn’t even broken a sweat himself. With every strike of his and every parry of yours, he continues to push you, his strikes growing harsher and stronger. You literally blink and in that swift second, Azriel knocks your sword out of your grip. A hiss escapes you and you swear your hear Gwyn and Emerie snicker from the sidelines as they find this situation all too familiar.

With a sweep of his leg, you lose your balance and find yourself falling onto one of the training mats. Azriel’s lips twitch upwards as he points his sword toward you. “Do you yield?”

You are weaponless and at his mercy but your stubbornness continues to burn bright. “No.”

In a sudden burst of energy, you land a kick on him, knocking his sword out of his grip just as he did to yours. The bold move leaves him momentarily stunned, his shadows coiling back in surprise. You take full advantage of his distraction, hooking your other leg behind his knees and bringing him down to the mat with you.

Azriel can only blink up at you as you straddle him, eyes widening when he feels a dagger–his dagger–pressed against his throat. How did you–

He’s unable to finish his thought as you shift above him and swallows thickly at the sensation of your body on top of his. The way your breathing is shallow and uneven and the way he can feel the warmth radiating off your body–

“You will.”

Your words have his attention drifting back to you. A radiant smile breaks across your face and his own lips curl upwards, hazel eyes softening as they stare into yours. “I yield,” he murmurs, ever so quietly, you wonder if you imagined it.

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He does the same. And then the next moment, you’re kissing him. Softly and hesitantly, at first, but when Azriel responds, your heart fills with warmth. Your lips move against his with eager urgency.

Truthteller falls from your grasp and you bring your hand to grasp at the back of his neck instead, pulling him even closer. His hands find their place at your waist to keep you in place but then screams and squeals are piercing through the air. You’re immediately pulling away and jumping to your feet, absolutely flustered because in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten all about the audience you had.

You glance down at Azriel, desperately seeking a sign, but his expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. He looks nearly petrified. Your heart races and you begin to wonder if perhaps, you are a coward because all you want to do is run.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Doubts claw at the edges of your courage. What if Nesta was wrong? What if Azriel didn't like you? And you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him–your teacher– and your friends. 

Turning around, your eyes meet with the delightfully entertained audience. Gwyn and Emerie, caught up in the drama, cling to each other with excitement and unrestrained giggles. Nesta stands with the same smirk she gave you the night before though there’s a flicker of surprise in her blue-grey eyes. She hadn't expected you to follow through with the dare.

Meanwhile, Cassian’s gaze is fixed on the body behind you and he throws his head back in laughter. Ignoring the whispers and amused glances from those around you, you hastily make your exit, blind to the way you left Azriel a blushing fool.

Cassian approaches his friend, who remains rooted to his spot on the floor. Azriel is still processing the whirlwind of emotions you've stirred within him. There’s a teasing grin on Cassian’s lips. “Are you okay there, Az? You look a little–”

Azriel snaps out of the trance you've cast upon him to glare up at his friend. “Fuck off.”

He then jumps to his feet, dusting himself off and ignoring the curious glances of the females nearby. Determination fills his eyes as his head turns toward the direction you ran off to. He fears you have misinterpreted his initial shock and he can’t let this moment slip away. 

He needs to feel your soft lips against his again and more importantly, he needs to tell you that he feels the same way.

a/n: Hope you all enjoyed this one! Cas's version is already up!

tagging: @hellodarling1357, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies

[corroded-hellfire]

Fic request idea baby: what about Eddie with a gf who used to have an ED but she's doing better now but he notices that she's starting to relapse like skipping meals and he brings it up to her and just angst to fluff

+ Hey if ur taking requests:

what about if Effie's gf randomly stops changing in front of him like she's getting into pj and she goes to the bathroom and then starts asking for the lights to be off during sex and he's super confused and asks her about it and basically angst bc she's trying to hide it but may be she had a slip during ED recovery?

+ Hi lovie a lil request! What about Eddie with a gf whose in eating disorder recovery like she used to struggle but it's been a few years since then and she's don't just fine but he notices she's starting to relapse?

These three requests seemed to overlap just perfectly. The beautiful and talented @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write these with me so go shower her with all the love 💚

Warnings: eating disorders, body image issues, relapse struggles. Please, if you want or need to talk to somebody, I'm always here.

Words: 1.5k

You’re fairly certain you’re living on the sun’s surface. 

Logic would say that you haven’t left Hawkins, but the temperature outside begs to differ. 

“Christ, it’s like 1,000 degrees in here,” Eddie mumbles, cracking open a cold can of Pepsi and taking a swig. He plants a kiss on your forehead, careful not to disturb your reading. 

You smile but keep your nose buried in the bridal magazine Nancy had bought for you. Page after page of wedding dresses had you swimming in a sea of white, each more beautiful—and expensive—than the last. 

Oh, well. At least it would give you an idea of what to look for at your bridal appointment in a few weeks. 

What truly caught your eye was an article tucked towards the back of the magazine. Its title boldly declares, “Shedding for the Wedding: Lose that Weight and Look Great!” 

You shouldn’t read it. It’ll only upset you, only bring back the bad thoughts and routines and restrictions that you’d fought so hard to overcome. And yet you’re drawn to it, eyes scanning each fad diet for one that might help you. 

No. Yes. No. Yes. Put the magazine down. Stop reading the diet tips and comparing yourself to the models. 

But they’re so pretty and so skinny. If Eddie saw them, he might not even want to marry you anymore. Not when he saw how beautiful women were supposed to look in wedding dresses. 

Maybe losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt. One diet couldn’t be so bad. It would be temporary, just until the wedding. 

It was totally fine. 

“What are we thinking for dinner tonight, babe?” Eddie rifles through the pantry and pulls out two boxes of pasta. “We have bowties and rigatoni. I’m personally more of a bowtie man myself, but it’s your call.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Just gonna have some soup.” Reaching around him, you pluck a can of Progresso off of the shelf. 

“Soup?” Eddie wrinkles his nose in confusion. “It’s hotter than Satan’s tits outside.”

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Period craving.”

“You’re not on your period.”

“Well, PMS.”

Something nags at you—if you have to hide your new soup diet from your husband-to-be, maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe you should put the can away and make pasta instead. But then you remember those gorgeous models, so svelte and sculpted and perfect. 

Soup it is. 

It’s harder to ignore the problem as more symptoms of the illness start to return. The first time you’d gathered up your pajamas and taken them into the bathroom with you, Eddie just assumed you were going to take a shower. When you emerged with bone-dry hair not two minutes later, he was puzzled. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to come across as overprotective or overbearing. Maybe there was some simple excuse and he didn’t want to make you feel like you have to answer to him about every little thing. 

Eddie can’t ignore that there’s a problem anymore when you slip back into one of your old habits that has always broken his heart. Sex was now lights off and you kept your shirt on. Eddie wanted to see every part of you, touch every part of you. He was going to be your husband and the fact that you didn’t want him to see this part of you—that he has made very clear in the past that he fucking loves—disheartens him. 

Stress begins to build up within Eddie. He feels like he’s toeing the line because he doesn’t want to sound accusatory, but he also knows something is going on with you. And he has a pretty good idea of what it is. You try to hide how you pinch at your stomach and thighs, but he sees. The way you measure your wrists with your fingers all throughout the day. He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it, or if it’s reflexive at this point. 

Though you never mention it, you always have your green journal around the kitchen. Eddie respects your privacy enough not to go through it, but reaching for the keys over your shoulder one evening he notices that you’re making a list of what you’ve eaten that day. His stomach sinks as yet another familiar pattern emerges from the days when your disorder was at its worst. Your fiancé is coming closer to his breaking point and he still doesn’t know what to do or even who to go to about this. 

The final straw though is when you turn down girls’ night with Nancy and Robin at the Cheesecake Factory. You lived for nights out with your two best friends. They knew you almost as well as Eddie did though, so he knew you wouldn’t be able to sit down at a restaurant with them and bullshit your way out of not eating a proper meal like you should. 

Eddie knows now he has to say something. Anything, really. When you walk out of your shared bedroom in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, Eddie chews on his bottom lip as he mentally prepares for the conversation he knows needs to happen. 

The moment you sit down on the couch, Eddie sits next to you. You reach for the remote but your hand doesn’t even make it to the piece of plastic before Eddie speaks.

“Can we, um, talk?”

“About what?” you ask, sitting back against the couch cushions. 

Your fiancé leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs his hands together and his tongue pokes out of his pouty pink lips like it does whenever he’s concentrating on something. 

“I’m worried about you, babe,” he finally says. “You’re not yourself.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the way you reflexively shrink in on yourself.

“I’m just stressed with wedding stuff,” you say. 

“That’s why you didn’t hang out with Nancy and Robin?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Mhm.”

“And all the pinching and not eating and not wanting me to see you naked? Is that because of wedding stress, too?”

You turn away from him and pull your knees to your chest, but he moves to face you again. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. And the last time I saw you like this, it was because…”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you snap. “I’m just stressed. Maybe if you spent more time helping me plan and less time planning stupid campaigns for a game you played back in high school, you’d understand.”

The accusation is unfair, and you know it. Sure, you’ve been doing most of the planning, but he’s been there every step of the way.

Eddie winces at your harsh tone. He looks like he has a rebuttal but gives up after a moment “Fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

Guilt from your outburst wracks your body and holds sleep hostage. After tossing and turning for a little while, you hear soft cries coming from Eddie’s side of the bed. 

“Eds?” Your heart leaps into your chest. “What’s going on?” You give him a hug from behind, latching on like a koala to a tree trunk until he turns to face you. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the way his eyes shine with tears. “I know you relapsed and…and I don’t know what to do,” he manages through his sobs. “I don’t know how to help, so I just stand there like a goddamn idiot, but I can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong! I can’t keep pretending that you’re not hurting yourself!”

He knew. The whole time you thought you’d been protecting him from the truth, and he knew. 

You wipe at his cheeks, feeling the moisture on your palms. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S not your fault, I know it’s not, but…you need to get help for this. I can’t lose my girl.” He presses his lips to your forehead and lets them linger there, holding you as tightly as he can. “Please. Please.”

No. You need to lose weight. You need to look good; no, perfect in your dress. All eyes are going to be on you, and you can’t show a single flaw. 

The argument sits on your tongue, defensiveness ready to spring into action. But then you see his brokenness, his vulnerability as he unabashedly wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Skinny. Skinnier. Skinniest. 

But then—Eddie. 

Eddie, who laid his heart out for you. Who let down the walls he’d spent years building just so he could receive your love. Who felt your pain despite your best attempts to shield him from it. 

Maybe you weren’t ready to get better for yourself, but until you were, you could do it for him. 

You nod, pulling back and kissing him softly. “I will. I promise. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wake you up the moment the sun rises.”

At this, you have to let out a small laugh. “The therapy clinic doesn’t open until nine.”

Eddie cradles your face in his calloused palms, leaning in to gently kiss your nose. “Then I’ll wake you up at nine.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

STARRY EYES SPARKIN’ UP MY DARKEST NIGHT

touya todoroki x reader

you and touya find solace together, dancing barefoot in the kitchen.

separate from my other touya x reader series. i missed writing short little tidbits for him 🤍 i can write a part two if you guys want! slight nsfw themes

inspired by call it what you want (and all too well)

honestly, he though it was stupid.

after a 2 hour long session of touya being knee deep between your thighs, taking you to heaven and back on the couch, he allows you to pull him towards the kitchen. here, he’s wearing nothing but jeans that he can’t even be bothered to zip up. not that you’re complaining- he’s sculpted like a masterpiece.

touya’s enjoying the view as well, watching you in a big t-shirt and not much else. if he can’t dance, he’ll at least admire the way the fabric clings to you in the glow of the fridge lightbulbs.

some american singer plays in the background, singing about her reputation. shes not the only noise going on, however. the quiet domesticity of your shitty apartment is loud and clear to the two of you. and somehow, its more romantic than grand gestures or fancy, expressions of love.

for a man who never knew the love of home, he sure cherished the fact that his and your laundry were both thrown into the same cycle. he loves the smell of rice cooking in the fridge, and handily fixing that leak in the sink you didn’t know was there. he chuckles when you join him in the shower, not being able to withstand the cold temperatures he prefers to bathe in. he loves the sound of running water when he washes the dishes after you cook, and your soft breathing when he hushes you to sleep.

its so mundane. so simple. so familiar.

nobody’s heard from him in months. his scarred hands make their way to your waist, holding you as you sway back and forth. you fit in his arms like a daydream, his head hanging low as he decides this is the place he wants to be.

your forehead presses against his, searching those burning blue eyes for any signs he may not really love you the way he says. any doubts or any lies.

you find none.

you step on his toes accidentally and he teases you, because of course he does- “thought you were the expert on this, doll.” he smirks, flashing that same shit-eating grin you came to love.

you roll your eyes, hushing him up by moving in closer. “i told you, i am. you’re horrible at this.” you chuckle. he loves that laugh of yours.

“i’m a stone-cold villain, not some ballroom dancer.” he reminds you, though the way he suddenly twirls you around says otherwise. maybe he just wanted to see the way your hair dances around your body, your simple beauty captivating him enormously.

touya loves you like you’re brand new. the way he looks at you, taking in every detail silently. to him, you make dancing barefoot in the kitchen look like a sky full of stars.

suddenly, all the judgement from your past disappears. the heartbreak, jokers taking swings at you and liars calling you one fade to nothing when you look at him. you crumble his castles, the walls he builds up just with your gentle touch. he doesn’t understand how you do it, or even why he loves it so much.

for all his life, he’s made the same mistakes. bridges burn, people hurt and baring scars- he almost never learns. but when he looks at you, god- he knows he’s done one thing right. he finds it in him to laugh with you, to feel the happiness he never knew he was allowed to experience. yeah, you’re definitely the 1 thing he’s done right.

“you know you can’t save me, right?” he asks in a whisper, head dipping down to your ear. and he’s right. he’s someone who, no matter how much you love him, you can’t burn stronger than his flames. he wants to be sure. he wants to know you’re here, dancing with him in the kitchen of your apartment, willing to get your heartbroken. he’s steeling himself for the pain he’s about to cause you.

if love could save us, we’d live forever.

but right now, he’ll keep dancing with you.

“…i know.” you whisper, silent resignation in your voice. at the very least, you two have right now.

if you could, you’d wear TT around your neck. not because he owns you- touya could never own or even deserve someone as kind and light as you. but he can say that he knows you, and loves you harder than anyone you have ever known. his tortured heart burns the brightest for you.

its more than anyone else could say. they could berate you, call you two criminals and lash out in violence. but the two of you challenged them- let them call it what they want. they don’t know what it really is, anyway.

for @crushmeeren whose kind words on a vent post i made earlier this week inspired me to write🤍🫧

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

I Bet You Think About Me Part 2

Braden Schneider x Reader x Matt Rempe

WC: 5K

Summary: We receive the love we think we deserve, too bad Matt doesn’t know that

A/N: THIS IS PART TWO OF THIS ANGST FIC

The air in Matt Rempe’s apartment was filled with the scent of garlic and simmering tomatoes as Y/N stirred the pasta sauce on the stove. A soft laugh escaped her lips as Matt tried, and failed, to flip a piece of dough in the air like a professional chef.

“You’re gonna hurt someone with that,” she teased, watching as the dough flopped onto the countertop.

Matt grinned sheepishly, his tall frame hunched over the counter as he tried to salvage the mess he’d made. “Guess I should stick to hockey.”

“Maybe,” Y/N laughed. “But hey, points for effort.”

It had started out as a simple evening. After

A stressful media day, Y/N hadn’t wanted to be alone. Matt, always the easygoing one, had offered to cook dinner, promising to make her laugh and distract her from the emotional weight of the day. And he had. His humor, his lightness—it was a refreshing change from the intensity she had always felt around Braden.

But as the night wore on, something between them shifted. It wasn’t just about pasta anymore. As they ate and shared a bottle of wine, sitting on the couch watching old movies, Y/N began to notice the way Matt looked at her, the way his hand lingered just a little too long on her knee when he laughed, the way her pulse quickened whenever their shoulders brushed. She had never thought of him like this before. Matt had always been the friend, the easygoing guy who could make her laugh. But tonight felt different—more charged.

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or maybe the emotional high from finally standing her ground with Braden, but the moment Matt leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t hesitate. His lips were soft, careful at first, as if he were testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, their bodies gravitating toward each other with an intensity that surprised them both.

Y/N’s hands found the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more urgent. The taste of wine lingered on their tongues, and the world outside seemed to disappear. All that mattered in that moment was the heat between them, the way Matt’s hands explored her back, the way her fingers curled into his hair.

They broke apart only long enough for Matt to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted muscles beneath. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Matt shirtless before—after all, they were friends, and he was a hockey player—but this time, it felt different. Intimate.

Her heart pounded as his hands found the hem of her shirt, lifting it gently over her head and tossing it aside. She felt exposed, but not in a bad way. There was a tenderness in Matt’s eyes, a warmth that made her feel safe. This wasn’t about rushing into anything. This was about being in the moment, feeling connected to someone who cared about her, someone who didn’t make her feel like she had to be anything other than herself.

Their kisses grew hungrier as they collapsed onto the couch, limbs tangled together in a mix of passion and laughter. Y/N’s skin tingled where Matt’s fingers grazed her, and she found herself lost in the sensation, in the way he made her feel like the only person in the world. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of closeness with someone—without the weight of expectations, without the fear of being hurt.

Just as they were teetering on the edge of something deeper, something more, the doorbell rang, cutting through the haze of their shared moment.

Matt froze, his forehead pressed against hers as they both caught their breath. “Who the hell…?” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, her heart still racing.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

Matt sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ll get it. Don’t move,” he said, his tone playful but strained.

He quickly grabbed a shirt from the floor and threw it on before heading to the door. Y/N adjusted her position on the couch, her fingers nervously tugging at the blanket as she tried to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know who would be at the door at this hour, but whoever it was, they had the worst timing in the world.

Matt opened the door, and the color drained from his face.

“Braden,” he said, his voice laced with surprise and tension.

Braden Schneider stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable for a moment. But as his eyes flicked from Matt’s disheveled appearance to Y/N, who was half-covered on the couch with her shirt missing, realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Are you kidding me?” Braden’s voice was low, simmering with barely controlled rage.

Y/N’s heart sank. She scrambled to grab her shirt from the floor, hastily pulling it over her head as she stood up. “Braden, this isn’t—”

“Save it,” he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Matt. “I came here to apologize, to try and fix things between us, and this is what I walk into?”

Matt stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Braden, you need to chill. This isn’t what you think.”

Braden let out a bitter laugh, his eyes blazing. “Oh, it’s not? Because it sure as hell looks like you were about to screw my ex-girlfriend, man.”

Y/N winced at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Braden, we broke up months ago. You don’t get to come in here and act like this.”

His gaze snapped to her, the hurt in his eyes barely masked by the anger. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna move on with him?”

Y/N crossed her arms, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You broke up with me, Braden. You don’t get to be angry now just because I’m not sitting around waiting for you.”

Braden took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I made a mistake. I know that now. But this—this isn’t right.”

Matt moved between them, his expression hardening. “Braden, back off. You don’t get to come here and start a fight because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Braden spat, though the fury in his eyes told a different story. “I’m just—this is messed up, Matt. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“And we are,” Matt said, his voice steady but firm. “But you don’t get to control what happens with Y/N. You made your choice.”

Braden’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he might throw a punch. But then his shoulders slumped, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by something else—something broken.

“I loved you,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto Y/N’s.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I know.”

Braden’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know what to do with everything I was feeling. But I can’t stand this. Seeing you with him—”

“Braden, it’s not about you anymore,” Y/N said softly, her heart aching for him, but knowing that there was no going back. “We’re over. You have to let me go.”

For a long moment, Braden just stood there, staring at her as if trying to find the words that would fix everything. But there were no words. There was no fixing this.

Finally, he turned away, his voice hollow as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Y/N and Matt standing in the aftermath of a storm neither of them had been prepared for.

Matt turned to her, his expression uncertain. “You okay?”

Y/N nodded, though her heart felt heavy. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I will be.”

Matt could feel the tension building long before they even arrived at the arena. The silence in the car, while comfortable, carried an unspoken weight. Y/N had reassured him over breakfast that morning that they’d be fine, that what happened between them last night didn’t need to be complicated by what others thought, especially Braden. But as they pulled into the parking lot, the reality of it settled in Matt’s gut like a stone.

The moment they stepped out of the truck, eyes followed them. He noticed it right away—the way some of the guys paused in their conversations, how the trainers glanced over as they walked past. The easy, familiar camaraderie that normally greeted Matt on his way into the locker room felt stilted, almost like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how this would unfold.

Y/N, for her part, kept her head held high, walking beside him with quiet confidence. She had always been resilient, able to handle the pressure of working in a male-dominated space with grace. But Matt knew this was different. This wasn’t about media work or professionalism. This was about Braden.

He could already feel Braden’s presence before he even saw him. His stomach tightened as they approached the locker room, dread twisting his insides like a knot.

“You okay?” Y/N asked quietly as they neared the door, her hand brushing his arm lightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

“Matt,” she pressed, stopping just short of the locker room entrance. Her eyes searched his face, soft but serious. “If you’re not okay with this, if you think it’s going to cause too many problems, we can—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just… I don’t want things to get ugly with Braden.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of pain in her eyes when he mentioned Braden’s name. “He’ll have to deal with it, Matt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. She was right, of course. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But guilt still gnawed at the back of his mind—guilt for how things had played out, for the fight he knew was brewing beneath the surface. For how Braden had looked at him last night, betrayed and hurt.

They reached the door to the locker room, and Matt stopped, glancing down at Y/N. The noise of the team inside hummed through the walls, voices laughing, skates clattering against the hard floors. The normal chaos of pre-practice routines. But today, that noise seemed distant, muted by the anticipation of what was about to unfold.

“Good luck today,” Y/N said, her voice soft and warm, pulling Matt from his thoughts. She stepped closer, and before he could react, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a declaration, a quiet reassurance that she was with him.

Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. He heard someone clear their throat behind him, followed by a few muttered comments from the guys. He knew they were watching—he could feel their stares like a weight on his back. But for a moment, all he could focus on was the warmth of Y/N’s lips on his skin, the way her touch seemed to settle something deep inside him, even with all the chaos swirling around them.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as she pulled away. “I’ll need it.”

She smiled, and for just a moment, the world felt a little less heavy. But as she turned to head down the hallway toward the media offices, the weight of everything came crashing back. Matt took a deep breath and pushed open the locker room door.

Inside, the usual pre-practice buzz hung in the air, but the moment Matt walked in, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations quieted, and a few of the guys exchanged knowing glances. Jacob, always the first to stir the pot, shot Matt a teasing grin.

“Morning, lover boy,” he said, slinging an arm around Matt’s shoulders as he made his way to his locker. “You and Y/N, huh?”

Matt shrugged him off with a roll of his eyes, trying to play it cool, but his heart was pounding. “Shut up, Jacob.”

But it wasn’t Jacob or the other guys’ comments that bothered him. It was Braden, standing at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes were locked on Matt, dark and unreadable. The tension between them was almost suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them like a cloud.

Braden hadn’t said anything since last night. Not a single word. But the look on his face told Matt everything he needed to know—he was angry. Hurt. And more than that, betrayed.

Matt tried to focus on getting his gear on, going through the motions like it was just another practice. But his hands shook as he tied his skates, and the knot in his stomach only seemed to tighten as time went on. He could feel Braden’s eyes on him the entire time, could practically hear the accusations running through his old friend’s mind.

Braden was like a storm waiting to break, simmering under the surface, and Matt didn’t know when or how it would explode.

The tension in the locker room only grew as more players filed in, the quiet murmurs turning into hushed whispers about Matt and Y/N, the air thick with speculation. Some of the guys kept it light, teasing Matt about the kiss Y/N had given him outside the locker room. But others, especially those closer to Braden, kept their distance, the lines between friendships subtly shifting as the awkwardness settled in.

As Matt stood up to grab his stick, he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over to Braden, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to clear the air, to say something, anything, before this exploded into something worse.

“Braden,” he started, his voice low, trying to keep the confrontation private.

Braden’s eyes flicked up, meeting his, cold and unreadable. “What do you want, Matt?”

Matt swallowed hard. “We need to talk about this. About last night.”

Braden let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall. “Talk about what? How you’re screwing Y/N behind my back? How you couldn’t wait to make a move the second I was out of the picture?”

“It’s not like that, man, it’s been months, yu didn’t think she would stay single forver did you?” Matt said, his voice tight. “Besidese we didn’t plan for this to happen. It just… did.”

Braden’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “You didn’t plan for it? That’s your excuse?”

“I don’t want this to cause tension with us.” Matt said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But you broke up with her. You walked away.”

“I know I broke up with her,” Braden snapped, his voice rising, drawing the attention of a few nearby teammates. “But that doesn’t mean you get to just swoop in and take her, because you’ve known her since we we’re dating.”

“Nobody’s ‘taking’ her, Braden,” Matt shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “She’s not a prize you can claim. She’s her own person, and she deserves to move on.”

“Move on?” Braden’s voice cracked, and for a moment, the anger gave way to something raw, something broken. “Is that what this is? You’re helping her move on from me?”

Matt faltered, guilt stabbing at his chest. “It’s not like that.”

Braden took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You were supposed to be my friend.”

Matt’s heart sank. “I still am.”

Braden’s eyes hardened, the anger flickering back. “Not anymore.”

The words hit Matt harder than he expected, cutting deep into the guilt he’d been carrying since last night. He watched as Braden turned away, heading toward his gear with stiff, angry movements, shutting down any further attempt at conversation.

Matt stood there, feeling the weight of the team’s eyes on him, the silence in the room heavy with the tension that had been building for weeks, months even. He knew that what had happened between him and Y/N was going to change things, not just with Braden but with the entire team.

As the guys shuffled around, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, Matt felt a bitter truth settle in his chest: things were never going to be the same again.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Matt couldn’t shake the weight that had settled in his chest, dragging him down all day. Even during practice, his mind wasn’t on the ice where it should have been. The drills felt mechanical, his movements hollow. Braden’s words had cut deeper than he’d let on in the locker room, and now, as he skated across the rink, his mind was miles away.

Braden’s glare had followed him through every drill, and while Braden never outright said anything after their confrontation, his silence spoke volumes. The rest of the team picked up on it too—guys who were usually cracking jokes around Matt were quiet, their glances nervous, as if unsure where their loyalties lay. Matt had always been one of the guys, but today he felt like he was standing on a frozen lake with cracks forming under his skates.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could ignore the cracks.

By the time practice ended, Matt was exhausted, not just physically but mentally. Every time he tried to focus on the game, his mind wandered back to Braden, to Y/N, to the mess that was now his life. The weight of it all pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t even muster the energy to joke around in the locker room like he usually did. Instead, he showered in silence and headed out without saying much to anyone.

He needed space. He needed to think.

Y/N was waiting for him near the media room when he walked out of the locker room. She was sitting on a bench, her phone in hand, scrolling through something. When she looked up and saw him, her face lit up with a soft smile, the kind that usually made his heart race. But today, it only made the knot in his stomach tighten.

He approached her slowly, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension.

“Hey,” she said, standing up and sliding her phone into her pocket. She stepped toward him, reaching for his hand, but Matt hesitated, and she immediately noticed. Her smile faltered. “You okay? You seemed off out there today.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. He could hear the concern in her voice, see it in her eyes. She wasn’t oblivious—she knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to start. How to tell her that the weight of everything was pressing down on him so hard, he wasn’t sure he could carry it anymore.

“Matt?” she asked softly, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm.

He swallowed hard, looking down at her. His heart ached. He had been so sure last night that they could make this work, that what they had was worth the fallout. But now, standing here in the aftermath of Braden’s cold silence and the tension hanging over the team, doubt was creeping in like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

Y/N blinked, her expression falling. “What do you mean?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him again. “I mean… this. Us. It’s messing with my head, it’s messing with the team, and I can’t…” He paused, his throat tightening as the words he’d been avoiding all day finally spilled out. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Y/N’s face paled slightly, her eyes searching his for answers, but Matt couldn’t even meet her gaze. “Matt, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but they were tangled up in the mess of guilt, anger, and confusion swirling inside him. “It’s just… everything with Braden, with the team. It’s been so tense lately and especially after last night, and it’s not just about him being mad at me. It’s affecting the way we’re all playing together. I can feel it. The guys are different now—like they don’t trust me or something.”

Y/N stepped back slightly, her arms folding across her chest as if trying to protect herself from the sting of his words. “So… what? You’re saying you think being with me is going to ruin your career?”

Matt winced at her tone, at the hurt flashing in her eyes. That wasn’t what he meant, but now that she’d said it out loud, the fear of it settled deep in his gut. Was that what this was? Was he scared that choosing her—choosing this—meant sacrificing the life he’d worked so hard to build?

“I don’t know!” Matt blurted, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t know what this is going to do. All I know is that it’s already messing with my head, and if it’s going to mess with the team, then maybe it’s not—”

“Not what?” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharp. “Not worth it? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he immediately regretted how this conversation had spiraled. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said, his voice low, trying to calm down. But he could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she was already pulling away, and it was killing him. “I just… I don’t know how to do this without losing everything I’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s face hardened, her expression shifting from hurt to something colder, sharper. “You mean your career, right? Hockey. The team. Everything but me.”

Matt’s heart clenched, guilt twisting inside him. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was important to him, that last night had meant something real. But how could he deny that fear that had been gnawing at him since practice? How could he pretend that this wasn’t already affecting his focus, his game?

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. “I knew this was going to be complicated, but I thought… I thought we could figure it out. You’re the one who initiated all this with me Matt remember that. You started the laughes, whispers, longing stares… the kisses. You chose this Matt, but I didn’t think I’d have to fight for you when I accepted it.”

Her words stung, but they also hit home. He had wanted to believe they could figure it out too. That maybe, somehow, it would all just work out. But now, standing here in the cold, harsh light of reality, he wasn’t sure anymore.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Matt said quietly, his voice hoarse. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took a step back, creating more distance between them. “Maybe the problem is you’re not even sure if you want to fix it.”

Matt flinched, the truth in her words hitting him harder than anything Braden had said. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong. But the silence that hung between them said everything he couldn’t.

Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “If you’re already having doubts, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

Matt’s chest tightened, panic surging through him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t want to push her away, but it felt like that was exactly what he was doing. And the worst part? He didn’t know how to stop.

“I don’t want that,” he said, his voice rough with desperation. “But everything’s falling apart, Y/N. I don’t know how to hold it all together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy and suffocating. Then, with a small, sad smile, she said, “Maybe you can’t.”

And with that, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Matt standing there, watching as the one thing he had been so sure of the night before slipped through his fingers.

As he watched her disappear down the hallway, Matt realized with a sinking heart that maybe he wasn’t strong enough to have both—the career he’d always dreamed of and the girl who made him feel like he could be more than just a hockey player.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he deserved either one anymore.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Matt or Braden in weeks. Not a single word, not even a glance in their direction. She kept things professional—strictly business during interviews, maintaining the calm, collected exterior she had built over the years. But underneath that composed surface was a bitterness she couldn’t shake, a sadness that clung to her like a second skin.

The first few days had been unbearable. Every time she saw Matt on the ice or Braden walking by, the memories flooded her—memories of Matt’s touch, Braden’s words, the way everything had unraveled so quickly. But Y/N had forced herself to push it all down, to focus on her work, on being the best reporter she could be. She had to. If she let herself feel any of it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it together.

At practice, she kept her distance, standing off to the side with her notebook and microphone, making small talk with the other reporters. The guys on the team noticed her silence, the way she avoided Matt’s and Braden’s eyes, but no one said anything. It wasn’t their place to get involved, and Y/N was grateful for that. The last thing she needed was pity or gossip.

Her interviews with Braden were short, her questions crisp and to the point. She never let her emotions slip, never allowed the tension between them to seep into the professional space they now shared. It felt like walking a tightrope, balancing her feelings with the need to maintain a perfect facade. Every time she saw the flicker of guilt or regret in Braden’s eyes, she forced herself to ignore it, to keep her voice steady and her expression neutral.

With Matt, it was even harder. There had been a time when their banter came naturally, when he could make her laugh during interviews, even when she was trying to be serious. But now, the air between them was thick with unspoken words. She would ask her questions, he would answer, and that was it. No lingering eye contact, no soft smiles. Just two people going through the motions.

She thought about their last conversation every day—the way Matt had said he wasn’t sure if being with her was worth the risk, the way she had felt her heart crack as she realized that he wasn’t willing to fight for them. Her anger toward Braden had simmered, but it was Matt’s doubt that had left her feeling hollow. She had been so sure of him, of them, and now it felt like she was grasping at something that had never really been hers to begin with.

One day, after a particularly brutal practice, Y/N found herself in the hallway near the locker rooms, waiting for Matt to finish an interview with another reporter. She watched from a distance, her heart twisting at how tired he looked, the strain clear in the lines of his face. He wasn’t playing like himself lately—everyone on the team had noticed it. He was still good, still Matt, but something was off. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her, if he was struggling as much as she was to pretend like nothing had happened.

When Matt finished his interview, he glanced her way, his eyes catching hers for the briefest second before she quickly looked away, turning her attention back to her phone. She felt his gaze linger, and for a moment, she thought he might walk over, say something, anything. But he didn’t. He turned and walked down the hall toward the locker room without a word.

The silence between them felt heavier every day. And yet, neither of them seemed to know how to break it.

Braden was no different. Their interactions were purely professional—stilted, formal, devoid of any of the tension that had once simmered between them. But every time she saw him, she was reminded of the hurt he had caused, the way he had torn her apart with his fear and his indecision. He had broken up with her because he hadn’t been able to handle the depth of their connection, and now that it was over, she could see that he regretted it. But it didn’t matter. He had made his choice, and so had she.

Still, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when Y/N would catch herself watching Matt on the ice, or she would see Braden laughing with the guys and feel a pang of something she didn’t want to admit was longing. She missed them. She missed the way things had been before everything had gotten so complicated.

But every time those feelings surfaced, she buried them deeper, forcing herself to remember that this was for the best. She had told herself that over and over again. Maybe it was better this way, to keep her distance, to focus on her work and leave everything else behind. Maybe she had been foolish to think that she could have it all—her career, her reputation, and a relationship with someone who was tangled up in the same world she was trying to navigate.

And yet, every time she saw Matt or Braden, the doubt crept in. Maybe it wasn’t for the best. Maybe she had given up too soon.

But no matter how much it hurt, Y/N knew that there was no going back now. The walls she had built around herself were too high, and even if either of them tried to break through, she wasn’t sure she’d let them. She had been burned too many times, and the scars were too fresh.

Weeks passed, and the distance between them all only grew. Y/N kept her head down, kept her heart locked away, and did what she did best—pretended like everything was fine. But as the days stretched on, the loneliness gnawed at her, a constant reminder that no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from the pain, it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Because the truth was, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wasn’t sure she could ever truly let go of either of them.

A/N: Comment who you wanna end up with idk who to pick

[reemonna]

HI! Love ur blog. Can I req some nsfw headcanons for Connor Kenway? ;)

Oh dear, this is the first time for me to write a whole nsfw blog and I'm so anxious about it, especially if it's about Connor. I hope I won't disappoint and thank you so much!

!!! (Warning: NSFW / not for minors / +18 content) !!!

NSFW Ratonhnhaké:ton / Connor Kenway headcanons

(During the events of AC3)

In spite of his terrifying physique and alarming gazes when he's hunting down an enemy, he can be the softest and most caring creature you'll ever get to know when it comes to him having a physical contact with you

He's so strong and able-bodied, so he can pin you to the wall with both his arms easily and you're here squirming before his huge body

When you're giving him head for the first time he'd be really concerned and anxious the whole time that you might choke. He's fully aware he is that huge

Him having kinks? I don't think so. He's an innocent boy, it's even possible for him not knowing what does the word 'kink' stand for in the first place. He could even ask you about it

"Nó:ronhkwe (love), what does the word 'kink' mean?"

"Where did you hear that from?"

But if he did have kinks, they would be the least risky and hurtful ones. Which means BDSM is a conclusive no for him

Connor is a busy man, he doesn't really have the time to have sexual and romantic relationships, he was once afraid he couldn't give his woman what she deserves. So having you would be his first. Yes, that means he is a virgin

Thus explain why he's shy and probably doesn't know what he's doing in your first time together. But he's a fast learner, with very observant eyes and sharp senses, he will take some mental notes of how to improve and get better by the time. And he definitely does

He's pretty skilled with his hands, according to training and using different weapons and managing them perfectly, so he really knows how to use them well, and he's ready to show you that in other ways than fighting, to play you like a violin, turning you into a sobbing mess

During the whole thing he will ask you some questions from time to time like 'Are you okay with this?', 'Am I doing good?', 'Do you want me to stop?' to let you know that he's wary and willing to make it as comfortable and pleasurable for you as possible

You wouldn't imagine what it's like to do it with him when he's mad about something. He turns into one brutal beast you won't be able to feel your body for a week at least

Once he's done and returns back to his senses, he will regret it immediately and keep on apologising (even if you're not really protesting), making sure you weren't badly hurt

When you're both close enough, he likes to play chasing games with you, tag for an example. He likes watching you from afar, determining your location with his secondary vision, licking his lips and eyeing you in a predatory way, closing the distance between you slowly like a vulture hunting down its prey. That's until he surprises you with a full-of-happiness giggle and hugs you. Holding you tight in a teddy bear way as if he's won his prize, whispering promises of a long blissful night to your ears

He looks like a sculpted statue of a greek god after reaching his climax. With his tired handsome face, pumped lips (more than they actually are), sleepy beautiful half-closed eyes, flushed tanned skin, tiny whines escaping his lips from time to time, sculpted flawless body and a rising and lowering sweaty chest. If he's conscious enough he would have a little wanton smirk on his lips with his eyes fixed upon you

He's the sweetest boy when it comes to the aftercare. He gives away lots of kisses and cuddles, asking you if he did well enough, could even prepare a bath for you to get cleaned up. He doesn't let you make the least effort possible. He takes care of everything himself until he finally lays beside you in bed, pulling you into his lap, fondling your hair tresses and kissing your forehead softly, wishing you sweet dreams

[freedomfireflies]

If requests are still ‚allowed‘: maybe you could write a one shot about Y/Ns first time with her boyfriend H! - Ina

Technically, my requests are closed but this is so cute and I've never gotten to write anything like it so I couldn't resist 😭💞

“Breathe, baby. Breathe. Good, that’s it. Just like that.”

The weight atop your chest grows lighter as Harry’s palm cups your cheek, keeping your eyes on his. He breathes with you. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.

Your nails begin to slip down his back, anxious to hold onto him. To hold onto this moment. You don’t want to stop. You want this with him but your mind is racing. Unable to focus on anything else but the fear of what you’re about to do.

“Good,” he whispers, thumb stroking along your jaw to soothe you. He looks proud. Expression soft and understanding. “Good. Are you still with me? Do I have you?”

You take a moment to find your voice, hidden beneath your nerves. “Yes.”

He nods once. “Okay. Do you wanna stop?”

“No.” Your fingers move to his hair, tugging softly on the roots as if to nail in your point. “No, I just…I can’t…it won’t stop.”

“What won’t stop?”

You swallow, eyes falling shut so you can hide yourself from his reaction. “…the voices.”

You hope he doesn’t make you elaborate. Hope he doesn’t think you’ve lost your mind, but you feel his hold on you grow a bit more firm. Pointed. Subtly requesting you look at him once more.

Hesitantly, you do, feeling weak and small under his gaze. Under his large frame that’s keeping you trapped to the bed. 

“The voices,” he repeats, and your cheeks flush. “And what are the voices telling you?”

You shift a bit, knees knocking into his hips as you take a beat to calm your racing heart. “Just…just that it won’t…be good? I guess? That you won’t…like it. That you won’t like how I do it, or…or how I am, or how I look.”

His brows furrow, forehead creasing in a way that makes your stomach drop. He’s so pretty. It hurts to see him frown.

“And?” he urges.

“And…that we won’t be us,” you admit softly, now staring a hole through the golden cross around his neck. “That you’ll…that you’ll hate it so much, you won’t be able to look at me. Or talk to me again. And I’ll be too embarrassed to try and fix it. And we’ll have done this, and it’ll ruin everything, and I’ll lose you—”

“No,” he suddenly breathes, the sound of his voice almost wounded. “Never. You’ll never lose me. Ever—”

“You don’t know that,” you argue, scratching at his scalp as you look back up. “You don’t. I’m not your first. I’m not…I’m not gonna know what to do the way you’re used to. I’m not gonna be able to do the kind of tricks or positions you might like, I won’t…I’m not gonna be any good—”

“Baby,” he just about sighs as if you’re physically hurting him. He surges forward, forehead pressing to yours as he forces you both to still. To quiet. “I…look, I know why you’re anxious, okay? Believe me, I know. I was anxious, too, my first time. It’s impossible not to be.”

You feel calmed ever-so-slightly. It’s hard for you to imagine Harry ever feeling any type of fear or anxiety.

He’s always been so…confident. Unwavering in who he is. After all, what does he have to be nervous about? He’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s rich. He’s got a body that was hand-sculpted by gods (and expensive trainers), he’s quick with a joke, and he makes everybody around him fall in love.

You already had a hard time convincing yourself he actually wanted to be with you, and it wasn’t some sort of odd joke. 

And now…now you’ve got a whole new crop of unsettling doubts attempting to remind you that he can do so much better.

“But please…baby, please,” he continues, pulling your focus back. “Please believe me when I tell you that there is nothing—and I mean nothing—that could ever ruin us. That could ruin the way I feel about you. Okay, it eats me from the inside out. I think about you all goddamn day. I think about holding you, and talking to you, and just…being near you. You…are everything to me.”

Your heart begins to pound against your ribcage at the earnest vulnerability in his confession.

“I am…consumed by you,” he murmurs, his naked chest flush with yours as he nestles himself in your embrace. “You have no idea what you do to me. No idea how badly I need to be with you. How much I love you. And this…this is just one, small way of proving that. One way to show you how much I worship you, and your body, and what it does for me.”

He dips down, lips trailing down your neck and toward your tits as he presses his adoration for you into each section of your skin.

“God, what you do to me,” he whispers, almost as if to himself. “You don’t even…baby, there is no universe where I’m not enamored by you. No universe where I’m not obsessed with the way you feel, the way you look, the way you taste. I think about touching you more times in a day than I think about breathing. Think about feeling you around me every goddamn second.”

As he continues to maneuver down your body, his hips subtly grind with yours, cock delicately grazing your naked cunt as you gasp and squirm beneath him.

“I just want to take care of you,” he says, finally looking up at you through his thick lashes, lips hovering just over your nipple. “Do anything to make you feel good. Make you see how badly I need you. To hear you moan my name or cry out for me. Just wanna show you…that I’m the only voice you need to listen to.”

Your chest is beginning to rise and fall with apprehensive, needy breaths. The lust in the pit of your stomach has grown, and the only comments in your head…are his. 

Which you imagine was his goal. To talk to you and praise you and remind you…until he's the only one you hear.

“We don’t have to,” he reminds you again, hand coming down to your hip to give it a reassuring squeeze. “Promise. If you’re not ready, we don’t—”

“I am,” you say quickly, whimpering a bit even as you do. “I am, really. I want to do this, I want you. I just…I want to be good for you.”

“You are,” he groans, straightening back up to press his mouth to yours and prove it to you. “So fucking good for me, baby. Always so good. Give me everything I’ve ever wanted. Don’t you, yeah?”

You nod, fingers once again pulling at his shoulder blades as you subtly beg him to keep going. Grinding. Pressing his body to yours until you can’t think about anything else.

“I know,” he mumbles, pressing your thigh to the bed to spread you as he readjusts and lines himself up. “M’gonna start slow, okay? Don’t want you to do anything but breathe. Be my good girl and let me take care of you, all right? I’ve got you.”

You make a noise in the back of your throat as you watch him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your arousal before gently pushing inside.

He’d spent a good half hour before this making sure to work you up. Eating you out, fingering you, whispering his praises. It wasn’t the first time he’d made you come, but it was certainly the most determined he’d ever been.

And you’re rather thankful for that now because you have this strange need to chase after that kind of release again. A longing to be filled in a way you couldn’t be with just his tongue.

Your lip is between your teeth as you begin to stretch around him. Your eyes have fallen closed and your thoughts have all but subsided. 

And then…there’s him.

Kissing down your cheek and neck once more as he murmurs, “So good, baby. Doing so good. Talk to me. Need to hear you. Need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you gasp, nails painting patterns down his spine. “Shit…m’okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” He buries his face in your shoulder as he sheaths himself completely. 

The room goes still. Quiet. He waits patiently for your body to adjust. For the pleasure to kick in. He fights his own instinct. Fights the urge to ruin you as he kisses the patch of skin his lips can reach.

Soon, you’re nodding quickly as you begin to gently roll your hips up. “Okay,” you sigh. “Okay, go.”

He leans back to see you, kissing the side of your temple. “Yeah?”

Another nod. “Yeah. Please, Har. Please…”

He’s heard you beg before but not like this. Not in a way that makes his stomach flip and his brain grow fuzzy. 

And suddenly, all he sees is this desire to care for you. To completely own you. To make your pleasure his own personal property as you surrender to him.

So, he does. He thrusts into you in slow, hard patterns. Making sure you feel everything. Making sure you know nothing else but him. Until you’re cock-drunk and willing.

And after devoting each second of his time to making this everything you’ve ever needed, you come together. 

Sweaty limbs tangling as he captures you in his arms and rides you through. As he kisses those voices away and makes a home in your subconscious. Until your body and his have become one.

And you know, without a doubt…

This is only the start.

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[paymechildsupport]

Can you write jjk men groveling after trying to make reader jealous🙏

--> Dw, I gotchu fam >:)

Jealousy looks good on You // JKK Men x Reader 

[Trying to make you jealous is not a good idea

—> They make you jealous, you make them beg.] 

       ☆ INCLUDES

☆ S. Gojo

☆ S. Geto 

☆ Toji Fushiguro 

☆ R. Sukuna 

       ☆

————————————————————————

[--⋆ ★ SATORU GOJO]

The bastard’s a lil’ shit, of course somewhere in that combobulated brain of his he thought it was a good idea to make you envious 

You were always so busy with work— what even were you doing anyways-? Surely it couldn’t be anything nearly as important as giving Satoru your attention— he was your boyfriend after all, your one and only 

He’s rich enough to provide for the both of you, something he’s brought up to you numerous times, only to be refused. Even if Satoru had more than enough money, his time was split quite unevenly between you and his career,— something that frustrated both of you to no end. You needed something to do while he was away most of the time. 

Satoru is annoyingly good at making his wants crystal clear; but when it comes to those deeper emotions, he struggles admitting when he’s dependent. You wanted to be invested in your job? Fine then, not like Satoru cared, he had his own job to attend to anyways. 

Continuously shoving yours and his needs aside, he began to experience withdrawal from your presence. He missed your touch, your voice, your loving gaze,— and it showed 

Everything blew up in Satoru’s face when he got a lil’ too pent up fighting the Special Grade, Jogo: why the actual fuck was he giving that cyclops his loving eyes?? It should be you enlisting such excited noises from his pretty lips, not the goddamn volcano bastard. He let down his infinity to hold his hand. You can’t remember the last time he held your hand— he was even starting to put up infinity around you of all people, and it hurt you to no end. 

“That fucking bastard…”

Getting home rather late, your keys jammed into the keyhole, jiggling the lock open. Borderline kicking the door down, you storm into the apartment. Satoru’s head immediately shoots up at the noise, having previously just been napping peacefully. He still had that stupid blind fold on. 

You don’t even bother taking your shoes off before making a beeline for his space on the sofa, grabbing him under the arms and roughly tugging him upwards. Manhandling him against the wall before he could even react— slamming your lips onto his, your tongue shoving itself deep inside his mouth

And now here he was, the Strongest, the untouchable Satoru Gojo on his knees at your feet, beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears, bottom lip quivering. He looked pathetic, all naked and bared to you, all flawless pale skin and defined muscle. His body was sculpted by the Gods themselves,— and here he was, saccharine voice shakily begging for your touch. 

“P—…please!” 

“Please what? Use your words, Satoru” 

“Please touch me.-! *hic* I.—I need you—“ 

“Mmm…” you hummed, “sure didn’t seem like it…” 

His gorgeous blue eyes widen, “I..-I…” 

Grinning, “Say it, Toru. Tell me what you really want” 

“You!” He sobs, head dropping down onto your bare thigh, “All I want is you.! Please,.. *hic* touch me…” 

Your eyes narrow, “perhaps you should’ve thought more before giving some fucking curse bedroom eyes.” You spat acid, the words making Satoru wince

His sobs quieted, his muscular arms clinging desperately to your legs, criss crossed on the bed, “M’ sorry… so sorry…” 

Gently running your hands through his snowy hair, Satoru inhales sharply, lips trailing light kisses along your thighs, whispering the next words into your skin, 

“Jus’ wanted your attention… jus’ wanted you to look at me again…” 

You sigh, smiling kindly, tilting his upwards to meet your gaze. Using your thumbs you wipe the tears from his cloudy eyes, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 

He smiles back weakly, happy to finally just have your attention on him and solely him. 

———-

[--✭- SUGURU GETO]

Being a nationwide wanted criminal and nefarious cult leader meant Suguru often had to get up to some nefarious activities,— activities he’d rather you stay far away from 

Sometimes he’d spend days away from you, sinking you deeper into loneliness. It’s only natural you’d begin to branch out to other cult members for company

Suguru supposed he didn’t mind, at least not yet. He knew it was incredibly selfish to expect you to reserve yourself solely for his gaze, considering how often he spent away from you. He did adore that envious gleam in your eye whenever he talked to a new member, your possessiveness charming him. But when you started talking to those monkeys in town? Oh man, that set him over the edge. How dare those disgusting heathens defile you with their stench? 

Boy did his master plan blow up in his face: trying to get you more co-dependent on his presence and his presence alone only seemed to have the opposite effect. He’d push you away so far that now you were seeking out those worthless monkeys for companionship. Suguru had never felt so wronged in his life before

Now here he was, in the temple where curses were suppose to get down and grovel at his feet was Suguru Geto on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness

Head bowed low, hair cascading down his back, Suguru couldn’t even look you in the eyes as your gaze raked over his kneeling figure. 

How ironic: there you were, lounging in his chair,— his throne— with the most notoriously dangerous curse user at your feet, groveling just like every other pathetic curse that’s walked into this room seeking his grace. 

If any member were to walk in, they’d be absolutely horrified to see their Lord in such a pitiful state, but Suguru didn’t care. He only cared about you and what you thought. 

“Please… forgive me, my love” 

“…” looking every bit the vengeful God, your chin propped on your hand, your condescending gaze knocked the air right out of Suguru’s lungs

“Why’d you burn down the village?” Your tone is curt, devoid of much emotion

“They—- those.. those monkeys… you know what they did-“ He spat, the words tasting sour on his tongue

“No, I don’t. What did they do?” 

Suguru’s eyes widened, finally looking up to meet yours. Were you seriously gonna make him say it? 

“They… they.-“ he started shaking, the rage starting to bubble up to the surface. “They….-“ 

Sighing, you slide off the chair, kneeling down in front of him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Suguru’s cheeks reddened, 

“You can’t leave me alone and expect me to keep myself for yourself” your voice is hard, “being grateful.. it’s a rather cherished trait amongst your members, yeah? How about you show it every once and a while?” 

Suguru hissed, he shouldn’t allow you to treat him like this. No one should be allowed to treat him like this. If it were anyone else, their head would already be rolling on the floor. 

Not you though, you were the exception,— he loved you,— and he oughtta show just how much he appreciated you 

Taking your hand in his, he brings it daintily to his lips, pressing them softly to your palm,— then your wrist, and a butterfly of little kisses up your arm, stopping only when his face meets your ear, whispering hoarsely, 

“I’m sorry, darling,… please, I’m devoted to you alone… let me show you…” he kisses the spot behind your ear, nibbling lightly on the skin, “please…” 

You sigh, leaning in and allowing him to worship your body one would a God.

—————-

[---ˏˋ♥̩͙⑅ TOJI FUSHIGURO]

Toji’s a very busy man,- what with being a bounty hunter. In between hunting down  homosexual teenagers, it’s hard for him to find time for you

Because he’s a soulless old man who hates all happiness, Toji couldn’t help but resent Gojo Satoru even more, especially when the little git decided to approach you of all people 

Little teeny Gojo, tugging at the hem of your shirt on one of your rare outings with Toji. 

You look down to see the big, blue eyed child looking up at you

How could you resist that eery, soul searching look? 🥺 you immediately bend down to converse with the young lad 

Seeing one of the few outings he had with his beloved being taken up by that six - eyed wretch made Toji want to punt the stupid brat to the moon

Long after you got home was Toji still thinking of the dazzling smile— the smiles that were supposed to be reserved for him — you gave to Gojo

Toji knew it was incredibly petty of him, but he couldn’t help but feel a little vengeful towards you— (a lot of his hatred was already directed at child Gojo, so Y’know, it had to go somewhere else at the moment) 

Now, even on the days he didn’t have any targets to kill, Toji would spend his time with Shiu Kong, the man who gave his commissions. 

It did not work well for him. It only served to anger you, now giving him the cold shoulder. Toji was not built for this, and in a matter of days deprived of your attention he was a mess at your feet: 

It’s almost comical, the way you sat, crossed arms, in your seat, staring down at the man kneeling before you. Toji was massive, seeing such a big man curl up and make himself so small was absurd. 

Beefy arms wrapped around your waist, head in your lap, Toji could only continuously mutter apologies against your stomach, kissing the soft flesh and praying you would eventually forgive him, promising he’d never pull that shit again, 

“ ‘so ‘srry sweetheart,… ‘won’t happen ‘gain…” 

—————-

[--‗ ❍◦ RYOMEN SUKUNA]

Ryomen Sukuna never begs. 

He’s never had to, never will. 

He’s never asked nicely for something in his life before, what makes you think he’d ever beg for anything? 

He begs for your attention. 

“Look at me, goddamnit…” the curse growled in your ear. 

Sitting on Sukuna’s lap, you stare off uninterested into the void of his innate domain. The iron hold of his arms tighten around your waist. Not enough to hurt per say, but as a warning. You half expected him to shove you off, letting your body crash into the water below the throne of skulls. 

Sukuna rests his chin on your shoulder, huffing, 

“That was an order.” 

You only pout. 

“Oi, human” silence, “who the hell do you think you are to ignore me?” His voice was lethally quiet, voice husky on your ears. 

Gulp. 

“You’re an idiot if you’re still mad about that movie” — that got your attention

“I’m an idiot?” You snort, “You sure looked like the idiot to me: practically drooling over that human worm abomination.” Condescension oozed from your tone. Yuji’s movie played on repeat in your mind; the absolute fever dream of a film that somehow garnered Sukuna’s attention. The eye poking out of Yuji’s cheek wide open the entire time, fixated on that revolting, stomach churning excuse of cinema.

He doesn’t look at you like that anymore. 

“Are you jealous?” He sneers, mockery dancing in his tone, “how cute.” 

“Shut up. Shut the actual hell up. You pulled that shit on purpose.” 

Cackling, “you mortals sure are vain little creatures, getting upset over the most useless things-!” 

“Fine.” You snap, starting to squirm your way out of his hold

His tone immediately drops to a stern demand, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m done here,— you obviously have better interests. I’ll be leaving now” 

“No, you won’t.” Just as you were about to wriggle away you’re grabbed around the waist, sharp nails stabbing into your skin. 

You yelp. 

“Let me go-!” 

“No.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts your struggling body up, spinning you around on his lap, harshly yanking you against his chest. You’re surprised he doesn’t rip your arm clean off, considering it would be very easy for him to just cleave you in two, (you can’t really run away then). 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” His face is buried into the crook of your neck, squeezing your body against his, as if you would disappear at any moment. 

Deep crescents were pierced into your skin by his claw-like nails, droplets of blood gathering at the tiny openings where they previously had gripped your neck. Tentatively, he swiped the crimson drops away with his tongue, dainty kitty licks covering your neck. 

With a gentleness unknown to him, Sukuna muttered against the warm skin, 

“Stay with me.” 

Sukuna’s never said “sorry” before in his many long centuries on earth. The word wasn’t even in his dictionary, 

—but for you, apologies could be made in other ways. 

———

A/N: rauarauassjjsjs thanks for the request!! :3

Had a lot' o' fun with this one.

[holy-harkers-47]

clemmie headcanons !!!

according to cole, their laugh sounds like bells

tends to get very very cold very easily

^^ always has cold hands

friend of all bugs

used to do ballet, still dabbles in it sometimes

doesn't like their hair being touched, unless it's by cole or perrine. perrine bc they trust them, and cole bc they're very tender-handed, and knows how to be careful and gentle

loves loves loves sweets !!! esp pastries

loves humming to cole's guitalele

very close friends w/ perrine, tends to confide in them abt cole

doesn't cry easily, but will start sobbing if cole accidently hurts their feelings :[

tends to be a bit bratty due to their childhood, and being raised in a very rich household

'speaks to the wind' and 'sings to the mountains'

big fan of bows, ruffles, lace, bells, etc <3

is insanely flexible

always smells like wildflowers

^^ speaking of which, loves flowers- esp getting to braid cole's hair with them / tucking them into cole's shirts ( says it makes them look handsome <3 )

^^ they also regularly give cole flowers they think look pretty / neat (cole presses and dries them, and then puts them in their notebooks <33)

commonly gets dizzy / faint

paints / decorates cole's guitalele sometimes

loves tea parties. the others don't really like them, but they like clémmie to be happy, so they participate

collects stuffed animals ( esp ones with big black / brown eyes )

very very neat

occasionally goes nonverbal due to trauma

^^ uses sign language to communicate when this happens

likes to read in their free time, has a small library in their room

total hopeless romantic

often labeled as a 'child prodigy' or 'artistic / musical genius'

hates eating meat. diet is mostly made up of fruit, pasta, cheese, and bread, but they will eat other things if offered ! only dietary restriction is meat

their name, clémentine, means merciful or gentle :]

first language is french ! they tend to forget some english words, and asks perrine what the word is ( perrine learned french for them <3)

cannot go an hour without chapstick. hates hates hates having dry lips

^^ same goes for lotion. hates having dry skin, so they always carry a small tube with them ( for themselves + the rest of the lark )

loves their nose and smile !!! makes them feel different and pretty :]]

has a very small appetite. usually only finishes one plate, or less than one. offers the rest of their food up, mostly taken by cole or kingsley. kingley will take it without thinking twice, but cole typically hesitates ; "are you okay ? are you sure i can have this ?"

loves loves loves making desserts, esp for cole !

not a morning person. loves their beauty sleep

huge fan of people watching and bird watching

^^ has a huge window on the wall their bed is pushed up against, so they can watch the others (if they're out) or the birds before getting up !

all of their shoes (aside from the ones they usually wear) are mary janes

prefers fem / neu compliments (ex. beautiful, pretty, etc.)

painted / sculpted all of their masks

curls their hair around their fingers when anxious

has extreme hair shrinkage, and when they fully stretch their hair out, it goes down to about their mid back

cole knows origami, and makes clémmie lots of little origami animals

daydreams a lot

gives out kisses / affection to the rest of the lark. lots of forehead / cheek / hand kisses + cuddles to everyone who wants em

is 4'11, 5'0 with their shoes on.

affectionate headbutts.

caution ; slight angst below !!

is used to being dehumanized / treated like an object due to their parents and childhood

^^ father generally treated them as a muse for his dolls, as well as treating them similarly to a doll ( dressing them up in lace / ruffles / bows / etc., and being extremely paranoid about clémmie's 'fragility' )

mother always put them on a pedestal and showed them off, as well as making efforts to keep clémmie quiet ( essentially making sure they knew that they didn't have their own feelings / thoughts )

doesn't like the words 'ladybug,' 'bumblebee,' or 'butterfly' as nicknames, esp when referring to them. all three are nicknames their dad had for them :[

^^ on a similar note, doesn't like being compared to dolls. (ex. 'you're pretty as a doll', referring to them as 'doll,' etc.)

more may be added later (might be in a reblog, might be just editing this post ! <3)

. * ° 🐇 🪕 🌾 ° * .

!! before commenting / tagging on this post, please know that clémentine uses neutral pronouns, and she / her or he / him pronouns are not appreciated when referring to them !! :[

[cvpidsb0ws]

❛LITTLE MISS NURSE.❜ | shuntaro chishiya x fem!reader

genre: FLUFF WEEWOOWEEWOOWEEWOO (enemies kind of shit)

warnings: gore and yes😆😆😆

sypnosis: after hours of waiting for shuntaro chishiya to return from a deadly game, he finally came back. with a lot of blood too. who else would patch him up if not you?

author's note: STOP I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS WHEN I WAS STILL WORKING ON IT ITS SO 👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎 anyways men in pain r one of the hottest things ever. 😁😁😁😁 (big big big bonus if its shuntaro chishiya!!!!!!)

dedication: @emiemith <333

the pitter-patter of your shoe was heard throughout the whole room, bouncing off the walls, for your foot has been unconsciously tapping the floor the past few hours due to nervousness. minutes turned into hours, and shuntaro chishiya still hasn't been seen. messy hair, sweaty forehead, glassy eyes, chest heaving up and down, fidgeting hands. you had it all.

what if he died?

it was a small chance, knowing he was a one of a kind. but it was still a chance that could happen at any time. no one was invincible in borderland.

but still, you held onto that rope of hope that he was still alive. he had to be.

no, you and chishiya were lovers. you were not even close at all. you were enemies, always at each other's neck, always fighting over the simplest things, and such. but there were times when you both shared your love and care for each other. in your own ways.

and as if your prayers have been answered, chishiya came through the door. but as soon as he stepped in, he immediately collapsed to the floor, coughing out blood. and you didn't waste time to rush by his side to help him.

it took a long time, but with his arm slung around your shoulders, you carried his passed out body all the way to your own room.

you let him lie down on your bed, and you scrambled to get all of the materials you needed to make him feel better.

looking down at chishiya, you tried your best to put your fears aside, and finally look at him. he was truly hurt. he had small cuts adorning his face, and you tried to take his jacket and his shirt off due to the pool of blood on his clothing. but doing so made him jolt awake.

"(name)?"

the sound of his raspy voice made you look back up at him, and you smiled as a way to comfort him. to let him know everything was going to be okay.

"chishiya, you're awake!" you expressed, teary-eyed. you were literally on the verge of breaking down. him being hurt made you hurt. maybe even more.

"(name), you look like you're about to cry. you care about me that much, huh?" he teased you with a smirk, barely keeping his eyes open. "a few scratches won't hurt me. you don't have to patch me up, darling, just because you have a crush on me."

you forced an irritated laugh, ignoring the 'darling'. it meant nothing at all since he always called you that, knowing you got annoyed every single time. to prove a point, you slightly pressed the obvious wound beneath his shirt, and watched as he winced, throwing his head back with a groan.

you chuckled as you pulled away, turning away to grab a wet cloth to clean his wound with. with a smile, you looked at him. "now be a good boy and remove your shirt unless you want me to do it for you, shuntaro."

rolling his eyes, he carefully removed his jacket, and his shirt soon followed. you couldn't help but gawk at the sight. not because of the gash on his stomach, but because of how his body was perfectly sculpted.

you were stuck to your place, and chishiya looked up at you with a teasing smirk. "well, little miss nurse?"

you were quick to cough as a way to clear your throat, licking your lips. and you then sat down on the bed, leaning closer to clean the blood surrounding his wound.

as you were treating the gash, you could hear him trying his best to keep his whimpers and groans quiet. you stopped yourself from smiling uncontrollably after hearing such things, mentally scolding yourself.

"i didn't know you were that good with this, (last name)."

scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him, as you tightened the bandage you were currently wrapping around his stomach.

"and i didn't know you were stupid enough to get stabbed during a game. i mean, it's a shame really . . . seeing such a handsome face with cuts."

"oh, so you do find me handsome?" chishiya remarked with a devilish grin, knowing you were becoming irritated. but it's a good thing you already finished.

ignoring the question, you stood up with a victorious 'done'. he watched you, tilting his head to the side before saying

"if i knew you would be the one to patch me up after getting hurt, i would hurt myself every day."

[notiddygothgf]

8. night together

★ pairings: plug!wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your bf stop you from finding ur hubby)

★ content warning: smut, angst, lotta porn w a lotta plot, car sex, dealer wakasa, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, so much more..., PUSSYDRUNK WAKASA, unprotected sex, slight angst (but it has nothin on what's coming lol).

★ a/n: SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY HEHE!! this chapter was originally one big one, but then I split it into wo, and then I just put it back into one big old chapter bc why not yall deserve it -- HAPPY 4/20!!!!! next chapter prob gonna be coming in the next few days bc its already basically done lol. THANK U ALL 4 UR SUPPORT!!! ITS A LONG ONE, ENJOY &lt;;33 ;) (YOU KNOW THE DRILL. COMMENT UR THOUGHTS/WISHES!!)

★ w.c.; 10.4k

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THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. For the sake of your own emotional well-being, you had sworn off intimacy – not including sex, of course – with Wakasa until further notice. Non-sexual intimacy was dangerous territory for a hopeless romantic, and you knew that. This little hot fling the two of you had would turn serious real quick. The two of you were supposed to be drinking tea together – well, actually, you had sent Waka off to take a shower. Alone. Yet, somewhere along the way, one thing had led to another, and the next thing you knew your clothes had disappeared and the two of you were pressed against one another beneath the hot water. He had been placing a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses on your damp skin, bringing his arms around your bare waist.

So much for the whole no-intimacy thing.

Wakasa kissed your lips. He pulled back, licking his own, then he reached for one of the bottles on the shelf next to the two of you. Double-checking that it was shampoo, he poured some into his palm. He gave it a quick lather before smearing it over your hair. His hands – skilled, strong – worked the shampoo into your scalp, massaging your skin in a way that had your eyes fluttering shut.

He reached behind your ears. “Tilt your head back, baby,” He told you.

For some reason, you obliged, letting him tilt your head back beneath the waterfall. His fingers scrubbed the tender skin of your temple. The warm water washed away the shampoo residue in your hair and on your scalp.

His touch was so gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you.

How did we get here? You wondered.

“The bathroom is gonna be the first door on the right,” you sighed, dropping a stack of neatly folded clothes and towels into his hand. “Holler if you need anything.”

Wakasa pursed his lips. He set the towels down on the table, keeping his eyes trained on you. He made no sudden move to go to the bathroom. Instead, he brushed your hair out of your face with a gentle hand. 

“Might I request you join me, princess?” He hummed.

You felt your face burn. 

Wakasa kissed your forehead, squeezing the rest of the shampoo out of your hair. 

You took the bottle from him, offering, “Can I wash your hair?”

His eyes widened. For a moment, you noted, he looked to have been caught off guard. Still, he reached for the ponytail in his hair and tugged it out, letting his pretty golden locks fall over his face and his broad shoulders. The purple hues patterning his hair darkened beneath the weight of the water almost immediately.

He looked so beautiful like this. His pretty, girlish face was slightly damp, tinted pink as tiny beads of water rolled off of his lashes. As he let his hair get wet, running his hands through it, he looked so serene – then promptly flipped his hair back. This was the first time, you realized, that you had seen his whole face. Better yet, the first time you’d seen his whole body. He was perfect, chiseled like he had been sculpted out of marble. His tattoos glistened beneath the steady stream of water. You watched the droplets roll down between his pecs, down his toned abdomen, and further down unto –

“You just g’nna stare or do you wanna help me?” He asked, snapping you out of your daze. He had this all-knowing, shit-eating grin plastered right over the lower half of his face. 

You rolled your eyes, dripping a generous amount of your expensive shampoo into your palm and then promptly slapping it onto his head. His hands slid around your waist, head tilted back while you massaged the shampoo into his hair.

He sighed, letting his eyes close.

You felt your chest warm at the slight movement. He trusts me.  

One of the most feared men in the entirety of Tokyo was in the shower with you, breathing slowly like he’d waited his whole life to feel so calm, so intimate. One of the most feared men in Tokyo was letting you put your girly-smelling shampoo in his hair.

He had put his trust in your hands. For a minute, you were scared you would drop it.

You turned the two of you around, bracing your hand on his chest while the water washed the shampoo away. He moved his hands from your waist to scrub the remainder out, strong arms rippling and dripping with water as they reached behind his head.

He was mesmerizing.

Subconsciously, you found yourself wandering closer to him, closer to the valley of flesh left exposed after he threw his head back. Your lips, more specifically, found their way to his neck, licking and sucking the skin. Wakasa’s teeth flashed when your teeth slipped over the mark you were trying to give him, though he didn’t flinch or even open his eyes. When you elected to run your flattened tongue over the junction between his neck and his collarbone, applying some light suction there, he leaned into you. For the first time, you could taste him, down to the slight saltiness of his skin. It was intoxicating.

You wanted more.

“ Mmm,” he hummed. “I’m s’pose to be the one spoilin’ you tonight, doll.”

You pulled your lips from his skin, but you didn’t go very far, keeping your nose pressed to his skin as you inhaled sharply. You could still smell his cologne – albeit very faintly. In a moment, he wouldn’t smell like him . He would smell like you, like your strawberry-scented bath soap. 

“Don’t see why we can’t do both,” You murmured into his skin. Reaching behind him, you pawed around until you felt the shower gel bottle brush against your hand. You tugged it off the rack, then moved away from him. 

Wakasa watched with soft, downturned eyes as you put some into the palm of your hand. You gave it a quick lather before placing your hands on his shoulders, then you set off on your mission to coat his entire chest in the pink, strawberry-scented foam.

He turned his nose up at the smell. 

“You don’t like?” You hummed. Honestly, it didn’t matter what his answer was. This was the only soap you had. You were going to get him nice and clean, even if it meant he smelled like strawberry shortcake afterward.

“Nah, it’s cute,” He replied. Still, he looked away from your focused face. After a brief silence, he offered. “Would you believe me if I told ‘ya no one’s ever done this for me?”

You knitted your brows together. “You’ve never showered with anyone?”

Wakasa chuckled, licking his lips. “‘Course I have,” he said. “You’re just the first one who's ever gotten so close.”

Despite the fact that you were currently feeling him up – washing him, you were washing him – you felt your face begin to get a little hot. “Don’t like people touching you like this?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Too intimate.” 

But we’re…

You paused your scrubbing motions. “Do you want me to stop?”

There was a pause, then he explained, “Feels nice when you do it.”

His voice turned you on like crazy. You couldn’t deny that much.

So you continued lathering him up, reaching beneath his arms to spread the soap onto his back, and then back to his torso. Too intimate. He was right. This was way too intimate considering the two of you were currently walking a thin line. A very thin line.

“Kay,” You smiled. You were okay with that.

Whatever the two of you had, you didn’t want it to end.

Raking your nails over his skin gently, you followed the curves of his waist down to his hips. All of a sudden, the air shifted again. That tension from earlier was back.

So, instead of letting it drip on that way, you brought him in for a slow, passionate kiss. He leaned into you immediately, letting you lather more soap over his navel. When your hand brushed past his crotch, small finger catching on the large appendage he had between his legs, his breath caught.

You could have continued on as if nothing happened. You should have. But, for some reason, you couldn’t move your hand on its own. You brought it down over the sensitive skin again.

This time, his hand caught your wrist.

“Baby,” He spoke, voice a little deeper than before, “Don’t start something you won’t finish.”

You froze for a moment. Finally, feeling your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly, you melted into him. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it?”

He smirked at you, taking a moment to drink in your flustered appearance. Still, he let go of your hand, allowing you to continue exploring the lower half of his body at a pace that suited you. 

This is okay, you thought to yourself. Then, as you felt something begin to press into your hand, you affirmed yourself once more, This is okay.

His lips moved for yours. You let him slip his venom into your mouth, lord knew you were poisoned long before you stepped into the shower with him. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and breathing in perfect synchrony with the rapid beating of your heart. His hungry lavender hues drank you in. 

You had never felt so vulnerable in your entire life. Subconsciously, your arms folded over the front of your bare body, shielding you from his passionate gaze. 

“Lemme see, princess,” He pried your hands away. When you let him brace his strong hands on your hips and back you into the corner of the shower, he sought out your lips with newfound passion. Through a mouthful of you, broken into syllables, he mumbled into your lips, “Fuckin’– breathtaking– y’know?”

You found yourself melting into him for the hundredth time. 

“Wish I could paint a picture of ‘ya like this,” He breathed, words heavy with lust and… something more, it seemed. He kissed you again. “You don’t know how long I ‘been dreamin of you, sugar.”

Sugar. He was so sweet that you felt tears begin to pool at the corners of your eyes. Quickly, you brought yourself back down to earth. You had already made the mistake of stepping out. You wouldn’t ruin what you had with Wakasa over some ambiguous feelings – no, that would mean it was all for nothing. 

One day, just as all good things did, your time with him would come to an end. You knew it. Flings like these rarely lasted. You knew that was most likely for the best; maybe, by some random stretch of luck, Wakasa would vanish from your life altogether, leaving it the way it had been before you had met him. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

But you knew deep down that wasn’t what you wanted. You knew deep down that there would be a 5’2 gap in your heart when Wakasa decided he was done having his fun with you. He would pick up and leave one day, just as you knew he had done for so many others before you, and he would leave you with little more than the fleeting memory of his touch on your skin. Perhaps months, years, decades afterwards, you would look at your skin and – just as you did now – see his lips pressing little memoirs of his passion into your skin. Perhaps you would feel his kisses on your lips, his devilish tongue pouring empty promises and words of endearment into your parched mouth; the way his lips would curl into a smile because he knew his words made you weak.

He made you weak in the best way imaginable. 

It was then that you realized that you didn’t want him to leave; not a week, month, or year from now. Even if it was all fake, you wanted to stay – wanted to stay here with him in this pretty little illusion the two of you had created together a little longer.

You opened your mouth, and the words almost left your mouth like some desperate, bubbling plea. 

‘Stay with me’

The realization struck you with the force of a trainwreck; you were falling for him.

Wakasa hooked his finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking him. You hadn’t even realized you had looked away.

“You’re so beautiful,” He smiled weakly, like the sight of you had taken his breath away. “You make it so hard to leave.”

You ached for him. “Stay the night,” you breathed.

Wakasa captured you in another dizzying kiss. It was slower this time, passionate, intimate. It had you reeling for more. You wanted all of him tonight – for all you knew, tomorrow would come and he would leave you. He would leave you to be conflicted by your lonesome, and all of this would be a foggy memory.

You wanted to paint an image of him so vivid in your memory that you would never forget it – that you would never forget about this night, about how he looked, felt… tasted.

So, without another word, you dropped to your knees. Splaying your hands out over his thighs, you craned your neck up to look at him. He peered down at you with the element of surprise playing at his features.

You wrapped your hand around his semi-hard shaft. “Wanna taste you,” You licked your lips. “Can I?”

Wakasa mirrored your action, flitting his tongue over his pink lips while he slicked some more of his violet tresses back – revealing more of that beautiful face you wished you could call your own. “Go ‘head, pretty baby,” he purred, petting his hand over your hair to brush it away from your face. “‘M all yours.”

His words – however fictitious they may have been – made your heart squeeze. 

You pressed a kiss to his tip, gauging his reaction. When you saw him lazily smiling down, you took him into your mouth without any further warning.

He exhaled sharply, leaning over you to brace a hand on the shower wall. Th e muscles in his arm tensed as he tried to gain stable footing. Hungrily, you raked your eyes up his navel, the roses and ink tatted on his toned chest, his broad shoulders – you wondered if he knew you burned for him.

Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks. You worked up quite a bit of spit near the back of your throat, pulling off to spit on him before practically swallowing him back up. 

Wakasa sighed. He brought his spare hand town to caress the side of your face, to make you look at him while your lips were stretched around his length. He throbbed in your mouth, growing bigger as you felt him get harder.

“Fuck,” He breathed. “Y’look good with my dick in your mouth, baby.”

You felt that way. When his hand slipped behind his head to guide your head gently, bobbing you back and forth on his dick. You were struggling to fit the whole thing in your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you were determined. His shudders and sighs spurred you onward.

If this was going to be the last night you ever spent with him, you wanted to make it memorable.

“Takin’ it so well,” He purred, guiding your head while simultaneously allowing you to set your own pace. 

You felt that fire in your core reignite, making you press your legs together while you pulled back for a moment to slurp on the tip rather unceremoniously, spit dripping down his dick. You tilted your head to the side, wrapping your hands around what you couldn’t fit into your mouth to work the rest of him. Your tongue swirled around his dick.

As you braced your hands on his hips to sink your head the rest of the way down, you met some resistance, eyes watering as you felt yourself gag on him. He pulled you back a bit. You swatted his hand away, pushing him back into your mouth with determination. 

Above you, the muscles in Wakasa’s arm tensed. With a blissful sigh, he leaned his head back. The water ran over his hair and down his face, sticking his lashes together in bunches. He was so fucking pretty, it made your heart skip a beat.

His chest rose and fell steadily, water droplets streaming down his body. It made for the perfect lubricant. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, which parted soon after to release a trembling sigh of your name. 

Then his hand fisted itself in your hair, and you felt yourself mewl. Just when you went back for more of him, he tugged you off. His dick sprang free with an uncharacteristically funny pop. A glance to your left made you realize that the clear glass of the shower door had fogged up.

You knitted your brows, peering up at Wakasa through lust-ridden eyes. “W’happened?” You asked, still a little breathless. “Was it bad?”

“No, shit, you were doing great,” Wakasa shook his head. Judging by the way his thigh trembled beneath your grasp, he wasn’t lying to save your ego. He reached for your shoulders, tugging you up onto your feet. He pressed you further into the wall. He sealed his lips together with yours, bringing his hands around the small of your back. “Wanna feel you,” He sighed into your mouth. “Made me miss your pretty pussy.”

You chuckled, though you felt the river between your legs trickle down your thigh at his words. You wouldn’t have been surprised if Wakasa revealed that he was some sort of incubus all along. “You just had it an hour ago, baby.”

Baby. You froze. The nickname had slipped out.

He knew it. With a small grin resting on his lips, he pressed your noses together. “I know,” he panted. “Think ‘m addicted.”

“Yeah?” You played dumb. Easing into his touch, you allowed his hand to slip between your bodies. “How’d that happen?”

“Been cravin ‘ya like an addict since I first met ‘ya. Got me actin’ a fool, ‘s like an itch,” He hummed. His fingers squished the chub of your stomach, and then traveled down further – towards that ache between your legs. He kissed you again, for the hundredth time. “Only ‘that pussy can scratch.”

You let him bury his face in your neck, placing hot kisses on your sensitive flesh. Tangling your fingers in his bi-colored locks, you sighed. “What a shame. How should we go about resolving this problem?”

And then, as he roughly gripped your hips and then promptly turned you around – pressing your face into the wet wall – you gasped.

“Depends,” He continued, like nothing had changed. His voice was deep, vibrating between your own ribs. Slowly, carefully, he pressed into your backside – a reminder of his desires sitting hard and warm against the meat of your ass. “You g’nna deny a poor addict his fix?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You arched into him. With a smile, you continued playing along with him. “Someone’s got’ta satisfy those cravings.”

He nudged your legs open with his foot. You let him. 

“You’re playin’ with fire, baby,” He purred, words playing at the soft spot you had for him. “You wouldn’t mind me keepin ‘ya up all night, would ‘ya?”

All night . You would handle everything that came with being his, even if that meant losing some sleep in the process. Well, that, and your ability to walk.

“Bring it on,” was your answer. “I can take it.”

“Yeah? Think you can handle me, pretty girl?” His hand reached around your torso to cup your breasts, shielding your sensitive nipples from the ice cold wall of the shower. The comfort was only brief, however, as he began kneading the flesh with his strong, warm hands. “Now’s the time for any objections.”

It was hard to focus on him when his tip had already coaxed itself in between your folds. You shuddered, pressing back into him.

Turning your head around, you brought your foreheads together. The way his lips gravitated towards you was remarkable. You locked lips again, wordlessly sealing your fate – parting only to mutter your final request. “Pull out, okay?”

He groaned at your words, pulling you back until your ass was flush with his hips. His grip, unrelenting, would surely leave bruises tomorrow. You didn’t care.

“Tap me if it hurts, princess,” He crooned, warm breath sending chills down your bare spine. Then, without so much as a warning, he lined his tip up with your aching hole and pressed his hips forward. Despite the burning stretch, it felt so good to be filled by him. It was as if your body had been made for it.

★

“ Waka , please, I– ” You pleaded with the man. Your hand had found its way down to his head, gripping his damp, disheveled locks like your life depended on it. In a matter of seconds, he had single-handedly reduced you to a babbling mess. “ Mnnnh -”

He groaned into your flesh. With your thighs pressed against both sides of his head, he made for a pretty sight. His hair was tied into a bun, though you had ruined most of it with your ruthless rutting. He did nothing to stop you as you clamped your legs over his ears, shamelessly riding his face.

Prying your legs away from his face, Wakasa gasped for air. His face was flushed a pretty shade of red. His eyes were wild, lustful as your juices dripped off the sides of his face. “Taste better than I dreamed of,” he panted.

You lifted your hips away from his face in an attempt to make it easier for him to breathe. Your efforts were in vain. He gripped your hips harshly, seating you on his face and then continuing to eat you up like a man starved. 

You found it difficult to pry your eyes away from him. He looked so happy to be trapped between your thighs like this, like he had been waiting ages for it. The way he sucked and slurped expertly at your dripping cunt had your legs trembling around him.

“Sit,” he mumbled through a mouthful of your clit. 

“Don’t wann’... ngh,” You leaned forward, bracing your hands over the bed frame while he dragged your hips back and forth, back and forth over his face until the friction was almost too much to bear. He had been eating you out for the last two hours straight, stopping only very briefly between orgasms. “G’nna crush you.”

“Sit,” he affirmed. You were in no state to disobey. “Ride my face.”

You reached one hand down again and tugged on his hair. To your shock, he liked it. You felt the vibration of his deep, guttural groan against the mess he had made between your legs. 

“Ka…  Kasa , please–” You managed to get out through a string of broken moans.

He moaned, pushing your hips up against his nose. He never stopped his incessant licking and sucking, tongue working you up to what would be your fourth orgasm of the night. Your pussy was sensitive, so sensitive, yet he wasn’t going any easier on you. At this rate, you were convinced you would have to beg for mercy.

“Can’t…” You panted. You weren’t sure you could finish another time. You were sore and tired, and you were beyond overstimulated.

“C’mon, princess,” he paused his desperate licking to beg. “Just one more.”

You licked your lips, feeling tears begin to well at the corners of your eyes again. It was all so much… too much. “I can’t,” you gasped.

“You can do it, baby,” He purred. Sucking harshly on your clit – and then making up for it with a few gentle licks – he added. “Jus’ one more for me, ‘kay?”

On cue, he slid his hands up to your waist, flipping the two of you over until it was him pinning you down at the foot of your bed. The towel he had laid out beneath the two of you was drenched. You weren’t sure if you could take any more.

“Waka, I don’t–” You began, abruptly cutting your own sentence off with a gasp as he took two digits and plunged them into your hole. “ Fuck .”

Wakasa’s long fingers immediately found your sweet spot, rubbing a slow, steady circle to ease you into the sudden intrusion before he began curling them upward. You saw stars.

You raised your head off the bed, trying to rest your weight on your trembling elbows so you could get a good look at him. You would never forget the sight of him on his knees like that, hungry eyes devouring your sweaty body while he worked you open like some sort of expert. His lips were red, shaped in an ‘o’ as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair – despite having been ruined by your legs – framed his pretty face the same way it usually did. His face was dusted with a gentle, rosy hue again.

You were embarrassed, oddly enough, and dropped your head down to cover your face with your hands. He couldn’t be real. There was no way this was real. It was too good to be true. “‘ Kasa, ple-ease ,”  you stammered. It was getting hard to form coherent sentences when he was in your guts like this.

He curved his fingers up into your cunt, marveling at the way you gripped him.

Somehow, despite the odds, the coil in your gut was drawing tighter and tighter. He was reaching deep inside of you and undoing you from the inside out like the lace strands of a tightly wound corset. You wanted more. No, fuck, you needed more. But in all honesty, you weren’t sure you could take any more. The brutal pace of his long, dextrous fingers was making your mind go blissfully blank, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of your mouth a mile a minute as you struggled to hold on. 

Then, something happened. He curved his fingers up sharply at just the right angle, thrusting his hand up and down, and – before you knew what was happening, you felt yourself squirting all over his arm.

“‘ Kasa -aah– ,” You whimpered as if that name were the only thing anchoring you down to the present. You chanted it like it was a mantra. Ignoring your cries, he moaned at the display, giving you only a few seconds to recover before he was doing the same thing again. “‘Kasa, ‘Kasa, ‘Kasa – fuck !”

“I know, baby, I know,” He reassured you. He began kissing his way back down your thighs. Somehow, his hand found yours, a firm grasp comforting you while tears poured from your eyes. “Y’er doin’ so good. Think ‘ya can do one more for me?”

Him. Do it for him.

It felt so fucking good – but it was so much. You didn’t know how to vocalize your feelings. 

He reached over you, onto the nightstand, and then produced your phone. “Gonna give you something to watch when I go home,” He mumbled. 

You saw the flash go on, and then he continued fingerfucking you.

“Say hi to the camera, baby,” He crooned. Pressing a kiss to the outside of your thigh, he added, “Taking it so well.”

You hid your face. “Waka,” You whined.

He tilted his head, grinning at you. 

In a brief moment’s width, his lips joined his fingers, tongue licking quick stripes over your abused clit while he pressed on that spot that made your vision go white.

“ Waka, wait,” You gasped. “Feel like ‘m g’nna pee.”

“Just relax, baby,” he mumbled into your dripping wet cunt. His lips departed from your flesh briefly, but only to roughly scoot your ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding your concerns, he quickened the pace of his fingers. His hair was tangled in your fist while the rest hung in strings over his face – for a moment, you didn’t even care that he was recording anymore. “‘M g’nna take care of ‘ya,” He groaned, the sound muffled by your trembling thighs. “G’nna make you feel real good, promise.”

“ Mmmfuck – wait,” You gasped. Your body, however, gave a different signal. You yanked his hair and then trapped his head between your thighs with your legs. The moans – increasing in pitch – were falling out of your mouth uncontrollably now. He had taken you to the point of no return, to the point where broken pleas of his name were the only thing coming from your lips. Your legs spasmed once more before you gushed all over his wrist again, spraying him in the face this time. He eagerly licked you up. Thankfully, he had moved your phone out of the way just in time. “‘ Ka-sa! ”

“Want ‘ya to see how perfect you look with my fingers in ‘ya,” Wakasa moaned against your clit, but the sound seemed to be swallowed down every time he sucked on the sensitive bud. “Keep goin’-- doin’ so good.”

The flash disappeared behind your thighs.

He gasped as you tugged harder at his tresses in response. You could feel your guts clenching around his finger like you were trying to push him out. The sheer power this man had over you was near absurd. In a span of six hours, he had gotten you to completely abandon your morals. Not only that, but he had you rocking your hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet sweet release you so desperately craved. 

“M’gh… fuck–” You pleaded, sentences reduced to mere gibberish. “‘Kasa, baby...”

He pulled away from your pussy, letting his fingers work you open, pressing deep into your g-spot. “I got you, baby,” He panted, peering up at you with such feverish hunger that it made you squirm. “Feel good?”

Desperately, you stumbled to find the right words. What came out, whatever, was a broken cry of  “Mhm”.

“Why don’t you tell the camera who’s makin’ you feel good, hm?” He hummed, continuing to abuse your hole with unwarranted strength. 

“ Wakasa ,” It slipped out. Truly, you had never intended to let it slip. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled praise of his name. “‘Kasa, m’gn’na cum, fuck . ”

“Good kitty,” His smirk grew in size. He licked some of you off of his lips, and then hummed, “Cum for me.”

Instantaneously, somehow, his fingers pressed the right spot – just the right amount of pressure – then it snapped. The coil of your release snapped with all of the power of a freight train, your orgasm slamming into you in a way that had your back arching up off of the bed. Your hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while feeling every last stroke of his long fingers against your walls. You could feel the shock tear through you in waves, tearing trembling gasps from your lungs while you expelled your juices all over his hand and the bed. “‘ Kasa,” you gasped again once the pleasure had cleared long enough for you to think. Not Takeomi, Wakasa. 

It felt so good to breathe his name, to claim him – even if he wasn’t necessarily yours. 

“Fuck, ” You mewled. Finally, you laid your head back. You felt fucking ruined . The drag of each of his knuckles against your hypersensitive walls as he fucked you – albeit much gentler than before, as if easing you down from your high – through the aftershocks of your orgasm was making you shake even harder. 

The flash turned off. He set your phone somewhere off to the side.

He slid his fingers out of you slowly, savoring the way you clenched around them one last time before pulling out. He sucked the slick of your arousal off of his fingers. 

“You’re a movie star, baby,” He teased, fixing the shorts you had lent him – Takeomi’s shorts, ironically enough – before collapsing next to you on the bed. The two of you panted, desperate to catch your breath. You were too weak to say anything as he turned your head to the side, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. You could still taste yourself on his tongue – tangy, warm. “Did so good.”

You whimpered weakly in response. Wakasa chuckled, throwing his arm over your shaking form. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” He hummed, tucking your hair away behind your ear.

You were still too weak to respond, letting your trembling legs to the talking. 

“Gimme a sec,” he pushed himself off of the bed, sliding off the side and disappearing behind your bedroom door. The world seemed to spin in his absence, chest heaving slowly while you came down to earth. Everything was buzzing.

When Wakasa returned, he had a glass of water in his hand. He knelt beside you on the bed, picking your spent body up and then offering the cup to you. “Here, drink up,” he said. “Don’t pass out on me.”

You let him tilt the water into your mouth, dry lips lapping at the cold beverage like you hadn’t drank in days. You sighed. Fuck, that was refreshing.

He moved you back to the front of the bed, laying you down on the pillows while he tugged the towel out from beneath you. You were half expecting him to leave. He didn’t. Instead, he held you close to him, pulling the sheets over your body. His lips pressed kisses all over your forehead. 

It was… almost too intimate. Takeomi had never done anything like this for you before. The feeling had your face burning up. There were so many thoughts swimming around in your head now that you felt almost overwhelmed by your own emotions.

“‘Kasa…” You finally said. 

“Hm?” He hummed. He was so warm. The bed was barely big enough for the two of you.

“I can’t feel my legs,” You noted. “I can’t make it up to you.”

He shook his head. “Jus’ relax, doll.”

“You sure?” You asked again. “I don’t wanna give you blue balls.”

“I’ll be fine, princess,” He replied. 

You whined, poking him in the side. “Stop. I wanna make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” He hummed. He paused briefly while his eyes scanned the room, and then he turned back to you. “Y’know what would really make my night, doll?”

“Wha…?” You trailed off, voice teetering on the verge of a whisper.

“You got any of that Wedding Cake left over?” He asked. “I’ve been moving into a new penthouse. Lost my stash in transit.”

You felt yourself begin to smile. A smoke did sound nice right about now. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to spark though,” You sighed, nestling into his side. “Got a pipe and a grinder in the nightstand.”

Wakasa laughed. You rested your head on his bare chest, relishing in the way it felt. For a moment, you could pretend his heart was beating for you. “That beat, huh?” 

You nodded wordlessly. It was cold for a moment when he left your side, but it wasn’t long at all before he returned, this time with your glass pipe and grinder in hand. “‘There a lighter in there?” He asked.

“Mhm,” You giggled. You could stay here for hours with him sitting next to you on the bed, your head resting in his lap. Days, even. If only reality permitted such luxuries.

You tilted your head upward, watching him hold your pipe between two fingers while he popped open the grinder and placed a nug between the prongs. He ground it up, and then lightly tapped the side of the metal container. You watched carefully as he pinched some weed between his fingers and patted it down into the bowl. He repeated this process one more time until the bowl was full. 

“You’re gonna have to sit up,” he chuckled, tapping the side of the red pipe. The glass curvatures sparkled beneath the dim lamp on your nightstand. 

You followed his command – very weakly. He held the opening of the pipe up to your lips, instructing you to pinch the hole closed. He flicked the lighter once, twice, and then there was that familiar, faint sizzling sound as the flame finally took to the pipe. 

You sucked in, breathing the smoke in and then holding it there before exhaling. Immediately, you felt calm.

“Mmm,” you hummed. You took one more hit before snuggling into his side. To your surprise, he let you. One of the most dangerous men in Japan was letting you cuddle up next to him.

His lips formed a seal over the end of the pipe, lifting his arm up to light the bowl. When it began to sizzle, he let out a few small puffs, then took one big hit. You watched him eagerly as he rested his head against your headboard, exhaling the smoke up and away from the two of you like a chimney.

His features relaxed a bit. Then he smiled and looked at you, and you felt yourself freeze up. He was so perfect, so beautiful, you wished you could remember this moment forever. 

Somewhere along the way, your thumb had begun to trace the intricate linework on his tatted chest. 

He sparked up for you again, letting you suck two more hits out of the pipe before fanning some of the smoke away. The exchange continued for five or ten more minutes.

“I’m supposed to see Takeomi tomorrow,” You sighed, but you never once shifted away from him. 

Wakasa chuckled. “Don’t remind me about your boyfriend.”

Your hand traveled down, over his abs. You let your finger trace the lines there – he had a six-pack. 

“Do you have any tattoos other than the roses?” You asked him. You realized you had never really seen his back before.

Wakasa nodded. He pointed to his left arm, the one you weren’t leaning on, and tilted it towards you. “Got a dragon here,” He traced a finger over the ink – the face of a traditional dragon grinning back at you from his arm. “And I got a leopard on my back. Wanna see?”

You nodded, releasing his arm from your grasp. He leaned to the side, revealing his toned back, and – sure enough – there was ink. Colored ink. A white leopard stood immortalized on his back, standing on a bed of roses. The sheer detail of his backpiece had your mouth agape.

Seemingly moving on its own, your hand splayed itself over the leopard on his back. When he didn’t move away from you, you continued tracing it. “Did it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. Burned, though.”

“Do they have a meaning?” You asked, referring to all of his tattoos, even though you couldn’t bring your hand away from his chiseled back. 

“The dragon means I’m loyal to the Black Dragons. Got roses ‘cus I’m’ma rose kinda’ guy,” He hummed. Turning his head to the side, he undid his bun. His smooth blond locks cascaded over his back. He gathered his hair to the side, draping it over one shoulder so you could continue looking at the ink on his back. “Got that one so people know who they’re talkin’ to.”

The leopard glared back at you. You paused your gentle tracing motion. “The White Leopard,” you breathed.

“Smart girl,” He chuckled, sitting back against the headboard. You watched him smoke again, exhaling through his nose this time. 

He offered the pipe to you.

This whole exchange was so intimate. You had never – not in the entirety of your relationship with Takeomi – been in a situation anything like this before. The way he draped an arm over you to pull you closer to him, the way he let you wash his hair in the shower, the sny comments here and there. This all seemed too intimate.

It begged the question: was this really just a hookup?

“Waka,” You felt yourself begin to ask before you understood what you were saying. It could have been the weed. You felt like your mouth had a mind of its own. Although, it could have been that your mind was too foggy for you to think anything of it. Your lips parted to utter the forbidden question. “What is this?”

He knitted his brows. “What do you mean, doll?”

“ This ,” You gestured to the lack of space between the two of you. “What are we?”

He pressed the pipe to your lips, torching the bowl. You took a deep breath and then breathed out more smoke. It was hard to focus with his hands so close to your face. His hands that still smelled a bit like you.

“‘Dunno,” He answered honestly. “Wha’d’ya want it to be?”

What did you want this to be? You didn’t know. Part of you wanted him to leave. Part of you wanted him to stay. Part of you wanted to be his, even if you tried to suppress those urges. 

“I don’t know,” Was your honest response. Really, you didn’t. “I don’t know what I want.”

“You don’t have to,” He noted. His eyes met yours. “We can fool around as long as you like. Jus’ casual fun, long as Take don’t find out.”

Casual fun. You were reminded, once again, that you were merely a placeholder. Wakasa was probably seeing other women.

You swallowed. “‘Kasa…”

“Yeah?” He hummed.

The words left your mouth on their own. 

“I think ‘m falling for you.”

The room got so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You felt your own heart sink in tandem. The energy in the room shifted, it was tense, and you knew you had said the wrong thing.

“That could be a problem,” He noted. 

Your stomach churned at his words. Shit. Shit. 

“I don’t care,” You replied. “I just want to know how you feel – where we stand.”

Wakasa helped himself to another much-needed hit. His eyes flitted upward, towards the ceiling as he held his breath. “The real question, doll, is where you stand,” he remarked, letting the smoke pour from his mouth. “For the sake of your relationship, I don’t think ‘ya want to know how I feel ‘bout you.”

You furrowed your brows. “I do want to know.”

“Don’t matter, princess. At the end of the day, you got a boyfriend,” He said. He took one more hit, and then added, “The moment feelings get involved, shit gets messy.”

He was right. You knew he was right, and yet you couldn’t help but feel your heart squeeze almost painfully at the realization. 

You figured you would try one more time, even if it meant embarrassing yourself. “If Takeomi weren’t in the picture…” You trailed off. “Would it be different?”

“Honestly, yeah. ‘M not a fan of being the side guy, especially not to Takeomi,” he said. Then, he turned to look at you. “But I do it for you.”

That comment made your head perk up, gazing back into his violet hues with wide eyes. “Why?”

“Dunno,” He sighed. His exterior dropped and, for a moment, you could see the truth in his eyes. He couldn’t tear them away from you. It was as if he was hooked on you too. “It’s stupid. I gotta be stupid… but ‘s like you’re my weakness. Can’t stay away from you.”

“This… this isn’t just casual sex, is it?” You swallowed, choosing to restate the obvious. “Do you feel it too?”

Wakasa averted his eyes, setting the pipe on the nightstand and laying his head on the pillow. “Yeah,” he finally said. “But what does it matter?”

You nestled next to him, pulling the blanket over the both of you. Wakasa, to your surprise, leaned into your touch. He seemed so vulnerable in the moment, like you made him weak. As weak as he made you. In the moment, he appeared to be the truest version of himself – a man with emotions who had dug himself a hole perhaps a little too deep.

“Casual sex is all I ‘ever known,” He added. “But you feel like home. ‘Never felt that before.”

You drew your body closer to him. It felt nice, to be so close.

“I know that makes me a moron,” He said. His eyes were trained very closely on the ceiling. “But you haven’t left my mind since the moment I first laid eyes on ‘ya. I thought it was g’nna be quick, y’know? The typical cliche of the unhappy girlfriend gettin’ her pleasure from someone else,” Here he paused, turning back to you. “I can handle that. Jus’ wasn’t expecting this.”

The tears returned to the corners of your eyes, beginning to pool as you struggled to hold your breath. You felt like one moment, one slight movement was all it took to break the bond the two of you shared. If that were the case, you would stay by his side as long as you could.

“I know he treats you like shit. I ‘seen the way he talks to you, and, just–” He trailed off. The way his hair fell into his face as he snuggled his head into the pillow was almost hypnotic. “I could treat you better. So much better, ‘know I could. I’ve never felt that for anyone before.”

He breathed in slow and then exhaled. 

He could very well have been lying. Chances are, he’d probably said something similar to the last girl. And the one before that. And the one before that. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. However superficial, you drank up his words like you were thirsty and his lips were a fountain. You hadn’t even realized you were tearing up until you felt a teardrop roll down your cheek.

Why did life have to be so unfair?

Amidst the tranquil beauty of a dimly lit bedroom, the two of you laid side by side, locked in a silent embrace. You were undeniably confused, torn between your six-year relationship with a powerful kingpin and your undeniable affection for your forbidden lover.

Wakasa was enigmatic and alluring, with a mysterious air that drew you towards him like a moth to a flame. He was everything Takeomi wasn't – spontaneous, daring, and adventurous. You were captivated by his charisma and found yourself falling deeper into his spell.

Wakasa’s dark eyes gazed into yours, filled with longing. “I wanna make you mine,” he murmured. “So bad. Can’t help myself when ‘m with you.”

Your heart clenched. You knew you were betraying your boyfriend, but your feelings for Wakasa were too strong to ignore. "I want to be yours," she confessed, her voice wavering. “But ‘m scared.”

Wakasa’s thumb caressed your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, feeling torn between two worlds. "I know," he said softly. "It would be unfair for me to take this any further than we are right now. Don’t wanna do that to ‘ya.”

You closed your eyes, feeling torn and conflicted. You never imagined yourself being stuck in this situation, torn between two men, unsure of what to do. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and your heart was in turmoil.

Wakasa peered into your eyes, his gaze heavy with conflicting emotions. "I don’t wanna be the reason for your pain, but I jus’ can’t bring myself to leave you alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "I wanna be with ‘ya more than anything in the world, but it’s not that simple.”

You nodded, tears, building up in your eyes. You knew he was right, but the thought of remaining casual with him when you had all of these feelings swelling in your chest was unbearable. At the same time, however, you couldn’t imagine giving up what the two of you had. “I know,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “But I don’t know if I can keep my emotions out of what we have… You’ve been so good to me, and I just…”

Wakasa cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. “I wish I could run away with ‘ya, doll, but we gotta be realistic,” he said, his voice filled with longing. “There can’t be a happy ending for us. You know that, don’t ‘ya?”

Your heart clenched as you thought about the repercussions of your forbidden affair. You knew very well that Takeomi could easily send his men after your head. You would spend the rest of your life running. You weren’t sure you could handle that. "You're right," you said softly. "We can't continue like this."

Yet, still, as the of you sat there side by side – with the tension so thick you could have cut through it with a knife – you couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t really want to give you up. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to look at Wakasa, the desire and longing in your gaze mirroring his own. 

Wordlessly, Wakasa closed the difference between the two of you, his hand tilting your chin up so your faces were aligned. Your lips met in the middle in a searing kiss, filled with all the passion and intensity that had been building between the two of you for so long. You couldn’t resist.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, letting him pull you over his body and into his lap. You paused briefly before deepening the kiss, your lips moving hungrily against one another as if this were the last. Time seemed to stand still. Slowly, you felt yourself get lost in his lips.

Your bodies pressed up against one another, the heat and urgency of your longing evident in every delicate touch. You could feel the gentle ripple of his muscular torso beneath you as he breathed through the kiss. You knew you shouldn’t be indulging in him so shamelessly, not after the conversation the two of you had just had, but you couldn’t help it.

As he finally pulled away, breathing ragged, you looked into his eyes, chest heaving with emotion. “You’re making this harder,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Quit playing with my emotions.”

The intimacy beneath his touch was going to send you head over heels into a whirlwind romance. You didn’t need that. He didn’t need that.

Wakasa chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his face. His eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and resignation, raked themselves over your half-naked body. “Sorry, doll,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Can’t help myself. Needed one more before I could go back to playin’ pretend.”

You took a deep breath, trying to halt your tears. “I know it’ll only complicate things further,” You said rather passionately. “But I don’t want to stop doing this with you. I don’t care if we have to sneak around.”

Wakasa smiled almost sadly. He looked as if his heart was aching. “Me neither,” he murmured, voice gentle. “We can keep seeing each other. Jus’ leave our personal feelings out of it, yeah?”

You nodded. You understood what he meant, even though it hurt. You couldn’t afford to let your emotions take control and jeopardize everything you had. You had to be careful and keep your feelings in check. One misstep could ruin this entire arrangement for both of you.

You sighed. “I don’t want him goin’ after us.”

Wakasa’s hand found its way over to yours. “I’ll keep ‘ya safe. Promise,” he said.

You didn’t care if it was an illusion. He looked so ethereal beneath you, hair splayed out on the pillow around his face like a halo. He was so vulnerable, so perfect. Wakasa’s eyes were filled with a mixture of longing and determination. “And if ‘ya change ‘yer mind about being with him,” he said huskily, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek one more time. “I’m a call away.”

You felt your resolve crumble as you crashed your lips down on his, mouths melding together for what must have been the hundredth time that night. You moaned softly, moving your hands from his waist to the pillow beneath his head as you felt him brace his hands on your hips.

You drew a hand back to slip between your heated bodies, dragging down the tatted flesh of his chest with a new purpose. When you felt him harden beneath you, you began to rock your hips back and forth.

“Mmh,” he hummed happily, letting you explore his body. “How do you feel about another round, princess?”

“Very strongly, actually,” You teased, already reaching for the drawstrings on his shorts – Takeomi’s shorts, actually. Wakasa laid back, letting you free his growing erection from the constraints of his clothes.

You spat into the palm of your hand, wrapping it around the head of his dick and then working the spit over the shaft – getting him nice and wet for you. Not like he hadn’t already been dripping from eating your pussy for two hours straight.

“G’nna ride me, pretty girl?” He asked, sliding his hands up your waist while he watched you hover over him. This was moving quickly. Not like you had any objections to that, of course. Clearly, he didn’t either. 

You didn’t grace him with a response, instead positioning the tip in line with your dripping hole and then sinking down on him. After the third time that night, there was hardly any stretch. He had worked you open real good.

He gasped, letting his eyes fall shut. You lifted your hips and then sank down on him again. You were still wet from the last two hours of your night with Wakasa, yet the filthy squelching sound your cunt made as it squeezed around him caught even you off guard.

“Think your man knows’is girl is bouncing on my dick right now?” He tutted, though he let you set the pace, sliding back and forth in a way that had the both of you panting for more. The stretch felt amazing – like you could feel him in your stomach. “Raw?”

Fucking back onto his dick, you couldn’t fight the strangled noises that seemed to tear themselves from your core. “‘S big,” You gasped. It took all of the strength you had not to collapse from the force of your tremble as he braced his feet on the bed. Sensing your struggle, he fucked up into you, meeting your thrusts in the middle and sliding in even deeper. “ Fuck , I feel it in my guts.”

“So wet, baby,” he moaned – sinful, sultry, beautiful. When you looked down, his brows were scrunched together, face contorted with concentration. You slowed down to savor the way your hole sucked him in. He hissed, “G’nna make me finish too soon if you don’t cut it out.”

“Mmh,” you giggled, letting him do all of the work for you. He was so good to you. “Want you to cum inside.”

So good, in fact, you thought you might give him a treat.

His eyes widened. “Yeah? I- hah, ” he breathed.

You nodded.

“Fuck,” he groaned, arching his head off the back of the pillow. His lips parted to make way for an uncharacteristically high-pitched whimper. “G’nna… be the death of me.”

You could say the same about him.

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Bradley’s Sex tape

Pairing; Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

Word count; 2.6k

Warning/Tags; MINORS DNI, 18+, I am not even sure what you call these things but hey! I’m gonna lost as many things as I can…PORN. Unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, toy use, rope bunny (handcuffs), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, begging/crying, sadism(?), pet names, degrading, exhibitionism(?), let me know if i missed anything

A/n; okay, maybe this is something filthier, I’m apparently a slit for The Bradshaw men…Enjoy!! i also hate the fact that its only 2.6k but i guess... let me know what you guys think!!!

Taglist; @roostersrooster @lovinglyeternal @bussyslayer333 @lovingbradshawafterdark @blue-aconite @theamuz @birdy-bat-writes @whoreforseresin @bradshawsweetheart @roosterbruiser @ohtobeleah @startrekfangirl2233 (tagging some horny mutuals<33)

Bradley couldn’t believe what flowed through his ears. The sweet sound of your voice that he admired so much- asking for something that was totally out of character.

He smooths his hands over the soft fabric of the shirt you were wearing- his shirt- a white button down that you had silently stole from his closet a while ago, a few buttons from the top undone, paired with nothing but your cute little cotton underwear. The length of your hair fell over your shoulders, sculpting and enhancing your appearance; your eyes resembling one of a touch starved puppy by the way they were blown out, completely taking over the colour of your iris’. You looked heavenly.

“Please, Brad..” you plead to him through thick lashes, burying yourself onto his lap further that he almost lets out a groan at the pressure you were putting on his hardening cock.

“You can record it with the camcorder I bought you for your birthday,” you whisper lowly, pressing your face closer to him, grazing your cheek against his, smooth skin against his rough stubble as you kiss your way down to that sweet spot under his ear. nibbling at his earlobe.

“Baby, are you sure? I know we’ve done some simple stuff, but-“

You pause your movements, fisting up a chunk of his collared shirt, pulling him by the material to smash your lips into his in a swift motion. his warm hands find their way under your shirt, massaging the soft- cold skin, you let out a soft sound of content, wrapping a free hand around the nape of his neck to deepen the kiss. You swipe your tongue at his bottom lip for access; which he gives you immediately.

The wet sounds of your lips working against each other is loud against the soft music that flows through the vinyl player in the corner of your shared living room. Your hands are caressing his baby hair that sit at the bottom of his neck carefully, softly tugging at them from moment to moment before he pulls away; your foreheads resting against each other, breathes mingling though open mouths.

“I’m sure, Bradshaw, wouldn’t want you to stop; even if it hurts.” You breath out.

That is all he needs before he is grabbing the flesh of your ass, hoisting you up and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

He enters the bedroom in full stride, throwing you onto the mattress with little to no effort, it never ceases to amaze you how strong he is but then again- he works for the navy.

You let out a small squeak as your ass hits the bed, using your elbows to support your weight as you look up at Bradley with your lips parted. his and your eyes hold such lust them; longing after your time apart. and your idea was probably only going to fuel into his need to fuck you into the morning.

He walks backwards, keeping eyes contact with you until he reaches his closet. Opening it to pull out the small Sony camcorder you had gotten him for his birthday. He hasn’t used it yet, but the thought of you being the first person recorded on the thing, laying on his bed, legs spread, wearing his shirt, it is dizzying.

But there was one thing new about this. The vibrator and pair of pink feather handcuffs on his bedside table.

Now, Bradley knew he didn't own one, but, you did. It’s not a purchase you had made a while ago though, you’d bought it for tonight, and when it arrived on your doorstep this morning, wrapped up in pastel pink packaging. You knew it was time.

He walks back towards you, setting up the camcorder on the table that sits in front of your bed and starting it. The red light comes on as he comes to stand in front you, fully naked of any clothing except his black boxers.

“Strip” the order is curt as he stands near the bedpost, watching you like a hawk.

You teasingly tug at the buttons of his shirt, looking into the camera.

“Eyes here, sweetheart.” You try taking your sweet time but the look on his face- so stern-has you working a little faster for it to be called teasing. You rid yourself of the cotton short and bra, only leaving the soft lace of your panties around your pelvis.

Rooster is at awe at the sight of you, naked, on all fours, crawling your way towards the machine. But he is on his way to it in an instant. Snatching it out of your grasp before your can even start it.

“Did I say you could take that thing of yours?”

Your eyes are wide, pupils blown as you look up at him through thick lashes and nibble at your wet lips. It makes the ever growing bulge in his boxers strain against the fabric, becoming a little more painful to hold in.

"Roos.." you coo, sweet and seductive.

You crawl towards him, lifting yourself on your knees to grab his shoulders but he doesn’t let it. Instead, moving forward to let you fall on your back on the bed, spreading your knees out so your lace panties, such a deep red with a patch of wetness where your sweet hole is meant to be.

He grabs at the fabric. Ripping it with a single tug and discarding somewhere near the bed. He doesn’t care about that. But seeing you, naked on his bed like that has him gong feral.

He moves to settle on the small seat across the bed, having a perfect view of you splayed out in front of him like an art piece at the exhibition.

“Touch yourself.”

You feel intimidated by the man in front you. Not in a bad way of course. But this...this Bradley is different. The lust in his eyes is evident and the way he is palming his cock through the thick fabric of this boxers, you’re sure he won’t last long.

Slowly you trail a hand down your body. Feeling the hardness of your nipples, squeezing and tugging at the flesh as you let out soft moans of Bradley’s name, closing your eyes in pleasure before trailing the hand further down to your bundle of nerves that’s soaked in your wetness already.

You circle the tiny thing, moaning at the movements, imagining the man in front of you was using his tongue to make you come on it.

Bradley isn’t doing well either. His cock is stood proud on his hand, running his fingers above the head, flicking at it. As he moans at your sweet sounds.

The vibrator isn’t exactly abandoned. You’re midway into your orgasm, pretty sure that you’re going to cum if you keep flicking at your clit like that before you hear shuffling. Bradley…

The low hum of the vibrator hits you as you feel the it work right above your clit. You jump slightly at the sudden contact of the cool silicone, but Bradley’s large hands grab harshly but not too strongly at your hips, keeping you in place.

He shifts you towards the left, putting you parallel to the camera so it would have a perfect view of your tits, naked on the bed with Bradley between your legs.

“Such a good slut, aren’t ya’? Who would’ve thought, such innocent face,” he holds your face in his, smooshing your cheeks-a tight grip on your chin. Heavy lidded eyes making contact with his big brown ones, “holds such filth. Might show the team this, huh? What would they think of you?”

You whimper, loudly. Hands coming to rest on his stomach, feeling his toned muscles, his lean stomach and- fuck. There is a sweet pain that comes with this amount of pressure on your clit and it certainly isn’t there to keep you quiet.

You’re so lost in your pleasure that you don’t notice that Bradley has taken the feathery little bracelets and has started tugging at your wrists, locking your arms above your head.

“Brad…”

It’s the first coherent thing that’s fallen out of your pretty mouth in a while and his name sounds so intoxicating spilling out of those lips that it makes him up the intensity of the machine in his hand. Pressing it further into your tender flesh that already overstimulated.

“Fuck-ohmygod-“

“You like that, baby? Look at you, all fucked out f’me. Haven’t even made you cum yet,”

You’re clenching around nothing. He hasn’t even given you his fingers while he abuses your sensitive flesh with the pink thing. You’re sure you could cry, your vision is already blurry with hot tears brewing at the corner of your eyes. Threatening to overflow.

“Please, Brad, ple-“ he increases the level by another and a loud moan escapes your pretty lips, mouth open wide to let out a scream of pleasure.

“What, baby? Tell me what’s got you begging at my fingertips. Didn’t you want this?”

The neighbours will definitely complain about this.

But you don’t care right now, no. It’s all too much before you feel his hands crawling their way into your core, wandering over the flesh of your thighs. He hooks them over his shoulders, biting and softly nipping at the skin as he moves

You’re overstimulated to a point where you’re unconsciously grinding and thrusting your hips towards his mouth.

And he’s lapping up your juices like a starved man. Tonguing into your clenching pussy. He swears under his breath as you close around him.

“Fuck- Brad, I’m-“

“did I tell you that you could cum, doll?”

You shake your head nervously. The tone of his voice is stern and commanding, there is no doubt that he isn’t the soft Rooster you know.

He shifts on his knees, moving the small vibrator away from your sensitive clit. He stands tall over you, towering. His hard cock is smothered in pre-cum, leaking onto the sheets.

Getting off the bed, he moves towards the camera on the table, taking it in his hands to bring towards you, a perfect view.

He brings two fingers to the tender flesh, running his fingers through- spreading the slick and you finally let the dam break. Leaking into his fingers as you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Tsk, tsk..” he coos, “I told you not to do that sweetheart,”

You know he’s recording all of it. Every small movement from you. The closeups of your pussy dripping onto his p fingers to the way you’re struggling to get your hands out of the soft grasp of the cuffs.

It’s a blur, one moment his fingers are sliding in you, the other he is is straightening up and aligning the top of his cock with your dripping pussy.

You’re screaming. You’re sure that if he keeps thrusting in and out of you with such intensity you will not last. Slowly pulling, before thrusting back in, you an feel him in your abdomen.

“Such a good girl, takin’ me in so good,” He places a hand on the bottom of your stomach, feeling the way it rises up as the top of his cock hits deep within you. The bump is noticeable and it makes Bradley spiral with thoughts. Something that he’s thought about before with you.

“Look at that, baby. Y’ look so good with that bump of my cock inside you.”

You’re fucked out of your brain that all you can mutter out is a low hum.

“Y’want my baby in you, doll? Want you walking around with a swollen belly with a kid of mine-fuck,”

He’s so good to you, and the way he’s been praising you, you can’t do much but nod at his request. He’s close, the way his thrust are getting faster and his cock is twitching inside you, you know he’s close.

“Want- want your baby in me, please..Roos,” you plead, and the moan that follows that string of thought is vulgar to say the least. Pornographic. The way he has your legs hooked to his shoulders, vibrator long forgotten. Your arms hurt from being tied above your head for so long but all you can think of is the way he is hitting that one spot- so sweetly- in you.

“Fuck baby,” his hips stutter, movements faltering as he bottoms out one last time, thrusting back in as he spills inside you with a string of curses following.

“Gonna watch this thing again, look to the camera baby, wanna see you look at me when I watch it again.”

Your eyes flutter open at the command, look up towards Rooster and the camera lens right below him. You hear him coo at the tears spilling out of your eyes, setting the pink thing aside to smooth out the hair from your sweaty face.

“Roos…it hurts, please,” you breath, your voice is hoarse, cracking as you shake your hands that are tied above you, the feathers reducing no amount of bruising being caused around your wrists.

“This is gonna hurt a little bit, okay?” The heads up catches you mildly off guard, but you don’t pay much mind as he slowly pulls out of you. Letting out a soft sigh, you already miss the stretch of cock, the way it hit your sweet spot just minutes ago.

He dips his hand between your entangled bodies, gathering up the thick ooze and bringing them to your mouth.

“Open up baby,” he slides the fingers into your mouth, expecting tour tongue to lap up the juices and you do. Sucking on it’ll the digits until they are pressing on the father part of your tongue-making you gag on them.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good like that,” he praises, admiring the way you suck on his fingers. He runs his hands up and down your body, feeling the warm skin heat up with his touch a little more; the way your hard nipples are perked, begging for attention; the way there is a thin sheen of sweat forming over your forehead and torso, and Bradley has the obscene need to lick it off of you. It’s dirty- downright absurd, but the way you’re making him feel- god fuck you’re beautiful.

He sets the camera aside. On the bedside table, still on. He kisses your pelvic, bending down to eat off your leaking cunt. you let out soft whimpers as he does so, he does it so softly that you feel like a porcelain doll in his grasp.

"Roo..." you plead again, "the cuffs- fuck it hurts" there are tears staining the bedsheets, and Bradley almost loses and just thrusts back into you again before he restrains himself.

Lowering your lifted pelvic, he reaches forward, resting one hand beside you and unlocking the straps before letting your writs lose. He brings them forward, kissing the redness already starting to form.

"I'm sorry, baby, should've told me I did them too tight." he apologizes, softness already seeping back into him.

"No," tugging your hands away from his grasp, you reach forward, pulling him into a kiss. its soft, tender. “I liked it-just,” you let out a small sniffle, “got too much..”

He swear he could melt this very moment. The way your naked body is say on him, his hands on your hips, feeling the way your body has been sculpted in the shape of a literal goddess. He kisses between your breast, licking and nipping his way up the valley, he kisses your neck- oh so gently; he kisses his way up to your neck, your jaw until he finally reaches your lips again. Moulding them into his own, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He connects your lips again in a hurry, tongue against tongue.

He pulls away, a sting of spit between the two of you. Foreheads resting against each other.

“Wanna go again?”

[essenceofelegance]

Sand on cheeks (pt. 1)

Percy Jackson x reader

m.list pt.2

warnings: none

disclaimer: this is also on wattpad as Sand on cheeks

I sat up in a panic with a pounding headache, cold sweat clinging to my forehead,

I took deep breaths, quickly fishing out a light pink notebook, 

grabbing a pen from my bedside table and jotted down what my nightmare consisted of.

It had become a routine I had grown used to, nightmares always haunting my sleep.

I set down my notebook, shoving the pen in between the pages hastily, grabbing my cup and took a sip of water.

I lied back down on the bed, closing my eyes, reaching up to rub my temples.

I let out a sigh, directing my eyes to the clock sitting on m bedside table. 5:53am. The sun had already risen.  Almost time to get up. 

I stared at the ceiling.

I started imagining blinds that could block out the Sun entirely, blinds that could protect me from the Sun's wrath- 

What? 

Sometimes, I don't know why I think my thoughts are like the way they are, almost wandering.

I think about the consequences of staying in bed all day,

I already knew that staying in bed was not a possibility,

but a little imagination didn't hurt anyone, let a girl dream.

After what seemed like a minute, I got up, slipping into my fuzzy slippers, not seeing the point in trying to fall asleep again.

I walked to the camp bathroom and did my usual morning routine, brush my teeth, skincare, makeup, hair and clothes.

By the time I walked back into the Aphrodite cabin in my bright orange camp t-shirt that I wanted to burn so badly- most of my siblings had already woken up. 

I walked  to my bed and replaced my slippers for my sneakers, greeting some of my siblings as I walked to the pavilion. 

"Hey, princess," Percy said as he jogged up to me, flashing me a smile.

"Hey, seaweed brain," I said as I flashed him a tired smile, "Nightmares?" Percy said, though it wasn't really a question. "Mmhm," I nodded.

"Do you have to help with sword training today?" I asked as I tied my hair up into a low messy bun, strands of curly hair fell loose, but looked perfect nevertheless, thanks to my mother.

"Nope," Percy said as he waved to some of his friends in the distance,  "I was gonna take a dip by the lake again, are you coming?" 

I considered his offer.

Well, I didn't have to teach archery lessons today, and who would give up an opportunity to hang out with Percy? He's always busy.

"Yeah," I said after a beat. Percy nodded in response, "I'll catch you later," he said, giving me a playful wink. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"Hey," I greet my siblings as I sat down at the Aphrodite table. 

"Percy broke up with Annabeth!" one said, "Yeah! He's single now, we should totally go get him!" then a bunch of compliments starting pouring in. 

It's not a secret that Percy was attractive.

Having been on more quests then most demigods could only dream of — Percy was something of a legend. Saving Mount Olympus? Check. Surviving Tartarus? Check. Being unnecessarily hot? Double check.

Dark hair ruffled in a summer breeze. Vibrant eyes blending into the coast line. Tan skin draped over a body sculpted by gods.

Percy was the ultimate prize.

I never denied my feelings for Percy, I just never told him.

Why risk throwing away years of friendship when I know that he doesn't feel the same?

"Earth to Y/n!" Silena snapped her fingers in front of my face, "Sorry," I mumbled, "I'm okay."

Silena sent me a knowing glare, "You better shoot your shot before it's too late, if you don't want history to repeat itself," she whispered. 

She was right. I had already started liking Percy before he and Annie become a thing. 

And just as I was about to tell Percy how I felt, they had already fallen in love.

Fallen in love. 

It was no secret that I was Aphrodite's favourite daughter.

Then why couldn't she give me the one thing I wanted?

Love. 

I spent the entirety of breakfast thinking, until I was snapped out of my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder.

I snapped my head towards the owner of the hand. Percy.

"You okay?" he asked as he took a seat next to me, it was only then I realised most of my siblings were done with their meal and went off to their activities.

"Yeah," I answered with a nod. Percy shot me a knowing look.

"What? I'm fine," I sent him a glare, "You know you can always tell me, right?" he said, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm gonna go get my stuff," I muttered. 

Percy knew better than to follow me.

pt.2

author: okay okay i know i have a reputation for not uploading very often- almost never- but i’ve already written a couple of parts for thi and i’m feeling really motivated, so this will officially be my first (mini?) series!! at least one new part every week- i got you- part two coming in really soon, in like half an hour probably. taglist is open, send an ask or a comment<333 also i’m using a completely new writing style this time soo

Copyright © 2024 Emory Belrose. All rights reserved. 

⋆

Please do not re-upload my work on any platforms without permission.

Any reblogs, comments, likes, shares, and follows are appreciated.

[ms--lobotomy]

May I request Primarchs with an insecure reader? Like they don’t think they’re talented/attractive enough to be with them because they’re literal demigods?

Howdy, anon! I feel like I could go really in depth with one Primarch so I'm going to do that. Hope you like Fulgrim!

---

summary: fulgrim reminds you that you are worthy of his love.

word count: 956

content warnings: he's a bit possessive but we're all primarch fuckers here, are we really doing ok?

---

You sat on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned corridor of the battleship and scribbled away at your sketchbook, trying to get his delicate features right. He wasn't in the room with you, but you knew his visage well enough to know what it should look like. But no matter how many times you tried to draw your lover, he never looked right. His eyes were always too big, or his nose was the wrong shape, or there was too much detail on his mouth compared to the rest of the picture. And when you tried to detail the rest of the picture, it looked wrong again.

You sighed, burying your head against your sketchbook. You knew that contact with skin wasn't the best thing for your art, but it wasn't like your art was anything that was good enough for him. His art was so perfect that it was unnerving to look at. When he painted, the eyes uncannily followed the viewer. When he sculpted, it was like someone living, breathing was trapped in the marble.

You heard the clinking of armor getting ever closer. Must be one of the Emperor's Children. Would any of them care if they found you like this? You weighed your options, wondering who would be the worst to come across in this moment. After a few moments, you decided that--

"Ahem." You perked up and looked towards the source of the noise as your heart sank in your chest. It was him, beautiful and perfect as always. His white hair cascaded down his armored chest in perfect waves, and his violet eyes were concentrated on you, with your graphite-sodden forehead, cramped hands and eyes widened at the revelation that he was here in this abandoned corridor with you.

"I did not expect to see you here." His smile was almost angelic, the corners of his mouth turned up at exactly the right angle to make you fold.

"I guess I can say the same," you managed to blurt out. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest, and the words you spoke almost got caught between your teeth.

"What are you doing?" he asked, kneeling down. His armor shifted ever so slightly, clinking against itself. He plucked your sketchbook from your hands. Your heart raced. Nobody did that. He held it to his face and was greeted with pictures of himself. Some had a neutral expression, and the faces of some were contorted into a smile. Some were full-body pictures, and some were just head shots. Some of them were scribbled out, your pencil pressuring the paper so hard that it left indents in the next page.

Fulgrim chuckled. "You've taken a liking to me," he said, flipping again through the messy pages of your sketchbook before handing it back to you. "Why, pray tell, did you scribble out some of them? Are you trying to cast a spell on me?"

"I..." you started. "I just didn't feel like I did you justice."

Fulgrim laughed, brightly and heartily. "Suffer not the witch to live," he said before giving you a playful punch on the shoulder. You felt the corners of your mouth turn up for a split second before they fell again, and you looked away from him. You felt your cheeks go warm in the silence between words before you felt a hand at the bottom of your jaw. Your face was turned to face your lover whether you liked it or not.

"Tell me what's wrong, darling," he said quietly.

"I said that I feel like I didn't do you justice in those ones," you muttered again. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that you could focus on instead of confronting your lover.

"Hmm." Even though he was squeezing your jaw lightly, it still slightly hurt. "I can tell you're hiding something, darling." He tilted your face up slightly further as if to study your neck.

You sighed, closing your eyes tightly. The world became a dark blur around you before you opened them again. "You're just so good at art and fighting and everything, and I'm just... me, I guess," you said. "I have no idea how I ended up with someone like you."

Fulgrim's gaze softened. "That's what you're worried about?" he asked. His hand fell from your chin, and you rubbed it before he took your hand. Even though Fulgrim wasn't one of the largest of his brothers, his hand engulfed yours. His armor was cold, colder than the air around you. You trembled a little bit in his presence, and he let out another chuckle.

"I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about, darling. Your art isn't why I decided to take you as mine, although it is quite wonderful. I decided to take you because I have grown to care about you, and I want to see you happy. Do you understand how much it takes for someone created for war to care about someone so deeply?"

You gulped. You nodded.

"I don't think you really do," he said, leaning over you to plant a kiss to your forehead before he stopped there, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

You nodded again. "Thank you," you said quietly.

"Now, why don't you get up off the floor?" he asked. "Someone like you deserves a proper place to sit."

You felt your face go warm again. "Oh..." you said softly. He offered a delicately armored hand to you with that same old smile on his face. You took it, and you both stood up.

"I will love you for a million lifetimes if I have to," he said quietly as you started to walk.

---

Continuation here!

[skankinator]

Complications Ch. 6

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI

When he parked outside of your apartment complex, you weren’t sure what to do. You had been through a lot tonight, but you didn’t want it to be over. This perfect stranger, Bradley, made tonight feel almost easy. Easy enough for you to ask him a question.

“Do you want to come up and stay a while?”

He looks at you, the street light revealing his sculpted features. A smile appears on his face and he says, “yeah, I’d like that.”

You get out of the car with your bag of goodies and walk to your apartment. Bradley follows closely behind you. Once inside you feel like everywhere you’ve been is stuck to you: the airport, the bar, the pharmacy. The only thing on your mind is getting clean.

You turn to see Bradley already looking at you. You smirk and step closer. You are close enough that you have to arch your neck to look at him. “I’m going to take a shower.” You walk to the bathroom and turn on the water.

You poke your head out to look at him still standing there. “Are you going to join me or just stand there?” You tease him.

“Yeah. Yes. Absolutely,” he sounds flustered.

You are already in your underwear when he walks in. You help him remove his clothes for the second time tonight. Soon you are under the warm water with strong arms wrapped around your waist. He holds your back to his chest and places warm kisses on your neck.

You turn around in his arms placing a hand on each side of his head pulling him in for a kiss. His mustache tickles your top lip, a feeling you are really starting to like.

He moves his hands down your sides squeezing your ass before lifting your thigh to his side. Positioning himself right where you want him.

“I want you,” you moan into his ear. With that he pushes deep into you in one strong thrust.

You moan at the sudden feeling of fullness. You adjust quickly to his size as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in. You tighten around him furthering your pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he moans against you. He thrusts into you at a slow, steady pace. He pushes you against the wall holding you in place. The cold tile makes you arch your back giving him more room. He hits a new spot making you dig your nails into his back.

He hits that spot over and over and over. You try to muffle the noises he is eliciting by biting his shoulder. That only motivates him more.

He runs his fingers through your hair and pulls your head back so you are looking at him. “I wanna hear you scream my name,” Your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure as he picks up the pace.

“Fuck, Bradley,” you are getting closer and closer to your release as he pounds into you. “I’m gonna cum, Bradley”

He keeps his pace as your orgasm sends waves throughout your body. You clench around his cock and he pulls out as he reaches his peak. He finishes using his hand as he cums on your stomach.

He leans down and rests his forehead on yours as you both catch your breath. You tilt your head up and capture his lips in a soft kiss. You each take your time bathing each other.

You gasp when you see what you’ve done to his back. There are red scratch marks across his shoulders. “Oh my gosh are you okay?” You say running your fingers along the lines.

“Yeah,” he laughs “they don’t hurt. It felt pretty good when you put them there.” Your face turns red. You get out of the shower and dry off.

You sit on the edge of your bed with your towel wrapped around you. You stare at your still packed boxes with dread. Bradley walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist showcasing his abs.

You can’t help yourself from staring, especially knowing where that v-line leads. Of course he sees this shameless stare and walks over to you. He places a hand on your chin lifting your eye line to meet his. “If you keep looking at me like that, we will never get to sleep.”

“I won’t have any trouble sleeping,” you say standing up and dropping your towel before climbing under the covers. “Will you?” He just shakes his head.

He joins you in bed pulling you into his chest. The heat radiating from him brings you comfort. You close your eyes and hum. “Goodnight, Bradley”

“Goodnight, Y/N”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

how would Donnie react to seeing marks he left in his wife during sex?

“Damn, baby.”

Adonis had slipped into the bathroom to join his wife in the shower after their second fuck session. They were currently staying at the Venetian Las Vegas hotel for the weekend to celebrate a win for one of the boxers Adonis trains. It was another win under the retired boxers belt and he couldn’t wait to go back to their room and celebrate with just the two of them. Everyone else were club hopping and Adonis wasn’t in the mood for that. Plus, his honey was looking extra good.

Adonis couldn’t deny he was a lot more aggressive in bed tonight than he usually is. While his girl had her back turned to him, the water from the rainfall shower head cascading down her hourglass frame, Adonis noticed love bites on her shoulder and bruises on her hips. There was even a scratch on her back. She wiped the glass shower door to get rid of the condensation so she could see him better. Adonis opened the shower door and stepped inside. He immediately turned her around so he could examine her marks.

“Shit, I did all this…I’m so sorry, baby,” Adonis pressed his forehead against the back of her head before he dragged his lips across her shoulder with his bite mark, “I swear, I don’t know what got into me.”

He stroked her shoulder with his thumb. She rested her hand on top of his and looked up at him with a reassuring smile and sultry eyes.

“Donnie, it’s okay,” she leaned in closer to his face, “I enjoyed it,” her lips met his and she gave him a lingering kiss before pulling away.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” Adonis asked while his eyes examined the other marks, “Not even this scratch? I don’t even remember doing this.”

The scratch was in the center of her spine.

“I do,” She turned to face him completely, “When you had me arched at the end of the bed, you were about to cum and I kept telling you to go faster…and faster…because I was so close,” She brought her hands up to rest against his sculpted chest and she kept her eyes locked on his with her soaking wet body pressed against his, “I could feel you growing stiffer inside of me and then you used one hand to pull my hair and the other to drag your hand down my back. I felt the stinging sensation when you scratched me…but all it did was make me cum harder.”

Adonis grabbed her by her face and practically stuck his tongue down her throat. They exchanged spit as their tongues circled each other’s. Adonis brought his hand down to slap her ass and she giggled into his mouth. She finally pushed away from him and turned around so grab some body wash.

“I must say…they do look beautiful on you, baby,” Adonis said.