#incoherent gnawing sounds

[zet-sway]

THIS WOMAN IS COOKING MY BRAIN

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Pussydrunk!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Cockdrunk!Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other. From this ask here.

Word Count: 5.4 k

Warnings:

The moment those heavy boots hit the threshold of the apartment, brown eyes are searching for you as Simon’s heart pounds in his ears the same as it had the entire drive over. He’s been gnawing at the bit since even before he returned to base a day ago, aching to get back to the gorgeous being living in his flat. The last month of his deployment he’s been on edge, counting down the days in agonizing fashion as the craving growing in the pit of his stomach gets worse and worse. Fuck, he’s missing you - all of you - something fierce. 

Simon has missed those sweet moans of yours, the way you make his name sound so perfect through the stuttered gasps as you reach that level of incoherence that renders you completely useless; he has missed all the ways your body moves against and underneath him, writhing and back arching as his larger form overwhelms you; he has missed the way you fuck him, body begging for more even as you struggle to fit him all in and how beautiful it is to be inside you. 

It is enough to drive the man insane.

From the bedroom you can hear the door opening and closing and rush to the living room as quick as your legs can move, carried by giddy nerves to see your lover again after so long. You knew he was meant to be in today, but not the time and so you’ve been on edge waiting and listening; as soon as you see him a deepening ache situates itself in your chest. 

Simon clocks you as you come into the living room and he can’t find enough air to fill his lungs; by the way your cheeks instantly glow with warmth and your eyes sparkle he’s sure you are feeling the same tension fill the air around you the moment you two are in sight of one another. You are the one to close the distance as Simon’s limbs feel too heavy to move at first, blood being drawn to other places along his body that need it more now that he is near to the object of his desire. 

“Hey there stranger,” you smile up into those familiar balaclava- clad features as your heartbeat steadily becomes more erratic from your body flooding with that desperate longing to be against him once again. It is always the same: when you two are apart for long periods when he has to be away the moment you are in front of one another again it is like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. “Long time no see.” 

He stares back down at you, light chocolate eyes taking in the face he hasn’t seen properly in too damn long. “Well ‘ello there yerself, pretty girl,” he returns, gravely tone sending chills down your spine as he drops the gear on his shoulder to the floor so that he has free range of motion to cup his calloused hand along your soft, delicate cheek. “It’s been a hot fuckin’ minute. Did ya miss me, luv?”

Before his brain can register what’s happening he senses something brush up against him in the small space still between your bodies and as his eyes travel down he sees that your hand is grabbing at his belt buckle, silky digits lacing themselves around the metal clasp. His eyes jump back up to yours instantly.

You aren’t wasting any time, are you? Fucking hell.

“Missed you a whole fucking lot, Simon,” you say under your breath as you give his belt a firm tug forward so that he has to take a step into you. Your thighs are already being rubbed together where you stand; it’s instant the way he can turn you on just by his presence alone. “Didn’t know when you’d be in; been waiting as patiently as I could, but I gotta say it hasn’t been easy. Got my nerves all flustered. How about you? Are you flustered, baby?”

You just have to do it, don’t you? That one damned gesture that always sends him reeling.

It isn’t a secret how the time apart makes him pine for you as if he is a man dying of thirst: for those hot, breathless moments spent between your thighs, for the way your bodies seem created only for the other, for the intense sensations of euphoria that only you can give him. So when your fingers hook into his belt to pull him in closer, you know what effect it will have on making him crumble, don’t you? 

Eight months is far too fucking long not to have any piece of you and any little touch would have done the trick to do him in, but you know the exact combination that will have him throwing you on your back in a heartbeat. He is a man starved of his addiction and it’s about goddamn time he had another hit. As you tug at the leather with a smirk across your lips, doe-eyed stare not so innocent anymore, all that yearning that had been bubbling right under the calm surface of those autumn-colored eyes for eight long, agonizing months explodes with force. 

No words, not a goddamn sound as that skull mask is ripped up off of Simon’s face in a flash quicker than your eyes can catch. Your body is moved by two strong arms more than capable of manhandling those curves with ease and find yourself slammed into the wall while he clasps your chin securely in his grip so that hungry lips can scramble to aggressively capture your own. While your lips dance, his free hand roams up under your clothes to grab ahold of any piece of available flesh as all that pent up desire surges through his veins like liquid fire. His fingertips tremble as they brush across all that soft, balmy skin along your abdomen and around your hips, making him produce a guttural moan into your open mouth that you are forced to swallow down. 

That huge, hulking body of his with its prominent muscles bulging everywhere even through his clothing overwhelms your own as he pins you harder against the wall while his grip descends to around your ass so that he can bring your hips forward, clothed pelvis rutting into you to catch any extra bit of friction he can as that tenting at the crotch of his pants swells the longer he grinds against you. His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, frantic kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion… and yet you still aren’t satisfied. 

Simon feels your nipples through your t-shirt stiffening as his chest rubs against them, a reminder to his numbing brain that there is even more of a feast for him waiting just beneath your clothes if he can just get them off you; the couple of nudes he keeps in his phone that you send him while he’s away are only a pale comparison to the real fucking thing and he’s been dying see it in person.

You’re close to one another, but not fucking close enough. 

He needs skin on skin, curves molded into curves, cock buried in you deep. That’s the crux of it all - he needs to be reminded of what you feel like wrapped around him, lose his mind as your cunt gives him the sensation he can get nowhere else from no one else. It consumes him in that moment until his thoughts are filled with nothing but the oncoming ecstasy that will soon be his. 

Feverish fingers slip themselves into the waistband at the back of your pants as he continues to rut against you, the few layers of fabric between you about to be reduced as he shoves down taking your pants over the arch of your ass until they fall around your ankles and you can step out of them. Your own fingers are already undoing the buckle of his belt before your clothes can hit the floor; thank fuck that Simon likes to keep his wardrobe uncomplicated when on leave. 

“Christ, I’m so fuckin’ hard for ya, sweetheart,” he breathes the heated, desperate words against your raw lips as hips continue to grind on you and make your work that much more difficult, “it’s been hell being away for so long. I’ve been fuckin’ starved, baby. That sweet little pussy of yours is callin’ my fuckin’ name. I need it, I need ya…fuckin’ can’t wait another goddamn second.” 

The muscles along his abdomen tense through his shirt as you brush against them until finally his belt comes loose and you can move onto the button securing his pants. You finish undoing everything just in time for him to tear that fucking shirt clean off your top half before doing exactly the same to his own. 

The middle of his chest is flushed pink and hastily you lean in to press your lips to it, through the tingle against your mouth from tiny hairs brushing over the delicate skin you can feel he is so warm it’s like he’s heated from the inside out. That broad chest heaves up and down heavily with the weight of his lust-filled breaths as you dot tender pecks along the center before he can’t take anymore and picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and hurriedly drags you off to the bedroom hungry and ready to indulge.  

“That’s it,” Simon says in that brash tone that lets you know he’s reached his limit. “Can’t take this ache ‘nother goddamn second. You and that sweet thing between your legs are mine now.”  

He’s able to make it across the apartment in no time and throws open the bedroom door so that it hits the wall behind it with a booming thud as he stalks to the bed and sets you down on the surface, making sure to remove the pants hanging loosely around his hips as quick as he can along with his boxers. The moment he’s free of the clothing binding him that thick, meaty appendage springs to life, bobbing at attention as the vein along it pulses, and your breath hitches as your eyes are drawn to it; he’s not the only one who’s hungry and its been a hot fucking minute since you’ve laid eyes on all he has to offer.

You barely have time to scramble up towards the pillows at the head of the bed before he is crawling up towards you, a predator’s gaze making his iris’ flash and sparkle with an internal fire in the scant bit of light from the bedside lamp that illuminates the room. 

Simon’s shoulder muscles tense as he moves on all fours until he’s over you, his cock dangling down as he gets between your legs so that it drags over the petals of your pussy. You can feel it throb as it becomes even more engorged with blood at the stimulation and it makes your mouth salivate. A strained grunt echoes through his closed lips as the tip grazes over that silky, heated skin between your thighs; he’s already vibrating with pleasure… what the fuck is gonna happen when he gets inside?

Only one way to find out…

Simon pulls your legs up high around his waist, wide torso keeping you nice and spread for him. You claw at his shoulder blades with your nails as you shove your hips into him, body practically begging for him to get inside already. Screw any foreplay, you can’t afford to wait and let this frantic moment slip by. There is only one thing you want in you and it is already throbbing at its destination. 

“Fuck, please Simon, just get inside me,” your plea sends a shiver down his spine. “I don’t want to fucking wait…waited long enough.”

Spitting into his hand he applies the moisture to your entrance, lubricating the opening with hard presses of his fingertips along your cunt to help get things moving in the right direction. “Been a while, baby,” he returns as he aligns the tip and presses it against you while trying not to fall apart at the seams, “ya sure ya can still fuckin’ take it all?”

You nod aggressively, the need to be filled out by him overwhelming your every sense. You’ve waited patiently all this time, chomping at the bit for him to get back to you and now that he is here between your legs it’s all you can think about. “Give it to me,” you demand. “I need it baby, please, I’m aching something terrible. I need to feel you inside me again.”

How could he ever deny a request like that from you? 

The world falls away as the tip slips through the threshold of your body and inside and he has to stop as just the head alone stretching you wide sends him spiraling. Your back arches off of the bed as you squirm under him, mouth falling open with half-formed moans that get caught in the back of your throat as the tight space is beginning to fill. Simon shudders with ecstasy, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite down in hopes that the sharp pain will force him to stay sane.  

Another thrust shoves him in a bit more so that now he’s more than halfway there, but still has just a bit to go. Your body doesn’t stand a chance as you lay under him at his mercy. His fingernails graze your waist as his hands hold on tight; he has to fit it in, get to the base, completely surround himself within you. Taking a deep breath he gathers another burst of energy to thrust all the way until he bottoms out and you release a cry into the silence of the room. 

“Goddamn ya feel so fuckin’ good princess, like a goddamn dream,” he gasps out as his head snaps down against your chest. “Pretty girl, my pretty fuckin’ girl, wanna keep ya fuckin’ full ‘a me all the time.”

Simon’s brain is quickly becoming mush as the warmness and growing wetness of your pussy makes his large form quiver at the bliss. You are no better, sanity slipping away as his hefty cock practically molds your walls to his specific shape as it rests inside. Hips begin to rock and are immediately punctuated by a deep-throated groan with each snap as he settles into a steady rhythm.   

Thrust after thrust each one harder than the last pushes your body until it is shoved up and your head hits the wall behind the bed. Simon’s nose nuzzles into your neck as feeble whimpers leave the confines of your mouth and pack his head full. “Missed your sounds too,” he says, amidst another thrust. “Keep this up and it’s gonna be my fuckin’ end, sweetheart.” Another strong thrust follows and then another.  

A yearning need to see himself fuck your gorgeous body suddenly engulfs his mind and so he slow sits himself up on his knees, making sure to keep himself inside you, so that he can get the perfect birdseye view of the beautiful way your body takes him in. It’s perfection and he cannot help but become absorbed in watching as each thrust in and out makes his cock disappear inside that narrow passage only to slip back out covered in more of your juices with each pass. 

Over and over his hips rock into you, the muscles along his abdomen clenching, fingertips digging into your sides to hold you still as his speed steadily increases the longer he goes. Your music fills his head, whimpers of pleasure as he strikes against your g-spot from the angle he’s positioned in, and that is the only thing that is floating in there now as everything else becomes a blur. 

The stoic and collected military officer is reduced to a glorious mess the longer he thrusts, drooling over you, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him all in as they flutter around his cock. It’s been too long, too many nights spent alone without your company stuck half-way across the world with only his hand to keep him occupied when he can get a free moment, which those were few and far between. But nothing, nothing ever could compare to the feeling of you.

“Can’t get enough,” he stammers with a groan, so wrapped up in the moment that speech is near impossible to produce. “Fuckin’ desperate for ya, need more…need fuckin’ more…”

Simon is deep inside you and yet that ache is still monstrous, eating him alive so that anything outside of the ecstasy of your flesh is just fucking gone. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he’s obsessed with your body. It isn’t enough though, never enough. You have completely consumed him; he is under your spell and nothing can break the charm.

His head is spinning, thoughts vacant like he is wasted; fuck, he’s high off the sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Now that he is inside you, there is no way he can leave anytime soon. There’s no goddamn way he’s going to let either of you come yet, not after how long you two have gone without each other. 

That hot coil tensing in the pit of his stomach pulls tighter and tighter, but he will not let it snap… not yet. No, he needs this to last as long as he physically can keep it up and so he knows what he has to do and with all his strength he does it; that once intense pounding slows down until he stops amongst your whimpered mewling. 

“What’re you doing?” you stutter, hips desperately trying to buck against him, but he pins them down for a bit. 

“Uh, uh,” he shakes his head, “don’t ya fuckin’ dare think you’re gonna come yet. Ya feel too fuckin’ good to let go of.”

Oh shit… You were in for it now, but just how much you could have never guessed. 

“No…no, please… I need you to keep going,” you plead as your throat strains to release the words, water rimming the whites of your eyes. That consuming ache is so deep in your bones it threatens to devour you whole, causing you to rip at the very seams as it permeates every fiber of your being until your entire form is primed like an explosive ready to combust. You can’t breathe, you can’t fucking think; everything is focused on how much the feeling of him is consuming all of you like a fire burning through dry tinder.

A shuddering breath escapes his lips; even stopping doesn’t help much, your body just feels too good and so he has to at least rut carefully against it. “I know, baby, I know,” he groans as his fingers dig into your hip to now force you to grind your clit into the base of his shaft. “But ya want this to fuckin’ last, yeah? Ya don’t wanna be done with me just yet, do ya?”

That thick, veiny appendage lay inside you, its girth stretching out the walls of your cunt to capacity as it simply rests there throbbing with the beat of his rapid heart rate, stewing in the filthy mess of juices he’s already made between your legs. You choke on a whimper as the stimulation to your clit sends a shockwave through to your toes and you clench them together, gathering some of the sheets into their grip. 

“No,” you shake your head wildly. “You just feel so fucking good, I can’t help it… feels so good… I just wanna keep feeling good with you, Simon.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he praises as he leans forward and presses his burning lips to the skin on your stomach, knowing that no matter what you would have said he wasn’t going to let you tap out yet; he needs your pussy like he needs air to survive. “It’s been too fuckin’ long since we’ve been able ta do this…need ta make up for all the lost time.” 

Simon’s dreamt about this the entire time you’ve been apart; insatiable, desperate, carnal fantasies about fucking your tight hole to within an inch of your sanity, making you come so hard that you can’t move for hours after. His cock has been throbbing for months with nothing but his fucking hand to take the edge off as he pictures filling out every inch of your hole until there is nowhere left for his cock to go.

Another couple of minutes of simply breathing, grinding, and focusing on the way the skin of your torso is so soft against his lips and he’s far enough from that ledge that he wants to start thrusting full force again. He leans down and wraps his arms around your body and you take it as a sign that he’s going to start up again, only for him to roll you both until you are the one on top now. The movement is unexpected, but you are more than willing to go along with it if it means you can take control of your own pleasure. 

As he situates himself under you, his hands roam up and down your sides while he takes a second to enjoy how you look perched over him: full tits directly in his face, hair cascading around your cheeks as you peer down into his face, eyes rolling back in your head every time a sensitive point gets stimulated. You are his fucking fantasy when you get on top. 

“I wanna have ya ride me for a bit,” he breathes. “Show me how good ya ride it, pretty girl. Make my cock your toy.”

As long as he stays inside you, you’ll do whatever the hell he wants.    

Placing your hands on his hard chest for support while his hand moves back to your hips, Simon guides you up and down until you are bouncing in rhythm to match his racing heartbeat. Harder and harder he shoves you forcefully down to get as deep into you as possible until you can feel bruises rising where his hands have a hold of you, yet that doesn’t matter at all as you can only comprehend the way his cock is rendering you too fucking dumb to think of anything else.  

Pushing down against his chest you bob up and down on your knees as best as you can, trying to keep up with his relentless pace. He told you to use him, but all you want is for him to make you his living fleshlight as you are forced to take it all. Your movements start to get sloppy after a time as you can hardly keep yourself focused anymore with how good it feels and Simon takes notice, though he is ready with the solution.

His hips start to strike up into your pussy as even though he is beneath you he is more than capable of taking control, not wanting to move into a new position just yet. You whimper and whine with your mouth hung open as each percussive hit sends shockwaves of euphoria ripping through you just like you want. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. 

You can only sit and take every last delectable inch that he gives you as his massive girth stretches your walls with every thrust of his pelvis upward. The room fills with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as he works your hole as if this is the last chance he will ever get to fuck you and he needs to make it count.

Minute after minute, his full attention being focused solely on you, each stroke along that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside your core drives you increasingly closer to that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off at any point without notice. He must be feeling it too, for again his thrusting slows until he is simply grinding against you once again and that building pressure falls away. 

Over and over again this happens, Simon edging you both closer and closer before struggling to back off and changing positions in a constant rotation, each position just as mind-numbing as the last now that you are cockdrunk. You find yourself on your knees with your head shoved into the mattress  and then on your side with him pressed up against your back, bouncing on top with his hand desperately cupping at your tits and then returning to where it all started on your back, all the while the constant humping during the calmer moments keeps you primed and yet just far enough off the edge that each new round keeps building towards that desperate end. 

Goddamn his stamina is something of legend, but when he wants something bad enough he will make it work no matter how hard he must push himself. And right now he cannot get enough of you no matter how he tries. 

Fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard you think you might pass out, the room so warm your hair sticks to the sides of your face, the scent of sex pungent with each ragged breath shared between your close mouths; every single sense overstimulated to the point of barely being able to process it all. You are perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, foreheads pressed together tight with eyes shut. 

Simon leans in to kiss your raw mouth, but even the contact from your lips makes him gasp from the sensitivity. Your legs are shaking violently now as he’s slowed once more, every muscle pushed to its limit as he rocks his hips into you just because it feels too good to ever stop completely. Both of you are sparkling from head to toe, coated with the speckled dew of perspiration to match the absolute mess Simon has made between your legs. 

Smooth thighs glisten with that warm, moist, natural lubrication of your cunt as it dribbles out of you and onto the sheets beneath to leave a noticeable dark spot on the bed that’s still warm to the touch. Simon’s mouth waters as the taste buds along his tongue prick to life at the sight, begging to savor all your sweet nectar, but he tells himself to not get ahead of things. 

The rest of the night you are going to be his and he will get everything he wants of it all before the end.

Just like you, Simon is out of his goddamn mind with pleasure. The sensation consumes everything inside him until there is nothing left; the only way he can communicate is through breathy groans and staggered grunts as if he is only an animal now. He craves to be the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, the only goddamn thing you need. And that is when he knows that he cannot hold off another second. 

Without warning he pulls out of you only briefly so that he can aggressively flip you over onto your back, getting into position by kneeling in front of you as he throws your legs onto his broad, sculpted shoulders before he grips your hips and instantly re-enters you. This is it, though he can’t barely speak, it’s gonna happen whether he is ready or not so he is going to be damned sure to make it go off with a fucking bang.

Again Simon picks up his desperate pace, his abs dripping with sweat as they contract and release after each desperate thrust. Those brown eyes close off to the rest of the world, just absorbing every last second of that mind-numbing goodness that he can before he blows.

“F-fuck, Simon...mmmm…” you whine your plea as you can feel that warmth rising harshly in the pit of your stomach, “p-please… d-d-don’t stop.”

Your mind is all static, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it; it’s overwhelming in its intensity that you actually aren’t entirely sure you want to come yet. If you could just stay suspended in this moment forever, you’d die happy. All that edging has done its job just as intended though and with a few more strong thrusts of him deep in your core, that is it: like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your orgasm rips through you with such force you nearly bolt off the bed as your back arches and your hips buck harshly against him. 

A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he milks his cock inside you, coating your walls in his cum until he has no more left in him to give. He sounds like a wild animal and it makes your body vibrate with exhilaration; you are the one to make him come with such force he is reduced to more basic instincts. 

You fall back against the bed as your body shakes violently with the force of your orgasm. Never has such intense pleasure overwhelmed you so thoroughly that your limbs tremble uncontrollably before and though the exhaustion overtakes you, it is euphoric. Simon slowly slips himself out of your pussy as he sits back, his overstimulated cock twitching with sensitivity as he removes it from your tightness.

You whimper a little, instantly missing the feeling of him stretching you out and honestly wishing he would have just stayed inside even longer, but you know if you don’t have even a small break that you are not going to survive.

His strong hands hold your vibrating legs apart as he sits back on the mattress exhausted and a million miles away as he watches as his cum dribbles out of your pussy like honey; goddamn did he stuff you to the brim. All you can do is lay there with your eyes shut tight, heart thudding against your ribs as you focus all your remaining brain power on breathing. From your head to the tips of your toes you sparkle with perspiration as if you are decked out in diamonds that shimmer in the low light of the room.

“Christ Simon…gonna kill me,” you chuckle lightly as your mouth finally is able to do something other than hang open. 

Eyes still closed, the sensation of his lips brushing against your inner thigh catches your attention. “Not…yet,” his low, gruff voice hits your ears from between your legs, accent heavy with his fatigue. Why did that sound like a promise?

Your mouth is already forming the question when it instantly dies on your tongue as you become aware of a firm grip from those strong hands spreading your legs open even further as his body slides off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor to sit on his knees with his face at optimal level with your pussy.

“Simon?” you ask hastily as you struggle up to your elbow to see those dark eyes peer up at you just over the mound of your sex. 

The corner of his mouth is barely visible, but you can see it upturn. He may have come, but he is nowhere near finished yet. “Still fuckin’ hungry for ya,” he growls before descending down into the ecstasy of the space in between your thighs. 

Simon just needs to buy time until he can get it up again…good thing his tongue is always ready to go. Sharp features are instantly soaked as he dives in without hesitation, the scent of your arousal instantly clinging to his cheeks and making his cock begin to twitch. His mouth is filled with a combination of both of your flavors as his tongue does what it does best: find your clit like a pleasure-seeking missile. He is ready to get completely lost in you all over again, this time with his first favorite activity and all you can do is hold on as he straps you to his face.

Let the feast on your pussy continue…it’s gonna be a long fucking while until he’s done with you.

Tagging: @llelannie @thicksexxualtension @cheolsblkwife @cum-tea-and-towels @sillylittlereader @mesyakee

[chrollogy]

18+ MDNI; smut, porn without plot, unprotected sex, creampie, shameless oikawa brainrot, pathetic & subby(?) oikawa, he has praise kink, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (2), cowgirl, erotic asphyxiation (m), pet names (baby, my love). divider: cafekitsune.

notes: this is for my dear friend lexi @hanafubuxi :3 eheheheheheh pay back for that tsumu ask you sent <3

── you didn’t know how to describe the view before you . . heavenly? ethereal? lewd? hm. the list could go on, and on but there was one thing you were sure of—oikawa was as pretty as the first flowers of spring whenever he wore those infamous specs, especially with the apples of his cheeks painted the same hue as a japanese camellia.

erotic sounds of loud skin slapping, and dulcet whines filled the shared bedroom; the scent of passionate intimacy lingered in the heavy atmosphere, kissing your naked bodies in the form of sweat.

beneath you was oikawa—your lover—all in his bare glory; umber strands splayed across the soft ivory pillow beneath his head, displaying a faux halo, as though he was a heavenly being sent from above, divine, and all things pure; his naked chest subtly gleamed with sweat, skin peppered in hues of dark red, and purple. oikawa looked like an absolute mess with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and it drove you up the wall, clenching around his cock at the state he was in.

though, the cherry on top were the glasses he donned—all fogged up, and moist from the damp atmosphere of your shared bedroom. the frame crookedly sat atop oikawa’s pretty face, threatening to fall off with every merciless bounce of your hips. a glimpse of his eyes rolled back from ecstasy peeked beneath the translucent glass; god, he looked no better than a common whore from how good he was taking the sinful movements of your hips.

lightly circling your fingers around his neck, the bed frame creaked beneath your naked bodies, a light squeaking in unison with each eager bounce. with oikawa’s rosy lips parted, a series of colourful curses, and incoherent mewls slipped off his tongue, as your hips relentlessly moved up, and down, up, and down his hard cock.

fuck, just the feeling of your hand around his throat had him seeing stars.

slim, shaky fingers dug onto the feverish skin of your hips, a feeble attempt to slow your actions but you didn’t let up. instead, you took both of oikawa’s hands, and pinned them on either side of his face, interlacing your fingers with his own, and using them as leverage to angle your hips better.

the slight change in angle pulled a shaky whine from you, and oikawa, his head pressed further into the pillow beneath as the your warm cunt eagerly sucked his cock even deeper; kissing intimate parts of your velvety walls.

“f-fuck—! too much, baby, please. .”

oikawa whined, adam’s apple bobbing with every saccharine sound that slipped past his swollen lips; strands of umber that framed his handsome face were now stuck to his forehead. you let out a humourless laugh—one that had oikawa coiling in pleasure—and planted a chaste kiss on his sweaty forehead,

“but you’re doing so, so well for me, my love . .”

a shameless moan in the shape of your name rolled off his tongue, handsome face contorted in pure bliss as he unexpectedly came at the mere praise that fell from your lips; oikawa’s fingers tightened against your own, a way to ground himself from the dizzying pleasure. whispered curses filled your ears as ribbons of hot cum painted your walls white, pulling a low whine from you at the familiar sensation.

oikawa’s mouth hung open as he gasped for air, immense pleasure that engulfed the entirety of his body becoming too much as the pace of your hips remained indifferent, effectively overstimulating him.

you could feel him attempt to pry off the weight of your hands against his own but the pleasure that gnawed at his bones had made his body limp; so, all oikawa could do was lay there, and take it all—the sinful roll of your hips, the ecstatic feeling that ate away at his sanity, and the feeling of your wet cunt hugging his cock.

it wasn’t long before oikawa reached another orgasm, this time, with you. curling over your body at the intense feeling, you babbled sweet, drunken praises against oikawa’s ear, gently nibbling at his feverish skin. the man beneath you let out a silent moan, hot tears that pooled his umber eyes rolled down his rosy cheeks, wetting his long lashes.

heavy pants filled the room as you, and oikawa stayed still for a moment, the cost of chasing pleasure weighing down on your naked bodies; a low whine slipped past his lips, sensitive cock moving against your cunt as you shifted atop him. oikawa’s thumb caressed the back of your palm, sleep slowly overtaking his body with each passing second, the sound of both your heartbeats lulling him to dreamland.

god, you never fail to drive him absolutely insane.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

[fortune-fool02]

End of the Day

Shanks x female reader

Summary: After rescuing Luffy from the pirates that caused trouble at the bar, Shanks seeks out medical aid.

Warnings: Spoilers for One Piece Live Action. Fluff

This is my first attempt at writing for Shanks so please forgive me if it's bad. Also, I have only seen the Live Action One Piece on Netflix so that's what I'm aiming for.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Please reblog and comment as it really means a lot to me. Thank you very much.

Please enjoy.

The cluttering sounds behind her soon died down after a little while, soft rumbles of the sea brushing and lightly scraping against the support beams of the wooden docks and the rocks of land around them filled the air. [Name] stood in the same place she had done since Shanks left to find Luffy. The boy was reckless at times but he had a good heart, a good heart that Shanks had hope in.

Worry gnawed away at her chest, chewing relentlessly since the moment Shanks' rowboat disappeared from her line of sight. She was no stranger to the sea nor the dangers that lurked both beneath and on those waters. The sea was something to respect, in her eyes, as it could either offer you great riches and mercy or destroy everything you spent your life creating in one swift motion; leaving nothing to bury at home.

The light tap of her shoes against the wooden dock was muffled by the hissing waves as she paced back and forth, glancing up every couple of seconds as if the boat would appear out of thin air.

"Come on, Shanks. Please both you and Luffy be alright." She softly prayed, her hands tugging at a loose thread in her shirt, trying to find something to help ground herself and not be swept away in the anxious thoughts that whispered.

What if something happened? What if the bastard who took Luffy hurt him? What if there was a rouge wave or creature that took the boat down? What if-

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she spotted a speck in the distance. Something lurched inside of her, she grabbed her telescope and peered through it. Her grip shaking lightly but held its focus long enough for her to identify the speck. It was Shanks! He was alright. Relief flooded through her at the sight of his red-hair along with Luffy waving his arms frantically, shouting something incoherent.

Wasting no time, [Name] moved, rushing down the docks further to meet them as they would dock. The closer they got, the more that relief faded, replacing with that bitter concern again. From where she could see, Luffy was trying to row the boat, his movements a little clumsy but determined. Shanks was slumped backwards a bit,

"Help! Get help!" Luffy's voice became more clear the closer he got, stirring the attention of the other members of Shanks' crew. [Name] barely waited for the boat to come to a stop before she was already in it, moving to Shanks' side and looking him over.

"Shanks? Shanks, what happene-?" Her words were cut off at the sight of red on his left arm sleeve. His arm was missing entirely. Luffy clung to the back of her, wrapping his arms around her like she was a mother of sorts. Apologies spilled past his lips, mixed with sobbing.

"Get Shanks inside, now!" She ordered the others, her arm wrapped around Luffy's small, shaking frame in an attempt to comfort him. She would ask what happened later on, she just needed to make sure that both Shanks and Luffy were going to be okay.

The sun was dipping down below the horizon before [Name] was able to see Shanks. He had been patched up and was resting in his quarters on the ship. The man laid on his be, a damp cloth on his forehead to help and the bandages on what was left of his arm stained red. His shirt had been removed away, showing the other collection of scars he held on his body. Each one a brush with Death and yet he still stood.

"Hey, love." His voice pulled her from her thoughts, drawing a soft smile on her lips to hear his voice. Moving over, [Name] set herself on the edge of the bed beside him, her hand immediately seeking his out, interlocking their fingers together and gave a soft squeeze. "How's Luffy?"

"He finally stopped crying and he's fallen asleep, poor boy was distraught." she answered, her voice music to his ears as always. He could see the worry in her eyes with as much clarity as the sun on a cloudless day. He pulled his hand away from hers and reached up to her cheek, gently brushing his thumb along her skin and smiled.

"You okay?" She asked him, gazing down at him with such a loving expression, nuzzling against his touch. He chuckled softly at her question,

"Can't really feel my left arm." Shanks' chuckle grew louder at the look that flashed her face before he leaned backwards into the bed with that same smile she fell for.

"That's not funny, Shanks."

"Then why're you smiling?" He shot back at her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her down to lay beside him. Her body heat more comforting and soothing than the sun could even come close to, and he savoured it at every opportunity he could. Her hand found place over his heart, feeling it beating in a steady rhythm, focusing on it to reassure herself. Shanks was alive. He was alright.

"[Name], it's just an arm." He whispered softly, using his other arm to pull her closer. He was right. At the end of the day, he was alive.

[writers-advocate]

kitty | l.h.

description: you’ve given logan a nickname. he tells you time and again to quit using it, but eventually comes the moment he accepts defeat [requested]

cw: none! just fluff

he sniffs. just faintly heard over his much heavier footsteps. “don’t start,” his gruff voice comes before he’s even around the corner and you smile innocently when he’s face to face with you… holding a beer.

“don’t start what?”

his eyes narrow and one hand pocketed in his jacket rests on his hip. you offer the bottle and he hesitantly takes it with his free one. “you know what.”

you lean towards him and he stops breathing. “don’t what-?”

“quit, kid-”

“-kitty?”

he just rolls his eyes and continues on past you, grumbling to himself as he tries to ignore the way he warms at the sound of your giggles. you do it every chance you get. he comes back from a trip, he’s had a particularly rough day, you always manage to find him and you always use that fucking nickname. he’s told you a million times to keep it to yourself. but you’re smart about it. you’ve got an offering every time. like the beer he’s currently downing.

the next day, the same thing. you find him in a quiet corner of the mansion, not travelled through much by anyone else. but you know him. you settle on the windowsill in front of his chair and his nose wrinkles slightly. “what?”

“just wanted to see how you’re doing, kitty.” you hold out a plate of food this time -he’d missed dinner?- and he stares down at it. he huffs and takes it with a muttered “thanks.”

you wait, watching him expectantly, and he raises a brow. it makes you smile, clearly amused. “i told you, i wanted to see how you’re doing.”

for some reason it still takes him by surprise. he can see it in your eyes, that you mean it. you’re not being an asshole. you’re not being sarcastic. he’s simply not used to it. “… i’m fine.”

you’re used to this. you know not to push. so you nod as if you’re satisfied even though you’re not, and you get up to walk back down the hall, squeezing his shoulder as you pass. “okay kitty-“ another round of grumbling but you continue, “you’re welcome to join me for a movie night later.” by the time he turns to look at you, you’re gone, and he’s left staring down at the plate, contemplating your offer.

he didn’t mean for it to get so late. the mansion is near silent by the time he finds himself coming down to the common area, encouraged by the sound of the television still going. maybe you’d waited…

well, you’d certainly tried.

he finds you curled up in the corner of the couch, snacks scattered over the cushions and a few drinks. both of which, he sees, you chose many of his favorites for. he feels that warmth again at the sight, and your sleepy murmurs only make it spread. guilt gnaws at him when he sees you even chose a movie he didn’t particularly hate. the least he can do, he thinks with a heavy sigh, is make sure you don’t wake up with a crick in your neck.

he shuts off the tv and leans down, one arm curling around your shoulders, the other under your knees to scoop you up against his chest and take you to your room. your head tucks just perfectly under his jaw and you murmur again incoherently, to which he replies with a nearly imperceptible apology. your voice rings a little clearer as your arms drape loosely around his neck, “s’okay kitty. knew you’d come.”

he just sighs in defeat, unable to argue with you. not when your sweetness invades his every sense and tears his guard down, piece by piece. “… ‘course, kid. always will.”

@rogueinmymind ♡

[another-lost-mc]

Where They Prefer to Bite MC THE DEMON BROTHERS + DATEABLES + SIDE CHARACTERS 1.1k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Vampire!AU Content warnings: Possessive behaviour, biting and blood-drinking, some sexual content (oral sex) in the third portion. They/them pronouns are used for the characters.

─ PREFERS TO BITE YOUR NECK: Satan, Belphegor, Diavolo, Simeon, Thirteen

There's something so appealing about the tantalizing seduction of feathery-light kisses against smooth, delicate skin.

The evening started as all fairytale romances do: a sweet, chaste kiss pressed against your lips. Sin disguised as passion unravels tears at your self-control until you fall into their greedy embrace. Their tongue curls so eagerly with your own, and it’s enough to set your heart and body ablaze.

The lazy drag of their kiss across your warm cheeks and against the soft edge of your jaw leads them down, down, down. Their hand cradles the back of your neck so gently, and you relax into the seductive trap you've willingly stumbled into as you feel a white-hot pinprick of pain—

—but your gasp of discomfort in their ear stutters into a confused, breathy moan as pleasure washes over you. The desperate sounds of their lips sucking wetly around punctured skin are disguised by your own incoherent pleas as you beg them for more. Your hands scramble for purchase in their hair and you clench the front of their clothes so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You whimper their name as you melt against them because whatever this feeling is, you never want it to stop.

They flick their tongue teasingly against your pulse point, and it's almost like they can taste your heartbeat as heat surges through your body and warms the skin beneath their lips. They caress the delicate column of your throat playfully until they start to suck a little harder, drinking greedily as hunger and lust take over. They leave little marks that bloom like amethyst clouds across your skin; it's the first of many ways they intend to claim you tonight.

Let go, their voice whispers in your mind, and you fall apart untouched except for the hint of fang that scrapes your neck and their hands wrapped around your waist. They hide their smirk against your skin as the scent of your arousal floods their senses, and they drink until they've had their fill.

─ PREFERS TO BITE YOUR WRIST: Leviathan, Barbatos, Mephistopheles, Raphael

Your hands are so soft.

That's what they think to themselves when you walk together, your arm linked with theirs or your fingers laced together as they lead you through nighttime's busy streets. Their eyes shine brightly in the moonlight and their lips curl into small, loving smiles each time you glance at them shyly with an affectionate gaze of your own.

They spare no expense when it comes to selecting the most thoughtful gifts for you. The silk scarf around your neck compliments the unique kaleidoscope colour of your eyes. (It hides the tempting sight of your bare neck from view, for they can only control themselves for so long.)

There’s a delicate chain around your wrist made with precious metals and jewels, specially designed and crafted for you. Their fingers trembled slightly when they put it on you earlier. It’s understandable that you would mistake the mouthwatering hunger in their eyes as simple adoration for such a beautiful trinket. (Their namesake is engraved on the chain you wear—they’ve claimed both your heart and your blood for themselves.)

At evening’s end, they’ll urge you to sit comfortably before drawing your hand to their lips for the softest kiss, one that demands nothing of you but promises you the world so long as you remain theirs. They kneel at your feet like you’re an altar of worship, and hunger gnaws deep in their belly when they remove their gift and tuck it away for safekeeping.

Your gentle fingers card through their hair when they move closer to you, setting comfortably between your legs, as their lips moving lazily against your skin. You wince when the soft kiss on the inside of your wrist gives way to a flash of fang and a moment of searing pain.

They watch you with dark, half-lidded eyes as you squirm with pleasure while they feast upon the generous gift you’ve given them in return. When they’ve sated their bloodlust, the jewelry they clasp around your wrist once more will hide the lingering marks that adorn your skin.

─ PREFERS TO BITE YOUR THIGHS: Lucifer, Mammon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Solomon

The heat between your legs diffuses your natural scent, and their heightened senses can detect the faint metallic taste of copper in the air. Desire warms the blood that pumps through your veins and it's irresistible. Desperation brings them to their knees before you and they’re ravenous as they peel back the cumbersome layers of clothing until you’re both bare and wanting in their dark silk sheets.

The time for sweetness and coy flirtations has ended, and all that remains is the heady scent of your arousal and your trembling body beneath theirs as their gentle hands pry your legs apart. The first drops of arousal dot your skin and they’re powerless to resist the temptation to taste you. The sounds of their lips and tongue coaxing pleasure from your body is muffled by your soft thighs clenched around the sides of their face, legs trembling beneath their hands that hold you in place while they ravish you.

They lift their head when your pleasured cries finally fade away to silence, showing you their mouth shining with your slick release. Even as you pant heavily with satisfied exhaustion, your greedy eyes still track their tongue when they lick their lips with a satisfied hum.

They cherish you above all else—your love and your blood sustains them, and they would be lost without you. They take you to bed so they can prove their love to you with unholy worship. They draw pleasure from your body with their hands and their mouth; afterwards, their loving words and needy kisses are saturated with your taste.

The soft, jiggly flesh of your thighs is the perfect place for them to litter your skin with evidence of their claim on you. The lingering tenderness you feel tomorrow will be undeniable proof that your heart and body belongs to them. You stroke their hair while they mar your delicate skin with bruises, and they shudder each time you sigh their name.

When you’re relaxed and satisfied and pliant beneath them, it’s their turn. Hot, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs turn into suckling bruises and nips with too-sharp teeth. Your back arches so beautifully when they finally break the skin and the warm, syrupy blood mixes with the taste of your cum on their tongue.

[b-o-e]

sleepy phone call Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: fluff :))

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #6 :)

You find yourself unable to fall asleep, leading you to call Wally in the late hours of the night.

“Hello?”

Ah, jeez.

What had you been thinking?

You’d been staring up at your ceiling for who knows long. You’d been tossing and turning all night, unable to fall asleep, despite the exhaustion seeping through your body.

What made you think calling Wally would be a smart idea in your barely coherent state? Well, actually, it was probably just that. You incoherent state did.

“Hi,” you finally mustered out. You were already regretting your decisions. What if he’d been asleep? What if he had been peacefully reading a book in bed? Painting, for whatever reason?

“... Are you alright?” Wally’s voice returned, laced with concern. There was a bit of rustling. “It’s late,”

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. You were debating hanging up there and then, but that would be even worse at this point, wouldn't it?

“I don’t mind in the slightest.”

Your heart swelled. He was always so sweet and considerate, wasn’t he? Always there when you needed him. You shouldn't have doubted that.

“... I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, gnawing lightly on your bottom lip. 

“Ha ha, I think I know how that feels,”

You facepalmed. You’re an idiot, aren’t you? No, he had not been asleep.

Nonetheless, a giggle slipped past your lips, amused by your own silly mistake.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be one to speak, huh? That was insensitive,” you chuckled, “I’m sorry,”

“I don’t mind,” he told you. “I’m quite used to it. What keeps you up though, neighbour?”

What was keeping you awake? Really, you had no clue. Was it the fact that you couldn’t get him off your mind, to the point where you subconsciously thought ‘hey, calling Wally in the ungodly hours in the early morning is a good idea’?

You shifted your seated position, fiddling with the phone's cord as you pursed your lips in thought. Finally, you decided on an answer.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you sighed. “I just… maybe my brain is being too loud, tonight.” You claimed. It wasn't a lie, yet it saved you from telling the full, embarrassing truth.

“Is there something on your mind you’d like to speak about?” You heard a bit of light shuffling.

“I…” you paused, trying to find the words you wanted to say. “I’m not sure, honestly,” you grumbled. “I think… I think I just wanted to hear your voice,” you confessed to him, blunt and honest.

The call went silent. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach. Did that sound odd?

“Wally?” You forced a chuckle, wiping your sweaty palms on your sheets. When did it get so warm in your house? “Sorry, that was probably a strange thing to say, wasn’t it?” You apologized, grimacing a little.

“Not at all,” his response came swiftly, pausing before he continued. “I’m honoured to hear you say that, neighbour,”

“Okay,” you breathed, relieved you hadn’t creeped him out. You knew Wally wasn’t very judgemental, but you still worried sometimes with the things that slipped past your lips.

Silence fell between the two of you, leaving you to desperately wrack your brain to figure out the right words to say.

What was the point of being so uptight? You already let that last comment slide. You were getting too tired to care, anymore.

“Would you mind…” you began, taking a second to figure if you really wanted to say this.

“Would you mind, just… talking?” You requested shyly. 

“Hmm…” he hummed, “Would you like me to talk about anything in particular?”

“Anything,” you shook your head, despite the fact he wouldn't be able to see it.

“Anything…” Wally parroted, going quiet for a while. Your eyes fell shut, your body further into your mattress. Even with him on the phone now, you were feeling less restless than you had been beforehand. His company was comforting, even over a silly call.

“Can I… confess, something to you, neighbour?” Wally’s sweet voice returned to your ears. 

“Of course you can, Wally. I’m always here for you if you need me,” you mumbled.

“... Do you promise?” His tone almost seemed to be one of slight insecurity, an unusual sound for him. Your eyes reopened, staring back up at your ceiling. This seemed like something that could be important to him, and you wanted to ensure he had your full attention.

“Cross my heart, always and forever…” the words fell off your tongue with ease, repeating a vow he told to you some weeks prior. A promise you were more than willing to keep in return.

“Well,” Wally began, “I have… a secret. One that I’ve been keeping from you, that’s about you. One that I've found to cause me some distress,” 

About you? Now, that was a bit worrisome. 

“I hope I haven’t done anything wrong to harm you,” you stressed. That was the last thing you wanted.

“No, no, you’ve done nothing wrong at all,”

“Thank goodness, I was terrified,” you breathed a chuckle, your worry levels lowering. The feeling was still there, as you remained unsure of what the cause of Wally’s distress truly was.

“Sorry, neighbour… I’m struggling to find the right words to say it to you,” he admitted, sounding slightly defeated.

“Take your time, Wally. There’s no rush. I’ll be ready when you are,” you tried to put his mind at ease.

You could hear him inhale deep and slow, holding it for a few moments, before letting it back out. He spoke gently.

“Your eyes,”

He paused for only a second, releasing a sigh.

“They rob the words off of my tongue.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening in surprise.

“My heart,” he went on, “it sings with euphoria every second you are near,”

There was no way this was happening.

“Ha ha… we may as well call it yours, with how full of you it is,”

Said heart pounded in your chest so loud, you could hear it in your head. 

“It’s no secret how I enjoy indulging in art quite frequently,” He continued.

“And yet, you manage to be the most extravagant masterpiece I’ve come across,” His voice was at a new level of gentleness than you’ve ever heard before. It was filled with nothing but open honesty, although you felt like there was something else laced in with it.

“You’re unfathomably endearing, and I crave more of you every time we part. That night we spent time together under the stars?” He ended with a questioning lilt, causing you to reflect back on that evening.

“There were so many things I wanted to say to you then. I wanted to tell you that if you asked me to, I’d figure out a way to give you the moon. That, despite the sky full of them, you shine brighter than any star up there in my eyes,” 

You didn’t know what to say. Truth be told, you were simply just… speechless.

“And after all this time, I’m still dancing around the point that I’m trying to get across, ha ha,” 

“The truth is, my darling…”

Your mind is playing tricks on you, if you heard what you were expecting next.

“... I’m in lo–”

You slammed the phone down on its base.

This was not happening.

Were you dreaming? 

Have you been asleep this whole time, stuck in an extremely realistic dream?

The pain in your arm when you pinched it tightly answered that question for you…

You stared into the darkness of your house, wide eyed.

Was he really about to say what you thought he was?

“Of course he was!” You answered that question aloud, slapping your hands to your face.

And you just hung up on him!

You froze.

You hung up on him.

…

You scrambled out of bed.

You tripped over your twisted blankets in the process.

Go, go, go! Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t care to put on any shoes. It was the least of your concerns right now. You yanked your front door open, darting out of it, and making a mad dash to Home.

Your feet padded against the ground below them, your legs moving faster than you thought they even could. Your adrenaline was spiking through the roof!

What if it was too late now? What if you ruined your chances, forever?

Your brain nagged at you. What if this? What if that?

When you came into Home’s view, it didn't even see you as you approached, attention focussed elsewhere. Once it did take notice of you, its door swung open for you, swaying slightly as if to usher you in. That's exactly what you did. 

Your eyes, blurred with stressed tears, scanned the room around you. Drifting to the table where Wally's phone typically sat, you found it to be missing. You followed the line that connected to the wall, ending at the landline, sat right next to the man you were looking for. 

His head lifted from his knees, attention captured by the sound of your hurried breaths as your body tried to compose itself. 

His widened in shock eyes met yours, teardrops rolling down his cheeks as they did on yours. No matter, a smile still remained on his features, despite being the most pathetic you’ve ever seen. You stared at each other for a moment, until you swallowed down the lump in your throat.

“Say it to my face,” you panted out.

You walked closer, kneeling before him, your hands cupping his cheeks. His own came up, wrapping gently around your wrists.

“Please,” you begged softly, voice cracking with desperation, choked up. “Please, Wally, say it to my face,”

His gaze softened, never breaking from yours. He opened his mouth, hesitating.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered.

And that’s all you needed to hear.

You closed the gap between you, kissing him, his grip on your wrists tightening. 

“Again?” You murmured softly as you pulled away, looking into his awestruck eyes. He took a moment to process what had happened, before he responded.

“... I’m in love with you,” 

Your lips pressed to his in another gentle kiss, Wally having the mind to return it, more prepared this time. When you pulled away, the corners of his smile quirked upwards.

“Ha ha, again?” He was the one to request this time, leaning his forehead against yours. “I'm in love with you,” he repeated, hopeful of receiving another kiss. You gave a choked giggle, giving him what he desired. You pecked his lips, his cheeks, and then his forehead.

“I’m in love with you too, Darling.” 

imagine getting deceived twice in a row AHAHAAH, I had to make you think it would be more angst so you wouldn't expect this ending like so many of you did, bwahahah! yes, you get a happy ending! yippe! however, this still isn't the end, and there is more to come!

but! feelings are out there! feelings are reciprocated! yippee! I hope you enjoyed this part, maybe just a smidge more than the last, haha!

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

alas!! 'tis all for now! next will likely be out in two days! like and reblogs are extremely appreciated, gimme dopamine rahhhh!!! until next time! MWAH! <3

Posted Sunday, May 6, 2023, at 11:37 AM

[ddejavvu]

Play wrestling with your gf Robin Buckley, but Steve walks in and practically shrieks because he thinks you two are doing something wildly different

In Steve's defense, you are biting Robin's thigh. But you're biting her thigh to overpower her, which- doesn't sound much better. But you're wrestling - really wrestling, not wrestling.

You've got her pinned to the wall, and you'd dropped to your knees to gnaw at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. The pinch from your teeth is meant to make her knees give out, and once she's on the floor you'll grab her wrists and pin them to her back. Then you'll declare yourself the winner before she can escape. It's meant to be a foolproof plan, but- well, Steve Harrington has been called a fool before. Perhaps no plan is foolproof enough for him.

He's accustomed to walking into Robin's room like it's his own, but this time you're sure he wishes he'd knocked. He finds you kneeling between Robin's legs, face buried in her thigh a little too close to what's between them for Steve's comfort.

He screams. He screams, and slaps a hand over his eyes, and stumbles backwards all at once, which means he goes tumbling back down Robin's staircase. Her bedroom is right at the top of it, and the hallway is evidently not wide enough for Steve to stop in before he falls right back down the way that he came.

You both dart to the staircase and watch as he lands at the base with a sickening thud, and a groan that you've come to associate with visits to the emergency room.

"Steve?" Robin calls, feet pounding against the stairs as she races to his side. She prods at his temple, and when he grumbles something incoherent in response, she lifts his head off of the floor. She cradles it in her hands, checking for his pulse, "Steve, can you hear me?"

"Yes, dipshit, stop poking me," He swats her hand away when he regains the wind that was knocked out of him, and he sits up while glaring at you where you stand at the top of the staircase.

"That was fucking disgusting." He accuses. You're fairly certain you have the right to do whatever you want with your girlfriend in her own home, but you'd just caused Steve possible brain damage, so you don't point that out.

"We were play-fighting," Robin huffs, rubbing the back of her hand where Steve had smacked her, "You're the one who didn't knock."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I've been your best friend for two years," Steve gripes, struggling to his feet and rubbing at the back of his head where you presume it hit a step, "I didn't know I had to alert the presses to my arrival. Listen- you two," He turns his glare back to you, "I'm- happy for you, okay? But don't- don't ever do that shit again. Close the door, put a sock on it, put up a sign, I don't care, just- never again."

Steve chooses to ignore your rather snippy 'Yes, sir,' in favor of exaggerating a wince as he prods at a sensitive spot near the base of his neck. "Un-fucking-believable," He scoffs, "Another concussion, and this one didn't even come from an interdimensional monster.

[nahoney22]

🥳🥳congrats on 4000 !!🥳🥳

For your follower celebration

May I request a sfw f! Reader x crosshair

In which reader is woken up from a nightmare and is comforted by cross, which leads to cuddles and falling asleep in his arms? 👉👈

Maybe reader has a crush and wasn't expecting to be shaken from a nightmare nor was she expecting cross to be the one to wake them out of it and comfort her (because despite his standoff attitude Mr. Snarky has a crush too )

Lol sorry if that sounds confusing or complicated

Totally fine if you pass this request up lol

Nightmare Rescue

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1.2k

When a nightmare takes over your sleep, your roughly awakened by the squads Marksman. But what you didn’t anticipate was for him to crawl into the same bunk with you.

warnings: Safe for work, female reader, mutual pining, reader has a nightmare, moody Crosshair, fluff and comfort, cuddles. Can be read as GN.

authors note: many thanks for the support and request @secretthegriffin. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy 🤍

With intense, inscrutable eyes, Crosshair observes you from across the room, attuned to the slightest shift in your typically calm expression. Your brows furrow as you begin to mumble incoherently, your breath turning erratic, punctuated by occasional gasps.

He keenly discerns the distress etched on your face. The fluttering of your eyelids, as if ensnared in a tormenting dream, leaves him deeply unsettled. He can't bear to witness it any longer and he firmly grips your shoulder and shakes your body.

Abruptly, you awaken with a jolt, your heart racing and your body ensnared in tangled bedsheets. The nightmarish grip still clings to your mind, the vivid and unsettling images haunting you. As you strive to make sense of it, your thoughts race in a whirlwind of fear and confusion, your mind wrestling to distinguish dream from reality. But then you meet his gaze.

"C-Crosshair? What... are you okay?"

He hums, his moody facade making it hard to discern his emotions. "I'm fine. You're not."

You wipe the sweat from your brow and swing your legs around the bunk as you sit up. "Did I wake you?" you groan, running a hand through your untamed hair.

"Yes," he replies dryly, his moody expression giving nothing away.

Cursing internally, guilt gnaws at you as Crosshair moves back to his bunk and hunches forward once he sits.

“What was it about?” His unexpected question catches you off guard. You had anticipated Crosshair might wake you and leave you to your own devices, so his display of concern surprises you. It's a rarity, but not unwelcome. You've always found him intriguing since joining the Batch, though you can't envision a relationship beyond comrades, and perhaps, at most, friends.

His inquisitive "Well?" breaks your reverie, snapping you out of your thoughts. His frowning gaze meets your momentarily blank expression, making you feel like you've been gawking at him as if he has three heads.

"Oh, erm," you stammer, not eager to revisit those dreams, "just like... death, I guess." It's not far from the truth.

You glance back at him, finding his gaze unwavering. "You must dream about it a lot."

Your heart twinges, realising that Crosshair has likely seen your internal struggle more than once, and it's possible that the others have noticed too. It's not every time you sleep, but it happens often enough for someone to say, ‘oh, another one?’.

"Yeah, I guess," you admit.

The ship falls into a comfortable silence, with only the typical hum of the engines and the faint, rhythmic tapping of Crosshair bouncing his knee. His silence doesn't bother you; it's not unusual, and merely being in his company is enough, especially with your lingering crush.

Moments pass until he suddenly looks at you, his eyes piercing, a code you can never fully decipher. Your legs feel like jelly, and you momentarily forget how to breathe.

"You should go back to sleep," he orders abruptly. However, for that fleeting moment, there's a softness in his tone when he meets your gaze. "Long day ahead tomorrow."

You nod softly, releasing a deep exhale, breath-taken as usual when he speaks to you. "I suppose. Goodnight."

He doesn't respond with the same words, instead emitting a subtle grunt, his own version of 'goodnight.' But tossing and turning brings no relief as you fail to fall back asleep.

Uncertain whether your inability to sleep is due to the fear of more nightmares or the worry of disturbing Crosshair, you let out a subtle sigh. To your surprise, Crosshair remains awake.

"Can't sleep?"

"Nope," you say, emphasising the 'p'. You turn your head to see Crosshair has maintained the same position for nearly an hour now. He sits in his stark, stoic silence. "What about you?"

"I don't need to," he mutters, reaching under his bunk to retrieve his rifle and a cloth. His hands move with precision and care as he idly cleans his most prized possession, a ritual he performs with unwavering focus.

You watch him for a moment, your eyes tracing the graceful movements of his hands. Then, you return your gaze to the dull and boring ceiling above you. A minute or two later, something shifts, and the whole galaxy seems to pause as Crosshair stands over you, his expression stoic. "Move up."

You blink up at him, words caught in your throat. "Huh?"

"Move," he commands, taking a step closer. His voice holds a hint of determination. "Up."

And you comply, shifting your position to make room for him.

He lays down, and the atmosphere in the cramped bunk is charged with tension. Both of you are stiff, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling, your hearts pounding in the confined space.

Summoning your courage, you turn your head to face him. "Why are you in my bunk?"

You see him suck on the inside of his cheek, a subtle sign of his nerves, and you wonder what's going through his mind. He turns to face you, his face incredibly close, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. "Do you want me to leave?"

You find yourself briefly lost in the depths of his eyes, drawn into their enigmatic allure, but you snap out of your trance before it becomes awkward, shaking your head slightly. "No," you whisper softly, your heart fluttering as you watch him turn his head away to gaze at the ceiling once more.

A silence descends once again, a little more comfortable than the last, and just as you begin to relax, you're nearly startled when you feel his fingers, with the utmost gentleness, twitch toward yours.

You hold your breath, uncertain if it was accidental, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, his fingers gradually interlace with yours. Slowly, you close your hand, allowing the realisation to sink in that you are holding Crosshair's hand.

Crosshair remains quiet for a while, and you don't mind the silence. However, when he does speak, his voice is barely above a whisper. "You can sleep into me," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "If it would help you sleep better."

"Really?"

"Yes," he replies swiftly, anticipating your question. "Cuddle... into me."

How could you resist such an invitation?

You quietly shift onto your side, laying your head in the crook of his torso and armpit, your arm draping delicately over his toned frame. If this wasn't an innocent gesture, you might have melted at the sensation of his body against yours.

You half-expected him to flee, second-guessing his decision, but instead, he chuckles lowly. "Don't be scared, come closer." His words send a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you shake off any distracting thoughts, pressing yourself more firmly against him and sighing contentedly.

But nothing feels better than when his arms snake around you, pulling you close, and he lays a hand on the back of your head, gently massaging your hair.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you hum in delight. "Crosshair, you don't need to do this," you comment shyly after a few minutes.

"If I didn't want to, I wouldn't," he replies, gently meeting your gaze. For a brief moment, your gazes fully lock, not just fleeting glances. His eyes roam your face and pause briefly at your lips, but he doesn't give in. Instead, he smiles, a soft and rare expression.

"Go to sleep now, darling."

As soon as your eyes fall shut, you drift off into a peaceful slumber, and not a single nightmare disturbs your rest.

Masterlist

More Crosshair Works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness

[kalims]

Omg requests are open! I hope you get really awesome requests 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖 may I request leona or ruggie on a rainy night just cuddling and being corny and talking about books or food? (I recently read in a translation that leona likes to read long books so 😳😳)

ㅤits pouring

"is that a book?"

there's a knock on the window by the pitter pats of the rain, smell of petrichor floods your nose. a pleasant smell that relaxes your shoulders. leona smells it better, rain means not having to deal with anyone else because no one's out during the time of the day.

so he bares with a smell, he doesn't dislike nor like it. it's fine, but compared to your scent it's practically nothing.

a chortle from you shifts leona's rather peaceful expression into a gruff frown, an expression you were more used to. he doesn't release the literature from his grasp, only shifting it to the side to take a peek at your chuckling face and steering an irritated stare—though devoid of the fire it usually has.

he scoffs at you. ears folding in itself as if to block out the sound of your voice, you'd argue that his... more animal features only twitched, or swayed because you only spoke. but you know that he is also aware of the fact so he willingly just chooses to settle on the warning from his eyes alone.

you stand in front of his bed. hands on your hips, idly tapping the sole of your foot on his carpet made entirely out of fur (kind of concerning.) and most importantly, adorning a feigned, mortified expression as you nod your head towards the item in his hand. "so what?" he grumbles, only illiciting another laugh from you.

"I didn't know you read, I'd expect.. I don't know, jack to read but definitely not you." you prod gently—teasing. practically pouring gasoline into the fire that's bound to spark, yet.

but it doesn't. he simply offers an incoherent rumble straight from his chest, deep and scratchy as his eyes stray away from your standing figure and back onto the sheet of the page he's been reading. 520. "just because I failed to ascend to the next level doesn't mean I can't read," he deadpans, eyes sliding smoothly over the expanse of words.

his ears, though still folded over itself unconsciously listens intently at your words.

he adds. "that grunt knows how to focus for sure, in exercising. I doubt he deems reading more important than that."

you blink, tilting your head at him. "then, what are you reading? I'm curious what kind of book has you so enamored that you've been cooped up in here all day and ignoring me." that seems to create a reaction in him, tail going still and tense from it's relaxed notion of sways. even his eyes pause on a particular word and grows unfocused as if processing your words.

he looks away. "I.. wasn't." he scowls, wracking through his memory to browse through something that would support his answer but there isn't, because all he remembers is indeed, reading all day, in between naps and besides that the only memory he remembers of you was your sleeping face before you... went to the main grounds...

oops. maybe that was just a slip of his mind.

a sliver of guilt gnaws at him. he stares at your face, the pride in him not wanting to admit to a mistake on his part—his stare is rather challenging, despite his predicament. leona is searching through your eyes, and you allow him indifferently. he knows you too well to believe that you were all but willing to let it slide with how many jokes you've been sprouting.

he concludes you're most likely, if not, a little upset.

leona sets down the book beside him and decides to pour more attention to the more important thing. "why don't you come over here and see for yourself then?" he offers. a bit unsteady with his feelings. your brows raise, contributing to an unimpressed stare.

"are you trying to seduce me?"

"yes,"

a quick, laid back answer said so casually. it was very leona-like, so much so that your blank face breaks into a little grin, and that time his warmth was not present nearly the whole day—your heart soared, and yearned. your brain thinks quickly, listening in and moving your feet without your will. until you've just climbed on his bed, on the edge.

not next to him, just closer.

leona eyes the distance with disdain as he shakes his head at you. "what, being petty?"

you retort fast. "a little space hurts you already, leona? why don't you try me ignoring you half a day?"

when he meets the smug, knowing look on your face he knows this is gonna be your excuse now on to use against him. every single day.

when it seems like you're not backing down he's at the end of his guilt-patience. he leans forward, a hand supporting his weight against the bed as the other reaches out for your limb. it happened fast, too quick for your liking. since when was he storing this haste under that lazy demeanor?! you'd think he moves like a snail (which he actually does.)

but you blink and you're being yanked forward by your arm, by a brute force you're sure you can't even struggle against. more so, he's using a single arm to yank you towards him. he doesn't need two to handle you, just one. you can't imagine if he uses both, practically a kidnapping sentence.

and, you're huddled in his arm, between his legs, on his chest. jailed, and unable to wriggle out with how secure one grip is.

leona casually picks up the book as if nothing happened. placing it in front of you so that even you can read what it is.

the rain falls harder, suddenly you feel warm beyond the cold it brought.

"cat got your tongue?"

his mocking voice echoes in your ear—beside your ear actually, maybe it was the heat of his breath that spread through your face and down your entire body..? you pursue your lips, uncharacteristically unable to make up a quip back because, what were you even supposed to say in this situation?!

and that tight knot of affection you've been admittedly craving all day comes loose just from less than a minute of an embrace from him. "..." you sigh, reluctant to submit to your fate but here you are; body relaxing as though a blanket has been thrown over your body but there isn't because that's just how warm leona feels.

"you're reading, romance?" you deadpan, gaping and stifling a laugh. not minding the nose buried between the crook of your neck from your behind and inhaling deeply. leona grunts on the flesh of your nape, the sound tickling.

"stop laughing." he groans. "what, you want me to say being with you got me in a mood?"

lovey-dovey mood?

your laughing ceases, and he's the one chuckling at your obvious fluster. he kisses the spot where his lips are. "I was wondering if there was a story as glorious as ours."

beneath the muffled song of rain, is that of peace.

520, represents "love."

[l2vedive]

GUTS w. sim jaeyun & park jongseong

scream au + graphic description of violence, murder and mention of character deaths (923)

featuring: park chaeyoung (isa) from stayc, ning yizhuo (ningning) from aespa mentioned, lee heeseung from enhypen

pairing(s): jake sim x fem!reader, park jongseong x fem!reader

note: PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!! in honour of spooky szn, here's something i came up with after a scream binge. might turn this into a series but lmk what u guys think by rbing and liking , enjoy !!!!

you stand there, surrounded by chaos and deception, as the truth becomes clearer and more sinister by the second. jay's unconscious form lies on the floor, a pool of blood forming around him. you can't help but glance at jake, his face twisted in pain and desperation.

"where have you been?" you demand, your voice trembling.

jake winces, clutching his bleeding side. "i got attacked. it was brutal— fuck! — it was so fucking bad, yn." he rambles.

with scepticism still gnawing at you, you hesitate to accept his explanation. the phone rings persistently, a deafening reminder of the danger closing in. jake's voice grows more urgent: "don't answer it. it's ningning, i'm telling you!"

but you can't ignore the ringing any longer. your curiosity gets the best of you, and you reach for the phone. just as you pick it up, the closet door flies open with a loud crash, and ghostface emerges, armed and menacing.

fear courses through your veins as you face the killer, and jake immediately steps forward to shield you. it turns into a frantic, deadly chase through the dimly lit room. ghostface lunges, and you dodge, narrowly avoiding the blade.

desperation surges within you, and you scramble for safety. jake spots the closet nearby, and in a heartbeat, you both rush inside, slamming the door shut. the confined space offers minimal refuge, but it's better than facing ghostface head-on.

darkness surrounds you both, and you're acutely aware of your pounding heartbeats. jake's hushed voice breaks the silence. "stay quiet; they won't find us here."

"oh my god, holy shit. fuck, jaeyun, i don't wanna die," your mind races as you try to make sense of the situation. the closet feels cramped, and you're pressed against each other, refusing to fall over and make a sound. in the tense silence, you suddenly feel something wet seeping through your clothes and a sharp, delayed sting.

your eyes widen in shock, and jake's chilling words cut through the darkness: "you really shouldn't trust anyone, princess."

instincts take over, and you push the closet door open, ready to bolt. but you collide with jay, who's bleeding even more now, his eyes fluttering open. a knocked-out ghostface lies just a few feet away, the horrifying truth of betrayal and deception becoming more twisted with every passing moment.

suddenly, jake's hand grips your shoulder tightly, and before you can react, he stabs you. " ah! " pain shoots through your body, and you gasp in shock and agony. weakness overwhelms you, and you slump against the closet door, struggling to breathe.

jake's voice, now devoid of any sympathy, echoes in your ears. "you really shouldn't have trusted anyone."

with trembling hands, he reaches for the light switch and flicks it on. the harsh, fluorescent light reveals the gruesome truth behind the door: chaeyoung's lifeless body lies there, a horrifying testament to the betrayal that has unfolded.

you're standing there, gasping for air, with pain coursing through your body as you clutch your wounds. jay, groggy and confused, finally stirs, his eyes widening as he takes in the bloodstains on your clothes.

"oh my god, are you okay? what happened?" jay's voice trembles with fear and concern.

your words tumble out incoherently as you point shakily to the closet door. " jaeyun. jake's the killer. jay, we need to leave. call the cops."

jay's hands fumble for his phone, shaking uncontrollably as he dials for help. panic fills the room, and you move to help him stand, your trust wavering. but just as you reach out, he stabs you again, the knife plunging into your side with a sickening twist.

pain courses through your body, and you gasp in shock, betrayed once more. your world spins, and you slump against jay, your heart heavy with disbelief and agony.

he takes out a small device, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "surprise, yn. bet you didn't see that one coming."

tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to comprehend the relentless betrayal. "jay, why ? " you manage to whisper, your voice filled with hurt.

but there's no remorse in his eyes. instead, he taunts you, "because i did, baby."

except jay doesn't finish that sentence. the other ghostface, the one who was knocked out earlier, begins to stand up from the floor, making his way towards the scene.

jay presses the knife against your throat, forcing you to watch as ghostface removes his mask, revealing heeseung, your boyfriend, whom you thought you had watched die.

your heart sinks as confusion, anger, and betrayal swirl within you. this nightmarish reality has blurred lines, leaving you grappling with a revelation that defies understanding.

the room definitely feels colder now, and the air is heavy with tension. heeseung, or rather, ghostface, fixes his gaze on you, his voice laced with a chilling calmness. "you thought you'd come out of this on top, baby? think again."

fear grips you as you realise that nothing is as it seems. the person you believed was dead is standing before you, wearing the mask of the very thing that haunted your nightmares.

jay, still holding you hostage with the knife to your throat, smirks. "we planned this all along, babe. a little lesson for you."

your mind races, trying to make sense of the deception. you thought you knew these people, trusted them with your life, and yet here you are, trapped in a web of lies and betrayal.

as heeseung advances, you're left with the sickening feeling that there's no escaping this nightmare.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[emmg]

been binge reading all of your stuff lately i love your fics and takes on raphael so much 😩<3 i don’t know if you’re still doing this but if you are 2 or 20. your last one has me insane about pathetic mess raphael now. and idk it’s hot to think about him all incoherent when he’s usually so eloquent and intentional with his words. maybe tav put a cock ring on him or something so he can’t nut right away idk

(anyways pls ignore if ur not still doing these. good luck with all the grading 😤)

Ask and you shall receive.

No cock ring... but she has a hand and fingers for a reason, eh?

Raphael is beautiful. It’s not something she likes to admit, not out loud anyway, lest it inflates his overgorged ego any larger. It still makes her nervous, still makes her feel inadequate, when he stands, all regal in golden brocade and dark silks, half-curls brushed behind his ears, styled with pommade, nails manicured, skin perfumed. It makes her hide her hands as they are rougher than his, makes her rebraid her own hair, readjust her clothes. Anything to smother that gnawing feeling of being a walking flaw. 

And as much as all that polished perfection technically makes her wet, the real Raphael, the one behind the beauty, is... disappointing. Tragically so. He’s a lazy, self-absorbed piece of shit who genuinely believes that just being present is enough. That simply existing, just happening to be inside of her, should send her into a euphoric spiral, as if the mere fact of his cock being there should inspire religious-level orgasms and revelations.

While he lies there, moaning as if he’s done her the greatest favor, she’s left wondering how someone so physically flawless can be such a cosmic letdown. The reality of Raphael is far from the fantasy, and the gap between what he looks like and what he actually is makes her want to scream.

Sighing, she shifts her hips, rising up until his cock is barely inside her, the head just teasing the edge of slipping out. She pauses there for a second, savoring the control, before slowly sinking back down, feeling every inch drag against her. She’s doing all the work, as usual, trying to find some way to make this feel good—at least for her, because clearly, Raphael’s already lost in his own world of self-indulgence. She tries to focus, to make the slow grind worth something, hoping maybe the deliberate pace will pull some real pleasure out of this mess. 

And, like clockwork, he moans. That same loud, ridiculous moan that used to send a thrill down her spine, back when she thought it was about her. Back when she thought she had some power over him, a devil, no less—a creature that should be above this kind of mortal weakness. The idea that she could reduce him to a writhing, moaning mess had been enough to make her foam at the mouth.

Hell, she could probably brush his cock with a broomstick, tie a rotten piece of fruit to the end of it, and he’d still be making that same damn sound. He’s just as much of a joke as she’s started to feel in these moments, putting in all the effort while he lies there like some kind of prized statue, expecting worship for doing absolutely nothing. 

She lies down on him, rocking her hips in slow, deliberate motions, and finally, finally, the position does something for her. With each shift, her clit drags against his pubic bone, the roughness of his coarse hair adding a friction she can actually work with. She lets out a quiet sigh, her first real sign of satisfaction in what feels like ages.

"Little mouse," he groans, his voice thick with that self-satisfied purr he loves so much, as if he's the one driving this show. His hand drags down his own face, covering his eyes. 

But then his hips jerk up, thrusting into her in these erratic, stuttering movements that finally break his lazy spell. She takes the opportunity, leaning back slightly to capitalize on his sudden engagement. Grabbing his free hand, she guides it to her breast, practically forcing him to participate. His large palm easily covers her breast, and his thumb flicks idly over her nipple. Not bad, but not enough. She pulls his hand away, licking his fingertips to add some slickness, then guides it back. Now it glides smoother, less of that annoying drag, and she lets herself enjoy it, just a little.

Raphael groans again, this time louder, and without warning, he slams his hips up so hard she yelps. The suddenness of it, the sheer force, sends a sharp pain through her lower belly as the blunt head of his cock crashes against her cervix. It’s too much, too fast, and the shock of it makes her wince. Before she can recover, his hands leave her breast and his face, coming to grip her hips tightly as he holds her in place, forcing her still as he pounds into her with all the subtlety of a battering ram. 

"Just... like... that," he groans through gritted teeth, thrusting up into her again. "Stay still, ah-" Another brutal thrust, and this time she feels the cramp tighten in her belly, her body rebelling against his rough pace. But of course, Raphael’s too lost in his own world to notice, driving into her like he’s got something to prove. 

Suddenly, he surges up, flipping her onto her stomach before she even has time to process. His hands grab her hips, roughly yanking them up, and before she can even adjust, he's inside her again, filling her up in one swift thrust. His cock stretches her, the angle hitting just right, but he starts with that infuriatingly slow, uneven pace, that does nothing for her. 

He murmurs something in Infernal—one of his favorite curses. She recognizes the sound even if she’s long stopped trying to understand the exact words. He’s whispered it enough times before. "Such a little, little mouse," he mutters. "So small." 

She tries to push back, to take control, but his weight keeps her pinned firmly to the bed. His legs are spread wide, trapping hers between them, and there’s no escape. His cock moves in and out of her, bleeding warmth, the obscene sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh echoing around them. Every few thrusts, he slams into her harder, making her gasp as the head of his cock hits that spot deep inside her. The wet squelch every time he pulls out just to drag himself back in makes her bite her lip, even though the pace is maddeningly slow. 

His hips grind into her, harder now, the pace picking up just enough to send a spike of heat through her core. He groans, deep and low, and his tongue follows, curling into her ear like he’s trying to crawl inside her head. "Who doesn’t know just how small she is," he growls, voice hoarser now as he snaps his hips into her harder, making her body jerk with each thrust. "And, ah, happily comes to the slaughter..." 

Something shifts. His grip on her hips tightens, bruising, and his pounding grow faster, more careless. His cock slams into her deeper, harder, over and over, and she feels her body responding, her walls clenching around him as the pressure builds inside her. She gasps, her breath coming in ragged pants as the pleasure starts to coil tighter and tighter. His palm comes down hard on her ass with a loud smack, and she hisses through the sting, but it only sends another jolt straight to her cunt. 

He fucks her faster, and the momentum of it shoves her up the bed, her clit dragging against the rough sheets with each thrust. The friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through her, and she moans loudly, unable to hold it back. 

But just as she’s on the edge of something real, he falters. 

Raphael’s stamina runs out, predictably, and he collapses over her, his cock still buried inside her but his weight smothering her. He’s panting against her ear, still muttering those Infernal curses mixed with incoherent rambling, half curses, half nonsense. It’s like being fucked by a lazy dog, one who can’t stop running his mouth even when he’s barely putting in the effort. His hips stutter, the movements sloppy now. 

"You dreamed of this late at night," he breathes into her hair, his voice low and heated, "in your little camp..." His lips brush behind her ear, "by the fire..." and then they ghost down the back of her neck. "Wanted to be torn apart..." His words vibrate against her skin. She feels his cock twitch inside her, his hips stalling as he tries to keep himself under control. 

Except no one’s getting torn apart. Not her, not even close. He’s barely moving, the promise of something wild and destructive reduced to this sluggish, half-hearted performance. She can feel him trembling with restraint, but instead of fucking her, he’s just… there. Stuck.

When he finally lifts his weight off her, giving her some breathing room, she doesn’t hesitate. With a quick twist, she slips out from under him, pushing him back, taking matters into her own hands. 

Raphael sits back on his knees, his cock still in his hand, his face twisted into a frown of frustration. But she’s not about to let him pout. She leans in close, her lips brushing his, licking the taste of him as she breathes in the heat of his exasperation. She grabs his wrist, pulling his hand away, replacing it with her own as she starts stroking him. 

"Yes," she whispers into his mouth, her tongue sliding over his, muffling her words with the wet heat of their not-quite-kiss. "I want you to ruin me." 

His response is immediate, a loud, obscene moan that rumbles through him as his cock twitches hard in her hand. She stops, though, just squeezing the base and watching as it grows even redder, the veins bulging with need. She can feel him throbbing against her grip, desperate for more, but she holds back, enjoying the way his breath hitches, the way he trembles. 

"I want you to rip me apart," she murmurs, her hand slowly beginning to move again, a slow, languid stroke slick with the wetness from her own body and the sweat dripping down his chest and pooling between his thighs. Her palm is sticky, sliding over him with ease as he groans, his head falling back in pure pleasure. There's a tiny speck of drool at the corner of his mouth that she longs to lick away. 

"Raphael..." she sing-songs, and the sound of his name on her lips makes him shudder, another low moan spilling out of him as his body leans heavily into hers, eyes shut tight. But again, she stops. Her grip tightens around the base of his cock, squeezing hard until her wrist aches, until she can feel the frantic rush of blood surging through him, only to be blocked by the pressure of her hand. 

She watches him, feels him tremble, his cock throbbing, leaking, desperate for release. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees him reach for her.

She pushes him back before he can even finish grabbing a fistful of her hair. She knows exactly where that leads—knows the second he gets a grip on her, he’ll have her on her back, legs spread wide, fucking into her with that too-fast, too-rough, too-careless rhythm that does nothing for her. His cock slipping out between thrusts, stabbing at her as he tries to re-enter, curses flying from his lips as he fumbles for his own release. It's graceless, pathetic, the way he chases his orgasm, coming too soon, spilling hot spurts half inside her, half across her thighs, his sweat dripping down onto her face from above. 

She drops between his legs instead. Her hand wraps around his cock, pumping slowly. Up and down, keeping it measured, controlled. When he gets too impatient—when his hips start bucking—she stops, gripping him tightly at the base, forcing him to wait.  

He hisses above her, his cock swelling even more, flushed dark and leaking. The tip beads with precum, and she watches with a satisfied smirk as his whole body tenses. She loosens her grip for just a moment, letting him feel some relief, before squeezing him hard again. 

Finally, she leans down, her breath hot against his skin. She looks up at him, feigning innocence, and murmurs, "Let me… let me make you come like this. You’re so large... you’re going to tear me apart otherwise." It’s pure, utter bullshit, but the sound that rips from his throat in response makes it worth every word. Loud, shameless, pathetic. She almost laughs—almost—but she knows better. Raphael would probably mop the floor with her if she dared.

His eyes stay fixed on her as she slowly, teasingly, licks the moisture from the tip of his cock. She hums against it, the vibration making his whole body shudder, before he throws an arm over his eyes, groaning deeply. 

She sucks on the head, her hands working him in tandem, focusing all her attention there, like she’s trying to melt a large piece of candy in her mouth. She drags it out as long as she can, until his frustration is palpable. His hand moves to the back of her head, fingers gripping her hair, and she finally relents, swallowing him whole. His cock fills her mouth, stretching her jaw, and she takes as much of him as she can, her hand slipping lower to cup his balls, making up for what she can’t fit. 

He bucks into her and hits the back of her throat, making her choke just a little. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, but she holds steady, her breathing calming down as she gets used to the stretch. Her tongue swirls around him, tracing every vein, and she presses it firmly against the weeping slit at the top, savoring the taste of him. Her head bobs, cheeks hollowing with each movement, creating a slick, tight suction that makes him groan even louder. 

She pulls back just enough to spit, coating his length in saliva, though she tries to keep it as quiet as possible. Despite the heat of the moment, she’s never been a fan of the sound, but the wetness helps her glide more easily as she plunges back down on him, taking him deeper. 

Again, he’s watching her, his eyes wide and hungry, and she smiles softly. Raphael never truly wants a whore—at least not fully. No, he wants something more layered. He wants a doe-eyed innocent who worships him but pretends to run. Someone who murmurs no, no, please sir while her legs spread wide. He wants the chase, the thrill of corruption, the power to pin down someone who will moan for him, maybe even shed a few tears.

She’s been the prey, the helpless maiden caught in his web whenever he asked. The one he pressed into the sheets, fulfilling his fantasy of the devil seducing the pious, tricking her into forsaking her vows of chastity. She’s prayed at his feet, his cock the twisted holy sacrament she was made to choke on to seek some mockery of absolution. Absolution that came in the form of too-hot cum spilling down her throat, or, if he felt particularly devout, across her face. And he’d rub it in, smearing it into her skin like the waters of Lathander, as if he could baptize her in filth. 

And then he’d offer her more—grant her the opportunity to climb onto his lap, to show him the dripping, sopping mess between her thighs, proof of his corruption. His fingers would slide inside her, tasting the fruits of his labor, telling her to ride him, and she would. She always did. His tail, for he always wore his true face those times, would snake its way between her cheeks, slick with her own wetness and sweat, teasing her ass, rubbing her raw until she was a trembling, gasping wreck. 

Of course, it would be even better if Raphael could actually last.

Oh, well.

So she smiles, that soft, gentle smile he loves. Always soft, always deceptively innocent. She shows him her tongue, presses it flat against the underside of his cock, ready to take him in, to finish him off properly. But before she can even move, before she has the chance to wrap her lips around him, he comes suddenly, without warning. Hot, thick ropes of seed splatter across her chin and throat, dripping down her skin. She pulls back, hissing under her breath as it to burn, the heat of it searing her skin in that familiar, uncomfortable way. 

He’s already spent, lying there, content, his breath coming in ragged, wheezing bursts between his teeth. His cock softens against his thigh, still glistening with cum and sweat, tangled in the coarse hair at his base. His chest rises and falls in that lazy rhythm of someone who’s already checked out, his focus slipping back into that self-satisfied haze. 

She hums, pushing herself up to leave, her mind wandering to the glorious bath in the corner of the room. The thought of sinking into warm, clean water is the only thing that seems appealing now, after the mess he’s left her in. Maybe she could come on her fingers, since he's obviously not seeing this through. 

But before she can take a step, Raphael’s hand shoots out, catching her wrist in a firm grip. He tugs her back toward him, eyes half-lidded. She tilts her head, curious, waiting, but frowns when the moment stretches out for too long. 

"Clean up the mess you made, little mouse," he whispers, urging her closer. She sighs, her resistance brief and token, before lowering her head, licking her lips as she presses her mouth to his stomach, tasting his sweat, as, above her, he runs his fingers through her hair. 

[raineandsky]

#116

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

As of yesterday, the worst pain the prince had experienced was when he accidentally nicked his finger with his father’s sword three years ago.

Today, that has been replaced with the red-hot agony of a bear trap snapping shut on his leg.

It wasn’t meant to go like this. Get to the city borders and disappear into the wilderness—that was the plan. It’d seemed such a good plan too, from the comfort of his bedroom. Easy.

Yet here he is, thrown to the floor by merciless, metal teeth. It’s more blood than he’s ever seen in his life. He’s starting to feel faint, though whether that’s the sight of his own mangled leg or the pain jolting through him at the slightest move is unclear.

Darkness is throwing a blanket over the sky. Forcing the trap open has proven fruitless, dragging himself back to the road impossible. Every fibre of him, down to his very soul, is crying to rest, to ease the pain, to just have stayed in his ivory tower prison like he always had.

Something yellow—a light!—ripples through the trees. The prince thinks, for a rather depressing moment, that heaven might be approaching, and the warden has arrived to drag him into death. It would explain why he can’t feel his hands.

“Huh,” says the warden, “that ain’t an animal.”

The light is blinding now, the person behind it haloed invisibly in its spray. The prince can see them turn, kind of, to a figure next to them.

“Well, no.” A gruff laugh. “That’s very much a human person.”

The light lowers slightly, enough to get a glimpse at the people hiding in its shadow. Oh—not the warden. A common woman, in fact, her and an equally common man, staring down at him with varying amounts of surprise and annoyance.

“Hm,” the woman says again, thoughtful. “Looks expensive. D’ya think we’d get much for him?”

The prince’s stomach does some acrobatic somersault that almost makes him throw up. He tries to move, crawl away, anything, but the trap sinks its teeth into his flesh even more, like it's trying to stop him escaping. A cry falls from his mouth, some incoherent mix of terror and agony.

One of them says something, but he can’t hear it. He can’t hear anything; blood rushes in his ears—it’s a miracle he has any left to do such—his breathing hard and laced with irrepressible noises of his own suffering. 

Another laugh as the man steps forward and back into hearing range. “We should probably make sure he ain’t from one of those places that’ll lob our heads off for the crime of looking at ‘im first.”

“He looks like one of ‘em, don’t he?” The woman steps too close. The prince scrambles without thinking, and gets the treat of the teeth gnawing harder into his leg. “Let’s get ‘im home, at least. Get the trap, Skat, and I’ll get the bag ready for it.”

“Skat?” The name rolls off his tongue so easily. Both of the commoners stare at him like they’re startled he can speak at all. “You– you were in the royal guard. I recognise your name.”

The man’s stare has turned to a hard glare in an instant. “Where’d you get that from?”

The prince attempts a smile, but the burning pain ripping through him makes it difficult. “You were one of the top knights in your guild. I– I came down, sometimes, to watch you practise. My father adored you. I adored you.”

“You’re the boy prince?” It comes out almost immediately. A connection made. A recognition. The prince could laugh with relief if he weren’t already crying. He nods quickly. “Wh–What’re you doing out here?”

The woman snorts behind him. “Sounds like a fat sack of cash,” she mumbles.

The man ignores her. “Don’t answer that; it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, huh?”

“Are you serious?” The woman scoffs as the man sets his gaze on the bear trap. “We’ve stumbled across our biggest catch yet, and we’re just throwing it away? We could be absolutely minted off him and you want me to just send him on his merry way?”

“Well, Gvette,” the man says flatly, “do you really think anyone’s gonna wanna buy something that looks like it’s been dragged through ten inches of mud?”

That gives her enough pause for Skat to don a smug grin and shoot a quick wink to the prince. “Open the trap, will ya?” he adds.

It isn’t gentle. The woman—Gvette, the prince assumes—rips the trap open and lets its barbed teeth tear through any part of his skin they haven’t already. Skat holds him, almost vice-like, as he squirms and cries against Gvette's heartless freeing of his leg. He can’t help but bury his face into the man’s shoulder when Gvette first wrenches it apart.

Skat grabs his hands to try and help up to his feet. The prince shivers at nothing. “Am—” His voice catches when he puts a little too much weight on his leg. “Am I dead?”

“Well, I ain’t one for talkin’ to spirits,” Skat says brightly, “so I’d assume not.”

“I can’t feel my hands.”

There’s a pause that’s a little too thick. “You’re cold, kiddo. You’ve been lying in an inch of wet mud.”

Gvette takes the prince’s arm, rather reluctantly, as Skat pulls a blanket from his bag. He swings it open and onto the prince’s shoulders in one easy move. “A’ight,” he says as he ushers Gvette away to retake his spot at this side. “Let’s get you warmed up and into some new clothes, maybe.”

So we can get you home hangs unsaid in the air. That, or so we can see how much people are willing to pay for you.

Neither of those are an option.

They might want his leg healed before they try anything. That would give him time, and it’d certainly give him a means of escape.

The prince clings to the old knight, with no other choice, and prays that the man’s warmth to him is true.

(next part)

[dawnbreaker-mylove]

𝑨𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒂𝒘𝒏

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction of the game Love and Deepspace. Some characters are from the game, and some are original characters. The rituals and traditions aren't from any specific religion. If there are any similarities to real people, it's purely coincidental.

A/N: Zayne a bit ooc but it's for the plot, trust. Special guest at the end (＾▽＾)

‘I am the Master of Fate.’

When your eyes fluttered open again, a searing heat coursed through your body, every limb feeling as though it had been weighed down with stones. Your back ached, and your head pounded as if someone had split it with a hatchet. The sky outside was awash with soft hues of orange and red, dawn slowly approaching.

It was then you realized this was not your home.

You sat upright, heart racing as your eyes darted around. The room was big, far larger than the entirety of your house in the fields. You found yourself lying on a bed, its wooden frame adorned with intricate carvings. The mattress beneath you was so plush it felt like resting atop the clouds unlike the simple quilt you had known, which you’d always spread upon the hard floor.

Your gaze fell upon your clothes (if you can call them that). The thin silk draped over your body offered hardly any modesty, shimmering against your skin but failing to cover your pebbled skin or hide your hardened nipples. You tugged at the fabric in disbelief, trying to make sense of it all.

You scolded yourself under your breath. "Never trust a priest, nor anyone from the temples," you muttered, raking your fingers through your disheveled hair. As your hand brushed your head, something cold caught between your fingers. You froze, pulling the object free—a golden ji. The hairpin gleamed in the dim light, delicate jasmines etched into the surface. Your eyes widened in recognition, dread settling in your stomach like a stone.

“No, no, no...” You shook your head vigorously, dropping the ji onto the bed as if it had burned you. “This cannot be happening. How...?" The words stumbled out, incoherent and panicked. A wave of disbelief washed over you, the meaning of the hairpin too clear to deny. You glanced back at it, heart pounding. It was too much to process.

Then, your ears caught the faintest sound—footsteps. You stiffened, listening as they approached the door, growing louder. The door creaked open, but no one stood in the threshold. Instead, trays of food hovered in the air, as if carried by invisible hands.

“What in Heaven's name…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, watching in disbelief as the plates floated toward you. Bowls of steaming noodles, fragrant dumplings, and perfectly cooked rice were set before you, the rich aromas instantly filling the room. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the surreal sight, hunger gnawing at your stomach despite the confusion.

Without a second thought, you sank back down onto the plush bed. All manner of decorum abandoned, you grabbed a bowl, the warmth of the food chasing away the cold shock that still lingered in your veins. You didn’t care how disgusting you looked at that moment. You ate with abandon, savoring every bite, each flavor bursting on your tongue in a way you had never experienced before.

If this was a dream, you mused between mouthfuls, you could only hope never to wake.

After downing the cup of rice wine, you noticed the door had been left ajar. Hesitation washed over you as you looked down at the thin silk nightgown draping loosely over your body, barely decent enough for wandering. But curiosity gnawed at you, compelling you to move.

Your bare feet touched the cool marble floors, each step soft and uncertain. You took in the surroundings—this place reminded you of a siheyuan, the type of home where the middle-class and nobles lived back in your village. A compound that held generations within its walls. The air here carried a faint, pleasant fragrance, drawn from the massive jasmine tree that stood proudly in the courtyard, its white blossoms filling the open space with serenity. You inhaled deeply, savoring the quiet and beauty of the scene.

Yet the silence was unnerving. Where was everyone? Who had brought you here? Questions spiraled in your mind, pushing you further into the unknown.

"Oh!" A jolt shot through you as something brushed against your shoulder, causing a nearby vase to tumble and shatter on the floor. Your breath caught—no one was there. But the shards lay scattered, evidence that something, or someone, had been close. Squinting, you made out the faintest silhouette in the sunlight, barely visible. Then, as if carried by a gust of wind, the shards were swept up by an unseen force, the invisible figure moving away with them.

"Sorry?" you muttered, shaking your head. This place was playing tricks on your senses, you were sure of it.

As you wandered deeper into the compound, you stumbled upon a large room, more expansive than the bedroom. It had the look of a study, filled with scrolls and elegant furnishings. And there, for the first time since morning, you saw a human—a man. His long hair fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze as he leaned casually on his hand, playing Go with no visible opponent. The board pieces shifted after his move, and when he won, the other pieces trembled in what seemed to be anger.

"That's rather rude," the man chuckled, clearly speaking to his invisible opponent. He gestured lazily for the game to be put away, and only then did he turn and notice you standing in the doorway.

Recognition struck you like a thunderclap. The handsome face from the temple—the man who spoke of the Master of Fate. Your mouth gaped in surprise as you pointed at him. "Y-You! What are you doing here?"

The man rose to his feet, his height only making him more imposing. His robes, embroidered in intricate blue and gold, shimmered under the soft light. It was immediately clear he was no mere traveler. "You're awake at last," he said gently, a smile tugging at his lips. "How are you feeling?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "I'm in shock, and you have the nerve to ask how I feel?" Your tone was sharp, though justified by your bewilderment. "Where am I?"

The man's smile remained, unfazed by your bluntness. He lifted a hand to his lips, pointing. "You have a grain of rice, just there," he said, amusement in his voice as if suppressing laughter.

Your cheeks flared with heat, and you hastily wiped your lips. “Enough of this nonsense,” you demanded, your voice sharp. “Where am I? Who are you?”

The man's eyebrows lifted slightly, as if taken aback that you hadn't yet recognized him. “I am merely a traveler,” he said simply.

“Bullshit!” you snapped, stepping forward as anger surged within you. The closer you got, the more you noticed a faint pink flush on his ears. Was he…blushing? Your frustration mounted. “I need to know where I am, so I can get home.” Probably also to look for that priest so you can slit his throat.

The man hummed, clearly amused by your fury. “You are home,” he replied, his tone as calm as ever. “Everything here is yours.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What on earth do you mean?”

A low chuckle escaped him, as if he found your bewilderment endearing. He bowed his head slightly, the golden-green hue of his eyes fixed on you with a strange intensity. “I am the Master of Fate,” he said, his voice rich with quiet authority. “The god of the mountains, and I am married to you.”

The weight of his words settled in the room, thick and suffocating like a dense fog. You let out a laugh—hollow, bitter—though none of this struck you as amusing. The god’s eyes narrowed slightly, perplexed by your reaction. “You mortals are truly curious creatures,” he murmured, his voice edged with amusement.

“Wait,” you said, raising a hand as you stifled the laughter, trying to regain your composure. “If you’re truly the Master of Fate, shouldn’t you be a dragon?”

His eyebrow arched, his expression shifting. “You doubt me?”

“That, or I choose not to believe,” you retorted, a hint of defiance creeping into your tone. “Prove it. Show me you’re really a ‘god’.”

You knew enough of the stories to realize challenging a god was folly, but your frustration overruled your caution. Instantly, you felt the change. His aura grew colder, the warmth of the room draining away as though the very air recoiled at your insolence. The silk draped on your skin offered no protection from the sudden chill.

The god’s eyes, once warm with flecks of gold, now gleamed with an otherworldly glow. His pupils shifted—elongating, narrowing into slits, reminiscent of a dragon. He took a slow, deliberate step towards you. Though he didn’t lay a finger on you, something invisible lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat.

“You dare question me?” His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of a storm, the power of the mountains he was said to rule. You felt small, fragile under his scrutiny, the air around you pressing down with unseen force.

His gaze flickered down to your lips then they lowered. In an instant, the intensity in his eyes softened. The golden light dimmed, and his pupils returned to their human-like shape. The invisible force holding your chin vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He stepped back, a hand covering the lower half of his face as if trying to conceal his embarrassment. His ears, you noticed, were faintly tinged with pink.

“My apologies,” he murmured, his voice no longer cold, but gentle. “I did not mean to lose my temper.”

He smoothed down his robes with a swift motion, composed once more, though you could see the faint trace of unease in his demeanor. When he turned to face you again, his usual serene smile had returned, but it carried a hint of warmth now that had been absent before.

“Let us… start over,” he said, his tone lighter, almost as if he were making a peace offering. “I am indeed the Master of Fate. But as your husband, you may call me Zayne.”

It was utterly ridiculous—this stranger, this god, claiming to be your husband. Before you could protest, his hand gently reached for your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against the scar left by the dagger. The sensation made you freeze. "It is healing quickly," he remarked, his tone soft but deliberate. "Still, I advise against overexerting yourself. The wound might reopen, and I would not want to see you hurt."

You fought to keep your expression neutral, suppressing the flutter of warmth his concern stirred in your chest. You had to remind yourself of your situation—he wasn’t tending to you out of love. To him, you were no wife, but a mortal… a pet. Gently but firmly, you took his hand away from your throat, furrowing your brows. "I appreciate your concern, Master," you replied, your voice polite but laced with underlying defiance. "However, I cannot accept being called anyone's wife, especially when no marriage has ever taken place."

Zayne’s brow arched slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Is that so?" he mused, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. "But you are my wife. The ceremony at the shrine, did it not confirm as much?"

THAT WAS A WEDDING CEREMONY?!

"Oh, so you mean to tell me that being a sacrificial lamb is your idea of a ceremony symbolizing devotion and love?" you challenged, your tone sharp.

Zayne’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Is that what you mortals think marriage is?" he mused, an eyebrow lifting. You crossed your arms, raising your own brow in return. "Is it not?"

He tried to suppress a laugh but failed, a snort escaping before he broke into quiet chuckles. The sound of it made your face flush with embarrassment, though you tried not to show it. "Is it not?" you repeated, more insistent this time, though now you felt a bit foolish for asking.

His laughter faded into a knowing smile, and he shook his head. "Marriage to a god is far beyond mortal customs of devotion."

You wanted to ask more—how all of this came to be, why he had chosen you as his “wife”—but your words faltered as a cold breeze swept through the open windows. A shiver ran down your spine, reminding you of the thin silk nightgown clinging to your skin, offering little warmth against the chill. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing at your arms for some heat. Zayne’s eyes flicked to the way your skin prickled from the cold and how your nipples were now prominent.

You heard his breath hitch but before you could snap at him, he moved closer, and though his presence was commanding, his touch was careful as he lifted the silk draped over your shoulder, pulling it back into place with a certain grace. The warmth of his fingertips lingered on your skin longer than they should have, and despite yourself, a strange heat rose in your chest, contrasting sharply with the cold.

"Would you care for a change of clothes?" Zayne asked, though his gaze betrayed him, lingering far too long on the exposed skin of your chest. His eyes trailed down in a way that made your skin crawl with awareness.

You scowled, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest as heat rose to your cheeks—not from embarrassment, but irritation. “Please," you replied, your tone sharp, cutting through the air like the wind. If he weren't a god, you might have slapped him for such boldness.

Zayne, noticing your displeasure, raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching upward as if amused by your indignation. "As you wish," he said, his voice smooth, though his gaze held a hint of mischief that made you even more wary.

Now that you've changed into a hanfu of rich crimson and deep azure, the intricate patterns reminiscent of Zayne’s own robes, adorned with motifs of delicate jasmines, fierce dragons, and majestic mountains. As you strolled back to the courtyard, you found yourself captivated by the vibrant plants and blossoms that surrounded you, their colors a feast for the eyes.

As you meandered along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water cascading from a nearby waterfall reached your ears, blending harmoniously with the soft rustle of leaves. You paused, captivated by the fish darting playfully beneath the surface, their scales glinting like jewels in the sun.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you caught sight of an extraordinary deer. It stood as grand as an oak tree, its coat a pristine white, glowing like freshly fallen snow. Its antlers, gilded in gold, sparkled brilliantly in the morning light. With each careful step it took, the earth beneath its hooves came alive, sending forth new blades of grass, as if nature itself rejoiced at its presence.

“The Si Ji,” Zayne said, his voice low and respectful as he approached your side. He inclined his head toward the magnificent creature, admiration evident in his gaze.

The Si Ji lowered its majestic head to drink from the river, its silken coat shimmering like polished ivory in the dappled sunlight. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, captivated by the sight.

Zayne hummed thoughtfully beside you, nodding in agreement. “If I were to be frank,” he began, his tone contemplative, “everything in this world possesses its own beauty. It is a lamentable truth that mortals often overlook.”

You found yourself agreeing, struck by the realization. Mortals tended to take the wonders of life for granted, blinded by the weight of their daily struggles. It stirred an uncertainty within you; what was life, really? What could unfold in the next hour, or even the next breath? You wondered if the gods, beings of such grace and power, held any clarity about the uncertainties that plagued humanity. Glancing up at Zayne, you hesitated to voice your thoughts when the hint of sorrow in his eyes caught your attention. What was the source of that? Who had caused it?

Zayne caught your gaze, his brows arching slightly in curiosity. “Yes?” he asked, a gentle challenge lingering in his tone.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head as you turned your focus back to the Si Ji, willing yourself to concentrate on its elegance. “So, the Si Ji,” you continued, “the one said to govern the seasons.”

“Indeed,” Zayne smiled, his demeanor brightening. “In but a few weeks’ time, it shall traverse the land, cloaking the world in a blanket of snow.”

Your thoughts drifted to your village, to the familiar faces and daily routines. You shouldn’t care; after all, they lived as they always did. You were the one who had experienced a life turned upside down overnight. Just yesterday, you were a commoner ensnared in the machinations of the temple priests. Now, you were married to a god.

"Come," Zayne called, his voice soft but commanding as he turned and began walking toward the entrance of the compound. His steps were light, purposeful, the silken folds of his robes barely stirring. You prepared to follow, but a faint splash from the river behind you made you pause.

Your head whipped around sharply, eyes scanning the water. At first, there was nothing. Then, a figure emerged seemingly out of nowhere, his presence so sudden it stole your breath. His eyes, strange and multicolored, gleamed as they locked onto yours.

“Greetings,” the new voice said smoothly, as if the river itself had spoken. You gasped, taking in the sight of him. His bare torso, covered in intricate blue markings that coiled across his skin, looked as though the heavens themselves had inked them there. His smile, though charming, sent a shiver down your spine. Most unusual was his hair, a deep shade of purple, falling in soft waves that shimmered in the light.

“My, such a fine jade,” he murmured, stepping closer and lifting your chin with a light but possessive touch. The warmth of his fingers was unsettling, his gaze lingering on your face.

You bit back your discomfort, gritting your teeth, refusing to be yet another plaything to this stranger. “Unhand me,” you said, your tone sharp like a blade. You stepped back, eyes narrowing.

“Rafayel!”

Chapter 3

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Alright. For your NSFW requests. Can you do something with Levi, where you’re having a really shit day and all you want is for Levi to fuck the life out of you? That’s all I got at the moment. I’m a sucker for “I’m mad so fuck me” sex.

Smut Scribbles 26: "I want you to ruin me."

Bad Habit (NSFW) Characters: Levi x Reader Word Count: 775 words

Fiercely, Levi yanked your leg to his heaving chest, lifting your hips up so that he could sink his weight into you. Beneath him, your head was thrown back against the pillows, his name escaping you in strangled gasp. Insatiable, Levi pushed deeper, more insistently into you. Strangely, he found he was no longer concerned about the noise you were both making.

You hadn’t been expecting company that night. It seemed as though hours had passed as you had sat upon the lounge chair in your room, eyes glazed. You had been too exhausted to cry any more bitter tears. You stared at nothing; your body bowed forward so that one elbow rested upon your knee. Fretfully, you gnawed upon a bitten-down nail. One ugly thought surfaced, then another rose to take its place. Increasingly dark contemplations were emerging, leaping over one another; giving persistent chase around your mind. 

A sharp knock had brought you back to your surroundings. Hastily rubbing your face, you approached the door. There was Levi, concern tightening his expression as his eyes searched your face. Of course, he had heard about what had happened today. Yet, the last thing you sought was his kindness. It was far worse than his contempt. You glanced over his shoulder first one way, then the other up the darkened corridor.

“Did anyone see you?” 

“No…” Levi raised his eyebrows. He folded his arms, but did not cross the threshold. You turned your back to the doorway. There came the sound of a click.

“I’m not in the mood to talk about it.”

You coughed out a tearless sigh as Levi dropped his arms to his sides. He offered a half-shrug. You returned to your chair. Hesitantly, Levi made a brief motion as though he was about to leave again. Instead, with a gentle thud, he kicked off his boots by the door and took a seat beside you.

“No one’s making you talk.”

Exhausted, you sank against him. Your cheek rested on the collar of his jacket.

“This fucking day has been…” Your voice was hoarse. You gestured uselessly, buckled under the weight of such weariness. "I just want to forget it."

“I know,” came Levi’s reply, filled with doubtless reassurance. Beside you, he was real and solid and warm. For a moment, your pain wasn’t entirely insurmountable. Shifting slightly against him, your forehead rested against Levi’s chin. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

“Want me to stay?”

As his fingers tucked your hair away from your neck, you released your breath slowly. Levi had remained still then. You turned your head towards him. He did not move away. Then you gently brushed your lips against his.

"Levi..."

"Tell me." His fingers traced your chin, his breath lingering on your mouth.

“I..." You gazed at him, your heart beating with such fervour that you could feel its pulse in your throat.

"...I want you to fuck me. Right here. I want you to ruin me, Levi.”

You were both still learning each other’s patterns, rhythms, inclinations but, increasingly, your bodies were no longer strangers to one another. It was becoming easy to undress each other; safe to lose yourselves completely. It was becoming a habit.

Now your head was pressed into the pillows scattered upon your bed. Your legs were draped over Levi’s shoulders, so slick with sweat that they were slipping out of place. Levi’s hand clutched your ankle firmly. You were lost to an all-engrossing heat; one that was building so sharply, so agonising close. You hardly noticed when Levi’s fingers threaded through your own, gripping your hands as his thrusts became more desperate. 

Your whole body rocked on a wave of ecstasy. As the sensation crested to its peak, you choked out a few incoherent words between sobs. Heat flared within you. Every muscle in your body clenched. And then, the sting of pleasure was ebbing away. 

Levi’s movements were slowing. His eyes were closed; brow slightly furrowed in concentration; his cheeks flushed. Dark hair stood up, uncharacteristically unruly. Your chest pulled tight. You slid your hands up Levi’s back and into his dishevelled hair. Breathless words left you in a sigh. Levi’s body tensed. He drew back enough to look down at where you lay beneath him. Your eyes were half-closed; lips parted.

You knew he would not answer. Not until he was sure of what he had heard. Both of you shared the same secret but were too afraid to reveal it.

You took Levi’s warm face in your hands. Your lips met silently, softly. You held him there, and Levi showed no inclination to draw himself away, or to continue moving against you.  He was still inside you; stomachs pressed together; skin warming one another, as he kissed you again. Your bodies moulded naturally, as though they were made for only this. As though they could remain this way for the rest of your days.   ... Thanks for this, Bee! Because I’m such Levihan trash I’ve also written a Levi x Hange version here.

I’m taking NSFW head canons, so fill me up! 👉 Smut Scribbles 

[buttahpie]

my yearning for paul mccartney is literally insatiable. my need for him is harmful to feminism. if i find a man in my life who i am half as obsessed with as i am with paul mccartney i would genuinely become a tradwife no questions asked. i am ravenous for him. gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. making incoherent monkey sounds as i completely succumb to my desire for that man.