#is the thing i should be doing shoving it down and seeking to make it as small and unnoticeable within me as possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andypantsx3 · 8 months ago

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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divinesolas · 5 months ago

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Your Reflection

summary: rq; when the thoughts jacaerys has had his whole life finally can no longer be pushed down he seeks comfort in you

jacaerys targaryen x non targ!reader

w.c: 1.7k

c.w: just a lot of fluff, angst and some minor smut (oral)

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 1 @jacesvelaryons s @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg

your head whips around at the slam of your room and you stand with wide eyes at the red eyed prince letting out shaky breaths as he swiftly makes his way towards you.

“jace.”

he pulls you into him and falls onto the bed where he lays on top of you, shoving his head into your neck while he lets out weak sobs. “she is being unreasonable” you place your head in his hair while letting out a deep breath. You knew well of his distain for his mothers idea him having ranted for far too long to you about it earlier that same day, to have the low born men and women attempt to claim dragons. bastards.

it was sensitive for him. you knew this far too well. He had gone to try and convince her to change her mind but clearly he had failed and you tried to come up with words that could bring him comfort. “does she not see how foolish this is? to let those people walk amongst us? those those…” he pulls his head away to look at you as he struggles to speak, his face clearly tormented and painful. “they are undeserving. unworthy. they are mongrels and monsters. born out of wedlock believing themselves to be fit for a role they were not made for,”

“are you talking about them or are you talking about yourself?”

he gulps at your words and his eyes well up, “what claim do i have if they claim a dragon? i do not have the hair, the skin, i am a fraud and everyone knows it. I am mere moments away from being stripped of everything i have left.” his head falls onto your chest as his chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths. “i cannot imagine how you feel. the shame you must feel walking down the halls and people staring at you, married to a bastard.”

You grip his face and make him look at you. Hes shocked to see the furry and angry on your face. “i will hear no more of this. you are jacaerys targaryen son of queen rhaenyra taragryen. heir to the iron throne nobody will contest that not. don’t you dare insinuate i am insulted or shamed to be seen with you it is an honor. everyday i wake up blessed to know i married such an honorable and truthful man and i would have it no other way.”

at this point tears are pouring down his face as he shakes his head finding himself refusing to listen to your words. “you could not possibly mean such a thing.” he whines ever so slightly when you bring your lips to his face and kiss the tears off his face, closing his eyes and he refuses to look at you. “i mean it and more. there is no other better man than you. your heritage means nothing to me. should anybody contest that remember you are a targaryen. they shall pay for their contestation with fire and blood.”

he says nothing in return, simply laying his head on your chest while silent tears continue to run down his face. you did not wish to push him to speak, your hands find the back of his head and play with his hair ever so slightly.

“what if they do contest it?” you peer down at him but he continues to stare at the lit fire in your fire pit. “what if after my mother dies they argue and fight and usurp my throne right under me as they have done her? what if there is another war and more people get hurt what if you,,,” His words end up choked up in his throat as he shakes with sobs, you cant help but feel your own eyes begin to water. He’s scared. just a scared young man who doesn’t wish to lose anyone or anything else.

one of your hands soothe his back as you press a kiss to his forehead while your other one cups his face to wipe away his tears. you cannot say anything to console him, knowing this is an issue that runs deeper into his consciousness than you will ever be able to fix by your lonesome. So when you roll him off you he sits up and stares at you in horror as you begin to walk off. his mouth shakily opens to call after you to beg you to stay but his words die on his tongue and he can just let out a meek gasp.

When you arrive back into the room he has his head in his hands while he cries into them. He looks up at you when you place a leather bag next to and tries to catch his breath. His pupils bounce around your face as your hands grab his top and begin to pull it off of him. He allows you, making no move to stop you despite his confusion. “lay on your stomach.” He pauses sniffing as he folds his hands in his lap. When he doesn’t move your cup his face and press a light kiss against his furrowed brows.

He silently pulls away and rolls to lay on his back as you had asked. He has no clue what you’re doing and almost turns to ask you after theres been no movement or talking from you for a bit until he feels you straddle his back and your hands begin to run through his hair. He can smell the oil on your fingers as you delicately run them throughout his curls. He lets out a pleased hum as your nails scratch into his head.

he does not say anything simply allowing you to shower him in affections he normally does not allow you to. cooing at him and pecking all over his back and head. As you move down to massage his neck and back he finds himself overwhelmed with the display of affection and love you’re showering him with he has no clue what to do or say.

Hes even more so embarrassed when you flip him around and he’s hard as a rock. Hes not even feeling sexual in that moment but he’s body is flighting against him. He whines slightly and wishes he could explain himself but he cant. You dont seem to mind. simply dripping more oil onto his skin and working your hands to ease his tension.

He closes his eyes and tries to will it away while you continue to press kisses onto his chest and stomach but if anything it only gets worse at your pure display of love. He hopes he is not ruining this just as he ruins everything. He has never felt so loved in his life he has never felt so at peace since before the war he wants to live in this feeling forever.

His eyes shoot open when you tug his pants down his legs leaving him completely bare and he looks at you alarmed. You say nothing however simply eyeing him as you kiss around his thighs and massage the parts your lips are not. He is breathless as he watches you. When you suddenly stop your movements and look at him he does not know what to do. “i,, shouldn’t i,,, you should,,” The look you have on your face as him stumbling and stuttering over his words. He’s never like this. He would never allow you to do this to him normally. He would insist he get you off first or even outright forbid you to even do something like this more content with pleasing you.

Yet he cant help but be greedy today, the self centered part of him wins and he finds himself nodding to you. He will regret this later he knows he will but when you peck light kissing along his throbbing cock he throws his head back with a moan without a care in the world. His hands grip at the sheets under him when you tongue at his slit slurping up some of his precum before wrapping your lips fully around him.

He understands why some men who are less honorable as he seek out these pleasures often and he almost wishes he allowed you do to this more often. When your hands come to cup and play with his balls his legs shake and he whimpers. He swears he’s going to rip the bedsheets the way he’s gripping at them. His face burns slightly in humiliation and more so in pleasure. sweat drips down the sides of his forehead into his newly oiled hair as he hips uncontrollable thrust up into your mouth where he spews out and apology but you simply hum around him sending another shiver up his spine.

his whole body is shaking with pleasure. He had already been sensitive and relaxed from your overwhelming intimacy he can barely control himself now. he finds himself chanting your name mixed and mumbled with i love you’s. He releases unexpectedly after some louder groans and moans and his eyes well up again as he watches you swallow it down. “im sorry im sorry.” even when he does allow you to do this he never lets himself release in your mouth fearing it may be too much for you and usually just allows himself to spend on your chest.

You climb up to him and press a loving kiss against his lips. He does not mind he can taste himself on your lips as he presses his lips firmly back against yours. The action speaking louder than any words could. He insist he should do something for you in return but the way his eyes droop and struggle to stay open you know he is mere moments from falling asleep. You smile at him and peck his cheek as you shake your head at him. He tries to argue with falters under your comforting hands and sweet nothings into his ear.

He settles with a faint smile on his face the first one you’ve seen on him in many moons. when you rub your hands on his chest he falls asleep at the comfort but not being letting another i love you slip through his lips. His smile grows when he hears you return it before drifting off to sleep where he knows he’ll meet you there too

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sotc · 1 month ago

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as fun as it is to talk about the sillay crow family dynamics, i'm soo interested in what this means for the crow familia going forward in a darker lens.

im mostly speaking from the perspective of a rook de riva who romanced lucanis btw <3

illario brought the axe down on his own head after failing to take first talon. he's imprisoned except to play house whenever caterina wants to see him around for family dinners before tensions inevitably shove him back into the cage he's been left to like some house pet lmfao. it's actually kinda fucked up and as a certified sicko i love it. especially considering the casualness in which lucanis describes all of this. crows gotta be a little unhinged<3

But!!! while lucanis was right that illario's reputation is ruined forever as a traitor crow beaten to his knees before every house that doesn't exactly free house dellamorte either. Talon houses will want their pound of flesh of illario for nearly trying to put antiva under venatori control. and yet lucanis refused. house dellamorte showed mercy. they are breaking the rules, making exceptions. this is not how the crows operate and there should--WILL be retaliations for it. illario left this house bleeding in his attempt to claim first talon and their blood is in the water now with house dellamorte having a sole heir who blatantly exposed a weakness and seemingly has no lineage to take after him.

and nevermind that we know murmurs amongst the crows will linger about a first talon being an abomination. i know lucanis kind of handwaves it off as at the coffee date like 'there could be worst first talons' but baby boy, you have avoidance and denial issues this WILL become worse of a problem the longer it goes on. <3

more under the cut bc i didn't realize this was getting so long lol

but in comes fifth talon viago de riva. a bastard to the king of antiva who wants to strengthen the crown. a man who has been ruthlessly exacting and meticulous to get where he is now. and the scariest part is that he has ambition, always has, and knows he has more power than the king himself to make plays if he needs to. this makes for a dangerous (and sexy) combination. in comes his protege rook. casting silly family dynamics aside, viago knows this union between house dellamorte and de riva is extremely beneficial for both houses but also very dangerous. even he knows his ties to teia show a weakness in him that other crows may seek to exploit. and while i do think he may be sincere about wanting rook to find their happiness with lucanis as he has with teia - i truly think he will not shy from showing the importance of a 'political alliance/union' especially with first talon house dellamorte struggling from the blow after all is said and done.

and of course, by extension to de riva, house cantori and the beautiful lovely miss teia, will be extending her support to strengthen their houses but also herself from any opposition. as much as i love that she's kind of the heart that brings this fucked up lil familia together, i know she is just as cunning and clever to recognize what this alliance does for her too.

and caterina.. well, without going into a whole thought piece on her, she has built her (and her grandson's reputation) entirely to instill fear in others, even command enough respect to know she's the one running things while lucanis is just a stand-in as first talon. but what happens when caterina is gone? another dellamorte dead just like all the others. all lucanis has left is himself and his traitor brother. how does he handle illario? how does he fair being a leader to the crows when he didn't want any of this in the first place and no longer has caterina to guide him? how does he wish to pursue carrying the dellamorte legacy (if at all)? does he seek a protege of his own to take on after him? i can't remember who says it (viago or lucanis) but there's a line about how saving thedas will make their houses immortal (hot and very sexy) but also how far can that reputation protect house dellamorte, really?

i don't really have a point to all of this, this is all just stuff im simply chewing on and letting out into the ether because the ripple effect of repercussions with what illario did and what lucanis now has to deal with fascinates me SO MUCH.

#it's all so fucked up (affectionate)#dragon age #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #as much as i know in my heart lucanis deserves to be a malewife i really like to see him in situations i fear 😔 take him away from me #i still stand by what i said about wishing there was an option to kill illario bc i think hardening luca w/ that is also a fun avenue #to explore BUT letting illario live and imprisoned also kind of cooks ngl #(but im still giving the writers shit tho bc we know we couldnt do any substantial exploration of 'this is fucked up. what if we did that--#-- and made them worse' with the companion storylines)#aev plays da4 #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #viago de riva #teia cantori #also thank you to my bestie for bouncing back and forth w/ me about this <3 #long post

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cupidhoons · 20 days ago

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( 정원 ) ⎯⎯ 𝒹𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝒸𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝓅𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 ⊹ 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 . . . 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 ₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 x 𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 ─── 𝒢𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦. 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 ꒰ ✉️ ꒱ 𝓌𝘤 1k ⟡ ⌢ . 𝓌𝘢𝘳𝘯. 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 + 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 ୨୧ 𝓇𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 ／ 𝖫𝖨𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖱𝖸

𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘻 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 :0

JUNGWON WAS NEVER ONE TO CATCH FEELINGS.

For as long as he could remember, his days were neatly organized—study sessions, class president duties, and moments stolen for himself in the form of quiet reading or walks home from school. He’d see his classmates pair up, blush over handwritten notes, and giggle in the hallways, and it all seemed like an unnecessary distraction.

That is, until the third week of English class.

It started innocently enough. Mrs. Choi had announced a group activity, and he was partnered with you. He remembered the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you studied the prompt, your eyebrows knitting together in concentration. You’d tilted your head slightly, a small smile forming as an idea struck you.

“Okay, what about this?” you asked, leaning toward him to share your thoughts.

The warmth in your voice and the spark in your eyes caught him off guard. He wasn’t supposed to notice things like that—how the sunlight streaming through the window framed your face, or how you spoke with an ease that made him feel lighter somehow.

And then, there was the way you laughed.

He’d said something awkward, something he barely remembered, but you laughed—a soft, genuine sound that filled the space between you. It wasn’t loud or attention-seeking. It was the kind of laugh that stayed with him, lingering in his chest long after the bell rang.

Jungwon couldn’t stop noticing you after that. The way you absentmindedly twirled your pen during lectures. How you always greeted the shyest students in class, making them feel included. How you chewed on your bottom lip when you were deep in thought. It all became part of the quiet melody that played in his mind whenever you were around.

At first, he tried to ignore it. He didn’t have time for distractions, especially not ones as all-consuming as you. But every time he told himself to focus, his gaze drifted back to you.

So here he was, months later, standing in the dimly lit hallway after school with a note clutched tightly in his hand.

---

The hallway was nearly empty now, safe from the distant echoes of laughter and the shuffle of footsteps from students lingering in other parts of the building. Jungwon stood a few lockers away from yours, the small, folded square of paper in his hand feeling heavier than it should.

Just slip it in and walk away, he told himself, his heart racing in defiance of the plan.

He approached your locker, glancing down at the note in hand one last time. He hesitates a bit, taking a deep breath before sliding the note into the gap of your locker. Though, just as he turned to leave, a voice called out behind him.

“Jungwon?”

His body stiffened, heat rising to his face as he turned to see Karina standing a few feet away. She tilted her head, her expression a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, though the smirk on her lips suggested she already knew.

“Uh, nothing,” Jungwon stammered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just… walking by.”

Karina crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “Right. So you didn't just slip a love note into Y/N’s locker just now?”

His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he could only gape at her. “I—no! It’s not like that!”

“Sure, sure,” Karina said, her smirk widening. “Your secret’s safe with me… for now.”

Before he could protest further, she turned on her heel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone once more.

---

The next day, you were sitting in homeroom, skimming through your notes for an upcoming quiz, when Karina slid into the seat beside you.

“So,” she began, her voice brimming with excitement.

You glanced at her warily. “What now?”

“Guess who I caught slipping a love note into your locker yesterday.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t say Mr. Kim from the cafeteria again.”

“Nope,” she said, her grin growing wider. “It was Jungwon.”

Your pen froze mid-sentence. “Jungwon? Like class president, everyone's favorite boy Jungwon?”

“Yup!” Karina confirmed. “I caught him red-handed putting a note in your locker yesterday.”

You blinked, trying to process her words. “I don't get it. Why would Jungwon, out of all people, leave a note for me?”

“Because he likes you!” Karina said.

You frowned, shaking your head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Jungwon barely talks to me.”

“Maybe he’s shy,” Karina teased. “Or maybe you’re just blind to how much he stares at you during class.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Fine,” She said, leaning back in her chair. “Then catch him in the act.”

---

That afternoon, you stayed behind after school, hiding just around the corner from your locker. The hallway was eerily quiet now, the chatter of students replaced by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. You held your breath as you waited, your pulse quickening with every passing second.

And then, there he was.

Jungwon walked toward your locker, glancing around nervously. His hand trembled slightly as he slipped a folded piece of paper through the slot.

“Jungwon?”

He froze, his head snapping up to meet your gaze. His eyes widened in panic, his face turning redder with each passing moment.

“Y-Y/N,” he stammered, his voice barely audible.

You stepped closer, holding up the note he’d left the day before. “You’re my secret admirer?”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to run. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping as he nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

You studied him, your heart softening at the sight of his nervous expression. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” he admitted, avoiding your gaze.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You know, you’re not as subtle as you think.”

His head shot up, hope flickering in his eyes. “Does that mean…?”

“It means,” you said, stepping closer, “you could’ve just talked to me. But I guess this works too.”

Jungwon’s face lit up with a tentative smile. “So… lunch tomorrow? With me?”

You nodded, warmth spreading through your chest. “I’d like that.”

#࣪ 𓂃 ୨୧ 𓈒 ◌ 𝓂𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝓌𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒.#jungwon #jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jungwon imagines #enhypen smau #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon enhypen #jungwon angst

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rafeandonlyrafe · 10 months ago

Text

carnival

this fic is 100% inspired by this edit from rafesins, please go watch and support it on tiktok!!!

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dealer!rafe, reader does coke, blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), kinda sex as payment??

“what you want, pretty?” rafe asks, already tugging you towards the back room. “some white, and then you.” you smirk at him, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

“yeah?” rafe smiles at you, shutting the bedroom door behind you, usually off limits for those seeking some of his stash, but not for you.

“here baby.” rafe tosses a small baggie at you, filled with white powder. you tap it out onto the back off your hand in a jagged line, but it doesn’t matter the presentation as you sniff up the coke, barely able to put the rest of your bag in your purse before it hits you.

“how much i owe you?” you ask.

“you should know better than that.” rafe shakes his head. “i don’t need your money.” you don’t bother to respond, sinking immediately to your knees, glad for the plush rug keeping them from bruising. “just need your mouth.” rafe undoes his belt, allowing your hands to take over and pull it free from the belt loops.

“good thing im a pro.” you make quick work of rafes pants, tugging them down for him to step out of, knowing the night isn’t going to end just from you sucking him off.

you rub your hand over his length, the material of his underwear still blocking you, but he’s already hard, was the second he saw you at the party, knowing you would eventually come to him.

“cmon, pretty.” rafe encourages you, his voice soft but you know its not a request, but rather a command for you to stop teasing.

you pull his underwear down, mouth immediately surrounding his cock before its even all the way down his thighs. rafe lets out a moan, not caring who could possibly hear him.

“thats it.” he groans when you suck lower, being careful not to let your teeth accidentally scrape against his length.

“so good.” you mumble when you pull back to kiss at his tip, licking your tongue over his slit to collect any precum that has leaked, moaning when you taste him on your tongue.

you don’t savor it for long before sinking your head again, setting up a fast rhythm, pushing his cock all the way down your throat and then pulling back until just his head is between your lips.

your gag reflex doesn’t make an appearance, it hasn’t since you first started sucking rafe off for blow, gagging only once when you realized how much bigger he was than anyone you’ve had before. you’ve never made a mistake since.

rafes moans are like music to your ears, the song pumping from the speakers at the party going on throughout the rest of the house also filling the bedroom.

go, go, go, go

head so good, she a honor roll

she’ll ride that dick like a carnival

i done did the impossible

you pull away to blink up at rafe, unsure if its the influence of the song or the drugs in your system mixing with the alcohol you pregramed. “let me ride you, rafe.”

“fuck, yeah.” he nods without a second thought.

“cum in my mouth first? i do owe you for the coke.” you want to make sure rafe is down for getting it up twice in one night, but he doesnt use his words to confirm, instead wrapping his hands in your hair and shoving your head back down.

you moan around his cock, knowing how much rafe likes feeling the vibrations as he starts to press his hips forward. you stop your motions up on down, covering your teeth and relaxing your throat.

“fuck yes.” rafe groans, thrusting forward while holding your head still, allowing him to fully shove down your throat.

you place your hands on his thighs to keep yourself stable as he fucks your throat, making you even more excited to get inside of him later, to feel him thrusting up into you while he’s on top.

“close.” rafe warns, your mouth far too good to last any longer, especially not with the promise of your pussy next.

you glide one hand up his thigh, cupping his balls, and its what sends rafe over the edge, groaning out your name as he cums, releasing into your mouth.

you suck him gently through his high before pulling off, opening your mouth to show rafe your cum covered tongue.

“jesus, baby, you deserve all the blow in the world for that head.” you swallow before smiling up at him, “thank you, rafey.”

rafe helps you up, your legs a little numb from kneeling down, but its out of your mind as rafe wraps his arms around your waist, hauling your body against his in a strong kiss.

“get on the bed.” you pull away from rafes mouth. rafe is slow in unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers moving slowly as he watches you grab your purse from the floor, inhaling some more of the white powder before you step out of your heels, revealing your perfectly painted white toenails.

rafe licks his lips as he climbs onto the bed, now completely naked as you stand in front of him, moving slowly to the music as your hands run over your body, dress not hiding anything as it fits you like a second skin.

you don’t tease rafe for too long before you begin to strip your clothes off, revealing that you’ve just got a bra on underneath your dress, having forgone panties like you always do on nights out, not caring if anyone sees your pussy.

you crawl onto the bed, watching rafes cock twitch, already halfway hard again just from watching you get naked for him.

“love these tits, come here baby.” rafe says, his back propped up by the headboard. you crawl onto his lap, hovering your cunt over his cock to tease him as rafe cups your chest, smirking when you jiggles your boobs in his face.

“you could do lines off them sometime.” you offer rafe, his eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

“damn, you really work for your free stash, don’t you baby?” he laughs. you know you’re going above and beyond, but its not truly about the free drugs and rafe knows it.

you reach between your bodies as rafes thumbs swipe over your nipples, watching them harden before his eyes as you grasp his cock, only having to give it a few strokes before he’s ready to go again.

“clean?” you ask rafe, hoping you can have him without a condom.

“yeah. pill?” he asks you.

you shake your head and tap the side of your arm. “implant.”

rafe nods. “i’m taking you raw then.”

“damn right.” you nod, raising your hips to line up your entrance with his cock, sinking down with a soft moan, having to move slowly with rafes cock stretching your walls.

“oh shit.” rafe groans, his head falling backwards against the headboard. “youre so fucking tight.”

you make a point to clench around his dick, tightening your pussy even more around him before beginning to move, starting slowly as you move back and forth, rafes hands moving down to hold your waist as your hands press against his abs to give yourself some stability.

you lean in to kiss rafe, needing his mouth back on yours as you begin to bounce faster, thighs straining as you ride him.

rafe moans into your mouth, letting you move however you please, knowing this won't be the last time he has you naked before him, not going to be able to hold back now that he's got a feel of your pussy.

“so big.” you coo out, hips moving from side to side, almost in a dancing motion as you ride, occasionally pressing all the way down to grind your clit into his body. you can feel his abs clenching underneath your palms as rafe gasps and groans, making you smile, realizing how good you're making him feel.

you suddenly pull off, making rafe cry out at the loss, but you quickly turn and line your pussy back up with his cock. you place your hands between his legs on the bed and lower your cunt over his cock, ass now facing rafe.

“oh fuck.” he moans, hands gripping your bum as you begin to bounce it up and down, using every trick you have in your book, loving the way rafe feels inside of you, long and thick.

“love your dick.” you look over to your shoulder to tell rafe. “want you to cum in me.”

“keep going like that baby and im gonna.” rafe warns.

you smile and face forward to put all your effort into riding rafe, knowing your ass must be bouncing deliciously from the way he grips and slaps at it while you move.

you gasp when rafe suddenly pushes you forward, falling to your stomach as his body covers yours, chest pressing into your back as he cums, lodging his cock deep inside you to release himself, making you shudder as your pussy pulses around him, milking every last drop.

“oh, fuck.” rafe groans, flopping to the side, his cock slipping easily out of you.

you can't help but giggle at his heavy breathing, his eyes closed as his chest rising up and down.

you shimmy closer, trying to keep your thighs squeezed shut to not leak all over the bed. “that was so good, rafey. can't believe we hadn't done that before.”

“never gonna settle for just your mouth now that ive felt that.” rafe laughs out, placing his hand behind your head to bring you in for a kiss. “although you do have a hell of a mouth on you.”

“well you'll have to have both because there's no way im gonna stop sucking you off.” you laugh.

“i think that can be arranged.” rafe smirks, sighing when someone knocks at the door, probably barry needing him to keep selling.

“find me after the party?” you question, sliding off the bed, knowing you'll need to find a bathroom as soon as you leave the bedroom to clean yourself up.

“of course.” rafe nods, standing up as well and quickly getting redressed before helping you with your dress and heels.

someone knocks again and you go to head for the door, but rafe grabs your hand, slipping another baggie of white powder into it.

“you've earned it.” he smiles at you.

you grin back, pulling him in for one more kiss before heading out into the chaos.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh

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bbystark · 3 months ago

Text

♡ hate needing you ♡

logan howlette (wolverine) x reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: you have daddy issues, logan just has issues. together you make quite the toxic combination. based on this request by @v3lv3tf0x

⚠︎ smut, including oral, p in v, etc. unhealthy relationship, very very very minor dubcon. angst :(

a/n: girl i haven't written smut in forever, i was in front of my computer for two hours sweatin. won't be proofreading since it's almost 5k words and mommy is tired. eat it up!!!!

You and Logan are in a dangerous cycle. You know he barely even tolerates you, probably only likes you for the release he gets, both literally and figuratively. You’re not any better, clinging onto him for attention, seeking his validation to soothe your insecurities. You don’t even get much from him, and that’s exactly the thing that made it so dangerous for you. He dangles just enough in front of you to reel you in, only to shove you back just out of arm's reach.

Neither of you really realize it. At the surface you’re both aware you have a fair share of issues, things that you should really be working on as individuals. In the beginning of your toxic little dance Logan wanted nothing to do with it, and you similarly knew it was a dangerous path to head down.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

It all really started the first moment you laid eyes on him. You were recruited by Charles, another traumatized mutant that could make a difference. You met Logan weeks after you’d moved into the mansion, coming back in the middle of the night smelling like whiskey and cigars. That alone had heat rising to your cheeks. You were in the kitchen in a cute pajama set, shorts riding up as you lounged on a chair and satisfied your midnight craving. When he walked into the kitchen doorway, massive shoulders making the frame seem small, you suddenly had a very different midnight craving. He was half glaring at you, still tipsy and angsty from his all-day bender. It sent a thrill through you, like you were being reprimanded. You felt the sudden need to be in his good graces, to replace his glare with a smile.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked while moving to the refrigerator and digging through the freezer. He pulls out a frost covered bottle of whiskey.

“I’m y/n,” you watch as he sits across the table from you, chair protesting his weight. “y/n y/l/n. I started a few weeks ago.”

He gives you a look, opening the bottle with his teeth and spitting the cork somewhere. You couldn’t help but stare. He takes it the wrong way in his hazy state, eyes connecting with yours as he takes several pulls from the bottle.

“Got a staring problem? If you wanted some you coulda just asked bub.” He leans over the table, clumsily pouring a shot into your empty water cup. You blush a little, feeling silly as you take the cup and swirl the liquid around. It’s not at all what you wanted, but you felt like you had to impress him for some reason.

He watched as you took a drink, eyebrows bunched together as you willed yourself not to spit it back into the cup. You coughed a little after it finally went down, wincing at the heat coating your throat. “That was disgusting.”

He threw his head back and laughed. It’s deep and rich and suddenly you’re laughing too. “Shoulda known you couldn’t handle it, little thing like you in those cute little pjs. Doesn’t exactly scream whiskey lover.”

You gave him a shy smile, and Logan tried very hard not to smile back, opting to take another swig of his “disgusting” whiskey instead.

“What’s your name?”

“Logan.”

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

The next morning Logan had woken up with a headache he knew would be gone within the next 15 minutes. He briefly recalls making it home, meeting you on his quest for more liquor. He’s almost embarrassed when he remembers he had laughed with you, even flirted a little. He had no interest in anything serious, not even a friend. He didn’t need one.

He leaves his room in search of coffee and breakfast, almost startled when he saw you a few doors down. You happened to be leaving too, having an early training session. He can’t help but let his eyes wander, taking in your much too tight and very girly workout attire. He clears his throat when he finds he’s been looking at your ass a little too long, and you whip around.

“Oh! Logan, hi. I didn’t see you there.” You notice he’s in the same clothes as last night. “Looks like we’re neighbors.”

“Looks like it.” He’s not smiling, sober and more guarded than he was the night before. “Cute clothes.”

He means it in a patronizing way, reverting back to his unpleasant demeanor. You don’t take it like that though, and everything in him is telling him to walk away when he sees pink dusting your cheeks.

“Thanks Logan,” you’re beaming. “I’m running late so I should go, but I’ll see you around?”

He doesn’t answer as you turn away and walk towards the gym.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

It’s like that for weeks. You never have any substantial conversations, only running into each other for short moments where you give him twirls to show off your latest outfit or ask if he likes how you did your hair that day. Sometimes he snaps at you, says your braids look like a rats nest or your top is too bright. Other times he gives you small hums of appreciation, a quick “looks good”. You thrive for the validation, and he doesn’t notice that you’ve slowly stopped wearing the things that garner a sour reaction from him.

He thinks you look pretty in everything, really, but he can’t stop himself from trying to put up a wall between you two, cutting off whatever ideas you have about being with him. He never goes too far, knows you take most of his insults as teasing, maybe even flirting.

However, after a few weeks of your little back and forth he does take it too far. He’s a little too tipsy and a little too desperate, and when he knocks on your door, you answer a little too fast. You’re in a big tshirt and fuzzy socks, looking so fucking soft and innocent as you peer up at him. “Logan? Everything all right?”

No, it wasn’t. He was drunk and angry about a lot of things, as usual. He desperately craved to not be angry, even if just for a second. He wanted something sweet and soft to bury himself into. That’s why he was here. He wasn’t dumb, even if you really didn’t know much about each other, he knew you had a crush. Knew you would say yes to whatever he asks. He feels bad that he’s here, but not enough to stop himself.

“Logan?” His nostrils are flaring and he hasn’t moved an inch since you opened the door. You’re beginning to get nervous. Before you can process it, he’s crossed the space separating you in one large step and pulled you into him. You almost slam into his body, your hands landing on his chest. He weaves a hand into your hair on the back of your head and pulls, your mouth opening in shock. He uses it as an opportunity to lower his head to yours, looking into your eyes before smashing his lips to yours.

It’s almost painful, the way he kisses you. But it’s also full of desperation and messy and neither of you can get enough. His tongue licks at your teeth and you surprise him by taking it in, sucking it gently. A low groan echoes in his chest, and you realize you’re throbbing already. He pulls away slightly, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip and slowly releasing. You open your eyes, getting a glimpse at his dark pupils before he promptly spins you around, one hand on your shoulder and one on your hip. He puts slight pressure on your shoulder, and you get the memo, slowly leaning forward until your front is flush with your mattress, your arms curled up on either side of you.

The position is vulnerable, and you find yourself pressing your thighs together and squirming in nervousness. He hasn’t said a single word to you, and you’re already dripping, feeling almost uncomfortably moist in your panties. You meet his eyes, shivering when his hands start exploring the pudgy skin of your thighs. The eye contact is too much, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You couldn’t believe you were here; you had fantasized about it plenty of times but now it was happening and it all felt so fast and yet not fast enough. The last thing you expected was him making the first move, you still weren’t convinced the man even like you. Yet here you were, bent over for him.

He pulls your shirt up and past your ass, an appreciative mumble falling from his lips when he discovers you’re only in panties. You can feel his callouses gently scrape your skin as he puts his hands on your ass, gently massaging. He takes his time, all other thoughts outside of fucking you slowly becoming silent. This is what he wanted, what he needed. A simple distraction. He spreads your cheeks lightly, and you clench around nothing when you feel a puff of air on your clothed folds.

Logan’s cock is already half hard and twitching at the sight of you. Hell, he was chubbed the second he started kissing you. He chalks that up to his dry streak and not because it’s you he was kissing. Sweet little you, who’s ruined her panties, and he hasn’t even really acknowledged you.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears you whine and shift your hips closer to his face. “Please Logan. Want you.” You’re looking at him from the mattress, face flushed and lips puffy from his biting. You looked fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. The thought spurs him on as moans lowly. He tears your panties from your hips, the sting of the fabric biting into skin almost too much in your needy state. They give easily, and his hands are back on your ass, spreading you open for him once again. This time he sees all of you, pretty folds glistening in the low light of your room and your clit uncomfortably swollen.

It’s a sight Logan will remember for a long time. “Jesus love, all this for me huh?”

Of course it was for him. You’d do anything he’d ask. Or didn’t ask, for christ sakes you were naked for him after the first kiss and no prior discussion. You didn’t care. Too lost in the high of what was to come.

You give him a whimper, you were going to break if he didn’t give you some type of stimulation soon. “All for you Logan, always, please just touch me, fuck me, anything you want just- please- do something.” Your desperation paired with the arch in your back as you search for friction has him throwing all decorum out of the window.

He licks from your clit to your dripping hole, nose dragging through the velvet wetness you’ve produced. He groans as he wraps his tongue around your clit and sucks for a few moments before returning to lapping at your folds. Your mind almost goes blank, tingles erupting throughout your body. One of your hands reach behind you blindly, trying to find some part of him to touch, keep you grounded. He notices and grabs your wrist, briefly pulling away from your sloppy cunt to grab your other wrist roughly, holding both in one hand as he continues eating you out like he’s starving.

You whimper at the constrictions he’s put you under, fists opening and closing in time with your toes curling as he pushes you to your peak. Your hips start to move on their own accord, and he finds himself chasing your wetness with every jerk of your hips. He growls when you twitch away a tad too much. “Be a good girl and stay still.”

You freeze immediately, and somehow even more blood rushes to your already puffy pussy. Good girl. You would be, you promised yourself. You’d be a good girl for him.

He pats your ass at your obedience, fingers slowly finding a pace on your clit. You want to writhe around and give yourself more friction, but you don’t, you want Logan to see that you’re being good and listening. You feel two fingers drag through your folds and moan when he begins slowly pressing them into your warm walls. You can feel his knuckles catch and you let out a curse as his fingers curl and bump that special spot that makes you go cross-eyed.

Logan is enraptured as he watches your hole flutter around his fingers, feeling a primal need to replace it with his cock. He curls his fingers over and over, watching your face as you whimper and moan into your sheets. His name falls from your lips, and he knows you're close. He pulls away then, your hips fall onto the bed, your knees wobbling. You’re about to protest until you see him reaching for his buckle, hastily pulling his belt from the loops then unzipping his fly. He shoves his pants down just enough to pull his cock out, hard and leaking. He gives himself a few pumps, squeezing at the base. You push yourself up, supporting yourself on your forearms as he puts one knee on the bed, leaning over you.

You get a better view of him from here, tip a soft red and pretty veins swollen with need. You almost want to reach out and take over for him. He uses his free hand to grab your chin, pulling your face to look at him. “You ready for me princess?”

You can only nod in response, teeth chewing on your lip nervously. His hand moves to wrap gently around your throat, hunching over to kiss you once more. Your neck strains as you try to kiss him impossibly deeper, craving the way he tasted. He’s the one who ends the kiss again, and you numbly wish you could just sit here and kiss him for hours. He pats your cheek smiling down at you. “Good girl.”

He moves off the bed, grabbing your hips and manhandling you into an upright position again. You feel even more wetness leak from you at how effortless he can move you around. You gasp when his tip drags through your folds, head catching on your clit. He does this a few times while gathering your wrists into his hands once more, using his other to begin pressing his aching cock into your warm walls. The tip pops in, and you feel yourself clench, hard. He lets out a loud moan.

“Fuck darlin, gonna strangle the damn thing.” You only moan in return and he smirks, using his hands that hold your wrists as leverage, pulling you back to sink onto his cock even further.

You close your eyes at the stretch, the pain being just enough to blur into mind numbing pleasure and fullness. His hips are flush to yours now, and he presses himself into your ass even more, addicted to the feeling of being balls deep inside you. He pulls out slowly, before snapping his hips forward. Your whole body moves with the force, and he tightens the grip he has on your wrists. He sets an unrelenting pace, your moans almost drowned out by his grunts and occasional shouts of curses.

You can feel every inch of him, adjusted to his size and clenching around him every time his balls slapped your clit. He releases your wrists in favor of grabbing your hips, slamming into them with a ferocity that you would feel in the morning. You’re far too turned on to care at the moment.

“Fuck Logan, just like that, I’m close, please-” He silences you with a slap to your ass, mind going blank with need when he sees red blooming across the soft skin. You clench harder this time. He’s grunting with every hard thrust he makes. “C’mon good girl, give it to me.”

That’s all it takes, your limbs go numb as your orgasm washes over you, euphoria blooming from your stomach and spreading to your fingertips. Logan roars as he finishes, hearing your name fall from his lips like it’s the only word you’ve ever known. He likes hearing your moans more than he would like to admit.

His thrusts gradually slow, before coming to a stop, still twitching inside you as you go through the aftershocks. You catch your breath, panting and suddenly feeling very humid. He slips out of you carefully, almost tempted for round 2 when he catches a glimpse of his spend leaking from you. His head is starting to clear a little, and he realizes he’s put himself in an awkward position.

You’re smiling up at him, pupils still blown and hair messy. He finds himself not knowing what to say to you. So, he doesn’t say anything, just pulls his pants up and goes to your bathroom, coming back out with a rag. He tosses it to you. You clean yourself up, also feeling slightly awkward. He’s sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you.

“Do you wanna like, cuddle, maybe?”

He gives you a look and you almost wish you hadn’t asked. He rolls his eyes and stands; you think he’s going to leave until he’s pulling back your duvet and jerking his head towards you. You comply immediately, feeling giddy. Logan knows he should leave. Not give you any more mixed signals than he already has. But the guilt is starting to wiggle back into his brain, and he can’t say no.

He’s in jeans, and above the covers, but you’re comfortable regardless. Your head is on his chest, fingers playing with the edge of his shirt. You don’t say much to each other, but silently you’re happier than you have been in a long time. He came and seeked you out, fucked you good and hard, and now he’s (almost) cuddling you after. You’re over the moon. You fall asleep on his chest, satisfied and tired.

He leaves almost immediately after your eyes close. You wake up the next morning feeling hollow.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Logan is afraid that night was like an invitation for more to you. The following weeks you’re stuck to him like glue, finding whatever room he’s in and sitting with him. “Accidentally” making too much dinner and forcing him to share a meal with you. You still ask him stupid questions, “do you like my nails?”, “look at my form, isn’t it better than last week?”, “do these shoes look dumb?”.

It’s getting on his nerves. However, he does figure out the best way to get you to shut up is to get you on your knees with his cock down your throat.

Logan has shoved all guilt deep down, rationalizing his shitty behavior with the logic that you’re both using each other. It’s what he tells himself when he finds himself at your door multiple times a week half hard and in need of release.

Then, once again, Logan takes it too far. He comes back from a mission with the X-men, already on edge after a disagreement with Scott. All he wants is to take off for a week with his motorcycle and drink so much his body will have to regenerate a whole new liver from scratch. He almost runs into you, too busy storming to his stash of whiskey to bother being aware of his surroundings. He instinctively grabs your arm to keep you from falling back, steadying you before letting go.

“Logan! You’re back!” Your eager voice is too much for him right now. “I finally finished the book I stole from you, I really liked it! I was about to eat lunch if you want me to make you something and maybe we can talk-”

“No.” Logan is glaring at you.

“What?”

“I said no kid. You’re up my ass 24/7, can’t even settle in after a mission without you finding me and being fucking annoying.” He’s snarling at you, face inches from yours and using his height to intimidate. It works, and you shrink into yourself.

“Logan I’m sorr-”

“Save it, your desperate little attempts at getting my approval are pathetic. Almost makes me feel sorry for you. Leave me the fuck out of it, I don’t want anything to do with you. You got that?” He doesn’t let you answer, pushing it out of his mind when he sees your eyes sparkle with tears. He continues stomping down the hall.

You watch as he leaves, shocked tears making their way down your cheeks. You had no idea you had pushed things too far with Logan. Wasn’t he the one just a few short weeks ago pounding on your door and then pounding you without as much as a hello? You knew he would get irritated with you, make snippy comments and roll his eyes at you constantly. But without fail he’d always come back and make it up with a sweet smile the next day. This time was different. There was no teasing, no hint of affection hidden behind the insult. This time he was serious.

He didn’t want you around. You feel the pressure of a panic attack coming on, putting a hand on your chest and pressing hard to try to hold it together. You knew this would happen. You put all your eggs into one basket and now you’re screwed. You didn’t mean to pin so much of your self worth onto Logan, but it was hard not to when a simple compliment from him had your confidence higher than it had ever been your entire life. Even the insults were addicting, deluding yourself into believing he wouldn’t tease you so much if part of him didn’t enjoy having you around.

You feel stupid, and angry, angry that you once again put your trust into a man who didn’t care for it. Part of you wants to run after him, scream, cry, kiss him, anything to get him to see how he hurt you, get him to come back. You scoff at yourself. Fat chance. If he didn’t want you around, then you wouldn’t be around.

Your panic has subsided for the moment, but you make your way to your room, feeling like a good cry in the comfort of your own space might help the pit in your stomach. Hours later, cried out and nursing a massive headache, you realize it didn’t help at all.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Logan hasn’t seen you in days. He tries not to think about it. He knows he snapped a little too hard, said some things he didn’t completely mean, but he figured you’d be over it now. That you’d stop pouting and find him, asking if he liked some stupid skirt or hair clip. He hates that he misses your little fashion shows. He caves, and eventually begrudgingly asks Scott if she’s seen you.

“Y/n? Yeah I saw her a few hours ago getting food. Why? Finally figure out she’s avoiding you?”

Logan bristles at that. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Scott continues, pressing his luck. “Yeah, right. I don’t know what you said this time, but maybe next time you should be a man and let her down easy, or better yet, don’t lead her on in the first place. She’s hurt man, and that’s on you. Leave it alone for once.”

Logan is dangerously close to starting a fight, claws inching out of his knuckles. Scott decided he’s made his point, and leaves without giving Logan a second glance. He has half a mind to follow the fucker, but he stays put.

Scott thought that him saying something would be helpful, he didn’t know you all that well but from what Jean has told him, Logan has a way of leaving the worst kinds of marks on people. He figured if you wouldn’t stand up to Logan, maybe he could advocate on your behalf.

He doesn’t know that, if anything, Logan wants to deny the truth even harder now that Scott decided to act like he knew everything. He wants to believe the opposite of what Scott told him. You weren’t upset, you were just busy. He wasn’t leading you on, you knew what you were signing up for. What the fuck did Scott know?

Leave it alone.

He should, he really should. For your sake. You might be overbearing and too excited at times, but you don’t deserve the way he treats you. He wishes he could do it, treat you right and be there for you. But he can’t, and there’s no use imagining it. There’s a mile-thick concrete wall around his perimeter, designed to keep him from experiencing the person he loves ripped away from him. He can’t go through that again.

He wants to though; it makes him sick when he realizes. At some point between hours of animalistic sex and your soft smiles he had lost a little piece of himself to you.

He goes into a blind rage, punching the wall behind him and slicing anything within arm's reach. He’s angry at himself for not walking away the first day he met you, for being drunk and stupid and making your first experience with him too pleasant. He could’ve ignored you, never even learned your name and kept it that way. But he didn’t.

He doesn’t want to admit that he really was the one who started all of this.

Rather than take any responsibility or process his feelings, he finds himself marching to your room, footsteps heavy and rhythmic. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy again, doesn’t want to be angry at Scott or himself or the world. So, he’s back where he started, outside your door.

You open it timidly, eyes dim and hair not put up like usual. You look depressed. You are depressed, not that you would tell him that. You feel numb as you stare up at him, having a good idea of why he was here. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into a hug. He lifts you slightly, walking you over to your bed and sitting down carefully, bringing you onto his lap. Your muscles are tense, he’s never hugged you before, it feels weirdly intimate. You can’t bring yourself to push him away.

“M’sorry. M’so so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, smoothing the baby hairs sticking up with a gentle hand. You lose it when he kisses your forehead with more tenderness than you'd ever experienced. You’re softly crying, grasping onto his shirt and shoving your face into his chest.

You don’t want to keep doing this over and over. You want to feel okay without Logan around, you don’t want to need him. Unfortunately, as he’s kissing his way down your neck and mumbling “Let me make it better, at least for a little while,” you don’t have it in you to break the cycle today.

#logan x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #logan smut #logan howlet smut #logan howlett #marvel x reader #x men x reader #wolverine and deadpool #x reader #smut #angst #x men #wolverine x you

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sturnioz · 3 months ago

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hear me out…. one of fratboy!chris’ ex fwbs runs into him and shy!reader at a party and she makes it very clear she misses sex with him

how are they both reacting?

you can't help but stare at her in awe. she is gorgeous.

cherry. that's her name — or rather, her nickname. all thanks to her vibrant red hair and big breasts that fit so perfectly in her low-cut dress.

you know you probably look a bit silly, standing beside chris in the crowded kitchen, your mouth agape and eyes sparkling as you watch how she carries herself with an intoxicating confidence.

her red lips curl into a sultry smile as she gazes at chris, her perfectly applied fake lashes fluttering as she speaks to him. you watch, mesmerised, as she leans in closer, placing a hand on chris' shoulder, her fingers lingering just a moment too longer as she whispers something in his ear. he nods, reaching into his pocket to grab whatever she asked for, and the sight suddenly twists your stomach into knots.

when her eyes finally dart toward you, your heart races. you straighten your back instinctively and offer her a polite smile as she tilts her head slightly, seemingly sizing you up.

"hi," she greets, her tone short and blunt, but you barely register it.

"hello." you kindly introduce yourself, hastily adding your name at the end, hoping to make a good impression. "you're really pretty."

"thanks." her tone is blunt again, and while the straightforwardness of her reply should sting, it barely registers in your mind; you're too consumed by her beauty, trying to comprehend how someone so stunning could be standing right in front of you.

"how do you know chris?" you ask, trying your best to keep the conversation flowing despite your social awkwardness.

"we used to fuck." the way she says it makes you blink, recoiling slightly. there's a sharpness in her tone that leaves you feeling unsettled, and a frown threatens to break across your lips — not because you're surprised by what she said, you're fully aware of how many people chris had slept with before you.

it's the way in which she delivers the information that feels off, leaving a strange feeling within you that you can't quite pinpoint.

"that's... that's cool, yeah," you murmur awkwardly, your admiration rapidly overshadowed by an uncomfortable tension. the intensity of her gaze makes you feel small, and you instinctively shuffle closer to chris' side, as if you're seeking out help or comfort.

chris remains silent, completely unfazed as he pulls a baggy filled with pink, heart-shaped pills from his pocket and hands them to cherry, who immediately breaks into a smile, her fingers lingering in his grasp just a moment too long.

"you're the best, as always," cherry says, her voice going back to that sultry tone as she leans in closer, her gaze fixed on chris. "am i still allowed to pay for this a different way or...?"

"nah, pills went up a lot since last time. s'gonna cost you," chris says as he holds out his hand with a nonchalant grin. "pay up."

"come on.. you know money isn't always the better payment." her tone is playful now, yet there's an underlying intensity that makes your stomach churn, and you swallow thickly, unsure on how to react with seeing this happen right in front of your eyes.

"i need the money." chris doesn't back down, his expression now firm as he still holds out his hand. cherry hesitates, her jaw tightening, the playful glint in her eye momentarily dimming as she reaches into her purse, retrieving a handful of cash and slamming a few hefty dollar bills into his palm.

your eyes wide at the amount you see — more than you originally expected for just a few miniature pills, and you're unable to contain your curiosity as you accidentally blurt out, "how much are the pills?"

"why?" chris snaps back his usual response when you ask about these things. he rolls up the bills and shoves them into his pocket with practiced ease, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. "don't get any funny ideas, kid, or i swear—"

"s'just a lot of money..." you speak in awe, your gaze darting from the cash in his pocket to his eyes, searching for an understanding. "that's, like, a lot."

chris blinks, the corner of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly at your expression. "well, yeah.. its fuckin' drugs."

"i used to pay for it a different way, right?" cherry chimes in, her voice smooth and enticing. to be honest, you did forget for a brief moment that she was still here with you, and your head turns towards her, but her focused is locked on chris. "i still should, to be honest — you always liked it that way."

"yeah, i did," chris hums in agreement, and you shift uncomfortably beside him, chewing on your bottom lip as a wave of anxiety washes over you.

"do you still have those blue ones we used to take together?" she asks him, but her focus now shifts to you. "we used to get high together all the time, and the way he would move his hips when we fucked? it was something else."

you catch a glimpse of the smug, proud grin on chris' face from the corner of your eye, and a rush of discomfort floods your system, twisting your insides. the feelings bubbling up inside you are confusing, leaving your head spinning as if you've had three beers too many.

"i don't have that shit anymore, wasn't doin' good." chris confesses, pulling out a joint and fishing for his lighter, his nonchalance only making it worse for you.

"you still have my number right?" cherry asks, her voice low and inviting. "if you start selling it again, you should give me a call.. you know i'll be there."

as chris strikes the lighter, the flame flickers to life, igniting his joint as he looks at cherry — holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary as he takes a hit, holding it in his lungs before releasing the smoke in a slow, deliberate exhale.

"yeah, a'ight. i will." he drawls, and your heart races as you watch cherry smirk at him, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face before she gracefully walks off, her hips swaying as she disappears into the crowd.

you swallow hard again, glancing up at chris, who's still staring in the direction cherry left as he takes another hit. you want to ask him what that was all about, to try for answers, but the words catch in your throat. it's not your place to question him, yet the urge to understand still lingers.

but, to your surprise, chris lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he pulls out his phone. "m'gonna run her money so fuckin' bad," he hums, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes flick to you. "she's not gonna know what hit her, kid."

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#☆ fratboy!chris #☆ shy!reader #꒰ fratboy!chris x shy!reader prompt ꒱

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thestarlitmidnight · 12 days ago

Text

✨ Rewrite the Stars ✨

Summary: Being mated to Feyre doesn’t stop Rhysand to seek comfort from his former lover Y/N. One more night, that became their mantra.

Fandom: ACOTAr

Pairing: Rhysand X Y/N

Warnings: Mention of explicit content, be aware of that and consider being 15+ before reading this.

Word Count: 2 810

Previous Chapter

Master List

Chapter Two

"You are an insufferable idiot, Rhysand!" I raised my hand and threw a pillow at him, my voice fierce with anger.

"Angel, calm down, will you?" He raised his hands up, letting the pillow hit his tummy without any attempts to move aside.

"Take that angel and shove it up your arrogant ass!" I picked another pillow from his sofa in the River House, throwing it at him.

"I know about better activities involving those bodily parts," he dared to send me a seductive smile, sounding so damn sure of himself.

"I would rather throw myself off the nearest cliff with my wings tied before getting involved with you ever again!" I seethed and walked over to the sofa to a chair, where I picked another way too decorated pillow and threw it once again, aiming for his cock this time.

"Now, Y/n, let's not get ahead of ourselves," the seductive smirk fell from his face and was replaced with a more serious look.

"You said you had my back! So where were you?!" I picked up a vase that was holding some pastel pink flowers with a weirdly sweet smell and pointed with the vase at Rhysand, my eyes holding murder in them.

"I was tending to my duties, angel," he eyed the vase in my hand like it was his future executor. "Put that vase down, darling, those flowers were grown from seed by Elain, it would break her heart seeing them on the floor."

I bared my teeth at his damn aloofness and growled.

"I don't give a single fuck about what would break Elain's heart," with that, I grabbed the flowers out of that vase and threw them on the near table. "And frankly, you should not as well, not now, I am serious you piece of arrogant male, what the hell was more important than backing me up at the mission!"

He eyed me with caution in his eyes now, yet his eyebrows were raised with mocking amusement. This idiot always knew how to get under my skin.

"You speak of it as if I let you on the battlefield, Angel, it was mere two more hours spent in the presence of Helion," he tried to ease my irritation, but he was doing a terrible job at it.

"Exactly! One more hour with Helion might as well be two on the battlefield, and I would always choose the battle over that little friend of yours! If Azriel wouldn't come check on me, he would have me now in his bedsheets, making me scream his mane," I growled, throwing the vase with full force at him.

It never hit the target. His hand, swift as ever, quickly grabbed the vase a few inches away from his face. Those violet eyes were now glued on me, a predatory look set in them.

"Helion wouldn't dare lay a finger on you," he growled, the irritation in his voice clear now.

Caudlron forbid that another male will touch me. He can go around and fuck his precious little mate, and then situations like this come, and he can erupt with the stored wrath at the mere mention of such a thing.

"And why is that?" My voice was sweet, way too sweet, to the point it was laced with mighty venom. "I am no longer out of the market, as you made very clear when you introduced Feyre to them as your High Lady."

The moment he introduced her as his mate, the eyes of the other High Lords landed on me, the desire and challenge all over their eyes.

"Y/n, a very thin ice," he spoke with such a calm voice that a shiver ran down my spine. Icy fury and possessiveness were all over him. Clear and visible.

"Fuck you, Rhys, I had enough," I bared my teeth at him once again, my hand twitching to reach for my throwing dagger.

"Angel, you know just as I do that Helion or anyone else wouldn't dare to even come too close to you. Stop being dramatic and come here," he placed the damn vase back on the table and spoke with such confidence that I ached to slap that look out of his ridiculously handsome face.

"You were with her, weren't you? That's why you forget," I raised my hand, stopping him from coming too close to me.

If he were too close, I would lose my ground and give into those flirty eyes of his and let my feelings sway me back into the safety of his arms.

"She needed help with explaining the customs of Illyria, and time slipped from my mind. Y/n, angel, I am sorry," he placed his hand over mine, which was on his chest, keeping him at arm’s length.

His fingers brushed across my hand with a gentle caress, his voice a brush of midnight comfort, and those damn eyes, full of those cursed emotions, any of us should no longer feel.

"Can't you just send me on a few-year-long diplomatic mission on the Continent? It strengthens the relationship between Prythian and them?" I breathed out, feeling all the fight leaving my body, leaving just a pure heartache.

What else the fuck did I expect? Of course, he would prioritise his time with his mate over me. Lately, I had stopped being anyone's first choice.

"This is not fair. Not to Feyre, not to me, and not to you. We are just prolonging the suffering, don't you see? I am spending Rhys. I can't go on like this anymore. For a fucking three centuries, I was your only, and now, I was rendered into your fucking side piece! Do you understand how fucking unfair that is?!" I hit his chest, then again and again, angry, hurting, and desperate. "Just send me away and let me go. I am too weak to do it on my own accord, Rhys."

"No," he bit out, but there was raw pain all over his beautiful face. Like he was battling his own demons, his own needs, trying to do the best decision with the best possible outcome. Like he always did. "I am not sending you anywhere, Y/n, you belong here with me."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" I hit him once more, but he grabbed my arms and held them still. "You belong to your mate, you made that fucking decision, not me! She belongs here with you. It's no longer me! We were a pair, we were so damn in love, me being idiot waited for you faithfully for those damn fifty years Rhys! I was there! Always. Yet you fucking accepted that bond! You threw us behind like it never happened and then came to me and wrapped me in this lying, broken blanket of who we used to be! We keep fucking, but why loving you feels like I need to give up my soul?! It's so fucking dysfunctional! Pleasure paid for with guilt and pain!"

It just poured. It always did when he made me this angry.

He let me speak. Let me slap him with my cruel words without protecting himself. Rhys knew how much it was eating me alive. How it was destroying me. Because he had it the same. This was destroying both of us...

"I fucking love you, you Y/n, not her, my heart was, is and always will be yours, hoping to rewrite the stars for us. My soul is the culprit, forcefully tied to someone I did not wished to be tied to. You are the only one I can imagine living my life with. It was always you, angel. Please, do not leave me, you are the last precious thing that I have left," he grabbed my face into his hands, brushing my cheeks with his fingers, pushing the stubborn tears away.

"Then choose me, if you love me Rhys, choose me," I sobbed, throwing my arms around his neck, sounding way too desperate to my own liking.

"Amren-" Rhys opened his mouth, but a sound echoed from the hallway leading into the living room where we were.

"Wait here," he quickly pressed a tender kiss onto my forehead and went to check what the sound was.

How low we fell? Scared of a little sound... Like we were doing something wrong. And being honest, we maybe were, but Cauldron, it felt so right at some moments.

"Oh? I did not knew you had a cat?" I raised an eyebrow, watching the creature with forcefully hidden appal. "The ugliest cat I have ever seen, might I add."

It was true. This can was something uncalled for. Way too large eyes that threatened to fall out of its sockets, each looking at different side. Legs each different length and it was way too long tail. The fur was the real deal though. Patches of different colours, length and structure.

"We do not have a cat. I don't know how this... strange thing... ended here," Rhys sounded just as surprised and stunned as I was.

"Are you sure it is a cat? Can't it be something that came stray from up the mountains? Weak cup of the hoard?" I came closer, suddenly completely forgetting about the argument we had, in favour to entertain the curiosity of inspecting this strange creature.

We had millions of those arguments, this was the first time I ever seen anything like this.

"I have no clue what this is supposed to be," he raised his violet to look at me and gave me a cheeky smile. "But it still looks better than you in the morning after a night full of creaming my name."

I cannot help but burst into laughter at that stupidly hilarious comment.

"This cat looks indeed better than you when you have a bad hair day," I nodded, shaking my head at the absurdity and looked closer at the cat.

"Hello there, little one, are you hungry?" I cooed at it, daring to touch the creature between its ears and scratched it.

To my surprise, it purred, just like a proper cat.

"I have a very expensive fish at my home, this manner lacking donkey fancied himself to have it for a dinner when he would come today, but I will gladly serve his portion to you," I kept cooing at the cat, ignoring the hurt snort from Rhys at my very purposeful teasing at his expense.

"You want to take this... resemblance of a cat... with you back home?" Rhys said with disbelief, looking between the cat he still held and me.

"Yes? Fangie looked rough as well when she happened to come across me," I reported to him, snatching the cat out of his hands. "I will feed this poor creature, bath it and do my research to find out, if it is indeed a cat or something that came down from the mountain."

"Do not mention that bat living in your closet please," Rhys started to laugh, a mirthful, joyful sound as he now studied me with the poor thing in my arms. "It's enough I need to greet her every damn time, I open the closet to take fresh clothes out and pray she will not claw out my eyes."

"Fangie did that only one time and you pissed her and you know it! She is nice bat with proper manners, thank you very much, can't blame a lady for defending herself when she is accused of getting fat," I gave Rhys a pointed look and rocked the reincarnation of misplacement in my arms.

"I merely said, that you are feeding her too much to the point, she can't see her little legs over that fluffy belly," he folded his hands over his broad chest.

He looked like a sulking child instead of a High Lord. I simply rolled my eyes at him and walked closer to him.

"I will go feed it, you tend to your duties and come over, if you will be lucky, this one will leave you some fish for dinner," I leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his lips.

Rhys grabbed my face and deepened the kiss, stealing air from my lungs.

"Wear that lingerie, angel, for me?" He made a sad eyes at me, knowing damn well what works at me.

I forcefully pulled myself away from the comfort of his arms and winked at him, without confirming or denying anything.

He will see, his patience deserves to have some practice as well. Cauldron knows that he gets everything he wants way too easily.

————

I was in the shower, when a warm body pressed against my back and my wings and strong, familiar hands wrapped around my body.

"There is no time for this, seriously Rhys, are you still horny?" I giggled when I felt his hardened length at my thigh.

"I am always horny, when you are around, you are well aware of that fact, Y/n," he practically purred and started to shower my neck with torturous kisses, while his hands started to explore.

“The dinner is supposed to be in half an hour,” I reminded him, but let my head fall backwards, resting it against his shoulder.

“Plenty of time to hear you cry my name, angel,” he assured me and I did not doubted that statement even the slightest.

His leg came between mine and forced them further apart, while his fingers crossed the path over my chest, down my belly and landed right where I wished to have them.

A pleased moan fell from my lips as they started to brush between my folds, spreading the wetness around.

“Always so fucking ready for me, aren’t you?” He growled into my ear and then bite at it with quite a force, while two of his fingers entered me, forcing a load cry of his name filled with pleasure.

His other hand traveled from my breast, where it was contently busy till now, and he travelled with it to my neck, where he playfully squeezed and at the same time he added more pressure into his fingers pumping in and out of me.

Then that hand disappeared from my throat and went up. “Open that pretty mouth for me, darling.”

It fell out right away and he placed two of his fingers inside. I sucked on them instinctively, he always had a weak spot for a good sucking on various places of his body.

Those fingers then stoped on my tongue and I moaned out loud when he starts to mimic the same rhythm on my tongue that he was using on my clit.

The same time his fingers lazily moved on my clit, it did the same on my tongue.

“Fuck,” I whimpered over his fingers, overwhelmed by how erotic this prick could make it feel witch such a simple little things.

And when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he entered my body with his cock and started to pump into me without any mercy, while in contrast kept the slow, lazy, torturing tempo on my bud and tongue.

“My name, Y/n, I went to hear it,” he grunted, his voice full of dirty demands.

And I obeyed. His name started to fall from my lips like a prayer, even though mumbled by his fingers in my mouth.

My arms reached behind me, wrapping my arms around his neck, trying to gain some stability to don’t fall forward by the force he was taking me with.

My undoing was when his cursed mouth began to kiss at my wings, rendering me senseless when my mind clouded with overwhelming pleasure, forcing me over the edge.

When we walked out of the shower, now cleaned and satisfied, smiling like, I almost had a heart attack at the sight that came across us.

“Cauldron that’s truly one hell of an ugly cat,” Rhys made a grimace and then leaned towards me and started to place kisses all over my wings.

“Rhys! You offended it!” I stared to laugh, even though I tried to sound scolding.

The cat seized both of us and limped away from the bathroom with quite an attitude.

“I will buy it pretty bowl and keep it full, that ought to make up for stating the obvious,” he dismissed the matter completely and kept the gentle assault at my wings.

With Rhys, I could feel so blissfully happy, that it was impossible to don’t forget about all the looming problems and dramas surrounding our difficult situation.

I trusted in Rhys. When he say he will rewrite the stars for us, he will do it, even if it means to travel through the space and time to get the Mother into a chokehold and force her to untie what she ties together.

Chapter Three

Tag-List: @j-pendragonx @stonerpersona

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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months ago

Text

Marked : The Rite (VII.)

A Masterlist for The Rite is HERE A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (7) Shaken from Loki's exit, you seek counsel from the wisest person you know. As does Loki. And twin moons aren't the only thing coming together. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Mild angst. Asgardians behaving badly. More smut. (w.c 5.2k)

Loki didn’t know whose hands were touching him, whose breath was on his neck, whose empty congratulations were ringing in his ears.

He was halfway down the aisle before he realised you weren’t with him. Loki turned, trying to stop the tide of bodies sweeping him away.

Did I leave her?!

The moments after the announcement were a blur. He'd meant to take your hand, to pull you up with him...but —

I didn't. I left her.

The riotous blob burst into a small feasting hall near the Rite chamber with long tables laid with glazed hams and towers of pastries. Thor slapped Loki’s back hard enough to leave a mark.

"Is she getting changed? Is she coming?" Loki glanced over his shoulder, drawing the sash tight around his hips. It didn’t make much difference, being that the robe was translucent, but he needed something for his hands to do. “Don’t be absurd, brother.” A tankard was shoved into his hand. “Sif came to the festivities after your Rite—”

“Yes but Sif was a warrior, and a member of the inner circle." Thor’s face scrunched. ‘Your one is…” Loki’s face hardened. “Is what?”

Thor’s laugh made the ale ripple. “Come, Loki, be serious. She’s not one of us. You have what you wanted, your place in Asgard’s Royal line. You can stop playing the cunt-struck lovelorn, now.” Loki stiffened, setting the tankard down purposefully on the table. "She loves me."

"Yes, and?" Thor shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. "She isn’t the first, she won’t be the last. Who cares about her? Enjoy the—”

Loki smacked the tankard from Thor’s grip. It flew across the hall at force, hitting Fandral between the shoulder blades. He spun. “—I care...brother,” Loki hissed, so close to Thor’s face he could smell the pepper-roasted ham he’d been guzzling between idiocies.

“All my life I’ve been surrounded by people like you, thinking I was the one who should linger in shadow; the one who didn’t fit; who didn’t deserve the life he had.” His molars pressed together, growing more incensed with each of Thor’s vacant, casual chews. “But it was the rest of you that needed to change. She sees me for who I am, and she loves me.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Did that witch Lagertha slip her some magic potion to smear on her lady-bits? Brother, you’re acting most unlike yourself.” Loki’s hand flew to Thor’s throat, lifting him off the floor.

The blonde’s face turned red instantly, struggling against his grip. No one tried to intervene, they knew better than that. With a growl, Loki lowered him, but he didn’t release the grip on Thor’s windpipe.

“Perhaps I’ve been concealing the true fury I hold inside me, brother,” Loki hissed in his ear, enjoying the desperate swallow as he struggled for air. “Boys, boys,” Fandral smarmed, edging them apart. “Your brother’s right, Lo—ki,” Fandral said, sliding an arm around his shoulder and grasping against the chiffon clinging to his muscle. “Enjoy yourself, hmm? Forget that pretty nothing. Tonight, perhaps you’ll indulge in something more…on your level.” He winked, curling a loose strand of Loki’s top knot around a fingertip. “I told her not to get attached. It’s not your fault if she did, she was warned.” Realisation hit Loki like a chariot.

“What did you say to her?” he growled, noting the sudden fear in Fandral’s eyes. The man stumbled back, tripping over a pair of ridiculous satin shoes. Before he could hit the floor Loki’s arm shot out, grabbing the cravat bunched at Fandral’s neck and pulling him up. Fandral slammed against Loki’s chest, nails ripping down the fabric of his robe and tearing into chest muscle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorr—” “What…did you say to her?” An arctic silence had fallen over the feasting hall. Pain clawed beneath Loki’s skin, but he ignored it. Blood was already starting to clot between the minuscule weave. “That you were trying to make her fall in love with you, which, wh-which you did—”

“—And?” Loki shook him, making Fandral’s coiffured golden curl wobble loose. “—A-and that you’d discard her,” he choked, eyes darting manically to the ceiling. “Which…you did.”

Loki punched in the face: right on top of the fastenings covering his re-set nose from last night. Fandral whimpered as Loki punched him again, only stopping because of the tidal wave of arms pulling him off. He thrashed, throwing his fists and swiftly receiving one himself. Loki’s face wrenched to the side, the knot atop his head falling and the golden snake clip bouncing to the stone below. “Brother, stop…” Thor shook his fist, knuckles blossoming scarlet. Loki’s stare fell on Fandral, being hoisted between two guards out the room. He pressed his cheek, wincing. “I avoided your nose, at least,” Thor said. “But it will bruise, for certain.” “Fuck you, brother,” Loki spat.

He didn’t indulge the hands that grasped at him, half-drunk, petitioning him to stay at his own celebrations. He could still taste your delicate arousal on his tongue, and hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between the two of you.

I love you, your eyes had said, even before the enchanted robe confirmed it. He wondered if his had, too. What must she think of me?

The guards opened the golden door separating the inner palace from the outer court. Their eyes fell down his body, but they said nothing. Under normal circumstances, Loki could materialise a more modest outfit with a wave of his hand, but his emotions were too high; his magic was too unstable. So, for now, any members of the court milling around would have a scene to tell their grandchildren about: Loki of Asgard, resplendent in his Rite robe, cock hanging free – on the way to salvage the love he thought he’d never find — if she'd still have him. Quick footsteps pattered behind him and Loki whipped around, fire flashing in his eyes. Håkon stood masked in shadow, a low hood covering his face. “What are you doing here?” Loki said, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. Håkon shrugged. “I thought you might need me. When you messed up, you know?” Loki folded his arms, suddenly aware the boy was seeing him practically naked, but Håkon’s eyes were set firmly on his own, even when a pair of leather pants materialised around Loki's lower limbs. “What do you mean when I messed up?” Loki scoffed, feeling his ears burn. “Why—?”

Håkon sighed. “—Do you know where her rooms are?” A swallow worked down Loki’s throat, common sense spreading now that his heart had slowed. “No.” Håkon smirked in a way that Loki felt entirely responsible for. “Exactly. Come on, let me help you for once.” Loki’s heart wrenched a little at the sentiment, quickly diluted by the whisper of ‘idiot,’ as Håkon passed him. And then it was his turn to smirk.

The boy led him through a maze of corridors Loki had never seen before, up three flights of stairs and to the furthest wing of the court. Your door was open, but to his dismay, Loki quickly realised you weren’t there. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, emptied from a dresser.

“Where is she?” Loki growled to no one, and Håkon shrugged lightly. “Depends what you did, master,” he said, glancing out the door and down the corridor. “But she’s gone, alright.”

No one had tried to stop you. And really, that said it all.

You’d made straight for the baths and shrugged off the ceremonial robe, pulling on your old day dress as quickly as possible. You’d run to your chambers with bare feet slapping against stone, slamming the door behind you with wild eyes and wilder thoughts.

I have to get out of here. You couldn’t stay here where you were a figure of ridicule; where everyone knew you loved Loki enough to satisfy some ancient magic and his first thought had been an ale, and the approval he so desperately wanted. A place of honour, yeah right. Anger curdled in your gut. He hadn’t even said thank you. Bastard.

You bit back tears as a bag was stuffed with all the necessities you could think of. It would take a few days to arrange travel somewhere far away from here, maybe back to your family. But until then, you couldn’t sit here waiting for whatever pity knock came at the door. And there was only one place that came to mind. “Oh,” Lagertha said, peeping through the gap in the bronze door of the Weaving Tower. Moonlight smoothed the deep wrinkles of her face, and the bobble of a sleeping cap hung by the sheet of fabric draped down her chest. She peered to either side, groggy eyes blinking back to your face. “Got Loki exhausted and begging for mercy already? You better be here to spill all the details - I’m a little old for girl talk but I’ll do my best.” She smiled as she said it, but it was wary.

When you didn’t reply she added, ‘…What’s he done?” And then, you started to cry.

Lagertha ushered you inside, bringing you to a small door at the back of the ground floor. Through the haze of tears, you couldn’t even appreciate that the door that had appeared from nowhere on the smooth circular wall, opening into a homely set of rooms. She plonked you at a small table and set about making tea while you heaved out the important details: ceremony, amazing, loved him, left.

Lagertha sighed. She drooped into the chair opposite and pushed a steaming cup of something herbal in your direction. You blew a wet snort into the sleeve of your dress. “Blessed Norns, dear. We may not be royals, but we’re not animals.” She fished in a pocket of her nightdress. “Here,” she said, offering a suspiciously crinkled handkerchief. You took it, blew into it, and she sighed again. “I’m sure he meant well, love.” “He left me!” you gasped, high and squeaky. Your eyes itched from tears and Lagertha grimaced. “He didn’t say a word, let himself be dragged off by the people he claims to despise all telling him how fucking great he was…Fandral was right. I’m nothing to him.” You folded your head in your hands, staring at the table. “I never liked that Fandral,” Lagertha said after a pause. Her chair creaked. “Never trust a man with more shoes than sense, that’s what my mother always said.” A small laugh erupted in your throat. And soon afterwards, the stone weighing in your stomach was dust. Temporarily, at least. When the teapot was empty, she showed you to a small bedroom beside her own holding a long single bed, and not much else. A nightdress was folded on it, woven by Lagertha. The threads shimmered in moonlight. “I can’t magic you up a four-poster bed, I’m afraid,” she said with a sad smile. “But I can guarantee you’ve never slept on finer sheets.” You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect…thank you, Lagertha.” And as you curled your knees to your chest, staring at the wall, you tried not to think about Loki’s eyes as he kissed the inside of your knee; of his warm breath in your ear as the syllables of your name lingered on his tongue, and the hope you'd felt. That was the worst of it. You were trying so hard not to think about it, you almost didn’t hear a knock at the front door.

“What do you want?” Lagertha hissed. You stood with an ear pressed tightly to the wood separating the front door of Lagertha’s quarters to the main entrance of the Tower. A low voice rumbled in response. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Lagertha said. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“…Safe?” the voice mumbled. It sounded sad. Is it…? You pulled the door open.

Loki stood in the entrance, that broad shouldered silhouette unmistakeable. Shards of liquid moonlight dashed across the wild hair spread over his shoulders. He still wore the ceremonial robe, but the intricate folds were tangled and now he was wearing a pair of those — fucking —leather trousers that clung to every insane muscle. And then, breath caught in your throat. A bruise the colour of stormclouds was spreading under Loki’s eye socket, and a deep scratch ran from his heart down to the oblique on his left side.

He gasped your name, lunging forwards – but Lagertha stopped him with a delicate press to his chest. He looked at her, and then at you. “I need to speak to you,” he pleaded. “I can explain, it’s not what you—" You raised a hand. Part of you wanted to run into his arms and tell him to shut up and kiss him into oblivion. But another part, the sensible part, knew that nothing had changed. Not really. Lagertha looked between the two of you.

“Why don’t the two of you have a little chat, hmm?” You said nothing, staring at Loki. He was breathing heavily. Did he run all the way from the palace? How did he know I was gone? Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you noted the twitch of his fingers by his sides, the frantic dart of his eyes over your face, his lips itching to say the words jostling behind them.

Lagertha rose her eyebrows at you, and you nodded in confirmation. She made a fist at the thin material on Loki’s chest and pulled him inside. The bronze door slammed. The god smoothed his hair back, his abdomen twitching. “Upstairs is about as private as it gets,” Lagertha said breezily, shuffling across the floor. Her bare feet whispered across polished marble. “Just…try not to throw him out the window, will you?” she asked as she passed, patting your shoulder. “The kids need those hams from the palace.”

You lowered your gaze as her wizened hand lingered and then slid into the darkness beyond with the rest of her. And the next thing you felt was the gentle touch of a finger trailing up your jawline. “Little Ow—" “—Don’t.” The finger flinched. Your vision started to blur. “I’m so embarrassed, Loki,” you whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear the waver in your voice. His brows peaked.

“Come upstairs,” he said, letting the fingers graze down your arm and tentatively cupping your hand. Loki led you up the staircase, his perfect ass shifting in those ridiculous leather pants. You bit your lip, trying to douse the hope building in your gut. That hope always got you in trouble. The measuring room looked different by moonlight. A wide bar of white spilt through the solitary window. Outside, Asgard's twin moons were almost in perfect alignment. Once every 500 years, you thought lazily. The chaise in the corner was still in the same place you’d first seen the god draped over it, the first place you’d seen the hint in his eyes there could be something more.

He dropped your hand, pacing to the centre of the room, and spread his arms, turning in a solemn circle. Loki looked up beneath his lashes, the bruise shadowing one half of his face, and moonlight dashing the other. “I am, who I am,” he said with a tinge of bitterness. Loki’s tongue nipped over his lips, trepidation flashing on his features. “To everyone…I am the prince of pleasure. I am usually drunk, mostly rude, or having sex…or all three.” You rolled your eyes, arms folding over the thin nightdress. “But then…I met you,” he finished. He crossed the room, a hand sliding around your waist. “Years in the palace shovelled dirt on the person who I am, who I want to be. I felt like I was…mad. But with you, I feel whole. I can be…free.”

His lips brushed yours, hovering. “When they said The Rite had been successful…I was blinded by everything I always thought I wanted. Everything I’d been conditioned to want by that awful place, just for a moment," he said, voice catching against the short puffs of your breath into his mouth.

“But what I truly want…is you. And you owe me nothing, I know that. But I need you to know that I —” You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips, tongue demanding entry as he stumbled back and clasped his hands at your back.

“I love you, Loki,” you gasped through messy kisses. "You fucking fool, I do...I just thought, I thought..."

He pulled away. The dark, tangled halo of his hair framed the angles of his face. Loki’s eyes were black in the gloom, a small sliver of blue ringing blown pupils. He cupped your jaw, and brushing a thumb over your parted lips. “I love you in ways I thought weren’t possible, I love—”

Your body moulded to him like a magnet, tongue exploring his it was the first time. His hands cupped the base of your skull as one of yours worked down his chest, down his waist. Loki hissed, jolting back. “I’m sorry,” you said, glancing at the ragged scratch. “What happened?” “Fandral,” he muttered, but before you could ask his mouth was on yours again. You squeezed his cock through the tight leather as Loki unwound his hands from your hair and shrugged the ceremonial robe from his shoulders. “Can we…you know... now?” you breathed against his chest as your eager fingers pulled at his laces. Loki’s chest shook with silent laughter but all he said was, “Yes. If you want to.” You looked up, scandalised. “If I want to? Are you mad?” Loki’s hands stilled around yours. The tip of his cock was hard against your fingers, and all you wanted to do was dig down the narrow gap of the fabric and squeeze; feel him tremble under the weight of how much you wanted every part of him. “If you don’t want me anymore, if The Rite was too much and now you have doubts…you’re under no obligation to—”

“—Fuck you?” A smirk curled at one side of Loki’s mouth. “Well, yes.”

“You’re every bit the arsehole they say you are,” you said, poking the centre of his chest, “you’re vain, and brash, and arrogant…” Loki’s smile grew, sinking slowly to his knees. “Keep talking, darling. Ruin me.” His thumbs and forefingers curled above your knees, working upwards and raising the hem of your nightdress with it. “Proud, and mouthy…but…you’re also kind, and generous and, oh-gods,” Loki’s mouth fastening to your clit, suckling gently. Your fingers raked through his hair, pulling his face tighter to the heat between your legs. In the pearl-slick gloom, there was only you and him; Lagertha's fabrics glistening like exotic bird wings in the half light. Your legs trembled and Loki’s hands flew to your ass, balancing as you staggered through orgasm with a rush of his name.

Sinking to the floor under his guidance, your lips met; whispers of ‘I love you,’ cracked the stillness while Loki waved his hand, and soft fur rugs unfurled from nothing on the floor.

You pressed against his chest, nudging him onto his back. Light kisses were peppered on his bruised under eye, down the line of his nose, across his parted lips. You travelled down his neck, tongue nipping over the thick vein straining and dipping into the hollow of Loki’s collarbone. “Please,” he gasped quietly, nails scraping lovingly down the ridges of your spine, “I need you, I’m begging you, darling.”

“A Prince? Begging?” Tutting softly, you straddled his hips, scooting down the god’s long legs and pulling the leather trousers as you went. Loki laughed as you threw them to the side and kissed up his perfect femurs, and then up the trail of the scratch on his stomach. His cock nestled between the swell of your breasts, pre-cum leaking into the fabric of the nightdress. “No…” Loki whined with feigned frustration. Or maybe not feigned, you thought with a thrill. His cock was incredibly hard, flat to his stomach, the tip dripping fat beads of arousal to the skin below. He arched his back, his eyes flashing with a primordial need. Your grip tightening around the girth, and Loki released a guttural choke. With a deft swoop, you captured the crown of his cock in your mouth. Loki was silent for a moment, and then, he moaned.

It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His skin was velvet against your tongue; every ridge pulsing in time with each suck. Loki’s words were unintelligible. Murmurs of praise in an ancient tongue, the glimpse of his fingers tightening around the furs out of the corner of your eye, his hips quivering with the effort of not emptying down your throat. Your fingers tightened around the base, tongue flicking the sensitive underneath of his shaft. Loki squirmed, and you looked up – mouth full of his cock. His brows peaked in desperation, his jaw slack and strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “I need to be inside you,” he panted, biting back a groan, “please…fuck me. Please—" Before he could finish the sentence, you’d crawled up his chest, kissing him like a Valkyrie. Loki Odinson was putty in your hands, thrusting against your bare thighs like a needy youth desperate to feel a cunt wrapped around his prick for the first time. And it was fucking hot.

A deep groan rumbled in Loki’s chest, and it was only at the last second you realised it was a growl.

He flipped you to your back, caging your wrists above your head, and spread your knees wider with one of his own, settling in the middle. Loose hair hung around his jawline. Above you was the devastating god of legend: the one that could ruin a city and a woman with one smoulder. And he was yours. “I love you,” he said again, nudging his cock at your slippery entrance. You arched up, capturing his lips. “Please, Loki,” you whispered. Loki’s cock breached and the two of you stilled. He panted slowly; his eyes fixed on yours as he eased himself inside.

The god’s forehead rested against yours as he circled his hips; a fullness rising like the tide filling a narrow cave. Of all things you expected Loki to be – gentle wasn’t one of them. And now, you weren't sure why. You clenched on every drag of his cock from your cunt, relishing the pained pleasure in his eyes before he sank inside again.

Each wickedly slow wave of his hips caught the deepest secrets of your desires; his breaths timed with yours, and only your name on his tongue. And then, his lips lowered to your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth as he came with a thunderous gasp of devotion. "I'm yours," he breathed. "Utterly."

Your legs tightened around his hips, capturing him deep, locking tight enough you’d swear you’d never let go.

Loki's face buried in your neck, his heartbeat thumping against your chest. “I feel cheated,” you whispered against his cheek.

He frowned, pulling back. His cock twitched inside your snug cunt. Norns, it was even more perfect than he dreamed it would be, but — “Excuse me?” he said, followed by a confused snort unbecoming of royalty. He cringed as your lips rippled with a stifled smile. “I’ve heard all these tales of Prince Loki and his sexual theatrics…drama, you know?” You shrugged, and Loki tried to ignore the gnawing desire rear in his lower stomach at how innocently fucked-out you looked. “Is my lover…unsatisfied?” “No?” You bit your lip, and Loki’s manhood eased from your silken channel with a licentious slurp. His eyes narrowed as you continued with, “That was…incredible, I just…you’re different to how I thought you’d be. Gentler, more…romantic.” Loki knelt back, heels digging against his ass. He ran his hands through sweat-damp hair, pausing with the fingers locked behind his head. “You should be honoured,” he sniffed imperiously. “I don’t think I’ve made love like that in…” He realised he’d been staring at the window and tilted his head to meet your eyes, “Ever.” Your beam of pride made his heart explode into a thousand, shining pieces. He towered over your moon-drunk body, memorising the lines that appeared in your face when you were truly happy. Joy. Acceptance. Love. So, this was what it felt like. One finger traced over Loki’s lips, down his chin; fell to his chest and continued its descent between his ribs. “Are you asking to experience both sides of me, tonight?” he asked: slow, gravelled.

You bit your lip again, but the smile couldn’t be contained. Loki lowered, making a show of placing his palms above each of your shoulders.

“Are you asking for Loki of Asgard to fuck you like a god?” he growled, relishing the frantic nod of your head. “To take you as his mistress, and mark you as his own?” He shot you a wolfish grin. No words passed your lips – at least, none known to gods or men. Your hips thrust up to meet the dangle of his riotously hard cock with a clouded, desperate mischief in your eyes.

“Mmm,” Loki hummed, sliding a flat palm between your breasts and massaging the base of your neck. In one graceful movement Loki’s hand dropped to your waist, the other scooping beneath your hips and sliding your body up his thighs. He gave your arse a tight smack, grabbing a handful of hot flesh with an approving rumble. He held you still above the tip of his cock, mustering his best look of regal indifference. “What do you want?” he goaded. The fingernails digging into his shoulder muscle would leave marks, but Loki didn’t care. “Fuck me again, Loki…please, hard” you gasped, raking through his hair. He knew it would be hanging in perfect dishevelment around his jaw, trailing the hollow of your neck, strands marking his moonlit skin like ink.

Loki lowered you an inch, letting the tight ring of your cunt swallow the tip of his cock. His whole body shuddered, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of your waist. “F—fuck, darling,” he stuttered. He hoped he’d never become accustomed to that silken fire.

You yelped as Loki powered upward.

His thighs smarted, and your legs tightened around his waist. The god took several steps forward, pressing you tightly against the turret wall.

Asgard’s twin moons shone through the window, coating the city rooftops like white sapphire. They're almost joined, he noticed. The court would be out in force for the event: fires blazing, chants ringing. His absence would be noted. But all Loki could feel was the beat of your heart against his, and your whispers of forever in every breath.

The moan that ripped from your throat as he buried himself was heaven, and Loki intended to wring pitches of pleasure from that pretty throat that you’d never thought possible. He ripped the neckline of your nightdress, devouring the supple skin that taunted him — palming your perfect breasts, and his enthusiasm as harsh from his throat as it was from his cock. You arched into his body, offering your neck like a willing rabbit to a panther. Or was he the rabbit? Hel's fire: It had never been like this.

He wanted to consume you, or rather, let you consume him. An endless cycle of lust, and love, and eternity. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Whatever he’d found in you, he’d found himself. Every inch of himself was alight with the grip of your cunt as he bottomed out again and again. A hand flew above your head, gripping a chunk of uneven stone. “Make me yours, Loki Odison,” you breathed as your climax ebbed, clenching tightly around the root of his cock. He dragged it out with a gritted growl. Webs of cum squelched as he eased in, and out; your ambrosial mess coating the wet, slow clap of skin. “You give yourself freely,” he panted, and your fingers wrapped deeper in his hair, tugging sharply. He hissed, delivering a punishing thrust that made the wall behind you tremble. “I take nothing which isn’t offered freely; I take nothing which isn’t already mine.” At that, your crossed ankles pressed deeper into the base of his spine. Loki thought he might explode. “Mark me with your power, Loki,” you said, nudging his lips to yours. “Uhhh, g-gods…don’t…” A sob caught in his throat as he felt orgasm swell. He bit into your shoulder, sucking hard enough to bruise. Your gasp of pleasure was the final tie. It snapped. Loki’s hand flew to your ass, pulling you a final devastating time down the rippling veins of his length. His heavy breaths thrummed with climax, your hands fastened to the sides of his face – forcing his eyes to yours.

“Mark me,” you slurred, resting your head against the wall: watching him come undone inside your sweet cunt with a lazy smile. Loki’s vision blurred, blood thundering in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, face tipped to the ceiling and a strangled moan choking from his throat as he emptied molten seed deep inside you for a second, glorious time.

Your lips fastened to the hard vein throbbing in his neck, kissing up until they met the angle of his jaw. "Which side of me do you prefer, then?" he asked, noting the wild thump of his heart. He felt your smile against his cheek.

"I love all of you, Loki." You kissed the tip of his cheekbone. "Every side," you whispered, "and each piece between. You never have to pretend with me. And I promise, I won't pretend with you."

Loki's vision blurred, a thick swallow working down his throat. And for the first time, he knew without a doubt exactly what he wanted; what he needed.

“Marry me,” he murmured, and your grip on his hair faltered. “What?” You looked at him with nothing less than utter bemusement. “You can’t be—" “Serious? Deadly.” Loki lowered you to the ground and kissed you so deeply that he felt the hidden parts of him mingle with yours. But it was meant to be this way. “You opened yourself to me during The Rite – gave me my destiny – but it wasn’t the succession, it was you.” You opened your mouth and closed it again.

Loki raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Balls of light burst in perfect sync in mid-air: dozens of tiny, flickering orbs of golden flame. Your eyes met his. “Loki, I love you, but you don’t mean that you need to…your family would never—" “—Fuck my family,” he said softly. “To Hel with their inane traditions that serve no one but themselves. I will marry you, and I’ll be happy. I’ll make you happy. If you want it.” Loki touched his forehead to yours, feeling your shoulders begin to shake. “Together, we can usher in a new age of Asgard; a new dawn.” Loki drew his face away, unsurprised to see tracks of silent tears making your cheeks glisten. With every second that passed, the nerves in his stomach skittered to the emptiest corners of his mind he preferred never to tread.

“Will you have me?” he whispered, searching your face. “Will you help me?” The air was knocked out his lungs as you threw your whole weight at him; arms locked around his neck and mouth pressed violently to his own.

Amber slats of sunrise played in the sharp crevices of Loki’s cheekbones. They softened the bruise Thor had left. Loki hadn’t wanted to hide it, not from you. Not from Lagertha, either.

His blue eyes peered knowingly over the rim of one of her pattered teacups, narrowing softly. You smiled, and straightened as Lagertha came bustling through the kitchen door. “Ah, you stayed the night,” she said brightly, nodding to Loki and making for the teapot. “Thought you might. And I see you got the night-robe I left out, thank you for…wearing it. Not that I don’t appreciate the spectacle but given the circumstances it may be a little…inappropriate.”

She poured a cup, plopping down in the third seat at the small table, before looking between you. An eyebrow rose.

“If I go upstairs, Loki Odinson, there better not be a button out of place.”

The words were honeyed, but you could tell she’d kick his ass if there was. And Loki knew it too. You stifled a laugh as his eyes widened, and he pressed an innocent hand to his chest: mortally wounded. “Every thread is in place, Lagertha. You have my word.” She rolled her eyes, landing on you with a wink. "Mmm..." she murmured sceptically, her eyes falling to the tattered neckline of your nightgown. Heat crept up your neck.

The three of you sipped in silence before Lagertha said, “So I assume I’ll need to clear my weaving schedule for a wedding, then?” Loki's tea erupted in a splutter, bringing a fist to his mouth and coughing frantically. You turned to her. “I…um…we,” Lagertha patted your hand. “Don’t worry dear, I wasn’t listening. But like I said the first time we met…I have eyes.” She smiled gently. “Am I wrong?”

Her wry gaze swung between the two of you. “Thought not. Fandral just ordered a new batch of capes. I’ll tell him it won’t happen this quarter: Royal wedding garments take top priority, you see. What a shame. I know how much he loathes not getting what he wants.”

She gave you another wink. “But, for the two of you, I shall enjoy every moment.”

Loki reached across the table, and your own hand crawled forwards, meeting it. “I love you,” he murmured. “Finally,” Lagertha huffed. “Nice to hear you say it out loud – blazing Norns, it’s been a long week. If I wasn’t already grey, I would be.” Loki threw her a loving glare as his thumb massaged the centre of your palm. Despite lack of sleep, you’d never felt more awake. “As much as I adore her, Lagertha likes to think she knows everything, darling.” “Cos’ I do,” she said with a shrug. “At least where weaving and their enchantments are concerned. But this?” She gestured between you, “It was as obvious as Asgard is golden. Colour me unsurprised when you announce it and no one bats an eye. He’s met his match, and I’ll curse anyone who says otherwise; weave a spell into their robes which makes them perpetually shit themselves, perhaps. But you better not forget about the little ones—”

“—Never,” Loki cut in. She nodded, and put her hand on top of the knot you and Loki had made. A golden ribbon as thin as cobweb snaked over your wrist, slithering in soft waves through the gaps in your fingers and up Loki’s forearm.

“May the Norns bless you,” Lagertha said with a gentle smile, and the ribbon dissolved like melted sugar, absorbing into your skin. And as you and Loki’s eyes met, you knew, finally, that they did.

A/N: Thank you so much for coming on this journey with meee❤️I really hope you enjoyed seeing a bit more of this version of my Asgard, silly as it is. 🕯️ Whether you're reading this two days or two years afterwards, I'd love to hear your thoughts 😊 May the Lagertha-Vibes be with you, always.

A Masterlist for The Rite is here Series now: Complete. A link to my regular Masterlist is here

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x female reader smut

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depravitycentral · 7 months ago

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General Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto Profile

Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto x reader

TW: kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of stalking, mentions of masturbation, allusions to somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, Ko uses you as his emotional support system, delusional behavior, nonconsensual physical affection/touch, vague allusions to non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Kotarou is extremely emotionally needy and physically touchy and just generally quite a handful, mentions of insecurity, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Introverted

Koutarou is a lot. He knows it, his team knows it, hell, the entire league knows it.

His energy is difficult to match; he’s a ray of sunshine, blinding yet impossible to look away from, someone with boundless amounts of energy, someone friendly and extraverted to an almost extreme.

Because he is so rambunctious and loud, he would actually really enjoy a partner who mellows him out a bit more, someone who isn’t constantly hyper and talkative and wanting to spend hours on end with other people.

He works well with Akaashi; who is quiet, calm and not as talkative, and his darling would likely reflect that in many ways – the serenity, the sense of peace and calmness, the idea that they aren’t constantly jumping with energy, constantly bursting at the seams to go do something.

Ideally though, he’d enjoy a partner who is still willing to talk, who’s willing to indulge him in conversation and compliment him and give him that adorable smile, just not a social butterfly like himself. It makes him feel privileged, special because his darling wants to speak to him, that they’re using their precious social battery on him him him.

He’s in awe that they start conversations with him; his darling, who so often doesn’t utter a word around crazy people such as himself, who sees someone as hyper as him and immediately run for the hills.

It makes his ego flare, and he can’t deny how adorable they are when they get embarrassed at his attention, when they roll their eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, when they freeze and cower as he loudly proclaims his love for them in the middle of the movie theater and everyone looks over.

He loves it, and it’s a nice bonus that it cuts down his competition - less dirty work for him, something Koutarou is very thankful for.

Creative

Volleyball is Kotarou’s life, and as a result he hasn’t had much time to explore anything outside of it. He’s never really tried his hand at painting, playing an instrument, baking, or really any other hobby.

And of course he loves the sport dearly, but there’s something alluring to the idea of a darling that’s invested in something so completely different from himself.

It doesn’t matter what the hobby is - cooking, drawing, writing, singing, it could be anything at all.

But once Kotarou finds out his darling enjoys it, suddenly he becomes obsessed with it, wanting to learn as much as he can and hone as many talents within it as possible. In his eyes, everything his darling does is perfect, so the thing that they love most (aside from him, of course) must be amazing, right? It must be worth his time to learn about it and become familiar with it, if only just to impress his darling, if only just to share even a scrap of the love they feel for it.

He’ll beg and pester his darling to teach him, constantly asking questions and carefully watching their answers.

Because rally, while Kotarou develops an interest in the activity because of his darling’s love, he also becomes familiar with the hobby because he lives for the way their eyes light up when they’re concentrating. They look absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than normal, something sparkling in their eyes.

His knees grow weak when he sees them biting their lip or sticking out their tongue in concentration, his feelings only growing ten-fold and becoming stronger because it’s just so incredibly endearing that his darling has something they love enough to be this devoted.

They get this ethereal glow about them and Kotarou genuinely can’t take his eyes off of them when they’re in that mode.

And so instead of listening to their instructions, he finds himself drifting into fantasies of them finally getting that glow and radiance when thinking about him. It’s what fuels him, what gives him energy.

He just wants his darling to adore him in the way that he adores them.

Nurturing

If his darling is anything, they have to be supportive.

Poor Kotarou is in constant need of reassurance, and his darling has to be willing to put up with that. They have to be willing to deal with the emotional labor of constantly praising him, of telling him wonderfully talented he is, how funny, how charming, how handsome, any and all compliments they can think of.

Their kind words go straight to his heart, making his body feel fuzzy and warm, an unstoppable grin stretches across his face and his words excited as he asks them really? Are you sure?

He’s overwhelmed by the idea of his darling thinking such thoughts about him - they think he’s strong? They think he’s talented? They think he’s amazing?

Needless to say, a few simple words of praise from his darling are enough to get Kotarou’s entire mood shifting, his metaphoric feathers ruffling and a pleasant, gooey feeling in his heart making him feel lighter than air because oh, they think he’s attractive and fun to be around?

He loves how easily they’re able to make him feel good about himself, and he can only hope to return the favor.

As a result, he’ll compliment his darling often, completely out of the blue and about odd, but strangely endearing things. He just wants them to feel how good they make him feel, and he’ll do anything to get them there.

Competitive

While his darling needs to be someone capable of spilling praise at a moment’s notice, Kotarou also finds himself attracted to those who has a healthy sense of competition in life.

As a professional athlete, he takes competition very seriously, and is also the type to find that a bit of competition is the perfect thing to spice up a relationship. He loves the idea of having a friendly rivalry with his darling – perhaps at something entirely stupid, like mini-golf or slugbugging or something equally childish.

Regardless, he likes the idea of his darling and him being playful together, of having someone he can establish that teasing rapport with. Besides, while he can sometimes be a bit of an emotional wreck, Kotarou finds emotional intelligence extremely attractive.

Thus, having a partner that’s capable of gracefully winning and losing is wildly attractive to him – they’re able to regulate themselves and put others’ thoughts and feelings into perspective.

He cares too much about other people to have a darling with little to no awareness of others’ feelings, and to have a darling that manages to merge in this awareness alongside a healthy appetite for competition and teasing?

Well, Kotarou finds himself falling hard and fast, loving the idea of a darling who’s so mature yet so wonderfully immature – perfect for someone like him.

(And, though he isn’t consciously thinking about it, perfect for a mother – he won’t explicitly bring up the topic of marriage and children, but he enters every relationship with the thought in mind, always hopeful that perhaps he’s finally found the right woman. And lucky him, he has – his wonderful, wonderful darling.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

He’s naturally quite affectionate with those around him, for better or worse. He’s always looking for someone to talk to, hang out with, goof around with, and once his feelings for you form, so lovely and horrible and overwhelming, this trait is only amplified.

It only increases monumentally with the absolute need to constantly be around you, to have your attention solely on him because god, seeing your pretty eyes focused on him makes his heart race so fast he thinks he’s dying.

He wants you to be looking at him at all times, thinking about him every minute of the day, be craving him as much as he craves you. He wants you to daydream about him smiling at you, making you bite your lip and stare at the ground while you fight back a flustered, school-girl-esque grin because god, isn’t he just so dreamy?

He wants you to be fantasizing about hugging him, feeling his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body while he nuzzles into your neck, whispering your name in a hoarse voice that gets you shivering and nudging your thighs together because fuck, how can anyone sound that good?

Honestly, the idea of you thinking of him is enough to have him grinning with his eyes squeezed shut, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pumps his fist and lets out a victorious laugh.

(There have been quite a few instances of you patting him on the back, albeit awkwardly, to which he responded with a resounding hey, hey, hey! that sounded much too close to a moan and raised his fist to the sky – you’ve never understood why his voice gets all high and shaky like that, but somehow it seems you’d rather not know the answer.)

He thrives on your physical touch, your sweet words and glossy eyes staying fixed on him, and you’ll quickly notice how Koutarou always seems to just be around, how those golden eyes never really seem to leave, his gray and black hair standing out in your peripheral, followed shortly by a cheerful yell of your name and a bone crushing hug that makes you wheeze and shiver as you realize there’s something pressing into your thigh, oh god why is he hard and nuzzling his face into your neck and is he sighing?

It’s almost flattering at first – not expected, but sweet that he seems to feel so close to you, until it’s happening every day, every time he sees you – he’s always hugging you, holding your hand, ruffling your hair, calling you so cute, isn’t she Akaashi? Makes me wanna eat her right up!

It’s endearing and you’ll be flattered that a famous, attractive professional athlete is so obviously interested in you, but it becomes less and less endearing as time passes. It becomes less cute when he’s making some offhand comment about how you must’ve changed your shampoo – he distinctly remembers your hair smelling like strawberries, and now it has more of a lavender scent; but don’t worry, you smell great either way, cutie!

It becomes less flattering as he tells you while you’re being forced to sit in his lap as the team puts up the volleyball nets that you seemed like you were hesitant to come to practice with me today – is there something I don’t know about? Are you seeing someone else? What aren’t you telling me? It’s not nice to keep secrets from boyfriends, you know.

Quickly you’ll come to realize that Kotarou’s level of dependence on you is completely unwarranted for how close your relationship really is, but there isn’t much you can say to change this fact – he’s clingy, he needs your affection and attention, and when you ask Akaashi or Atsumu about it, about why he seems so needy and so obsessed with you, they’ll both write it off as Bokuto and his fleeting feelings, just his childish nature at work.

And when you try to confront him about it, to tell him that you’re uncomfortable with him suddenly springing up on you from behind, pinning you against a desk with his body looming over you while he inhales deeply and whispers about how pretty you look in your new skirt, he’ll just frown, pouting down at you while he whines about how he isn’t trying to be weird, that he just wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you.

He’ll only lean more weight on you, hug you tighter and whisper about how he knows you want this just as bad as he does, that it’s only normal for boyfriends to want to touch their girlfriends, to want to spend time with them and hear their compliments and care for each other.

It’s natural, he explains, to be always by your side, for you to never leave his field of vision – which is why you’ll find yourself coming to most MSBY practices and games decked out in the #12 spare jersey he not so subtly demanded you wear (that still very much has the fresh scent of a recent workout in it – something about pheromones and marking you, Kotarou had explained, with words too quick and slurred for you to really understand).

You’ll find yourself spending most of your meals either by his side or in his lap (trying to ignore the way a certain hardness presses against your ass if you move too much, if you’re squirmin’ so much cutiepie, you okay?).

You’ll be walked home everyday from your job and convinced to spend the evening with him, though he spends more time staring at you than watching the movie you’d thrown on.

And really, you can tell yourself every day that you’ll finally stand up to him, that you’ll finally end this bizarre, possessive behavior coming from a man you aren’t even dating, but each time you bring it up, those soft golden eyes will have you feeling like you’re kicking a puppy, his entire aura being shut down in a heartbeat at your stuttered I-I think we need to take some time apart…

Kotarou isn’t doing it on purpose, but you’ll be extremely hard pressed to ever really change the way he acts around you – it makes you feel too guilty, like you’re spinning the situation into so much more than it really is.

So, when you bite your lip and shake your head, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that you changed your mind, he’s beaming and letting out a cheer and scooping you into his arms to swing you around in circles, despite your demands that you must be too heavy to carry, that he’s making such a scene and the entire restaurant is staring and god, he just loves you so much, he knew you were meant for him and your acceptance only proves this!

It’s not so big a deal, right? Kotarou is mostly harmless, doesn’t mean anything weird by his touchiness, his desperation to be with you, right? It’s just a short term thing, soon his attention will move on, right?

Possessive

Kotarou, while incredibly empathetic and intuitive to other peoples’ emotions, does not handle his own especially well.

He’s terrible at stopping himself from having extreme highs and lows over the pettiest things, and this doesn’t stop at just volleyball, at just his normal life – no, his love for you is most definitely affected by this as well. Namely, in the form of jealousy; he’s a firm believer in faithfulness and loyalty, in the idea that you have one and only one partner, that they should be enough for you and that other men and women are essentially just background noise for the real one, the one that makes your heart race, your palms sweat and a lovely sort of nervousness to grow in the pit of your stomach.

He’s always believed in this, and once his infatuation with you forms, this philosophy most certainly doesn’t change; if anything, he clings onto the idea with frantic fingers, clutching at the concept of you looking at no one else for any reason whatsoever.

He’s plagued with the fear that someone will try and interfere with your relationship, that someone will come along and try and tear the two of you apart – he’s terrified of losing you, of losing who he genuinely believes to be his true love to some other man, to some other loser who decided you were pretty and would be a fun catch.

Kotarou is self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the ideal man, that you likely don’t love his mood swings, his habits of switching emotions quicker than you can likely keep up. He knows this, which is why it makes it so much more painful when that coworker of yours starts talking to you more, looking at you with such light and happy eyes, staring at you with what Kotarou is absolutely sure is a blush on his cheeks, when he’s leaning in way too much.

His possessiveness flares up especially in his sadder moments – when he’s already spiraling into a fit of self-doubt, it’s easy to read too far into any situation in which your gaze flickers over to another guy, easy to over examine the way you quickly apologize after bumping into a player on the opposite team in the hallway.

It’s so fucking easy to feel like his place as your rightful partner, as your lover and boyfriend and future husband is being threatened when he sees literally anyone approach you – because really, Kotarou can’t help but wonder if you’d like them more, if maybe you’re only nice to him and letting him hug you, compliment you, and everything else because you feel sorry for him, because you’re pitying him.

And it’s those thoughts that drive him to march up to you and pull you into his chest, to press your ear against his heart while he buries his face in your hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he asks in a whisper if he’s still enough, if you’ve found someone else, if you even really love him.

And really, as disarming and disorienting as it is, there’s some part of you that will feel bad for him, that will want to comfort this man so obviously in need of praise, so obviously in need of someone to tell him that yes, he’s enough, yes you love him and you’ll always love him.

Even if it’s not true – even if it’s just something you’re saying out of a misplaced sense of guilt, even if it’s something you’ll find yourself horribly regretting the deeper into delusion Kotarou sinks. And so, as you promise that you do in fact want him, that you need him as badly as he needs you and that you’ll never, ever leave him, Kotarou slowly begins to relax, melting into your arms and trying to calm his ragged breaths, the racing of his heart, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

It’s difficult, but as he pulls back and sees your confused, beautiful fucking face, a small smile makes its way onto his lips, the knowledge that you’ll never leave him ringing in his head. Because really, how could he ever ask for anything more?

All he needs is you you you, and now that you’ve promised him, he’ll hold you to it. And when you’re trapped by his side some time later, those strong arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around your waist and his grin big and dopey and scary as he promises to never, ever let you leave his side, you’ll really only have yourself to blame. Because really, while Kotarou’s jealousy manifests mostly as self-deprication and an increased need for your reassurance and praise, ultimately you’ll be the one to push forward his dependence on you.

You’re the one telling him that he’s wonderful, that you’re not interested in any other men, that he’s every girl’s dream. It’s small things that slowly build up, feeding into Kotarou’s delusions until he’s too far gone to really even listen to you anymore; picking and choosing what he wants to hear from you, twisting your words into some grand declaration of love that gets him smiling like a fool, crushing you into his arms and leaving your lips bruised with the ferocity of his kisses.

You’re just so perfect, huh?

Delusional

But in an extremely specific way – on his own, Kotarou isn’t a particularly delusional man. He’s tied to his beliefs, yes, but he’s grounded and lucid enough to understand the importance of seeing multiple perspectives, of listening to others, of staying in touch with reality and not letting himself get too carried away.

And this is still true in the beginnings of his obsession – he knows that you’re just friends, that you have a budding friendship that he’d like to progress into something more, something deeper and more romantic in its origin. And he’s strict about this for a long time – going to Akaashi for dating advice or asking the ever-grumpy Sakusa how he thinks Kotarou should approach you.

(Akaashi gives much, much more insightful advice than his teammate, of course – telling Kotarou to take things slow and listen to what you want, to let you guide the pace and direction of the relationship. Sakusa merely scoffs and tells him to stop being loud and irritating, and you might have a shot.)

And Kotarou sticks to this advice well in the beginning – establishing a positive connection with you and letting you get comfortable, your friendship blossoming and growing into one that you can foresee being one of your most cherished.

But then elements of his infatuation begin developing, and suddenly that advice gets a bit warped, his understanding of your intentions slowly crumbling away because of one critical, crucial factor: Kotarou grows an incredibly strong sense of attachment towards you.

He’s already quite physically touchy and needy as it is, but as his obsession with you progresses, this dependency morphs into not only the more tactile side of things, but his mental state as well. He quickly grows to absolutely need you in every sense of the word; you’re something that keeps him tethered, grounded. Your love and attention is something that he needs in order to survive, in order to wake up everyday and get himself out of bed because he knows that he’ll get to see you today, to hug you and touch you and maybe even kiss you if he can catch you off guard enough.

Within the span of a few months after he recognizes that his feelings for you are more romantic than platonic, Koutarou’s entire mental health and wellbeing revolves around you and the attention you give him.

The advice of his friends still rings through his head, but he instead begins interpreting your actions as you wanting to foster this dependency of his. He thinks that you’re aware of his brewing feelings, and that you feel the same way – surely that’s what you mean when you always praise him, right? His every action comes back to you; he hits a spike in a match he got you exclusive, front-row player’s box seats for?

Well, he’s immediately peering up into the stands, golden eyes frantically searching for you, and once he spots you he’s waving like a madman, blowing obnoxious kisses at you, proudly exclaiming that was for you babe! And he’ll keep going until you acknowledge him, until you give him a thumbs up and a toothy smile, until you yell back that you’re so proud of you, Ko!

(Of course, the phrasing of ‘babe’ is a bit suspect, but you’ll blame it on mishearing him in the loud, packing stadium.)

When he tries out a new recipe for a particular dish he knows you love, he’s eager to call you, begging you to drop whatever it is you’re doing and swing by his apartment to try because he really, really needs you to say you like it.

(He’ll be watching with rapt attention as you hover the fork to your lips, practically not breathing as he watches you chew and swallow, his palms so sweaty and clammy that he nearly drops the pan in excitement when you compliment the food. Don’t pay attention to the way he gulps loud enough for you to hear, nor the way he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, laughing that booming laugh of his and seeming much too joyous for a simple well-cooked meal.)

Everything comes back to the basic principal that Koutarou just wants desperately to impress you – he thrives on your praise, seeing you proud of him and happy to call him yours, and he’s leaping at each and every possible chance to achieve that, to make you laugh and wrap your arms around him, to whisper into his ear that you’re so proud baby, I know you worked so hard, now what’dya say we go home and I reward you for all that hard work, just how you like it?

He’s committed to being your dream partner, to being someone you can proudly call your own, and he quite literally needs you praise and validation in every aspect of his life to solidify his delusions about the way you feel for him – your opinion is something he values over his own life, your presence something he genuinely believes he can’t live without, and so to have you by his side constantly, always smiling at him and making him feel so giddy and happy is something that Kotarou really honestly needs.

The bottom line is that his entire emotional and mental state rests firmly upon your shoulders, firmly upon your reactions to the things he does for you – so keep that in mind as he rushes up to you with the excitement and energy of a puppy, ranting and raving about how he managed to hit one of Atsumu’s new kinds of tosses or block one of Hinata’s best spikes.

Keep it in mind as he presses you flush against his body, his face buried into your neck, his audible inhale and whimper that vibrates against your skin making a shiver shoot up your spine in anything but pleasure. Keep in mind that now it’s your responsibility to keep Kotarou happy, that your job is essentially to make sure that he stays at least somewhat stable.

(With the pressure coming from the entire management staff of the MSBY team, who’ve realized that Kotarou has a bit of a massive crush on you – you, who isn’t doing the best financially, who could very much not survive a class-action lawsuit for ruining one of their star players.)

And once he’s stolen away, it’s your responsibility to keep him happy so that he keeps leaving the apartment, leaving you, making sure that you have enough food and water to survive, so that his depressive episodes don’t cost you your life.

So really, have fun; because eventually the emotional toll will hit you, but don’t worry because Kotarou will be right there to help pick you up again.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Because his jealous streak is really quite strong, Koutarou has a tendency to misinterpret nearly every single interaction you have with a member of the opposite sex.

He’s automatically assuming that everyone is interested in you, that everyone wants to date you and make you smile and kiss you and fuck you, all of which are things that only he should be allowed to do. He’s jumping to conclusions before things really even happen, sure that you’ll somehow be manipulated into leaving him, into leaving the happy, loving relationship you share with him.

It’s a fear that permeates his every moment when he’s away from you (something that is admittedly quite rare, but still), that seeps into the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that you love him, that you’d never cheat on him or trade him in for someone better.

Of course, he trusts you enough to not immediately act upon his jealousy when he notices another man in your vicinity. Rather, he’ll start demanding your attention even more, trying to keep you physically turned away from the stranger and keep your eyes focused only on Kotarou, because if you can’t see the man, the man can’t see you, right?

It’s poor logic, and Kotarou panics the entire time he tries to stall, only able to imagine the way you’d look by this new man’s side.

And at the end of the day, that’s really it – Kotarou knows that he’s not perfect. You, with your lovely figure, beautiful face, wonderful personality, and many talents, could really get any guy of your choice. So why would you want him?

He seems confident, like he has no doubts about himself and his abilities, and for the most part he doesn’t, but there’s just something about you that makes him constantly reanalyze himself, that makes him wonder if he’s really enough, if he could ever really be enough for someone as perfect as you.

Sure he’s athletic, friendly, handsome, kind, but he’s not the number one hitter in the league, not the brightest, not the most charming, not the best looking or most mysterious or funniest or any number of other things that you might find more attractive.

And as time passes this eats away at Kotarou’s mind, driving him insane the longer it occupies the back of his thoughts because he just can’t shake the image of you in another man’s arms, laughing and kissing them and just being so fucking happy without him.

He’s dependent on you to an unhealthy degree, absolutely fixated on the idea of needing you in his life, and so Kotarou doesn’t really hold back in terms of trying to control his jealousy – he knows he needs to step in before you even get the chance to be lulled in by some other man. He needs to interfere before he loses you forever, and while he knows you’re probably embarrassed by how he barges in anytime you talk to someone else, Kotarou doesn’t let it hold him back.

Nothing can hold him back in the face of something as terrifying as losing you.

You’d never pegged Kotarou as one for video games, but when he’d dragged you to the new arcade that opened up a few blocks from his house, he practically seemed like a child in a toystore.

With his hand wrapped tightly around yours, he’d led you through row after row of game machines, golden eyes wide as he pointed to each and every one, promising you that he’d beat this one in two tries, or that one with his eyes closed. It’d been endearing in a way, watching how excited he’d gotten, before he dragged you over to a game in the far corner with especially bright lights and all sorts of noises coming from it.

He’d challenged you, telling you with a booming laugh that he’d bet you couldn’t beat him, a challenge you eagerly accepted. And really, while he’d been mildly embarrassed to sheepishly admit he’d run out of quarters after his fifth try through the game, it didn’t stop him from practically sprinting up to the ticketing counter, digging in his wallet for the largest dollar bill he had on hand to trade in. Leaving you alone at the game, biting your lip and reading over all the cartoon-style text decorating the game’s exterior.

You were so engrossed in the game’s appearance that you didn’t hear the blond man’s calls to you, shy little excuse me’s falling on deaf ears. Soon a tapping at your shoulder tapped you out of your reverie, spinning around to come face to face with a man you’d never seen before. Sandy blond hair and thick rimmed glasses sitting atop a rather brightly colored dress shirt and dark jeans.

Do you know how to play? Even his voice seemed timid, and while you were a bit shocked at his question, you’d only smiled and said no, hoping the man would drop some hints on ways to beat Kotarou – hearing his boasting was worse than hearing his moping, after all.

The man seemed relieved, moving forward to restart the game and talking you through the level, telling you tips on when to jump, which treasure chests were worth more, tricks on how to move the toggle piece, even telling you that the game would sometimes glitch and delete off ten seconds to your total time if you moved just right.

You’d thanked him profusely, excitement brewing in your chest at the thought of how you would crush Kotarou, but the sudden feeling of being watched washed over you and left you stiffening up, no longer paying attention to the stranger’s words.

In less than a moment, you were suddenly pushed from behind, spun around so that your back was pressed against the arcade wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs and Kotarou’s face – fit with a scowl – filling up your entire view.

Your surprised yelp was cut off by him suddenly lunging forward, his lips settling onto yours hard enough to make you flinch a bit. He kissed you roughly, loudly, the sound of wet smacking filling your ears and surely the stranger’s, if his facial expression was anything to go by. With red cheeks and a shocked look spread across his features, the man was quick to stutter an apology and speed off, trying to avoid the sight of Kotarou pressing you tighter against the wall and the sound of his groans and grunts.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Kotarou pulled back, licking his lips and looking at you with something akin to hunger swirling in those golden eyes.

Who was that?

Is all he got out, hands still firmly placed at your waist.

Your shock barred you from answering right away, before a resounding smack rung through his ears, the mild pain of your slap to his chest leaving him winded, the pleasant sensation of you touching him numbing out some of the hot, angry envy in his veins.

What the hell was that, Kotarou? You practically yell at him, the sound drowned out by the ringing of a few games nearby.

Kotarou only sighs, squeezing your sides and fixing you with an unblinking stare.

That man was bothering you, couldn’t he see you were here with me?

At your bewildered look, he merely laughed, one hand coming up to teasingly ruffle your hair. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the day. Now c’mon, I got more quarters – watch me win!

And just like that, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rather heated, intimate moment he’d instigated – all smiles and laughter and taunts for the rest of the day as you shakily and wearily settled by his side, trying to rationalize that perhaps it looked different to an outsider.

Perhaps Kotarou thought the man was bothering you, and was worried he’d only get the hint through extreme measures. And he’s always been a bit extreme and exaggerated, surely he meant nothing by the kiss – even if it had been rather graphic, even if he’d been practically moaning at just the taste of you.

That must be it, you decide, as Kotarou whines and pouts about losing the level once more, begging you to give him just one more try. The small, half-hearted smile you give him is enough permission for him, and just that look settles the raging jealousy in his heart.

You were looking at him again, just as you should be – him and him only.

(And later that night, that’s what’s falling past his lips in a mantra as he vividly remembers the feel of your body in his hands, your lips pressed against his own, the smell of you clouding his every breath.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Kotarou’s infatuation with you is, in most ways, strange.

He’s utterly obsessed, of course – his every waking moment is either revolving around volleyball or you, often times mixing and jumbling up so that he’s imagining all sorts of things that get him grinning like a fool, his cheeks bright red and his breathing too heavy to be considered normal.

(Things like seeing you wear his jersey, for example, or having you toss him a ball that he smacks so hard it hurts, seeing your impressed and flustered expression as he teases you about how strong he is. The kind of thing that makes his chest swell with pride, that makes him bite his lip and clutch at his covers late at night when he’s dreaming and wanting and needing you.)

His feelings for you carelessly breach any sort of trust or boundaries between the two of you, and for the most part Kotarou doesn’t see an issue with this.

Of course you probably don’t like when he checks the tracker he’d installed into your phone, but it’s just for safety and he’s sure you’ll eventually understand! It’s unsafe to let someone like you travel around alone at night (or in the day, or in crowded streets or public parks or even in the safety of your own home-).

He’s just taking an extra precaution to make sure someone’s got an eye on you – he’d be more than happy to install a tracker into his phone for you to keep tabs on his location too, if you’d like. (And oh, he wishes you’d like that.)

You’re probably not the biggest fan of when he wraps an arm around you in public, beaming and planting a wet, long kiss against your temple as he greets you, walking to your favorite coffee shop with his arm still wrapped around you, migrating down to your waist and making walking uncomfortable while he prattles on and on about his latest training regiment.

(And sure, maybe he’s exaggerating just a hair about how much he can bench press, or how fast his serves are, but those golden eyes of his are constantly scanning your expressions, looking for even the slightest hint of awe, analyzing any signs that you’re impressed with his physical prowess, his dedication. Impressed by him, really.)

And so really, Kotarou breaks every physical and intangible barrier and wall that you have down, slowly and bit by bit until you’re so desensitized to his antics and his behavior towards you that you stop questioning it. You’re not exactly supportive of the possessive, overly clingy way he treats you, but it’s just Kotarou, so really how harmful can it be? He’s just a silly, overgrown puppy of a man, and why should you ever be afraid of him?

And Kotarou’s feelings towards your living situation reflect this sentiment – that is, he absolutely does not want to kidnap you.

Not only does he find the term entirely unapplicable to your situation if he were to steal you away (because he’s convinced that on some core level you’d actually be pleased, like you want him to whisk you away and keep you wrapped up in his apartment as his little housewife), but it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth to imagine keeping you cooped up in one place all the time.

He loves to be out with you, to take you to markets and restaurants and movies and all sorts of other things – he likes having you out in public. It stresses him out a bit, yes, constantly being vigilant and aware of any man that tries to approach you, but by and large he finds that he enjoys your company most and enjoys showing you off most when you’re not all alone at home.

That isn’t to say that he dislikes cozy movie nights spent on his couch with now-cold takeout sprawled across the table, but there’s just something special about seeing you laugh so hard you cry because of him in a busy, sunny street café where everyone can see just how entertained you are by him.

(Those cozier evenings are of course favorites of him, though, because he gets to see a more intimate side of you – when you get sleepy and your eyes start drooping, he has to physically hold himself back from cooing and squishing your cheeks. And especially when you fall asleep on his shoulder or shift just right so that he worm his way into your arms, noticing how your flimsy sleeping shorts ride up just a hair to expose the lower curve of your ass, his mouth is left watering and his own shorts feel uncomfortably tight – something he'd be absolutely crazy to dislike.)

And so, Kotarou will hold off for as long as possible on stealing you away, just for the selfish reason of being able to drag you to all his games, to pretty dates (that you aren’t aware are dates, of course, but that’s just a technicality), to keep you happy and excited and free by his side.

But if things were to go south and you started to really critically analyze his behavior and decide that you don’t want to remain in his life?

Well, Kotarou has never quite felt panic like when you swing by his apartment one last time to announce that you’re moving away. He’s never quite felt a level of dismay like when you tell him you’ll be blocking his number because he’s made you uncomfortable, or when you tell him you’ll be crashing at a male friend’s place.

And really, that last portion is the kicker – it sends Kotarou’s mind spiraling, panic engulfing him and leading him to grab you, his hands shaking as he holds you, eyes flashing as he drags you to his bedroom, holding you down on the bed and using a spare t-shirt to tie up your wrists and ankles.

He’s never known fear like this before, and as he stares down at you – writhing, looking at him with tears in your eyes, looking at him –

He’s never quite known excitement like this before, either.

As a captor, Kotarou isn’t terrible – with one glaring exception: he’s needy. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him, but once you’re trapped in his home this is only amplified, the clinginess getting worse and worse because you have no way to dissuade his touchiness, no way to distract him away with outside people and activities.

No, now it’s strictly you and him – which is heaven for Kotarou, exactly what he’s been fantasizing about come to life.

Unfortunately for you, this means excessive time spent together and a lot of physical contact. Though his delusions aren’t quite deep enough to fully mask the fact that you’re unhappy, Kotarou is able to chalk up your lack of enthusiasm for things you did pre-kidnapping as you simply being moody, shy, womanly.

It’s infuriating how much he blames your behavior on your hormones and menstrual cycle.

He’s practically impossible to deal with once your period begins, his touches soft and gentle and nearly scared, treating you like you’re some breakable, delicate piece of treasure that can’t do anything on your own.

He’ll cook meals for you, then promptly bring the chopsticks up to your mouth and say ahh, smiling like a fool as he guides the ramen past your lips, nodding enthusiastically when you chew.

He’ll hold your hand and help you walk around the apartment, big eyes wide and worried when you near any corners, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself because you’re distracted with cramp pain or simply having brain fog. And really, it would be endearing how earnestly he’s trying to make you comfortable and provide for you during your time of the month, but there’s something truly humiliating about the level of disregard he feels for your complaints, simply smiling lopsidedly at you and telling you don’t worry, I’ll make it all better! I’ve got some of that chocolate you like, you want some? I can heat up your heating pad too, and we can watch some old reruns of my games – you’d like that, right? You like watching me play, yeah?

And really, that’s the main thing with Kotarou – the level of care and attention he both gives to you and demands from you is incredibly draining.

The constant feeling of walking on eggshells around him is enough to have your mind running in circles, constantly worried that you’ll say the wrong thing about his personality or his actions and have him moping, convinced that you’re just being mean because you’re disappointed in him, that you’re just playing hard to get because he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. And so how does he respond to this?

By giving you more attention, swamping you with questions and touches and all sorts of things for the two of you to do together. He’s always forcing you onto the couch to try out a new video game Akinori mentioned when he last ran into him, or watching a scary movie and clutching onto you for dear life at every jump scare.

(He thinks it’s romantic, but the slight bruising left on your thighs and sides from his very, very tight grip are less sweet.)

He’s just generally so very out of touch with how you’re feeling that it’s infuriating – but you have to be careful, because everything you do and say will only cause him to grasp onto you tighter, clutching onto you with more strength than you can handle because his entire mental wellbeing is still resting firmly on your shoulders. He forces you to sleep in bed beside him, waking up to you tangled in his arms every morning, starting his day off right and making it slightly easier to leave you for early morning trainings.

(He has to wake up with you every morning or else he feels like something’s off, his performance severely lacking and the only thing that can fix it being excessive affection from you – something a bit difficult to come by.)

He forces you to share meals with him because it gives him a reason to unabashedly stare at you (though he does this anyway, frequently) and watch as you eat the food he provided you. He has to be the sole one cooking or buying you take out, because it feeds the narrative he’s crafted in his head that he’s your provider, that he’s taking care of you, that he’s being a good male partner and spoiling his perfect little wife.

(Of course, you may not be married yet, but to Kotarou it’s just a matter of time – you’re already entwined in every possible way, living together and spending every waking moment together, so why bother with formal ceremonies and official titles when he can just buy a diamond and slip onto your finger with a toothy grin and a much too long and much too detailed declaration of his love? Of course, if you want the ceremony he’d be more than willing to give it to you, but he’s content with the knowledge that you’re his and his alone already.)

So really, if you can handle his hands constantly being on you, his lips always pressed against your skin, his voice always ringing in your ears, and his presence always a looming shadow over you demanding your praise and attention and time, Kotarou isn’t terrible.

There’s shades of genuine love in how he treats you – the gentleness in his touches, the tenderness of his compliments, the way he’ll moan into your ear the most adoring, utterly pathetic things as he settles himself between your legs.

There’s evidence that he truly loves you in some horrible, twisted way, but it all just feels like too much. Too forceful, too desperate, too passionate, too him.

But no amount of trying to get through to him will ever change the way he treats you, or ever persuade him into loosing the metaphorical lease he keeps you on – you’re his, and no matter how hard you try Kotarou will always firmly believe that fate has brought you together.

And isn’t that so romantic?

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, it’s rare for Kotarou to get genuinely angry at you.

Of course he has his highs and lows – he may be unwilling to seriously listen to your complaints or insults hurled at him, but he’s not inhuman. He still knows that you’re being mean – criticizing him and visibly displeased with him, and just that fact alone has his eyes drooping, guilt, self-pity and shame resting heavily on his shoulders.

His delusions about your feelings for him bar him from fully comprehending that your anger lies in the fact that he’s kidnapped you rather than not cuddling with you the night before, but he can still tell that something is amiss. He doesn’t like when you aren’t smiling and happy, when you’re bothered and troubled, when you aren’t acting like you used to, back before he relocated you to his apartment.

It’s upsetting, really, and it leaves Kotarou desperate to figure out how to get a grin back onto your lips, how to make you laugh, how to please you again. A lot of Kotarou’s anger and punishments stem from a place of insecurity and worry about your perception of him – he’s really quite sensitive, especially coming from someone he idolizes and reveres as much as you, and so his solutions to any sort of non-desirable behavior from you is to simply try harder.

It’s seemed to have worked in his career – hours upon hours upon hours spent lagging after practices to work on his spikes just a bit more, to serve just a few more balls, to get just a bit better.

And he applies this same principle with you – he’d rather pull his nails off one by one than physically hurt you or deny you of food and water or leave you all alone or any number of things he could do to force your codependency on him to become stronger.

And so, Kotarou wracks his brain for any and all possibilities on how to get you to like him more, on how to make you happy, on how to be a better boyfriend.

And frankly, it results in a much, much worse time for you.

If you thought Kotarou was clingy before you yelled at him for installing locks on his windows, then he’s downright glued to your side afterwards, his breath constantly fanning on your cheeks and his voice seemingly never ending as it rings over and over and over in your ears.

If you thought being in the same room as him was difficult before you slapped him across the face for giving your ass a playful squeeze, it’s nothing compared to how he plants more and more kisses onto your unwilling lips, leaving pretty dresses and lacy lingerie out on your (forcefully shared) bed for you, the way he starts piling on the compliments with such frequency and urgency that it nearly makes you sick.

Kotarou has always been a lot, truly, and once his feelings for you are thrown into the mix he becomes too much – and when you’re angry at him, ignoring him or hurling insults at him or denying his affection?

Well, the sadness quickly dissipates into fear, anxiety eating at every inch of his body because what if you hate him now?

You’re meant for one another, sure, but what if he’s messed it all up by not being enough for you?

It’s the stuff of nightmares, and in order to correct it he’ll instead become your nightmare.

You hear him before you see him – his keys jingle loudly in his pocket, the rhythmic noises of the padlock on the front door locking back up sounding too familiar now. You’re sitting at the dining table, staring down at the new book Kotarou had gifted you a week ago – you’ve read it twice already in that span of time, but as his footsteps approach the kitchen area, you resolve to read it once again.

His voice is loud as he calls your name, and you can hear the smile on his face as his footsteps quicken, his pace nearly turning to a run as he approaches you. His arms are around you before you can stop them, his words already pouring out as he starts telling you all about his day, rambling on about how Meian and Hinata had promised to take Kotarou out to a new bar later this week.

He’s still hugging you as he goes on to tell you that it’s supposed to be super good, I’ll have to let you know how it is! Maybe I can bring something home for you – I know your favorite’s always been –

Your mouth is moving before you can even really stop yourself, the words seeming to burst out without your control. Don’t tell me about all your plans in the outside world – not when I’m stuck here wasting away in this fucking apartment.

Your voice is low, uneven, and immediately Kotarou tenses, his eyebrows drawing together into a pout. What are you talking about? I just want to bring you a good drink and maybe we can watch that trashy rom-com you love and –

You cut him off again by harshly shaking off his arms from around you, moving your elbows out in an attempt to get him off of you.

Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to get me a drink! I don’t want you to do anything for me – you need to let me go, Kotarou. You can’t keep me stuck here forever! I should be out there getting a drink too, and going to the fucking store and seeing my friends and living my life! You’re – you’re a terrible person, and I hate you!

Your chest is heaving by the time you finish your spiel, having started off in that same low tone but eventually getting to a yell. He’d backed off of you, watching you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind racing and trying to understand what you could possibly mean.

Stuck here? What were you saying?

You were happy here – you always return his hugs and his kisses and let him pull you closer to his chest at night and laugh at his jokes and smile at him and say you love him to and and and –

He moves back towards you, going to wrap his arms around you again, but this time you stand up and scurry off to the other end of table and now Kotarou can see the way your eyes are glossy, how you’re on the verge of tears and your lip is trembling.

Leave me alone, I can’t stand you! Not after what you’ve done to me!

And with that, you turn tail and run off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Behind the door your hands shake, the tears finally falling as you slide down the wood, landing in a sitting position and cursing Kotarou for not putting locks on the interior doors.

A fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks as you realize you can’t even use the toilet in peace, not without the constant, lingering threat of him watching you. It’s too much, and soon your head is in your hands, sobs wracking your body.

Meanwhile, Kotarou is still standing frozen, his heart and mind racing because you’re obviously upset. He doesn’t know why you’re overreacting like this, but the image of you with tears in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings, prompting him to rush and grab his car keys once more, flying out the front door and practically speeding to the nearest store, his grocery cart full.

He’s home roughly twenty minutes later, tears already pooling in his own eyes because the more he’s thought about the state you’re in the more he comes to the conclusion that it’s his fault, that he must’ve made you angry or sad and now he has to fix it.

He has to show you that you don’t hate him – you’re just having a rough day, that’s all. You’re just sad that he’s been gone all day and hasn’t been home to give you the proper love and care that you deserve. His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly even to leave his knuckles white, his teeth grinding and gritting together as he presses down on the gas gauge just a hair harder, desperation and guilt weighing heavily in his chest because god, he hates seeing you so upset.

And as he races back up to the apartment with all the groceries in his arms, he’s quick to wrap his fist against the bathroom door, asking in a breathless voice if you’re okay or if you’re hurt.

You’re still quietly crying, sniffling heavily and trying to ignore him as he knocks again. He knows he could bust the door open, easily overpowering you and giving him direct access to you, but the hurt look in your eyes flashes through his mind again and he decides against it. No, he needs to prove that he’s good enough at reading you and figuring out what you need – he needs to prove himself to you, to make you like him again.

He calls your name through the door again, before resting his forehead against the wood and wincing. I’m sorry for whatever I did, baby, I promise I didn’t mean it!

He hears you scoff at that, and bites his lip.

You know me, sometimes I just get carried away! I never meant to make you upset, you’ve got to know that. He pauses, shifting around the bags in his arms. You mean so much to me, I love you. I love you more than I think I should, but it’s okay! I’ll be better for you, I promise. I’ll be a better boyfriend and I’ll make you happy. Just – you just have to let me try, okay? Please baby, let me try.

It’s silent for a moment, and Kotarou’s chest feels tight.

Please, he tries one last time.

And although you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret it, some small part of you almost feels bad as you hear him sniffle through the wood, the sound of him crying obvious. You bite your lip, a small voice in the back of your head quietly wondering if you should believe him.

After all, does he really make you that unhappy? He’s always so eager and pathetically excited when you smile at him, and is it really so bad to have someone give you all their attention and time? You’re ashamed to admit some part of you almost likes it, and soon your body is moving before you can stop it.

The door opens and Kotarou’s heart is in his throat, the sight of you with red, puffy eyes and your lip caught between your teeth making something between a sigh of relief and a whimper slip from him.

The multitude of bags precariously balanced in his arms immediately have your eyes widening, the names of your favorite snacks peeking through the sacks and making that same pang in your heart twist again, the knowledge that he went out and bought all of this for you just because you were sad forcing you to take a step forward.

You don’t say anything, and Kotarou stares at you with wide eyes, a wild sort of look overtaking his parted lips and pink cheeks, and when you mumble something small, he has to physically strain himself to hear you.

You repeat your favorite drink, swallowed harshly and struggling to make eye contact with him. He mouths it back to himself, before slowly, shyly, smiling down at you.

You won’t regret, I promise! He laughs, the sound relieved, dropping all of the shopping bags on the ground and immediately scooping you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you nearly can’t breath, all the while that familiar, chiming laughter fills your ears.

I love you, I love you, I love you he repeats into your ear, keeping you close and occasionally squeezing tighter.

And even as something crumbles up inside you, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him too, shoving your face against his chest and nodding, your words muffled as you murmur the smallest I love you, too back.

And Kotarou can only beam down at you, repeating the phrase over and over until all the words start slurring together, until all you can do is slowly relax into the warmth of his arms, into the feeling of someone completely and utterly loving you.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Kotarou is less dangerous and honestly more pathetic than anything else.

He’s a fully grown man who’s desperate for someone to love, whose desperation becomes so deeply ingrained in his feelings towards you that he clutches onto you and never lets go.

Reading into your feelings festers delusions about how you feel towards him, feeding him pretty lies about how you really feel and what your actions really mean.

He builds a relationship between the two of you in his head, growing closer and more intimate with you than socially acceptable for a friendship, becoming more and more dependent on you and the praise you so willingly give him.

It’s heaven, really, and it leaves Kotarou blinded to the ugly side of his obsession.

He’s clingy and overly possessive, always touching you and calling you his and making sure that everyone sees the two of you together – that everyone knows that you’re his woman and he’s your man.

He wants to make sure that your relationship – fake or not – is idyllic, that you’re so happy with him that you could never even dream of wanting another man, never even entertain the notion of needing anyone else because Kotarou is everything you could ever want.

And while he won’t explicitly acknowledge any behavior that clashes with the pretty image of you and your love that he’s crafted in his head, he’s not immune to your negative reception of his touches and his rather aggressive affection.

You’ll have to walk on eggshells around him, careful to keep him from falling deeply into a spiral that could lead to your own slow demise being trapped under his thumb.

It’s stressful, a lifestyle that’ll leave you haggard and spent, tired to the point where slowly it will stop feeling like an act to return his hugs, to compliment his muscles, to tell him that you missed him while he was away at work.

It will feel less and less like a lie, the words slipping off your tongue so easily that it’ll leave you scared.

Because really, while Kotarou is overbearing and quite honestly scary with the way he barrels forwards and takes whatever he wants from you, eventually you’ll find yourself less and less angry, and more and more complacent. It could be worse, couldn’t it?

You have a warm bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and food to eat.

And the man that holds you flush to his chest in said bed, pays the rent for said roof, and hand-selects only meals he knows you like can’t possibly be that bad, right?

After all, doesn’t it feel good to be needed?

#_kotarou bokuto #_lee's profiles #_haikyuu #yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto #yandere kotaro bokuto #yandere kotarou bokuto #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere kotarou bokuto x reader

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loudclan-clangen · 29 days ago

Text

Cut for Time - Moon 31

Hey guys! New things! Sometimes when we have long moons, there are scenes that I want to show you guys but I just don't have room to do so. With the suggestion of @snailstep-and-her-clan and the help of the loudclan discord I was able to bring some of these scenes to life in written and illustrated form! Enjoy, and go follow the talented artists if you don't already!

art by @mammoth-clangen

“I’m sorry.” Peakpatch tries to look down at his paws shamefully, but Jaggedtail places a paw under his chin, gently urging Peakpatch to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“But it’s stupid-” tears prick at Peakpatch’s eyes.

“It’s not stupid. Don’t be sorry.” Jaggedtail’s voice is solid and comforting, Peakpatch fights the urge to melt into it. It feels wrong to seek comfort in his friend after rejecting him. It feels selfish.

“It is stupid. I like you, you like me, we should be mates! I just… I'm not ready…” Peakpatch’s tears begin to drip, and he doesn't have the will to fight it when Jaggedtail pulls him into his chest.

“I understand, Peakpatch. You don’t have to explain it. It’s okay. I’m here as your friend for as long as you need me to be. And when you’re ready to become mates- if you’re ever ready, I’ll be here then too. I’m not going anywhere. I already promised you that.” Peakpatch let out a shaky breath. He couldn't imagine a life without Jaggedtail. If keeping him at paw's length is what Peakpatch needed to do to keep him alive, then he would be happy to. He could find a way to be happy to.

art by @lurking-in-windclan-camp

Hushed voices echo out of the healer's den, but with the majority of the clan at a gathering there's no one to notice two mischievous apprentices hidden in the shadows of the cave.

“Ah! Shoot!” Dancepaw recoils from one of the piles of herbs, cradling an injured paw, “This one stings!”

Erminepaw peeks over at Dancepaw’s pile. “Hm, that must be nettle, then,” He pauses for a moment, before reaching over and gingerly sweeping it into another pile “Songpaw said that fireweed cures stings, so we’ll put those together. Oo, and the stinkweed too, since they’re both ‘weeds’!”

"What about the berries? They all look the same, so how are we supposed to tell the difference? Taste?" Dancepaw hooks a berry with his claw, raising it to his mouth before a sharp smack from Ermine sends it flying into the dark recesses of the cave.

"No! You never eat a berry that you don't know the name of! Don't you pay attention at all when Songpaw talks?" Ermine's scolding earns him an offended glare.

"Well if you know so much then you do it!" Dancepaw sulks around to the other side of the ledge, shouldering Erminepaw over to the berries.

Erminepaw bristles at the shove, but after a deep breath he begins to hesitantly sort berries, too proud to admit that the task is a bit above his level as well. Besides, Erminepaw assures himself, he's watched his mother do this a thousand times, how hard could it be?

“Songpaw better be grateful that we’re helping him out like this.” Dancepaw grumbles.

“I’m sure he will be when he finds out!” Erminepaw pointedly chirps back, trying to push the creeping feeling of unease back down his spine. If he makes a mistake the healers will fix it. What's the worst that could happen?

Art by @featherfrond

“Hey! Wait up!” Rosehiptree trots up to Kingfur as he slips past the jagged rocks that mark the camp entrance, their pelts brushing as she squeezes through the narrow gap alongside him.

“Everything alright?” Kingfur questions, on edge at the unusual attention. Rosehiptree was his sister Sockeyepelt's friend, it wasn't often that she paid him any mind. Perhaps his prank had inspired the pair of them, the thought sent a shiver down Kingfur's spine. His sister didn't exactly know where the line was when it came to practical jokes. He swore that he still had thorns lodged under his skin from the time she decided he needed to go swimming in a pit of devil's club. It was in his best interest to deflect for now. “Sockeyepelt is sunning back in the camp if you were looking for her.”

“I know that. I’m not looking for her.” Great, Kingfur thought to himself, watching Rosehiptree glance around at their surroundings. Had Sockeyepelt slipped out of camp ahead of them when he wasn't paying attention?

Satisfied with her sweep of the area, Rosehiptree turned her attention back to Kingfur, a wide grin slowly taking hold as ice blue eyes sparkled with delight, “I’m looking for the genius who got Juneaucliff to walk around camp puffed up like a ptarmagin with all that junk smeared on his stupid face!”

Kingfur felt pride well in his chest, but quelled it, not about to let himself fall for such blatant flattery. "You didn't seem to find it all that genius from where I was standing. I didn't think you even payed enough attention to notice."

Rosehiptree rolled her eyes, playfully bumping shoulders with the tom. "That's just cause that's what I wanted you to think. I'm not blind!" Their gazes lock for a moment, before Kingfur glances away, his will power crumbling by the second. Had her eyes alway been that blue? Was that some kind of trick to make him let down his guard? Is there some kind of herb that makes your eyes bluer?

Kingfur takes an instinctive step away from the she-cat, and she hesitates, her gaze dropping as she continues dejectedly, "Juneau's a good guy, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he'd make a great mate, but we're just not on the same page, you know? He deserves someone who's gonna make him happy, and that's not me. It's never gonna be me. But, when I say 'never' he just hears 'not now'." Her eyes flick nervously between her paws as her voice trails off.

This isn't a prank. The realisation washes over him all to late, as Kingfur searches for something to say to her, but caught off guard he comes up empty. Rosehiptree clears her throat and flicks her tail, raising her head once again, and summoning a polite smile. "Well I just wanted to uh, say thanks for getting him off my back for a while." She steps to the side, turning back to camp, and Kingfur's stomach twists.

"Hey, uh-" Having her attention turned back to him once again made some childish part of Kingfur wish he had just let her walk away. But he steeled himself, plastering a confident grin on his face to make up for the fact that his stomach seemed to be trying to climb up out of his throat. "I'm glad I could help, and..." Kingfur's brain was working overtime to find something witty. He wanted to make her laugh again. "I'm glad that you were entertained. That'll make it worth it when he slits my throat in my sleep later tonight."

Rosehiptree grinned again, circling back to his side. "Well at least you'll have died for a worthy cause." Kingfur was going to die right here if she kept smiling at him like that. Would that count as a worthy cause? The tip of his tail flicked rapidly as she approached.

Bolstered by his reciprocated playfulness, Rosehiptree stepped in front of him, brushing the length of her body across his chest, "Of course, if you needed some protection I could always sleep in your nest tonight." Her tail flicked under his chin as she started back to camp once again.

Every fur on Kingfur's pelt stood on end. If he had any brain function at this moment he might worry over his resemblance to a porcupine, but even if he had the mind to do something about it, he couldn't have, as despite feeling like his blood was being heated over a flame, his muscles suddenly seemed to be made of unmovable stone. Perhaps this was a prank, intending to leave him frozen in the middle of this trail for a returning patrol to discover.

"Catch me something while you're out. A puffed up ptarmagin prefferably!" Rosehiptree called to him over her shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” Kingfur stuttered, praying to starclan that his lungs would remember how to work before he passed out. Or at least that he wouldn't topple over before Rosehiptree was out of sight. Mediator heirs weren't supposed to do that, but Kingfur figured that starclan would understand the extenuating circumstances and take pity on him.

That's all for today folks! If you enjoy this I'll do it more! It's a great way for all you background character loving freaks (affectionate) to get some more time with your poor forgotten gays. And it also lets me expand on some ideas that are hard to fit into the comic, like Rosehiptree's complicated feelings about Juneau, which is really fun for me! She's just a heart throb idk what to say. Every man of appropriate age is falling for her. (Except Cave he's too busy being poisoned)

#if you want to have a go at doing art for the next “cut for time” scene #or see some humanized!loudclan art #or participate in something called “fish crimes”#join the discord #loudclan #clangen #cut for time #clan generator #wc clangen #wc oc #wc oc art #warriors oc #warrior cats oc #warrior cats art #clangen art #collaboration #collab

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blueicequeen19 · 8 months ago

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Desperate

Warnings: filthy toxic step bro JJ with all the teasing and creampies 💦

I sit down on the couch with my bowl of cereal just as JJ emerges from the bathroom down the hall. He’s in nothing but a towel, water still dripping down his sculpted body as he smirks at me. There was no hiding the massive bulge behind the towel. I advert my eyes, refusing to give him the attention he’s seeking despite the way heat pools in my stomach.

“Mornin’ sis.” JJ calls as his bedroom door shuts but I ignore him. I hated when he called me that. Our parents had been married for six weeks. There was no reason he should call me “sis”. Especially not when he spent part of his night in my bed..

“God, you feel so fucking good. Shh, gotta be quiet for me. Wouldn’t want your mom to hear how you like to be fucked.” JJ’s hand clamped down on my mouth as moved on top of me, my legs pinned between his while he fucked me slow and deep, his chain hanging in my face. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was feel as the liquid fire in my veins burned its was through me..

“Sis?” I blink, nearly dropping my bowl when I find JJ standing in front of me completely dressed minus his shirt.

“Don’t call me that.” I spat, jumping to my feet and discarding my bowl in the sink. Mom could yell at me later. Right now I needed to get out of this house.

I go to move when suddenly he’s there, caging me in against the sink, his body firmly pressed against mine. My hair is up in a ponytail and he quickly finds that spot on my neck to leave wet kisses. Goosebumps coat my skin and I lose all train of thought. I hated the affect he had on me.

“S-stop. My mom is here.” I breathe, leaning my body away from the temptation of his.

“She’s already gone.” His hands slide around my waist to unbutton my shorts. I reach back to palm him over his own shorts, already finding him hard. His hand slides into my panties, earning a chuckle from him at what he finds.

“You’re awfully wet for someone telling me to stop.” JJ whispers, circling my clit as I squeeze him hard.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I rasp as one thick finger slides inside my pulsing core. “Maybe I’m thinking about John B.” JJ growls in my ear, shoving another finger in painfully as I grip the sink for dear life. I can see the way him and his best friend are constantly compared. I know it bothers him yet I taunt him anyway.

“You’re not thinking about John B.” JJ snaps, removing his hand and leaving me desperate to be filled. He shoves my shorts down my thighs so my legs are trapped together and I feel his cock suddenly against my ass. Pain flares in my scalp as he yanks back on my hair, making me arch my back and stick my ass out for him.

“John B wouldn’t dirty up his innocent little step sister the way I do.” JJ slides his cock through my slit, slapping once against my clit before pushing inside. I bite my lip to keep from moaning as he fills me deliciously deep. But even like this, I can’t help but fight him.

“Good thing I’m not his step sister then.” The words barely leave my lips before JJ slams forward, making me yelp as he pins me against the sinks edge. The hand in my hair yanks out the band so my hair falls like a curtain then it tightens on the back of my neck as he forces me to bend over.

“I lied.” His words are barely more than a whisper. His free hand tightens on my waist as I try to piece together what he’s talking about. Lied about what?

Then it dawns on me. She’s still here. I fight against him in a panicbut it’s hopeless. He starts to move and my knees grow weak. He’s thrusts are careful and soundless but still so deep I practically have to hold my breath to keep from moaning loudly.

My grip tightens on the sink as I near my peak, his hand on my neck applying the perfect about of pressure. The sounds of his muffled pleasure filled grunts only add fuel to the fire. Just as my eyes start to roll, his hips falter and he empties inside me with a deep exhale.

I don’t get a chance to be angry because a second later I hear a door shut on the opposite side of the house. JJ quickly tucks himself back in his shorts while I yank mine back up and move to the opposite side of the room. I grab my backpack off the hook and run out the back door just as I hear my mother’s footsteps in the kitchen. My dirt bike is on the opposite side of the house but I’m too wound up and angry to care. I’ll fucking walk to school.

JJ fucking Maybank was an asshole.

Now I had to walk to school with cum dripping out of me and my hair a mess. My heart was racing a mile a minute. I couldn’t calm down. I’d have to cut through the woods to get to the main road on time for school. Why did he do this to me? Why did I give in to him so easily? What would’ve happened if my mom had caught us?

The crunch of a tire on gravel and the smell of gasoline snaps my attention back to reality. It wasn’t until it was too late that I noticed the sound of his dirt bike coming up behind me. I quickened my pace but it didn’t matter as he came around and quickly parked in front of me, killing the engine.

“You going to walk to school?” JJ smirks and I resist the urge to punch him as he swings his leg off the bike and casually walks in front of me.

“Go fuck yourself.” I spat.

“I just did.” My nostrils flare and I kick my leg out, knocking his bike over. The amusement fades from his eyes and I know I’ve fucked up. But this is what we do. We fight and we fuck.

“Pick it up.” JJ demands, fisting my shirt when I try to back away.

“Kiss my ass.”

“Keep it up and I’m claiming that hole next with no lube.” My insides shrink with panic and I refuse to call his bluff. He’d do it right now if I pushed him too far.

“Get off me. You almost got us caught on purpose.” I hiss, slapping at his chest as he backs me against a large tree.

“Isn’t that the fun part? The thrill of getting caught?” JJ leans in to kiss me but I quickly turn my head, feeling more of his wetness soaking my panties.

“Not for me. We agreed this stayed in the bedroom. Now you’re cornering me in the kitchen and right outside the house. What would Luke do?” I push at him chest when he grabs a handful of my ass.

“Luke would give me a high five.” JJ chuckles, pressing himself against me like he can’t get enough. I roll my eyes, knowing he’s probably right. None of us had hardly seen Luke since he married my mom. I think we all preferred it that way.

“Let go. We’re going to be late.”

“I’ll give you a ride if you let me bend you over my bike.” JJ murmurs against my neck, making me grip his shirt as my knees threaten to give out. Fucking neck kisses will be the death of me.

“Are you going to let me cum?” I breathe, feeling his cock already hard again and pressed against my stomach.

“A ride and an orgasm? Someone is getting greedy.” JJ kisses my lips and I moan, letting his tongue dive into my mouth. His hand dips into my panties, two ringed fingers shoving his cum back inside me as I pant against his lips. My hands fist his shirt as he brings me to the edge, his palm pressing hard against my clit.

“Please, J.” I whimper, my legs starting to shake as he fingers me harder.

“Begging already.” JJ chuckles darkly before yanking away. I cry out in frustration but in the blink of an eye he’s yanked my shorts down and shoved me to my hands and knees on the leaf covered ground. I’m manhandled into place, my thighs pressed together as he comes up behind me.

“Fuck, I love seeing you like this.” JJ groans, sliding in balls deep with little resistance. I was so wet.

“A mess?” I rasp, my fingers biting into the hard ground. JJ fists my hair, jerking my head back at an odd angle so he can whisper in my ear.

“Desperate.” I whimper, too needy to fight him at this point. He was right. I was desperate for what only he could give me.

So I took it as he pounded me into the dirt like I was nothing but a hole for his pleasure. I knew in more than one way I was fucked when it came to him.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #obx2 #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank

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sour-snak3 · 10 months ago

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Ghost x male reader

A/N: I read too many @thegnomelord stuff and I just wanted to make my own thing. Go read their stuff, it's honestly so good and their fics/small blurbs are definitely must reads.

CW/: meanish reader, werewolf reader, knotting, breeding kink, domtop reader, subbot simon, biting, marking, mating press, ruts, monster fucking, nonhuman genitalia, scent kink, shameless smut, swearing, english is not my first language, first fic, mistakes probably

Being a werewolf comes with it's perks. Having enhanced speed, enhanced strength, a fast metabolism, enhanced hearing, ect. However, it also comes with it's downsides. One of them being a rut. They are annoying and harder to deal with without a mate.

Which leads you to now, you rutting against your mattress with your lieutenants shirt inside your mouth. Huffs and groans spill from your mouth as you desperately seek for any kind of release. So deep into your pleasure, you fail to hear your room door open, your lieutenant standing within the frame.

"Oi, what the fock are you doin'?"

You snap my head over to the door and all your movements come to a halt. Neither of you move, no sounds coming from the both of you besides your panting. Simon stares for a moment before swiftly closing and locking the door.

"You like getting off on your superior, huh?" Your member twitched but you remained looking at him. He walks over to your bed and pushes you on your back. You try to get up but he crawls on top of you. "Stay down mutt. I'll give you some assistance if you're good."

Deciding to humor him, you let him continue. He pushes up his mask just enough that you can see from his chin to his nose. He brings his face down to your neck and begins to suck rather roughly. He nips and bites and after awhile, you've had enough.

Growling, you turn him over and you get on top of him, quickly reversing the roles. The heat bubbling inside almost becomes too much for you, but you hold it in for awhile longer, not wanting to harm Simon (at least not too badly).

You shove three fingers in Simon's mouth, grinning as he chokes on your thick fingers. You let your fingers be coated in a thick layer of saliva before taking them out from his mouth. Getting impatient, you yank all of his bottom wear off before turning him on his stomach.

He squirms as he feels your thick fingers prod at his puckered hole. A gasp sprouts from his lips as you shove your fingers in those warm, velvety walls. He begins to tremble when your fingers move in and out. He knows it's only your fingers but he can't help but feel so full.

After deeming him ready enough, you pull out your fingers and he whines. He should find it scary how easy it was for you to reverse the roles but he can't help but get more and more turned on. He was so lost in his own mind that he didn't realize you were moving until he felt your knotted cock poke at his hole.

He practically screams when you push inside. The stretch your inhuman cock makes inside his hole drives him crazy. The burn is so powerful and he can't help but enjoy it. His bottom half moves on its own as it grinds and pleads for you and your giant cock-

He yelps and you change his position to a maiting press. You laugh as you stare at his already fucked out expression. "Aw, does the poor puppy want some more?" you taunt. 'I do', he wants to say, but his pride is ever to big to give in. He gasps as you suddenly fuck into him. "Answer me, mutt."

"Yes. Please." he begs. He feels humiliated, but he doesn't care anymore. He needs you. You quickly responded to his answer and fucked into him as he sobbed. Gasps and groans fill every corner of the room as you pound into his pretty pink hole.

Simon feels heat bubbling in his lower abdomen, signaling that he's close. You know this, you can smell his sickly sweet scent fill the air. It seems he did some research on your species if the way he bares his neck to you means anything. You wanted to wait on marking him but who are you to judge if he wants you to do it now?

Your breath pans on his neck before you bite down, hard. The wolf inside you feels content as you finally mark him. As you finally make him yours. The bite stimulates him so much that he cums. It shoots all over his and yours chest, only making a bit of a mess. You release your lips from his neck but you don't stop. After all, you haven't finished yet.

You continue pounding him as you feel the heat bubbling more and more. Eventually, you snap. You pound into him one final time and your knot pushes itself inside of him. He screams as your knot goes inside and as your cum fills him to the brim. You both stay there panting before you break the silence.

"So, round two?"

"Oh fock off! Round two my ass..."

#simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod x male reader #cod #ghost cod #male reader #cod smut #did i cook

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lipglossanon · 2 months ago

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Day 13

Kink: Mommy kink

Pairing: Subby Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, stepcest, mommy kink, nipple play, nursing handjob, cum eating, begging, dirty talk

not proofread

“Well, which one do you want to watch?”

You hold up a movie in each hand.

“I haven’t seen either one,” Leon’s blue eyes bounce from one case to another. “Do you have a favorite?”

You shrug, shifting on your sock feet.

“I’ve seen both and I like both. Which is why you’re picking,” you grin at him.

His brows pinch as he looks between you and the movies.

“I guess I’ll pick Dead Silence.“

Your grin widens, “Alriiight.”

“Wait, should I have picked Ghost Ship?”

You laugh and pop the movie into your player, “Nah, it’s not too scary. Plus, it’s aged a bit compared to now. Some of the effects might seem cheesy.”

He shrugs, “S’fine with me.”

“You don’t like scary movies do you?”

He flushes and ducks his head as you settle onto the couch, tucking your legs to the side so you can lean into his arm.

“Not really,” he clears his throat and presses play.

It’s already dark outside when you two start the movie; both parents are out for the night so the house is dark and empty. Leon only jumps at a few scenes, squeezing more and more into your space until you’re cuddling him against your chest. By the time the credits roll, you’re petting his hair and rubbing his back.

“That’s scarier than you made it seem,” he pouts, voice muffled by your breasts.

“Sorry, I don’t find it that scary just a bit creepy. Guess my judgement’s a little skewed,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

He nuzzles a little more into your chest, lips brushing the swell of your breasts through your flimsy tank top.

“Do you want me to baby you, Leon?” You coo, amusement in your words.

“Mmhmm,” he softly bites your nipples through your shirt making you gasp.

“Aww, poor little thing.”

He tugs your top down until your breasts spill out, shirt cupping them underneath. Groaning, he latches onto a nipple, teeth and tongue lashing against the bud as he pinches and rubs the other. Pulling away with a wet pop, he shifts until his head is cushioned in your lap, shoving his sweats down so he can stroke his cock.

“Mommy, wanna suck your tits,” he mumbles, cheeks a rosy pink.

“Such a good boy for asking,” you tease. “Want mommy to jerk you off?”

“Please,” his hips buck, cock bouncing with the movement. “Please, mommy.”

Your left hand reaches out to rub the head of his dick while the other guides his mouth to latch onto a hard bud. Squeezing your thighs together, slick pools in your panties while Leon hungrily sucks your nipple. Your fingers loosely wrap around his cock and you start stroking him off. It’s not long before he begins to thoughtlessly hump your hand, precum leaking over your fingers to drip off your wrist.

“Leon, you’re being a messy boy,” you click your tongue and he whines, mouth falling away from one breast to seek out the other.

“‘M sorry, mommy, feels so good, can’t help it,” he pants, nosing across your chest to find your other nipple. His tongue laps at the hard bud before he suckles it into his mouth.

His moans and whimpers vibrate against your skin, making you jerk him off faster.

“Oh, f-fuck, mommy, so good, oh god,” he stops sucking on your tits and presses his face against the underside of your breasts, practically smothering his face.

“Shit, I’m g’nna cum,” he keens. “Mommy, mommy—you’re gonna make me cum, ohhh, g’nna get your hand all messy, fuck.”

He thrusts up into the tight channel of your fist, ropes of cum spurting from the tip to land all over his stomach and chest. Hot thick strands of seed coat your fingers and palm as you softly stroke him through his orgasm. Leon whines and twitches away once it’s too much.

Pulling your hand away, you lean back to make sure Leon sees you lick the mess off of your hand.

“Fuck,” he surges up and kisses you, licking his own spend from your mouth.

Moaning, you tug his hair as the messy tongue filled kiss shifts into a full blown make out. He pulls away first, but only so he can grab you up and toss you over his shoulder.

“If we keep going, I think we might get caught,” he states, voice thick with arousal. “So bedroom is best.”

“Sounds good to me,” you laugh, letting Leon carry you off to his room.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #lipglossanon kinktober 2024 #subby stepbro!leon #subby stepbro!leon s kennedy #fem!reader #subby stepbro!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut

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beenbaanbuun · 1 year ago

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seventeen’s reaction to their youngest member getting injured

choi seungcheol

has already lost 10 years of his life just from worrying about you

loses 5 more when he has to accompany you to the hospital because of your broken leg

he tried to save the lecture until after he knows you’re okay, but he can’t help it when the leader in him comes out

the conversation *cough* reprimand *cough* lasts for the whole car journey and by the time you’ve got the the hospital, you’d already been blocking it out for 10 minutes

“you need to be more careful,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. he might be frustrated, but he still wanted to show you he cared. “it might be a broken leg this time but who knows what it’ll be next time!”

at the end of the day he just cares about you too much to see you hurt

yoon jeonghan

if it isn’t bad, he’ll just tease you about how clumsy you are

probably still teases you if it is bad, but when you start tearing up because of how much it hurts, will immediately stop

causes hell just to make sure you’re getting the best treatment possible because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t make you were were as comfortable as possible

eventually calms down when you assure him you’re fine and you feel perfectly alright with what you’d been given

leaves 80% of the lecturing to seungcheol and just gives you a tiny one himself, mostly about how you’re not allowed to worry him

once he knows you’re feeling a little better, a switch will flip and he’ll go back to his regular annoying self just to try and get things back to normal

“well at least you didn’t fall down the stairs,” he laughed before cutting it short just a few seconds later, “oh, wait… never mind, you did!”

hong jisoo

was the only one around when you cut your finger open with the kitchen knife

doesn’t know what to do so he sends a text to seungcheol and shoves your hand under the cold tap for a while

tries to cheer you up but doesn’t really know how to when you’re bleeding profusely and crying just as much

eventually lands on his usual method of doing stupid shit just to get the tiniest smile out of you while you wait for anyone else to come and do the important part of patching you up

“keep your hand there,” he tells you as he lets go of your wrist and steps away from you, “get ready to feel better.”

100% does that silly little dance of his which has you cry laughing instead of just regular crying

you almost forget how much it hurts and shua considers his job done!

wen junhui

kind of clueless on what to do when you go to him with a bloody nose and tell him you got hit in the face playing foot volleyball

sits you down on the sofa whilst he frantically google’s how to stop nose bleeds

asks you to go and grab tissues before realising that you’re the one he’s supposed to be helping and goes to get them himself

winces a bit when he gets blood on his hands but remembers that he’s doing it for you and the grossness of it goes away pretty quickly

tries to talk you through the pain, letting you know about what he’s been doing with his day and what he’s planning to do later

“and then you came in to talk to me and i think that’s it,” he finished up recounting every second of his day as he switched the tissue for a clean one, “and then later i’m going to head to the practice rooms to-”

definitely forgets about your injury once the bleeding has stopped and boops you on the nose only to profusely apologise when you wince in pain

kwon soonyoung

if you could run away with a sprained ankle, you definitely should because hoshi will turn up his clinginess by about 80% the moment he hears that you have an injury

will not let you out of his sight until he knows you’re okay again

unfortunately for you that means you have a permanent body guard telling you what you can and can’t do which gets very old very fast

you cant even hide from him because god knows he will seek you out and yell at you for walking on your bad ankle too much

might be overbearing but in reality he just wants you to get better as quickly as possible because it makes him sad to see you in pain

“sit down and let me do it,” hoshi shouted as he noticed you trying to get a bowl of cereal for yourself, “and you wonder why i like to keep an eye on you…”

you eventually give into the clinginess in the hopes that he’ll get bored after a while… he doesn’t…

jeon wonwoo

freezes when he spots you crying and holding your wrist in front of the stove

literally does not know what to do in this situation because he usually palms it off onto one of his other members

but he’s the only one around and you’ve just been burnt and desperately need someone to help

so he walks over to you and drags you to the sink with your good wrist, all whilst muttering complaints about how you need to be more careful

strokes your hair when you’re running your wrist under the cold water to try and soothe you just a little

“you’re okay, y/n,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “i know it hurts but the longer you hold it under the water, the less it’ll hurt in the long run.”

passes you along to the next member that comes along but will check up on you every few minutes just to make sure you’re okay

lee jihoon

his first response is always ‘go find seungcheol’ when you go to him with an injury, but sometimes he’s the only one around and you look so upset and fuck… he’ll have to deal with this

very methodical about it - asks you what’s wrong, finds out what he needs to do, does it

he’ll try and hide his smile as you tell him about what stupid thing you were doing that got you hurt this time, but tries to hide it because at the end of the day, you’re still injured

usually shuffles in close whilst he’s bandaging you up just so you can lean on him in it gets too painful at any point

he refuses to complain about you leaning on him when you’re hurt because how can he deny you physical affection when it’s obviously making you feel better

in reality he just has a soft spot for you and uses you being hurt as an excuse to let you hug him with no complaints

“there we go, kid,” he rubs your arm affectionately, “all patched up…”

lee seokmin

panics because oh god his kid is hurt and he doesn’t know what to do and WHERE IS SEUNGCHEOL

will sit down and hold you close while he rings around the members to try and find one to come and help

he claims the cuddling is to help soothe, but you both know it’s so he can calm himself down more than anything

eventually gets ahold of another member and begs them to come home and help

breathes a sigh of relief when they agree; now his only job is making sure you’re calm and comfortable and nothing hurts too much

cue seokmin literally becoming your butler for the next 20 minutes whilst you wait for someone else to get home because he needs to make sure that you have everything you need

“do you need more tea?” he asks as you take the final sip. not even a second passes before the mug is taken from you and more tea is poured. “i’ll get you some more, just so you have it if you want it, okay?”

kim mingyu

tries his hardest to help but he can’t help but gag when you tell him about how you trapped you fingers in the car door

doesn’t know what to do so he literally wraps up your whole hand in gauze and calls it a day - it’s someone else’s problem now

spends more time trying to cheer you up than he actually does helping with your injury because at least he knows how to make you smile

tells you bad jokes until you can’t breathe from laughter and you’re begging him to stop

he stops but only so you can get your breath back, and then he starts again because laughter is clearly a great pain killer

“if it’s more jokes you want then it’s more jokes i have, pipsqueek,” mingyu smiled at you as you frantically shook your head, “no more jokes? well that’s boring… how about this one? why did the old man-”

continues until someone more qualified to deal with your gross injury gets home

xu minghao

doesn’t lecture you in the same way seungcheol does, but definitely gives you a speech about how you shouldn’t be putting yourself in dangerous situations

rolls his eyes at you when you try and pass the blame onto another member who you claimed to be your ‘partner in crime’ because he knows it was definitely just your own clumsiness

still tries his hardest to help clean up the scratch on your face that you got from who knows what - minghao had zoned out part way through your convoluted story

lets you squeeze his hand if the antiseptic makes your scratch hurt too much

even let’s you pick out a cute bandaid to put over it just because he knows it’ll cheer you up

“if your stylist gets mad at you, don’t come crying to me,” he grumbles as he presses a kind kiss to the bandaid, “it’s your own fault, no one else’s.”

tells you to be careful before you go running off to cause more trouble

boo seungkwan

very much an ‘i told you this would happen’ kind of person, even if he had not ‘told you so’ like he says he did

will roll his eyes when you get brought back to the dorms with a cast on your wrist, but is the first to help you carry your stuff inside

yells at you if you even think about lifting a finger but complains about how you’re making him do everything for you

you always tell him if it’s that much trouble you’ll do it yourself, but he’ll just glare at you and tell you to stop talking nonsense

threatens to tell seungcheol whenever he catches you with your arm out of your sling

would actually go through with it if he thought you were doing any real damage to your arm

“the doctor wouldn’t like you doing that, you know,” he muttered as he watched you stretch out your aching limb, “neither would seungcheol…”

choi hansol

vernon knows that if you go to him with an injury, you have exhausted literally every other option you have

literally clueless about what to do when you walk up to him with a black eye because you ran into a glass door

google is his best friend as he frantically searches how to reduce bruising

has no qualms with sending you to retrieve your own ice pack from the freezer as he does some more googling…

won’t do much to try and cheer you up other than putting on a movie and grabbing snacks for the two of you to share

doesn’t complain about holding your ice pack in place when you fall asleep on his shoulder… after all, it just means more snacks for him

falls asleep himself before the film is over and your ice pack ends up on the floor… so much for trying to reduce the bruising

lee chan

probably his fault you were injured in the first place so he makes you promise that if he helps then you won’t tell any of the older members

you only agree to the deal when he offers to buy you a meal as well as helping you clean and bandage the cuts on your knees from where he tripped you

he honestly tries his hardest to help, partly because he feels bad and partly because he doesn’t want to face anyone’s wrath when they find out he’s the reason you’re injured

tries is the main word, though, as he ends up having to get help from someone else anyway

he chooses the least likely member to get him in trouble and together him and mingyu puzzle over what to do about your knees

you eventually end up guiding them through the process of cleaning them and then wiping them down with antiseptic before bandaging them

“do you think i did a good job?” he asks once the bandages were secured over the grazes. you glared at him. “fine, a good enough job for you to not tell on me…”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt scenarios #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen reactions #svt fic #svt reactions #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt addition #seventeen addition #svt 14th member #seventeen 14th member

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