#like his wrist that are too small for his arms or his feet that are too short for his legs so

[iatemyboyfriend3]

wc: 1.9k

johnny “soap” mactavish

warnings: mdni 18+, piv smut, oral s*x, johnny is a dog, pwp with a tinge of fluff

You’re lying on the edge of the small, creaky bed, pretending to read, but you can feel Soap’s gaze burning into you. The tiny hostel room offers no escape—just the one bed and the rickety chair he’s claimed across from you. He’s sitting there now, one leg propped up on the chair’s arm, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he finally says, “Ach, if yer gonna ignore me, at least try tae look like yer actually readin’, eh?”

You keep your eyes on the book, letting the silence stretch between you. The way he’s watching you is almost too much, but riling Johnny up never hurt anyone except your poor cunny that’s been drooling since you two came into the room and he had kissed you sloppily and threw you on the bed- ignoring your soaked panties until now.

“You just gonna sit there, lass, or are ye plannin’ on acknowledgin’ yer bonnie lad?” His voice, thick with that heavy Scottish brogue, pulls a smile from you even as you try to play it cool.

You glance up, giving him a look of mock annoyance. “And what if I’m too busy now, Soap?” You reply, challenging his suggestive tone.

“Too busy?” He’s up on his feet in a flash, crossing the room in a few long strides, that familiar glint in his eye. You can almost picture the invisible tail wagging behind him. “Aye, I’ll give ye somethin’ to be busy with, hen,” he says, his voice low and testing, just close enough for you to feel the rumble of his voice.

Before you can react, his hands are on you, fingers digging into your sides with practiced precision, tickling you mercilessly. You burst into laughter, squirming under his touch as he pins your back against the hard mattress.

“Soap!” you manage to gasp out between gasps and dry giggles, your hands weakly trying to push him away.

“Aye, what’s the matter, dove? Can’t handle a wee bit o’ fun?” His grin widens, the sound of your laughter fueling his playful attack.

Finally, you manage to grab hold of his wrists, your fingers brushing against his skin just a little too softly. “Alright, alright! I give!” you say, your voice light, but the way you glance up at him innocently has his eyes darkening, something almost predatory flashing in his gaze.

Soap stops, but doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “That’s what I thought, lass.” His voice is softer now, still teasing, but with that underlying warmth that always makes your heart skip a beat.

"Look at ye, lass,” he murmurs, his voice thick with that familiar Scottish lilt that never fails to send a shiver down your spine. “Ye’re lookin’ at me like a starvin’ dog watches a bone.”

You scoff, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the way he’s looking at you, the heat in his eyes, makes it impossible to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “Maybe I am,” you agree, your voice not quite as steady as you’d like.

Soap laughs, a low, rumbling sound that’s more of a purr. “Aye, I can see that,” he says, and you can feel the low vibration of his grumble against your lips. His hands are resting on your upper thighs as his thumbs trace so so close to your heat- you have the urge to throw your legs over his waist and beg for more, for him to touch you more

“Tell me, dove,” he drawls, his breath hot on your lips. “What is it ye want, eh? Ye just gonna lie there all pretty, or are ye gonna ask for what ye really need?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words sends a shiver up your neck to your cheeks. He’s drawing it out, and it’s driving you crazy. You reach up, trying to pull him down to you, but Soap catches your wrists, holding them down to the mattress with a grin.

“Ah ah, not so fast, hen,” he chides, his voice dripping with playful menace. “Ye’ve got to ask nicely.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep from squirming under his gaze. He’s enjoying this, watching you struggle to keep your composure, waiting to jump on you as soon as you ask all nicely and pretty for him. Finally, you give in, your voice barely above a whisper as you murmur, “Please, Soap.”

His eyes darken, and he releases your wrists, his warm hands finally slide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “That’s more like it, lass,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss that leaves you aching for more.

“Ye’re mine, lass,” he whispers against your skin, his voice a low growl as he finally kisses you. His mouth was warm, his tongue heavy, and his scarred, calloused hands had slid around to cradle either side of your spine as he tucks you in closer, your bodies pressed together, your chest empty of breath from the pressure of his heavy body, your mind spinning.

Johnny's fingers tighten into your soft flesh and you press harder into him. His lips tread down to your chin and over to your neck, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses as he lays his body weight into you on the bed, straddling your hips with his thick muscled thighs.

Johnny loved grabbing your soft skin, anywhere and everywhere- he wastes no time ripping your clothes off and playfully spitting on your panty-clad pussy, rubbing the saliva into the already soaked fabric.

"Look at tha', bonnie" he chuckles as he crawls further down the bed and throws your legs over his shoulders, roughly stuffing his face in between your thighs and into your damp panties and shakes his head roughly- his nose nudging your clit hard and over and over again as he sharply inhales you.

Your hands grips anything you can reach, hips bucking up into his face as tears blurs your vision. He moves back from your heat and eyes your now see-through panties, licking his lips thats now covered in stickiness and saliva nastily.

“Can't get 'nough at how wet ye are.” His finger gently touches your engorged clit over the fabric, “Haven’t even licked ye properly, and ye’re soaked tae the fuckin’ sheets.” He plays with your panty clad pussy with just the tip of his thick rough finger, giving sweet kisses to your clit as you whine and try to shimmy away.

“Johnny, please!” He looks up at you, and you could see his eyes darken into obsidian as he falls for your needy state. He finally pulls down your soiled panties and dives in, sucking roughly on your clit sending shivers down your spine. Deft fingers toying with your hole and finally being pushed in, stretching your walls with ease and curling inside you.

The more his fingers curled inside you with precision, the more your velvety walls closed around them, pulsating even due to the dual pleasure you were receiving. He groaned as he sucks harder, your back arching as his tongue laps the spot, all to make you ruin his face just the way he wants you to do. You feel that build up in the pit of your stomach rise faster than you can handle.

“So close,” You whimper, your breath catching in your throat as he curls his fingers once, twice, three times to bring it out of you, your mouth hangs open in reaction to the pull of your orgasm washing over you instantly. He eventually pulls his fingers out and stuffs them into your mouth, watching you suck them dry as he groans. And saliva mixed with cum shines on his lips, a guttural groan erupting from him due to how you swirl your tongue around his fingers to taste yourself.

“Should I just have ye hang o’er this bed and use that bonnie mouth o’ yours?” You frantically nod yes but he kisses your forehead hotly before moving to the side of you, pulling your leg up.

“Maybe a wee bit later. But for now, I just neetae feel ye.” He spits in his other hand and rubs his cock to get it slicked, moving up slightly to press the tip up at your aching core, both of you moaning as he enters you like an intruder.

“That’s it, let everyone know how much ye missed me. Ye can do it.” His endless praise makes you moan louder, and in turn he touches you all over, finding that exploring your body was all that he ever wanted, that you were a work of perfection that he couldn’t get enough of forever.

He tilts your head towards his and kisses you, the intensity making your head spin. He keeps up his pace, making you whine in his mouth a ‘no more’. You pull back and catch your breath, moving your hand down to grip the sheets. He kisses you again, and you moan into his mouth as he doesn’t retreat despite the desperate shallow breaths you both let out.

He quickly threw his hand down to rub at your clit, and you cry out and grab at his wrist, your fingers turning white from the tightness in which you grip him- and it was enough to thrust you into release, your grip on his wrist tightening as you clench all around his length, hips shaking at overstimulation.

Stars blur your vision as you heard your name, maybe his voice thick with pleasure. You wanted to speak, but only a choked moan escaped as you felt yourself being filled. It wasn't until he whispered in your ear, gently patting your cheek, that you came to, his thrusts slowing as your body stopped shaking.

“Hey, stay wi’ me, aye?” He kissed your neck as you opened your eyes again, and he fixed you to turn to face him, looking over your face and kissing it in its wake.

“Love ye more than anythin’ else in the world, yeah?” he whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity as he carefully cradled you in his arms. After a moment, he gently pulled away to grab a rag, cleaning you both off with slow, tender movements. When he returned, he settled beside you, brushing his lips against your skin, placing gentle kisses along your neck, shoulders, and anywhere he could reach. “Such a sweet lass ye are for me,” he murmured between kisses, his voice warm, as he held you close, offering quiet reassurance and comfort as your breaths evened out.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice playful. “Get some rest now, love.” You shoot him a teasing glance, lips curling into a smile. “Sleep? You really think I’m going to sleep after that?” His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Aye, I think ye will. But I’ll keep ye company just in case.”

[hime-naya]

Caleb sat at the dining table, pretending to scroll through his phone, though his eyes weren’t as casual as they seemed. They flicked upward, catching your reflection in the mirror as you adjusted the stylish half blazer draped over your shoulders. You tilted your head, scrutinizing your reflection. It looked cute—but was it too cute? Would the doctor question your outfit when you met at the park?

After a quick spritz of perfume, you dabbed the scent behind your ears and wrists, feeling the familiar warmth of anticipation stir in your stomach.

Butterflies.

Tossing the tester tube back into your purse, Caleb’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Who you trying to impress?”

You rolled your eyes, barely sparing him a glance. You could feel his eyes on you, though—always watching. As you walked past him, you nonchalantly tapped his phone, sending it tumbling forward with a soft thud against the table.

"Mind your business," you teased, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

But before you could get too far, you heard the scrape of the chair, the soft sound of Caleb getting to his feet.

“You need a ride?” His voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something you couldn’t quite place. You were already halfway to the door.

“Nope,” you replied quickly, trying to brush him off.

He didn’t take the hint. “At least tell me where you’re going to be, in case you need a ride later.”

You paused for a moment, the question hanging in the air. His protectiveness was something you were used to by now, but sometimes, it got a little overwhelming.

“I’m meeting some friends at the arcade. Is that enough for you?” The lie slipped out effortlessly, but the knowing look in his eyes made you second-guess it.

Caleb smirked at your response, not buying it for a second. He pocketed his phone and made his way toward you, his steps measured and sure. He reached the door before you, grabbing the handle and pulled it open.

“Friends? Or a friend?” He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk growing as he looked down at you, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You scoffed, pushing him gently but firmly away from the door and out of your way. “You’re not invited. So don’t even think about it. "

"And don’t follow me.” you warned, your voice firm but playful.

“Whatever,” Caleb shrugged, his tone nonchalant, but you knew better. The way he was watching you, the way he crossed his arms, pretending like he didn’t care—it was a front, and you both knew it.

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.”

You shot him a look, and though his words were dismissive, there was a hint of something deeper in his eyes. You couldn’t quite read it, but it made your heart beat a little faster.

“I mean it,” you said again, your warning laced with a hint of challenge.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your persistence. “Go. Have fun,” he said, giving you a small nudge out the door.

You turned, but just before you stepped out, you felt his presence at your back—too close. You couldn’t ignore the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken words in the air.

“Just let your doctor know,” Caleb’s voice dropped, low and serious, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. “If he hurts you...”

You stopped mid-step, turning slowly to face him. He stood just inches away, his eyes darker than usual, an intensity in his gaze that made your pulse quicken. “I’d hate to ruin my clean record over him.”

The air between you shifted, the playful tension dissolving into something heavier, more profound. His words hung there, thick with meaning—protective, possessive, and just a little too real.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed, though your voice wavered as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Your gaze locked with his, holding longer than you intended.

Longer than you should have.

Finally, Caleb stepped back, but not before his fingers brushed lightly against your back—a fleeting touch that stole your breath.

You turned and walked out the door, yet his presence stayed with you, his words echoing in your mind. Your breathing was shallow now, your heart racing.

It was the way he had looked at you. The weight of his words. That brief, almost-too-intimate touch.

Your stomach tightened, fluttering with a familiar unease.

Butterflies...

It’s been ages since I last wrote fanfiction, so I’m a bit rusty. Hopefully, I’ll get plenty of practice and improve along the way. 💖

[wendichester]

Hiii! I love your blog <3

May I request Sam and Dean x reader (could be together, could be sepperate, I don't mind, as long as it's with established relationship) where reader has a few piercings and always wears like lots of rings and bracelets and does her own nails constantly?

I was thinking for piercings like, a bunch in the ears, either angel fangs or snake bites (I'm a sucker for lip piercings), tongue piercing, maybe even a septum?

Tysm!!

⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 pierced,

summary. just another day at the bunker being cooler than sam and dean combined together

pairing. dean winchester x reader x sam winchester

wordcount. 418

notes. i just feel like an oc like this would leave them fumbling and stumbling over their feet. such cuties

The sound of metal clinking against metal fills the bunker as you slip on your favorite rings, stacking them on nearly every finger. A collection of bracelets dangles from your wrists, jingling softly with each movement. You’re sitting cross-legged at the war room table, carefully painting your nails a deep, glossy black, utterly focused on the task at hand.

Dean leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an amused grin. “Y’know, sweetheart, you’ve got more hardware on you than my car.”

You smirk without looking up, blowing lightly on your freshly painted nails. “And I wear it better, too.”

Sam chuckles from his spot at the table, where he’s buried in research. His eyes flicker over to you, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “It’s impressive, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without at least five rings on.”

“Seven, actually,” you correct, holding up your hands to show off the intricate silver bands adorning your fingers.

Dean pushes off the doorframe and walks over, tilting his head to examine you more closely. His eyes linger on your lip piercings—the angel fangs glinting in the light—and the small hoop in your septum. “Doesn’t all that metal get annoying?” he asks, though his tone is more curious than critical.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “p” as you set down the nail polish bottle. “I like how it feels. And it looks cool, right?”

Dean’s eyes narrow playfully. “You fishing for compliments, or what?”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair with a confident smirk. “Maybe.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head. “She doesn’t need to fish. You’ve been staring at her like she’s a shiny new toy since she sat down.”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Yeah, well, you’re not any better, Mr. Puppy-Dog Eyes.”

Your cheeks warm slightly, but you roll your eyes to cover it up. “You two are impossible.”

Dean grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to smudge your freshly painted nails. “And you love it.”

You can’t help but laugh, swatting at him lightly. “Lucky for you, I do.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam says, spinning his chair around and sitting on it backward. “How about you finish your nails, and we grab a beer after? I think we’ve earned it.”

You smile, picking up the nail polish again. “Deal. But don’t think this gets you out of complimenting me later.” You playfully glare at Dean.

Dean smirks. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume

[lale-txt]

STAR CROSSED ; Oikawa x f!reader

The flutter of her long eyelashes; all the wishes for him not to leave her alone upon them. The unfathomable hurt and the betrayal in her gaze. The love, too.

contains: f!reader, hurt/comfort, ldr goodbyes, messy and complicated feelings, can be read as a sequel to colder, closer (but works as a standalone too), oikawa pov, don't be fooled by the bright header this is one of the fics where the author works through some issues

word count: 1.3k

You’re always leaving, Tōru.

Her words cut like glass because they are true. In all honesty he doesn’t know why she still puts up with him, but his love is selfish enough not to seek answers to that. As long as she still hiccup cries against his chest the night he’s heading to the airport, she still belongs to him, right?

It’s always the same, like a malfunctioning dance they had perfected by now. On his last day they’ll go out for brunch together and she’ll be overly chatty and cheerful, as if she wants him to remember her like that. The bright girl he fell in love with all the years back in high school, with their tables pushed together during lunch break and their feet nudging each other underneath them, the small wonky doodles in his notebook and their pinkies touching over their homework, so quiet and subtle. Even back then he wanted her all for himself. His sun, his girl, his everything.

Oikawa still remembers what the kiss tasted like, the one he stole from her lips during training camp, when she scraped her knee falling down the stairs and he put a band-aid on it for her in an empty classroom. Overly sweet, a little salty from her tears, and so full of longing. Looking back it’s almost ironic how he kneeled before her, sweet talking her nonstop so she’d stop crying, so he could bask in the light of her again. Greedy, but he meant them. All the things he told her that afternoon, he meant them.

You’re so brave. You can hold on to me. There, there, doesn’t hurt so bad when we’re together, right? Is that a smile? You really are the sweetest, aren’t you? Such a heartthrob. What, me? Nah, there’s only one girl I want. Yes, you know her. Who is she? I’ll let you in on a secret.   

How he slowly peeled her fists in her lap apart, his fingers tangling with hers, his thumb rubbing soothingly over her sore wrist. He had tried catching her by it before she fell but it was too late, and in the blink of an eye she slipped right through his grasp. Fleeting, like a dream. 

He used to kiss her pain away once. Now he only causes more of it whenever he tries.

Back at the apartment she’ll busy herself while he packs his bags, and by busying herself he means she’ll cry quietly in the kitchen or on the balcony, somewhere she thinks he can’t see or hear her. Sometimes she’ll let him wrap her in his arms and kiss the top of her head, sometimes she’ll flinch away from him when he tries. 

This home belongs to the two of them. There’s both of their names on the doorbell, his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom counter, his custom-tailored suit hanging next to her backless gown in the closet. Photo albums with shared memories of them are stacked next to his nightstand, magnets of places they traveled together are pinned to the fridge, next to her desk sit the dried flowers from the bouquet he got her before he set off to Argentina.

His belongings are there, but he isn’t. He’s always leaving.

Iwaizumi got angry with him one night when he told him about the small velvet box he keeps for her, for the right moment, when things are less fragile. She’s a caged bird, Oikawa. Set her free. She’s hurting all the time and you know it. Oikawa is aware his best friend has been there for her at times while he was at the other end of the world, picking up the pieces he willingly shattered with his absence. He probably should feel guilty about it but he can’t; not when her love is the sole thing in the world that keeps him going. Her tears a fickle proof that her feelings for him haven’t changed.

Back then, it was easier. Held hands on their way home from school, kisses that tasted like popsicles and honey melon, confessions written with sunscreen on her bare back. Her head resting against his shoulder during hours of bus rides, shared earphones and his thumb spelling L-O-V-E in the palm of her hand. Her airy laughs fawning over his skin when he kissed her neck, idle fingers tangling in his hair and her entire heart on his tongue. 

For one summer, they were allowed to dream that they were indestructible. 

It’s the dead hours between him shutting his suitcases and putting on his shoes for his departure that he loves the most; when the apartment gets eerily quiet and they find their way back to bed again. With her weight on top of him and her face hidden in the crook of his neck, whispering all these sweet things against his skin. Their legs tangled under the sheets and his fingers dancing up and down her spine, his other hand on the back of her thigh to pull her impossibly closer against him. It’s the moments her love for him feels the most palpable.

She’s waiting–she’s always waiting–and some days Oikawa gets scared that she’ll get tired of it. Tired of him. Tired of pouring love in a broken vessel. Tired, tired, tired.

He loves her. In the solar system of their universe they’re two moons, always facing and orbiting around another, forever drawn to their counterpart. There’s no him without her. When she sinks into his arms, he feels a faint sense of coming home, of belonging. It drowns out everything; the fears and the doubts and his useless pride. A lunar eclipse in his embrace. 

“You’ll love me forever, right?”, he murmurs into the dark, trailing kisses along her jaw, coaxing her to look at him. He has her face memorized from touch alone, the ghost of her underneath his fingertips when he was alone again. She’s still here, her heart still drumming against his ribcage with his arms wrapped around her. 

He’ll never get used to that look in her eyes, he thinks. It’s the same she gave him when he told her about going to Argentina after high school. The flutter of her long eyelashes; all the wishes for him not to leave her alone upon them. The unfathomable hurt and the betrayal in her gaze. The love, too. 

“What about me?” she asks, her voice wavering a little, and it’s like they’re eighteen again and she’s too prideful to ask him to stay and too lonely to walk away. They’re one of a kind. “Will you love me forever?”

Oikawa scoffs, as if the underlying doubt in her words was absurd. In one swift movement he rolls her on her back, pinning her down underneath him. He likes how her legs come apart to make room for him between them, and he likes the way her breath hitches when he grabs her chin to make sure her eyes stay on him in the dim light of the bedroom. Her lovesick gaze mirrors his own. 

“Sweet girl… really now?” he hushes her with a condescending click of his tongue before he leans down, lifting her hips to meet him. His lips find her neck and leave a mark for every day they’ll be apart again soon, and his fingers write all the things he can’t say to her yet against her bare skin till she comes undone underneath him. It’s what he does. Taking her apart, over and over again, making her forget all the ways he shatters her heart with one kiss after another. 

She’s a siren song, he thinks. Impossible to resist and drowning him slowly, but he lets her. As long as it means that he gets to have her, he’ll let her. He loves her more than life, more than the entire sun, more than his own vain beating heart. 

a/n: i need to throttle him

gen taglist: @kentocalls @wyrcan @nekozaki @kittygirl11829 @bakingcuriosity

@bakery-anon @jodercriis @chaotic-neutral-ig @kitsune-kita

gen taglist is open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings) ♡

[djarrex]

reverential

Steb x f!reader

read on ao3 (more warnings and notes here too) | masterlist

After months of taking it slow, your relationship with Steb finally reaches the moment of paramount connection. 

18+ only. About 4.6k words. smut with feelings. biting. a small amount of blood. cunni. rough but with care. gets a tad messy. part of that good cook, tidy, and big dick agenda. I like to give Steb at least one or two short lines of dialogue as a treat. I busted this out in less than a day y’all I can't stop thinking about him

Steb loved to cook for you.

It was always a new recipe he’d wanted to try out, intriguing ingredients he’d seen in passing when patrol duty took him through the markets. He’d come home with a basket of bagged fresh bread, raw meats wrapped securely in white paper, fruits and vegetables connected by the vines. Watching him prep with such meticulous, practiced ease was its own type of mesmerizing. Those same hands would tend to the injured, wrap around the hilt of his baton, subdue and cuff criminals. A handful of times you’d felt them on your skin, gentle and testing �� waters that remain tolerantly unsurveyed.

Sat atop the counter and absently kicking your feet back and forth, you watched Steb handle the knife. Held it with firm caution as he thinly-sliced the vegetables in an engrossing, downward motion of his wrist. The juices from the pick seeped out from each contact with the blade, oozing onto the chopping board along with its small seeds.

You didn’t notice that Steb has slowed his movements, turning his attention to you instead. 

“Looks good,” you chimed in, shuffling awkwardly against the countertop upon catching his stare. 

Steb tossed out an incredulous hum, and raised a brow to match. You chewed your bottom lip, and his response was a firm shake of his head while holding back a knowing smirk.

“What did I do?” you asked coyly. 

Steb set down the knife. Picked up a hand towel and wiped his hands. Folded it nice and neat before returning it back to its designated home. Your feet stopped swaying when he came up and stood between your legs, palms pressed against the counter on either side. With a quiet hum, he pressed his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply. Discernible was the sound of his facial scales flitting against his cheeks.

Your voice pitched into a whisper. “Why’d you stop?”

“You know why,” he mumbled. Voice alluringly hoarse from disuse.

His fingers found their place cupping the nape of your neck, squeezing gently. You sighed, tilting your head back and to the side. Steb took the signal to get his lips involved, the ghost of them trailing across your jaw down the column of your throat. The sensation of his cool breath fanned against your skin made you shiver with an anxious gulp of air. 

With a too-easy, beckoning tug, he took your hands in his and helped you off the counter. 

Hand in hand, you followed Steb to the bedroom, the preparations for dinner forgotten. 

Stood at the foot of the bed facing one another, his hands slid up your arms. Cupped your cheeks in his palms. The faintest smell of the vegetable he’d been slicing tickled your nostrils, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

Crystal blue eyes now flashed a deeper, darker shade that resembled an uncharted ocean. You brushed the back of your hand against his jaw, knuckles grazing his gills. He sighed, inner eyelids blinking a beat slower than his others. You knew what Steb was wordlessly asking for. An already extremely expressive being, his body language held no secrets from you at this point in your relationship. 

You helped him undress, all the way down to his briefs. This would not be the first time you’d done so, but the gesture always felt almost ceremonial in a way. Deferential, the way you aided in folding his discarded clothing the way you knew he preferred, setting the pressed articles in a neat pile. Trusting, when you let Steb do the very same for you, affectionately guiding your shirt from your extended arms then taking a moment to fold it alongside his. 

Nearly bare to him now, you let Steb guide you onto the bed, him crawling up between your legs as you backed up onto the pillows. The press of his skin against yours always felt so beautifully alien, textured in a way that was uniquely Steb. Cool and regulated to the touch, never trapping immense heat. He braced himself above you, his chest scooping down to meet yours with the bend at his elbows. His nose brushed against yours for a fleeting moment, then he was traveling downward, nosing at your jaw. Upper lip curled upward, Steb shut his inner eyelids and inhaled sharply and precisely through his nostrils. Your natural scent was his favorite, and you’d switched to unscented body soap long ago to preserve that part of you that he enjoyed so much. 

The slight grippy texture of his lips tickled and scratched as they moved across your skin. Smooth, blunt teeth grazed along the trail he took, and his cooled tongue poked out to chase every determined nip. For Steb, the taste of you was probably the one thing of yours that topped how you smelled – to concretely taste a particular scent made it even better. 

There had only been a handful of moments like this before now, experimenting with one another but never taking it all the way. Even so, you’d come to understand how reactive Steb was. Sounds, movements, awakenings – everything involuntary while at the same time advertent. 

He’d reached the lining of your bra, how it remained curved over the plush of your breast. A mild frustration was audible in Steb’s groan, the material a blockage in his path. With a smirk at his impatience, you lifted yourself onto your elbows. He followed you upward and was quick to reach around your back and unhook the clasp. You shrugged it off and tossed it out of sight, and giggled at how Steb raised an unimpressed brow at your negligence. 

He was so handsome like this, his face angled upward to meet your eyes. When you flattened back down Steb resumed his work. Took your nipple between his rough lips and twirled it with a slippery tongue. Back arched, you threaded your fingers through his thick, styled hair. Gelled strands crackled and unglued between your curled fingers. Separated from one another. Looser now, you pulled at his hair slightly, earning a low growl from him. The vibration of it sunk into your chest, where he was switching to suck at your other breast, a large hand replacing his mouth where it’d just been. 

When Steb had decided he was finished with your chest, you were a bit caught off guard that he continued to move downward, rather than coming back up for a searing kiss that would have ended your activities like he’d always done before. Instead, he kissed along your abdomen then down to where your hip met your thigh, sucking your pliant skin between his lips and bit a tad harder than he’d done prior. Hand pressed firmly over your mouth, you silently keened at the slight sting of the bite, the sensation of his sharper teeth a new one for you – unexpected.

Not unwelcome, though.

Hyper-aware of what he’d done, Steb immediately paused. Ears flattened to his head. Looked up at you with regret and a thousand apologies in his eyes. You’d started to bleed a little bit, small dots of crimson beading from the broken skin.

It felt odd to admit – but you kind of enjoyed it. Couldn’t ignore how the faintest bit of pain caused your cunt to throb.

Ears still pinned back, Steb remained frozen, like you’d shatter or flee if he so much as moved an inch. 

You combed through his hair reassuringly. Offered a smile to match. Bit your lip.  

“It’s okay, Steb. I’m okay.” You weren’t lying, not in the slightest. In addition to it already feeling peculiar that you’d enjoyed it – you were now wanting more; so in recognition of Steb’s beliefs of actions speaking louder than words, you swiped a finger across the small wound. Pressed the pad of your finger to mouth, rubbing the crimson against the poisonous berry color of his lips. 

He was visibly unsure at first, but it was clear that the hesitance was more for your sake, not his. This was all so new – so unexplored. Modeling, you ran your tongue along your bottom lip. With clear understanding, his tongue poked out to sample your divinity. The very reactive scales under his widened eyes flickered immediately and his ears bounced back. Peeking down, you saw how hard he’d gotten within his briefs. It looked uncomfortable, and judging by how rigid and stiff his body had become at this point of no return, you knew Steb wanted to finally take it all the way with you.

Heat rushed everywhere; to the tips of your ears, down your cheeks to your chest, then settled in the crux of your sex. Ever observant, Steb noticed your pleasant reaction immediately – the mutual agreement. Both of you knew that now was the time, after months of laying half-naked together and the shared, teasing touches and kisses that always had held the promise for more in the future.

But you didn’t want him to think that you were having second thoughts, because if anything, you needed him more now than you ever had.

“More,” you whispered, breathy. Took his face in your hands. Slipped your thumb just past the seam of his stained lips and gently traced along his gills with the other. “Steb – keep going.”

A new fervour took him over then, as if something that had been so deeply buried was now being exhumed. Steb eagerly lowered his mouth back to your skin, and even though he didn’t stop nipping at you, you could tell he was being more vigilant with the use of his sharper teeth. Everywhere he’d bitten was quickly chased by the cooling balm of his tongue. Licked along any breakage of skin. Small, darkened patches started to form in his mouth’s wake, an image that excited you beyond expectation. You could assume he was marking you as his, and maybe he was, because you were his. 

It became increasingly more difficult to ignore how wet you had become, your panties damp and more than likely stained with it. Steb’s arousal was just as evident in the way he subtly rutted himself against the mattress. You didn’t want him to stop, but you did want him to move on. He’d never been this close to your sex before and you were sure he could smell your need with his proximity. Felt the heat that radiated from it. Tasted it in the air that surrounded him. 

You arched yourself, angling your hips away from his mouth. “Please – take them off.”

He licked along his lips, cleaning up the smear of deep red that had come from another miniscule breakage of your skin. A tilt of his head sought for your confirmation, to which you quickly gave with an eager nod. Gingerly, Steb curled his fingers under the fabric that hugged your skin. Slowly guided the material down your thighs with the help of your raised hips. Curious and adoring eyes lagged behind his movements. Savored the way you looked with nothing left to cover you from him.

You had no time to ponder how fast Steb had uncharacteristically tossed your panties far from the pile of neatly-folded clothes when a gasp forced its way from your lungs at how quick and adamant he was with yanking your hips toward his face. He’d lowered himself back between your legs. Flashed you a look, one that was starved but still composed enough to catalog another confirmation from you. 

Steb always was so respectful, so considerate. Patient. Caring. That’s why the two of you held out so long when it came to having sex. Touch being his main love language, physicality in a relationship was a sacred thing for him. Something that was worth waiting for. The deepest level of connection. You admired that about Steb, and you’d been more than willing to wait for him to be ready – but right now, as you felt his cooled breath against your dampened pussy, you could almost scold him for still holding on to the traits of the man you'd fallen for. 

You whispered your desperate plea. His ears twitched with it.

Steb’s lengthy tongue gave an experimental swipe through your folds, parting them at the seam. You’d imagined what this would feel like, behind the privacy of closed eyes and in the solitude of your home when he was on shift, but actually experiencing it was better than anything you could have thoroughly imagined. Steb quickly became addicted to the new and very different taste of you, seemingly more inebriated and emboldened now than before. His tongue blissfully licked along the seam of your pussy, dragging it along upward and downward then attaching his lips to your clit and sucking before repeating the same rhythm over again. Your hands flew to his head, one tangling in the strands of hair that had since loosened and fallen out of place while the other cupped the back of his neck, fingers settling between the dips of the tiny fins that protruded there. Attuned to your body’s involuntary reactions, Steb doubled his efforts in what made you whimper and writhe. His tongue started to penetrate you and his hands had to instead hold your thighs open as they tensed and threatened to close on his head. 

You couldn't look away from him, not as his ears tweaked and scaled fluttered, eyes squeezing shut in something akin to concentration. The lean musculature of his body looked so bewitching as his muscles flexed with his movements beneath his teal skin that practically gleamed. The softer, more pliant fins that ran parallel on either side of the hardened ones lining his spine moved like seaweed through water. Steb was still rutting against the mattress, you noticed. Spurred on by how he was making you feel. Taste. Sounds. His low groans and sharp inhalations through his nose signaled that he was seemingly close enough to come – but being the selfless, patient man he was, Steb more than likely wanted you to come first. 

“Steb – Steb, look at me.”

It took him a moment to collect himself, raising his face from between your quivering thighs. His lips and chin glistened with your arousal. A dazed look settled like a fog over the ice of his eyes. 

You reached for him. Cradled his face in your palm. Despite the disapproval your body felt after his departure, you flashed him a cheeky smile. 

“We could keep going like this if you’d like… ” You leaned up on your elbows, conspicuously eyeing the hardness in his briefs. “...Or… ”

Steb sucked in a breath. Kneaded your thighs under his large hands. The both of you were a picture of patience, exemplary in restraint – but you really don’t think you could wait any longer. 

He straightened, knelt between your parted legs. You scanned the look in his eyes as they met yours. Searched for any signs of wanting to stop, wanting to hold off another day. Instead you only found hunger, a look of lust that you’d never seen in him before. It was turbulent, the way he appraised you. You were sure that there had to have been so many thoughts bouncing around in his head, but the most important thing on his mind was you. 

“I want you to have me, Steb,” you offered. His ears twitched, and he spared a glance down between his legs before returning to meet your eyes. 

You’d touched him before, over the clothes. He’d felt huge under your palm, and when you’d inquired about his anatomy, Steb had very briefly explained that he was just… different. Than a human, that was. You knew he’d been with other women before, though it had only been a few very sporadically throughout his adult life, but you figured that he could not have had anything too terribly daunting that would turn someone off. Perhaps he’d wanted to leave most of it to your imagination. A way to build upon the already thrumming anticipation. 

You were eager. Reached to palm at his erection, still torturously trapped in his briefs. Steb made a hurt sound in the back of his throat, and you decided that you’d like to hear it again. You continued to grope him over the fabric until your boldness born from avidity had your hand crawling up his abdomen before sliding down into his waistband. Steb bucked into your hand, his hard and leaking cock slick and feeling satisfyingly alien in your palm. 

As you continued to fondle him like that, Steb leaned down and caged you in between his arms braced against the bed on either side of your head. His lips parted. Groans and nearly imperceivable whines fell from his throat as he gazed adoringly down upon you. 

You pulled your hand free. Tugged at the waistband. “Take them off, handsome.” 

Steb obeyed comically fast and you finally caught a glimpse of what he’d been keeping from you for far too long. He really was huge. Not enough to be totally off-putting, but you had a fleeting worry about it fitting comfortably inside of you. You quickly noticed the darkened shade of teal along the length of his cock, and the head was the same hue of his lips. As it throbbed, the slightly tapered shape of it with a slight angled curve to the side made your body tense in anticipation.

Steb climbed back on top of you. Braced himself on his forearm and squeezed your hip with his free hand. You felt his cock jump against your pussy, the head of it slightly catching on your clit. The two of you groaned in unison, and you felt yourself throbbing with need. 

You spoke his name, quiet and sure. Steb leaned down to kiss you. Reverential in the way his tongue slid along yours. Consuming. He started to rut against you, his cock sliding through the mess he’d already made of you. Breaking apart, you nodded up at him. You were more than ready, and you knew in your heart that he’d take care of you. 

Your eyes screwed shut when the head of his cock started to penetrate you. The sensation was already so overwhelming. Thicker than your fingers, but what it really had to have been was the gravity of it all. The long awaited moment, the trust that had steadily been built throughout the duration of your relationship. The connection, the understanding. 

He couldn't have been more than a couple inches inside of you when he came to a halt.

Your eyes fluttered open and Steb’s stare was piercing. By the way his body was practically shaking, he was clearly fighting some carnal instinct to sink in all the way and let loose, but his care and concern for you far outweighed anything else. It dawned on you that there were tears in your eyes, the chill of one sliding down your flushed cheek. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. It may not have sounded convincing, but it was the truth. “Steb, really. I’m fine, it’s just… a lot.”

It really was a lot. 

Considering, he hummed. The reactive flicker of his scales was soft, like the faint shuffling of playing cards. 

“Keep going slow. I’m okay.”

It took a few moments for Steb to believe you, but after what seemed like a quick assessment, he nodded. Resolute. Your hands flew to his biceps as he continued to enter you, inch by inch. The stretch of your walls as you accommodated to the feeling of his cock sent you into a tizzy. You were drunk with it. The pleasure-pain. Steb’s eyeline grounded you, determined to watch one another during this moment of paramount connection. 

Unsure of how it was possible, Steb’s groin was flush with yours. That’s when he finally allowed his lids to close, and you did the same. Through the darkness you felt his forehead once again meet yours. The slick of the sweat beaded along your hairline stuck to his skin, made slicker by his own chilled perspiration.

He lifted and you affectionately raked your fingers through his hair. You felt him throb deep inside of you, and you clenched in response.

Steb hissed. Flashed his teeth. A ragged breath fanned against your face. “If you keep doing that…”

Testing, you clenched again. Steb growled at that, and jerked his hips. You yelped, sure he’d punched a hole right through you. You were so full. Held him inside of you until he decided it was time to move.

You couldn't help but yank his hair as he steadily pulled out. You could feel everything, suddenly hyper-aware that he had little frills along the underside of his cock that rubbed against your inner walls in a purposeful way. When only the head remained, nestled right inside your tight hole, Steb gave you a look. A check-in mixed with a confirmation, then layered with a warning.

You sucked in a breath, secured your other arm around the back of his neck, and nodded.

Steb went quicker than before, but still remained composed. Sheathed the entire length of his cock but wasted no time in pulling back out. He continued like that, increasing the speed with each thrust, until he fell into a rhythm. The breath was knocked out of you every time, but once again you were grounded by his eyes, piercing as they shone a light on his internal craze. He took what he needed and you gladly accepted him. Moaned and whined at the stretch and fill. His ears flickered and bounced with every sound you graced him with, scales dancing under his intense eyes. Your breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, the mattress creaking with it. Parting his lips, Steb leaned down and licked a fat stripe along the tendon of your neck. Growled at your taste. You held onto him as he tapped into something deeper, a dangerous flood of heat washing through you and pricking hot in your limbs. 

You’d never heard Steb this vocal, though the quiet curses and praises that fell from his lips onto your sticky skin were still barely discernible. Regardless, hearing him this lost in it was creating a high of its own, sending a tidal wave of fervour crashing down upon you. 

Steb readjusted. Straightened himself onto his knees and grabbed roughly at your hips. At this angle he wasn’t able to fill you all the way, but you quickly caught on that his reasoning for the change of position was for a different need. Through the haze you observed him staring hard at your belly, visibly pleased with the way he made your skin subtly bulge with how deep he still was able to get. Your mouth fell open with a wail, and Steb shuddered at the clench of your cunt around him. 

A creamy film settled as a messy ring around the base of his cock. The sight was utterly lewd. Obscene, just as were the sloppy wet sounds of him rapidly thrusting into your sopping sex. Baring his teeth, Steb hissed once again. A filthy curse tumbled out from his ragged breathing, the sound of it inebriating. He’d never spoken quite like this before. Always so respectful and proper. You truly were a drug to him, intoxicating enough for him to forget himself. Pull things out of the deep chasms of his mind. 

It wouldn't take much more for you to come. His touch, something other than the bruising grip he had on your hips, would be enough to get you there. He was so pussy-drunk, completely consumed in the throes of it all. Steb was so beautiful like this. Vulnerable, more so than you’d ever witnessed. Completely open and taking what his body needed. You loved it, maybe even loved him. It was ridiculous, how bashful you felt wanting to touch yourself as Steb fucked you boneless, but you went for it despite the unnecessary embarrassment. His eyes widened with a clear understanding as your fingers swept once, twice against your clit. Took your gesture into his own hands. You arched at the deliberate pressure applied by his deft fingers, swirling beautifully in time with his thrusts. 

You chanted his name. Breathless, on repeat. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body convulsing at the intensity. Tears filled your eyes. Steb kept going, slowing only slightly at how tight you’d become with your climax. Your thighs quivered and toes started to cramp. He pulled his hand away and instead went for his cock, ready to pull out at any moment. 

Eyes closed, you felt him quickly yank himself from you. Relief. Wet, smacking sounds filled the room as Steb finished into his hand. Groaned and cursed under his breath. Then, a louder “shit” had your eyes flying open, landing on the extreme mess he’d made. Milky translucent fluid seeped through his fingers, too much for him to hold discreetly. Your jaw dropped as it continued to spurt from the flushed head, and you scooted toward him out of some strange instinct, letting your swollen pussy and lower stomach catch what was left. 

If seeing his spend on your skin was dizzying for you, you could only imagine just how badly it affected Steb. Completely in awe. Fascination swept over his exhausted features. Studied the image of you laying like this; spread out, flushed, covered in his spend.

You got up and scooted towards him. Kissed him deeply. Steb held you against him with his forearm pressed into your back, careful with his sullied hand. When you pulled away, you felt him chase your lips. Kissed him again, this time with every ounce of energy you had left. Your head became dizzy with it. 

Steb finally allowed you to break away, but didn’t let you get far. His clean hand pulled you closer, fingers at your nape. Forehead to forehead. Shared breathlessness. You basked in the moment, something truly made all the more memorable with how genuine Steb was with you. Maybe the wait was worth it. The emotions you were feeling seemed to clog your lungs. Heat the ducts in your eyes. 

Suddenly you became cognizant that you were sitting in a huge damp spot, stained with your shared release. Fluids tickled as they streamed down your skin, joining the mess below you.

You sighed. “We should–”

“I love you.”

Steb’s confession, though quiet and slightly shrouded by your own words, sounded so sure. So truthful and weighted. The tears really did start to form then, clouding your vision until you blinked them away and down your cheeks. Steb looked at you, really looked at you. Deep into your soul. That’s how it felt, anyway. 

“And I love you,” you responded, a bit shaky. Steb grinned at you, appearing as if a massive weight had just lifted from his shoulders. It dawned on you then that he’d been waiting to share that with you until this very moment, after your first time together. It was beautifully symbolic – but you could almost laugh at the timing of all of this, confessing feelings while bare and sticky with the aftermath of sex. 

And you did laugh. Disbelief juxtaposed the total clarity you were feeling with the sound of it. Unfazed, Steb just couldn’t blink away the stars in his eyes as he revered you. 

“What I was going to say–” you giggled, squeezing Steb’s hand, “--Was that we should clean ourselves up.”

-

Dinner finally came after you had, once more for each of you while in the shower together. 

[shalnarkwifeyy]

A Life of Shadows

☆mafia au☆

Yan! Sub!Chrollo x Dom! Reader

Fighting has always been a part of me. It’s not about survival anymore—it’s about control. In this world, control is everything. The strong lead, the weak follow, and the rest are left to rot in the dirt.

Justice? Fairness? Lies fed to the masses. The truth is simple: power is the only thing that matters.

So why do I keep going? Maybe because I refuse to be controlled.

My feet carried me through the dimly lit streets, ignoring the sounds of pain and suffering that echoed from the alleys. This city was a graveyard for the weak. I had no sympathy. I was here for one thing—work.

The flower shop looked innocent enough from the outside. Soft colors, delicate arrangements in the window. But behind the facade, it was a front for something far more dangerous. A money-laundering hub for the Phantom Troupe.

Just as I reached the door, a voice stopped me.

“You work here?”

I turned, my gaze settling on the man standing under the flickering streetlight.

He was striking—slicked-back black hair, dark eyes that lingered too long. There was something meticulous about him, like every movement was calculated. He radiated authority, but I knew men like him. The ones who thought they had control over everything around them.

I tilted my head. “Yeah. And you?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained cold. “I’m looking for the owner."

I held his gaze, unbothered. “Follow me.”

Inside, the shop smelled of roses and fresh bills. The owner sat behind the counter, counting stacks of cash with shaky hands. When he saw my companion, his face paled.

“Stealing from the Troupe?” The man’s voice was soft, but it carried weight. “I expected better.”

The owner tensed, fingers twitching toward the drawer. A flash of silver—a knife.

Amateur.

He lunged at the man beside me, but before he could react, I moved. A swift kick to the gut, and the owner flew backward, crashing into the shelves. Glass shattered, petals scattered across the floor.

The stranger blinked, staring at me with something like... awe.

I sighed. “Slow reflexes. Noted.”

He straightened his coat, recovering quickly. “Impressive.” His eyes lingered on me, calculating. “You’re stronger than I expected.”

I smirked. “You’d be surprised.”

He stepped closer, too close. “Work for me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’d want to?”

His smile widened, but there was something off about it. “Because you’re not the type to stay in a place like this.”

I considered him for a moment. Then, against my better judgment, I agreed.

One Month Later

Working for Chrollo was… amusing.

He was good at playing the leader—always composed, always in control. But I saw the cracks beneath the surface. He was meticulous, yes, but there was something beneath the calm exterior, something unraveling.

I tested him. Pushed him. He didn’t like being challenged, but he never stopped watching me.

He followed me more than necessary, his presence a constant shadow. I could feel his eyes on me whenever I walked into a room.

And when I spoke, he listened—too intently.

The first time I pinned him against the wall during a sparring match, I expected resistance. Instead, his lips parted slightly, his breath uneven.

“You’re holding back,” I said, my grip firm around his wrist.

His dark eyes flickered with something dangerous—something desperate. “Maybe I want to see what you'll do next.

I let him go, but the way he lingered in my space afterward told me enough.

He wanted more.

It didn’t take long before I found him in my quarters one night, seated on my bed like he belonged there.

“You again?” I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“I was waiting.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

I narrowed my eyes. “For what?”

A slow smile crept across his lips. “You.”

He wasn’t subtle anymore. The touches lingered too long, his presence too close. If I walked ahead, I’d feel him trailing just behind me. He didn't ask for permission; he simply existed in my space.

And when I called him out on it, he only looked at me with those dark, endless eyes—like he was memorizing every inch of me.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he’d ask, his voice low, teasing. But there was something beneath it. Something craving control... and losing it.

I smirked. “If I did, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

He liked that.

Too much.

Then, the attack happened.

Another worker—someone who had been watching Chrollo for weeks—made his move. A blade slashed through the air, fast, aimed straight for his throat.

He didn’t react in time.

I intercepted, twisting the attacker’s arm and driving him into the wall with enough force to crack it. A swift, precise punch to the ribs, and he crumpled to the ground.

Chrollo stood there, wide-eyed, his breathing ragged. Blood trickled from his side.

I stepped closer, tilting his chin up with two fingers. “You really need to watch your back.”

For the first time, he looked... vulnerable. And he didn’t hate it.

Instead, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes softened—too soft.

“I knew you’d save me,” he whispered.

I sighed. “Don’t make it a habit.”

But something shifted after that night. He hovered even closer, his touches more deliberate. He’d watch me with that same unnerving gaze, like he was trying to figure out how to crawl under my skin and stay there.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he said one evening, his voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t respond. Trust wasn’t something I dealt in.

But it didn’t stop him from trying to tether himself to me.

Once, I caught him watching me sleep, his fingers grazing my wrist lightly—like he needed reassurance that I was still there.

He didn’t try to lead anymore. He let me take control, following my commands with an unsettling ease.

And in the moments when I pushed him, when I pressed him too hard, I could see it—the way he thrived under it.

“You like this, don’t you?” I muttered, gripping his collar tightly one night.

His breath hitched, and he didn’t deny it.

Chrollo Lucilfer, the feared leader of the Phantom Troupe, was mine. And he knew it.

[exhabigou]

clifford v 3.0?

[hana-bobo-finch]

I know I JUST said that I would be too busy to make art in the coming days but I. did it anyway. guys looks it’s lethia I love him so much. look he even has little bug-person symbol flags he’s so cool (HE DOES NOTHING) (SERIOUSLY HIS ENTIRE PURPOSE IS THAT HE DOESNT DO ANYTHING AND NOBODY REMEMBERS HE EXISTS) (HE WAS RELEVANT FOR ONE MINOR INCIDENT AND EVEN THEN EVERYONE FORGOT HE WAS THE START OF IT ONCE A WIDER CONVERSATION ABOUT THE INCIDENT STARTED)

[running-with-kn1ves]

Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out. 

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache. 

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own. 

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out. 

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you. 

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse. 

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do. 

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.” 

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath. 

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back. 

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble. 

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.” 

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.” 

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin. 

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight. 

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.” 

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.” 

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades. 

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.” 

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing. 

Antoine shook your shoulders. 

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh. 

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers. 

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back. 

“O-okay.. I guess..” 

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best? 

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh. 

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks. 

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides. 

“Yeah… feels a lot better..” 

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual. 

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of. 

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished. 

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.” 

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again. 

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client. 

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while. 

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did. 

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--” 

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!” 

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though. 

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door. 

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out? 

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere. 

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got. 

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear. 

 No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally? 

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower. 

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you. 

[shotmrmiller]

ps!ghost's twitter feed used to be of him at conventions. his car. him in a pool. the gym. arm around johnny in his backyard. sprawled on his couch next to kyle. basic stuff. the occasional obligatory promo of the video he shoots.

then it's one faceless pic of you for your OF. pretty thing, puffy pussy visible through your sodden knickers. thighs spread wide, feet on each side of the slim mirror. retweets it with a water emoji.

now, it's him with a cup of steaming black coffee in his hands, a sleek macbook before him on the marble-top kitchen island (hand covering the lower half of his face because it's too damn early for the mask. kinda looks like he's yawning. cute.)

johnny throwing up two fingers, thick wrist adorned with a bracelet, sunlight glinting off of its jewels. vacation, it looks like. cobblestone street beneath his loafers. panna cotta gelato in his other hand.

it's him with his hands in his pockets, neck craned back to look at the masterpiece that hangs on the wall— brushstrokes of genius on canvas. he's got a healthy glow to him, sun-kissed gold. warm, unlike the clinical white of the museum walls.

then it's you again. this time you've got two small (in comparison to his very long ones) fingers stuffed into your greedy hole, glistening with slick. heart eyes emoji.

and again. a vibrant pink vibrator in your cunt, one arm reaching for the camera, remote control in hand. put it as intense as you like. i can handle it. two heart eyes and water emoji.

and again, 3 consecutive pictures. your face is covered by a big red heart, but everything else is visible. like the creamy white fluffy rabbit ears on your head, a collar around your neck, tiny carrot charm delicately dangling from it, white cottonball tail on your arse. small, black triangles on your head: cat ears. silky collar with a tinkling silver bell. long, furry plume-like tail, obsidian black with a precious white bow at the base. last is a puppy mask. buttery faux-leather, sleek and smooth. padded fist mitts, rosy, pink paws. whip-like tail. a thick collar around your neck, chain links glimmering with the camera's flash. handle on the floor, beckoning to be picked up, to lead you about. i'd be a good pet, don't you think?

(simon spam retweeted this 6 times. kyle sent him a message about it, telling him his twitter is freaking out. it was most assuredly not a mistake.) lowered his joggers enough to take himself out and fisted his cock until he covered that pretty arse of yours with his seed. was not fun cleaning up his phone after but so worth.

(he'll never admit that heat blooms in his cheeks when fans ask if you're his lover. how lucky you are. must be seeing nameless gods beneath him, touching the sky with your fingertips when he uses his mouth. seeing the universe behind your eyelids when he makes you come around his cock.)

he wishes, lol.

[littlelamy]

Could you do like a post smut……maybe with a sweet shy type of reader and rafe. He has been really rough for once (which she liked) but when she gets up from the bed to walk, she falls in pain to the floor cus she’s super sore and rafe feels really really bad and he so sweet with her :(

author's note: really hope you enjoy this one, and thank you for the request! 💗🌟

your thighs still trembled from where they’d been pinned earlier, red fingerprints a stark memory of his grasp. each step was an ache you hadn’t anticipated, sharp and sudden, your knees betraying you as they buckled. the floor was cool against your skin when you crumpled, a small gasp escaping your lips. the soreness was a strange, searing aftertaste of the way he’d pushed every inch of himself into you like you were a conquest to be claimed.

“shit—baby?” rafe’s voice was still rough, a leftover rasp from the filthy words he’d growled into your ear hours ago. but now, it carried a softness, his bare feet skidding across the floor as he reached you, hands hovering like he didn’t know if touching would make it worse.

you tried to laugh, but it came out more like a whimper, your face half-buried in the carpet. “i… i think you broke me.”

the guilt hit him square in the chest, his brows pulling tight as he crouched beside you. “fuck, sweetheart, i didn’t mean—i mean, you liked it, didn’t you? god, i thought—” he cut himself off, arms gently wrapping around your waist to lift you, careful not to jostle. “jesus, you’re shaking.”

you didn’t resist when he cradled you against his chest, his warmth a balm to the ache. his lips brushed your temple, the gesture so tender it almost erased the memory of how brutally he’d taken you earlier. “tell me where it hurts,” he murmured, voice dipping low, full of remorse.

“everywhere,” you admitted, hiding your flushed face against his neck. “but in a good way.” still, there was a faint wobble to your voice, and he heard it.

he carried you to the bed, laying you down as if you were something fragile. his fingertips skimmed over the marks he’d left, his throat tightening at the vivid shades blooming on your skin. “damn it, i didn’t mean to…” he trailed off, shaking his head, then knelt beside you. “you’re too sweet for this. for me. what was i thinking?”

you caught his wrist, forcing him to meet your gaze. “i asked for it, rafe,” you said, voice firm despite the exhaustion clinging to your bones. “i liked it. all of it.”

but he wasn’t convinced, his jaw tight as his thumb swept along your cheek. “and now you’re on the floor, baby. fuck, i’m the worst.”

“you’re not,” you whispered, and when his lips hovered over yours, you leaned into him, soft and reassuring. “but i wouldn’t say no to you pampering me a little.”

his laugh was shaky, full of self-reproach, but he nodded, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you’re getting the works,” he promised, already moving to fetch water and painkillers, blankets to tuck you in tight. “massage, bath, anything you need.”

when he returned, his touch was reverent, his hands steady as they traced circles into your sore thighs, his apologies whispered like prayers against your skin.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah

[coryosbaby]

I am BEGGING you to write about hannigram x innocent fem reader. mayyyybee featuring age gap and breeding? :) she just asks them "what does break my belt mean?" and oh..

Caretaker… Hannigram x fem! Reader

Synopsis: it’s up to Will and Hannibal to take care of you, however that may be.

Content warning . 18+, MDNI age gap (reader is in her early 20s), spanking/usage of belts, punishments, dumbification, threesome, cum play, daddy kink . hard dom! Hannibal, soft dom! Will

Author’s Note: I didn’t know how to go about this (my brain isn’t braining rn) so I did smth similar :) this is literally pure filth like Im ovulating sorry

‧₊˚ 🩰 ⋅* ‧₊

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Will’s voice is soft as he gently rubs your sock clad feet, watching the small wince that you make when he grazes over a bruised toe. You adjust yourself on your bed, bottom becoming numb from how long you’ve been sitting. You slide the sleeves of your dress back up on your shoulders— they have a hard time staying up, and it’s something that annoys you incredibly.

“He’s right,” Hannibal chimes from the cushioned seat in the corner of the room. He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the desk beside him. It’s funny, how different these two men look in your pink, frilly room. “You’re working yourself too hard, little one.”

You frown, feeling the bed dip as Hannibal joins you and Will’s side.

“But ballet is important to me.”

“So is your health,” Will replies, and notices the way you seem to fidget in your dress. “Is your dress bothering you, baby?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck when Will lifts the hem of it over your head. Now clad in your bra and cotton panties, you feel open and exposed. But since it’s Hannibal and Will, you feel safer than you’ve ever been.

“Come here,” Will says, and you crawl over to the place in between his spread thighs as he leans against your headboard. Hannibal follows in quiet suit, moving to Will’s side and holding your hand in his much larger one. Will’s hands play with your hair as you think back to something you’d been wanting to ask the two for a while.

“Can one of you use your belt on me?”

The soft scrape against your scalp stops at the question.

“What?”

“I mean,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. “I was watching a video.. ‘n.. the guy, he—“

“You’ve been watching naughty videos?” Hannibal inquires. You shake your head, wide doe eyes flashing.

“No!” You reply, too quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Hmm,” the man shifts, gripping the soft skin of your jaw gently with his hand. Looking into your eyes, he can see the deceit in them. “You have, haven’t you? You know what we say about those videos, darling. They’re bad for you,” he looks back to the other man in the room. “Maybe we will have to spank her after all. Don’t you think, Will?”

“Play nice, Hannibal,” Will warns, though his mouth pulls into a small, amused smirk. “She’s sensitive. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“I do.” you whine, pawing at the sleeve of Hannibal’s suit. He chuckles, thumb rubbing gently over your wrist.

“Come here then, little one,” Hannibal coos. “Over my knee.”

Your eyes widen, pouty lips dropping open in awe.

“Now?” You squeak.

Will rolls his eyes, patting you softly on the arm.

“You heard him, Bunny. Go on.”

Getting on your hands and knees, panty clad ass now revealing the puff ball bunny tail on the back of the fabric, the two of them think you’re the cutest little thing they’ve ever seen. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone, and watch as Will hands over his belt to Hannibal. It’s your favorite one, plain black but with a belt buckle that has your initials imprinted. Will wears it often— he’s not one to have flashy accessories, but since it was a gift from you he cherishes it dearly.

Since Will is on Hannibal’s left side, you decide to position yourself with your face directed towards him. This leads to your arms and face being smooshed against Will’s thighs, and he gently rubs your head with his hands. Hannibal hums when your ass lifts up for him, bunny tail flickering as you move your hips to get his attention.

“We should keep these on, don’t you think?” He says, fingers grazing over the bunny tail. “Too precious to pull them down, lover.”

You nod shyly, letting out a puff of air when Will’s fingers begin fumbling with the hooks on your bra. He advises you to slide the straps off your shoulders when he undoes them, and you awkwardly shuffle them off. Will’s hands move around your back to grope one of your breasts. The feeling of cold leather against your backside makes you whimper, and Hannibal positions his hand on the bottom of your thigh.

“Move your hands behind your back,” Hannibal demands. “You aren’t in any position of control. If you want to stop, you know the rules.”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, almost immediately. You move your arms back to link them together, Will’s hands gripping the both of yours tightly to make sure you don’t move.

“Good girl,” and then, “You’re going to count each one I give you. We will stop at ten since this is your first time.”

You nod, as much as you can with your face buried in Will’s lap. You can feel the hardness in his pants, right up against your cheek, and your mouth waters.

There’s a comforting rub against your left cheek before Hannibal brings the belt down. It isn’t too bad, a slight sting that makes you jump.

“One.” You say, quietly. Your ass lifts up for more.

“Good,” Hannibal praises, soothing the skin once more. “Are you going to watch those videos again?”

You stay silent, contemplating but also being quiet on purpose. You can’t deny that Hannibal getting angry with you makes your panties drenched.

At this, Hannibal slams the belt down onto you once again. A warning. You cry out this time, feeling a burning sensation along your skin.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he says sternly. “And don’t make me have to break my belt on you, little one.”

“What does that mean?” you whine, ditzy little head genuinely confused by such a simple term. You inhale the scent of Will’s pants, and from above you, the brunette’s hands gently soothe your back.

“Told you, Hanni,” he singsongs. “Doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“Ignoring your interruption,” Hannibal says, annoyed (but not really). He directs his attention back to you. “Tell me, little one. Yes or no?”

You bite your lower lip, cheeks flaring as your arousal increases.

“Yes.”

Hannibal scoffs.

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

The belt comes down on you again. You jump, tears beginning to pool along your waterline.

“What was that?” Hannibal demands harshly. “Was that a yes that I heard?”

“No!” You say. “No, daddy, I’ll never ever watch those videos again! I promise, promise…”

You thrash against the pain, and Hannibal’s palms rub the sore skin.

“Alright,” he replies. “but I’m adding five more. Naughty girls who don’t listen get punished.”

“Hannibal,” Will warns. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s a brat, is what she is, Will. Stop defending her,” Hannibal’s hands wrap around your hair, pulling your teary eyed face up and craning your neck. “Now count. Starting from three.”

The belt comes down again, and your hands ache, along with your bottom.

“T-Three.” You say. The belt comes down on you again, and again. You count to five.

“You really need to be harder on her,” Hannibal says to Will, who’s subtly grinding against your face as he watches you writhe below him. “She needs to learn that her actions have consequences.”

“I know,” Will sighs, then gently taps the tip of your nose, and smiles softly. “But look at how precious she is.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, bringing out the sixth then seventh hit. You can already feel the blooming of bruises by the time you hit number ten, and your aching pussy grinds down into Hannibal’s thigh. He seems to allow this, and by the twelfth hit, he’s teasing you about it.

“Is this arousing you, lover?” He asks, amused. “You only have three more to go. You better enjoy it.”

“Mm, she is,” Will cuts in, reaching down between your legs to feel your soaked panties. “Little pussy is so wet,” and then, “You ruined your panties, pup.”

Mewling, you allow another smack to come down onto your ass.

“T-Thirteen,” you whimper out. “Could.. could you buy me some new panties, Will?”

Another smack. Another number. Will tilts his head, staring at your panty clad ass.

“Mm,” he replies. “I don’t know, Hannibal. What do you think?” His fingers grasp the puff ball tail and tug it up. This makes your panties ride up in between your folds, and you gasp, humiliated. “I think baby blue would really suit her.”

“That, or lilac,” the eldest man replies. “We’ll get you a new set, little one. But only because it benefits us as much as it benefits you.”

You smile, giddy with excitement to take another shopping trip. Hannibal rubs your ass again, and Will kisses you on the head.

“One more for us, alright?”

You nod, perky ass throbbing with heat. Hannibal slams the belt down, and this time you let out a sob. It was the harshest hit, one sure to leave a welt or two. Hannibal coos when he sees your look of pain, throwing the belt to the side and gently massaging you.

“Shhh. It’s alright. Come here, darling.”

You maneuver your body to slide in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your smaller form, and he kisses your hair, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. You let out a few more stray tears while he and Will both soothe the ache on your bottom.

“You know we only do this because we have to.” Hannibal murmurs.

“I know, daddy.”

“Actions have consequences, and you asked for this sort of punishment. So we decided to give it to you,” he explains, and pulls away to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips.

“I did. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Good,” he replies. “And since you’ve taken your punishment so well, I’m giving you the opportunity to ask for something. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

Your eyes brighten.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You lick your lips, contemplating your options with excitement.

“Hmm,” you say, and then finally come to your decision. You look over to your second boyfriend, who seems to be watching you with an almost love struck gaze. “I want Will… want his mouth. Please?”

Will licks his lips at the statement. Oral is one of his favorite things to give.

“Very well,” Hannibal says, then gestures for Will. “She can lay in between my legs. You lay between hers.”

Will nods, and you happily turn around and begin sliding off your panties. Spreading your legs, you look up at Will with doe eyes as he approaches you. His lips touch yours, sliding easily against the expanse of your mouth. When he pulls away, the scent of your arousal overtakes his senses. He groans, moving down in between your legs.

Hannibal’s big arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you still. Will flawlessly licks a stripe up your slit, making you whimper and hold onto Hannibal for dear life as he begins to eat you like a man starved. His mouth works wonders against your tiny hole and aching clit as he groans into your cunt, drinking your sweet juices like it’s nectar of the Gods.

“How does she taste?” Hannibal asks, even though he already knows the answer. He loves to go down on you just as much as the other man.

Will pulls away, chin dripping and hair disheveled.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he gasps out, nosing at your folds. His thumbs spread them apart, exposing your hole that’s coated in creamy slick. “Cutest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever seen.”

You clench, letting him see the opening and closing of your hole. You want him to stick his tongue back inside.

You don’t have to wait long for that, because a mere second later Hannibal’s big hand splays across the back of Will’s head and pushes him back down. Will lets out a moan at this, allowing Hannibal to guide his head up and down and every which way that brings you closer and closer to your peak. Hannibal smirks, watching the way you writhe under his tongue and watch Will with hungry, lidded eyes.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” He says, and you can feel his hardness pressing against your back.

Drool seeps down your chin as you nod.

“Mhm..” you whine out. Your hands go to the boy’s hair, and he whimpers when you tug on the strands.

“He likes when you do that,” Hannibal observes, his tone low. He kisses the shell of your ear. “Do it again.”

You comply, watching the way Will’s hips grind down into the mattress when it happens and the way Hannibal lets out a heavy breath. Will’s mouth works harder, bringing your clit in between his lips and lightly sucking. You gasp out his name, hips moving against him in tandem.

“Will, Daddy.. ‘m so close..”

“Close, yes?” Hannibal taunts, and his grip around your throat tightens. His biceps practically squeeze your neck as you near closer and closer to your high, your throat gasping for breath. When your orgasm overtakes you, Hannibal loosens his grip, but not quite. You let out a raw, pleasure filled moan when you cum, Will working you through until the point of overstimulation, your legs shaking and your sock clad feet pushing on his shoulders. He chuckles when he pulls away, a pleased grin forming as he wipes his slick coated mouth on the back of his wrist. And boy, is it a sight. He licks up the remaining remnants of your arousal with his tongue, hands splaying on either side of you and Hannibal’s legs so he can move up and kiss you filthily on the mouth. Hannibal is next, a tender peck that makes the cock against your lower back twitch. It has him licking his lips when Will pulls away, his lashes fluttering as he sighs in content. He presses a kiss to your mouth, too, and relaxes even further.

It’s only a mere moment of rest before you can feel that familiar throb again, and the sight of your two boys bulging through their pants makes you drool. You spread your legs, overstimulated pussy on full display.

Will, who had been laying at the foot of the bed in front of the both of you, watches with hunger. You lean away from Hannibal, instead turning yourself on your knees and presenting yourself to Will, who’s already positioning himself behind you eagerly. Hannibal, the most patient out of all three of you, no doubt, finally takes his aching cock out of his pants and wraps a hand around himself at the scene. You hear the rustling of Will’s fly being undone, then his length is pressed against your ass and wet, oh so wet, even when he slides it in between your folds and sheathes himself inside your little hole with one swift movement. Your mouth drops open at the sensation of being filled, your hands finding purchase on Hannibal’s thick thighs in front of you. His cock is hitting his stomach, red and leaking drops of precum down the tip, and you watch as Hannibal rubs it up and down with his hand. You look up at him pleadingly as Will begins to pound you into the mattress.

“You want daddy’s cock in your mouth, is that it?” Hannibal teases, and you nod. He sighs, directing the tip of his cock towards you. “Open wide, sweet girl.”

You happily obey, tongue lolling out to lick at his tip, his stringy precum sticking to your bottom lip and the head of his cock, tasting absolutely divine. Will’s hands roam over your ass as his cock bullies your gummy walls.

“Mm, Hanni got you good, didn’t he, baby?” He says, examining the marks. “Gonna have to put some lotion on that later.”

The use of the nickname in Will’s mouth is a mockery of your own. You nod, however, pouting.

“Mhm. But Daddy knows what’s best for me.”

“That’s right,” Hannibal grunts out, when you take him fully down your throat. “Dumb little girls like you can’t think for themselves. That’s why you need Will and I to take care of you,” and then, “God, darling, your mouth is just perfect.”

You hum, choking on him. Will’s fingers bruise your hips now, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh thrust. Your pussy quakes around him, clamping down on his length. His breath is warm against your ear as he pushes in and out of you.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby..” as he watches your ass bounce back against him.

“Look at that tight little pussy, practically choking my dick.” as he spreads your cheeks apart, watching the way you take him.

“Hannibal’s cock tastes good, doesn’t it?” As you come up for air and gasp, drool soaking your neck and chin.

You can feel when he gets close by the way his hips stutter, and with a lewd whine hes babbling endlessly.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says. “Gonna cum in this slut pussy— god, squeeze me just like that.”

“Please,” you whimper endlessly, and you can hear Hannibal let out a breathy chuckle.

“She wants it. She wants you to cum in her cunt,” his voice drops an octave as he watches the boy. “Come on. I need something to lubricate her more once I get my turn, don’t I?”

“Oh—“

Will’s eyes roll back, his body tensing up as he finally releases inside her. She clenches down on him, milking him for all he’s worth as he shoots rope after rope deep inside her gaping pussy. Hannibal’s fingers nestle into the boy’s hair as he rides out his orgasm, gently twirling the soft locks in between his fingers. You watch with your mouth turned into an o, burying yourself deeper against Hannibal’s chest in retaliation.

“There you go,” Hannibal coos when Will sighs against your chest, spent. “Good boy.”

“Tease,” Will mumbles back to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. His eyes look up at you and he smiles. “Are you okay?”

You giggle, nodding your head.

“More than okay.”

He looks down at the mess between your thighs as he pulls out, grunting. A trail of his spend pools out of you and onto the sheets.

His fingers begin to move up to your drenched clit— you need release to, after all, and Will is never a selfish lover—but before he can, Hannibal’s hand grabs his wrist.

“No,” he utters. “Let me, once I’m inside her.”

“Like I said,” Will grumbles, moving out from between your legs to settle back against the headboard. “Tease.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, guiding you to turn around and face him. You bite your lower lip at the feeling of Will’s cum trailing down your thighs. Hannibal undoes his belt, pulling down his zipper so his pants are open and his briefs are exposed.

“Take me out, darling.”

She reaches into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his length out and giving it a few languid strokes. Will watches, his spent cock twitching against his stomach. He ignores it, instead deciding to move to your side and press a kiss to your heated cheek. His hand provides a comforting pressure to the back of your head as he settles it in your hair. Hannibal tilts his head, grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you into his lap.

“Put my cock inside you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Be a good girl.”

Your lashes flutter at the vulgar term spilling from the usually polite man’s lips. Will’s hands scrape against your scalp and your brain is fuzzy with how good it all feels. Grabbing Hannibal’s length in your hand, you position your dripping cunt over the tip of his cock.

Sinking down makes your brows furrow. Hannibal isn’t as big as Will, but that isn’t saying much. The man still has a considerable size, and his girth stretches your gummy walls exceptionally. You whimper, settling down to the very base of his cock. Hannibal’s head tilts back and hits the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut to get used to the sensation of you wrapped around him. His big hands splay across your hips and Will nuzzles your throat affectionately.

“Daddy.” you whine, your little pussy beginning to rock onto Hannibal.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me, please?”

He smiles, pulling you further against him so he can brace his feet underneath you. His cock gives a few shallow thrusts, getting used to your heat, before moving into more dangerous territory. It isn’t long before he’s jackhammering into you, your head tilted back by Will’s big hands. He demands you open your mouth, and you do. A glob of spit lands on your tongue, which you swallow greedily. Hannibal groans as he watches the scene.

“Filthy little things,” he mutters, pulling you into a kiss. You both share Will’s saliva on your intertwining tongues.

Your thighs shake as Hannibal’s cock and balls leak with Will’s cum. The sound is utterly sinful— the gushing sounds of his cock pummeling your filled pussy, his balls slapping against your ass, the sobs tearing through your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and you’re sobbing.

Hannibal’s fingers reach down to your clit, deftly rubbing against the swollen nub exactly the way you like. It isn’t long before you reach your peak, your pussy clenching down as a string of filthy words makes its way out of your throat, burying your face in Hannibal’s white button down and staining it with salty tears. Will is an absolute sweetheart, guiding your hips with his hands to help you, cooing little sweet sayings in your ear. He cakes your throat in pretty red marks.

Hannibal draws closer to his orgasm, small grunts and heavy breaths spilling out of his mouth. It isn’t long before he empties inside you, filling you up with a second load of sticky, white cum. He pulls your limp body off of his length, your pussy making a gushing sound as both of your boyfriend’s dribble out of you. The two men sigh when they see it, their cocks both twitching at the sight.

But all three of you have had enough for the day— or at least for the next few hours. Hannibal disappears out of the room for a moment to bring back a glass of water and lotion. He holds the water to your lips and sweetly coos, “you’ve been such an obedient girl. Drink, okay?”

You do, of course. You drink the whole damn glass.

After going into the bathroom to pee and wipe your cum covered thighs, Hannibal lotions your sore bottom with gentle hands. After this you finally crawl back into bed, moving onto your stomach and hugging your pillow tightly. Will chuckles.

“You don’t want a bubble bath?” He asks, because that’s usually what you request. But you just shake your head, your eyes fluttering shut. Not asleep, but almost. Will nods his head. “Later then, sweet girl.”

The boy crawls to your side, wrapping his big arm around you and pulling you to his side. Hannibal soon joins, his tie loosened and jacket off, pants unbuttoned. It’s rare to see him in such a messy state, relaxed. Only you and Will can help him unwind like this.

He lays on his back, and you lay your head on his chest, inhaling his strong, expensive cologne. Beside you, you can smell the aftershave that Will wears— Hannibal teases him about it, but you’re quite fond of it. It smells like home.

They smell like home.

You smile sleepily, watching with barely open eyes as Hannibal and Will’s hands connect over you. As you fall into a peaceful sleep, the two men on either side of you stay wide awake.

After a moment, Will chuckles.

“So I’m assuming we’ll be using my belt more often?”

“Guaranteed,” hannibal confirms, watching you drool onto his shirt in your sleep. He never mentions it to you because he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed. “Perhaps we can use it on you next time, Will”

The younger man scoffs, his cheeks flaring as he buries his face into your hair.

“Shut up, Hanni.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[fear-is-truth]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 — nicholas alexander chavez.

summary — 80’s au. nicholas alexander chavez is popular, rich, spoiled and… annoyingly hot. / wc: 1.7k

tags — f! reader. nothing explicit unfortunately

“You’re late,” Nicholas drawled, idly adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He sat sprawled in his family’s oversized leather chair as if he owned the goddamn town—and in truth, he pretty much did. A big chunk of it, anyway. Draped in designer clothes, a pastel sweater tied around his neck, he gave you one of his signature smirk. You rolled your eyes and dropped your keys on the side table. “Relax, I had to wait for Cooper to show up,” you replied, nodding toward your best friend, lounged on the couch across from you. “He was running late.”

Cooper waved a hand lazily, one leg draped over the other as he lounged comfortably on the couch. “Blame the photographer for keeping me late,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. He didn’t model for the paycheck—it was more of a hobby. The Koch family was just as loaded as the Chavez family. Nicholas let out a low whistle. “Maybe he was just hoping to get some?”

Cooper carefully selected out a piece of hard peppermint candy from the glass bowl and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the candy at Nicholas, nailing him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama. Cooper just lowered his shades again, lips curling into a smirk. You leaned against the armrest, casting a glance at Nic, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time. He was always like this, soaking in attention like he was born to it. Girls practically fell at his feet wherever he went, but for some reason, he spent more time around you and Cooper than anyone else. Maybe it was because you weren’t interested in feeding his ego.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“So, what’s the plan?” Nicholas asked, unwrapping the piece of candy and popping it into his mouth. “How about we throw a pool party?”

You exchanged a glance with Cooper, who raised an eyebrow. The “pool parties” usually meant a crowd, loud music, and a bunch of people you could barely tolerate.

“Isn’t it kind of late for that?” you hinted, half-hoping he’d change his mind. Nic shrugged, “that’s the point.”

•••

The pool glittered under the soft yellow glow of string lights, and the evening was warm, the kind of perfect summer evening that made it hard to believe anything could go wrong. The air was filled with music, and a few groups of people were already mingling, laughing, and lounging by the poolside.

You stood off to the side, trying not to scowl as you watched Nicholas laughing with a few of the girls who had already gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. Your stomach twisted a little, watching them throw themselves at him, one of them resting a hand on his arm as she laughed at something he said. Nicholas, of course, ate it all up, flashing that blinding white smile that had made him the heartthrob of the town. It was stupid to feel jealous. It wasn’t like you had a claim on him. He was the kind of guy everyone wanted—hot, rich, athletic—practically born to be the centre of attention. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch as they tossed their hair, squeezed their boobs together, leaning in a little too close.

Part of you wished he’d notice you instead.

“Here,” a cold sensation jolted you out of your thoughts. Cooper pressed a chilled can of Cola against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile as you jumped.

“Hey!” you protested, swatting at his hand but unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face.

“You looked like you needed it,” he explained, the can still lingering near your face. “Before you set something on fire with that glare of yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” you muttered, wiping the condensation off your cheek, but the smile stayed. “and for your information, I wasn’t glaring.”

“Sure,” Cooper replied, popping open the can and offering the can to you. “If by ‘wasn’t glaring’ you mean staring daggers at those girls who won’t leave Nic alone.”

You sighed as you took a sip, your gaze drifting back to the scene. Nicholas looked like he was having the time of his life, head thrown back in laughter at something one of the girls said. He was always like this—playing up his charisma and humour, making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even when he was surrounded by half the town’s prettiest, snobbiest chicks.

“He enjoys the attention, you know,” Cooper said, his voice softer now, more serious. “But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you mumbled, staring down at the Coke in your hands. The cold can had warmed up a little from the heat of your skin, much like the warmth creeping up your chest from the jealousy. You didn’t want to feel this way. You weren’t even sure when it had started—this weird tension whenever Nicholas was around, the way your heart did a stupid flip whenever he so much as looked at you. He was Nic. Your obnoxious best friend. And yet… it was hard to watch other people throw themselves at him, especially when he seemed to thrive off it.

Cooper glanced back at them, then back at you, shaking his head slightly. “Look, Nic’s… complicated. Okay fine, he can be of a dick sometimes. But when it comes down to it, who’s he spending most of his time with? Not them.” He jerked his head toward the pool, where the girls were practically circling around Nicholas like a bunch of hungry sharks. “You.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mumbled, watching as Nic cannonballed into the pool, causing a water to splash everywhere. He resurfaced with a grin, his hair slicked back, shaking his hair like a wet dog. The girls were in hysterics, of course. Like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. But even as he laughed, his eyes scanned the patio, searching the crowd. And when he spotted you, his grin softened, the playful, cocky expression slipping into something more genuine. He raised a hand, waved at you.

“You’re not still jealous, are you?” Cooper nudged your arm. “No,” you lied, trying to sound casual. But the way your chest tightened told a different story. “It’s just… whatever. I don’t care.”

“Sure, you don’t.” He gave you an “i-know-you-know” smile before heading off to join another group of friends, leaving you standing by the pool. Nicholas swam up to where you were standing and rested his arms on the edge, looking up at you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. Water dripped down his face and chest, tan skin catching the yellow garden lights.

“Having fun?” As if the prick hadn’t just been flirting with half the girls at the party a moment ago.“Sure. Looks like you’re having a great time.” Nicholas chuckled, lowering his voice. “If by ‘great,’ you mean having a bunch of people talk at me while I think about how bored I am, then yeah.”

“Right,” you said, not fully believing him. “Looked like you were really bored.” “Is someone jealous?” Your heart jumped—was it that obvious? But you quickly masked it with a dry laugh. “Of those girls? Please.”

“M’kay, cool. So… you planning on actually joining the party, or just standing there sulking?”

“I’m not sulking,” you bristled, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because it kind of looks like you are. Pouty, even.”

You knelt down by the edge of the pool, leaning just close enough to point at his nose. “I’m not sulking,”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, you could’ve been in here with me this whole time.” His smirk softened into something more genuine, and for a split second, you forgot all about the other people around. It was just you and him, the water lapping gently against the poolside, the strum of the party fading into the background. Quick as a viper, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you forward. You tumbled into the pool with a splash, cool water engulfing you.

When you surfaced, spluttering and wiping the water from your eyes, you shot him a dirty look. “Asshole!”

He was laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that made it impossible to stay too mad. Before you could thump him on the shoulder, he pulled you closer, hands settling on your waist as the water swirled around you. “Told you you should’ve joined me,” with that, just as suddenly as he’d pulled you in, Nicholas leaned down and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours, tender yet insistent, his grip on your waist tightening, pulling you flush against his soaked body. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm, as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

Hands slid up your sides, fingers skimming along the curves of your waist before one hand moved to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The kiss deepened, and he angled his head slightly. Your mind spun as he pushed forward, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a deliberate slowness, exploring every corner with a sensual, languid rhythm. There was nothing rushed about it—he wanted to take his time, savour the taste of you, to tease. His tongue brushed lightly against yours, coaxing a soft gasp from you as your fingers instinctively gripped his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself in the dizzying sensation of it all. Your first tongue kiss was with no one other than Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, both of you a bit breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“You’re really not mad, are you?”

part II here

MLIST.  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[florestalio]

JUST FRIENDS — n.rk

albeit the lines of your friendship were quite blurred, it still confused you as to why riki was suddenly adamant on having your hair tie on his wrist at all times. given, you know, that it would be basically telling the world that the two of you were dating.

GENRE— fluff, highschool au, friends to lovers

WARNINGS— lots of touching, jealousy, mutual pining but they are both oblivious idiots, cursing, toxicity (they are huge haters imo), kissing, slight making out (?), let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 6.4k

NOTE— fluff is my biggest enemy, so this was quite the challenge for me. bnd ver posted here!

YOU AND RIKI WERE CLOSE. Too close, according to the rest of your friends.

You both had been best friends since kindergarten, the story of your meeting never failing to tear a chuckle out of anyone who heard it.

You were three years old, having arrived at kindergarten a few minutes ago. You were scared to go and talk to the other kids — what if they were mean? What if they laughed at your pretty bows? What if they didn't want to play with you?

You sat in one corner, away from the other kids, playing with a small doll. Amidst your playing, you saw little feet approach you. You looked up, noticing a boy of your age. He stared right back at you, before pointing at you. “You are going to be my best friend!”

The boy had later introduced himself to be Riki, and you both had truly become best friends. The two of you were together through thick and thin, never leaving each other's side. There were no secrets between the two of you, the thought itself incredulous. You both were best friends, why on earth would you both hide something from each other?

Your bond was unbreakable, something that left many writhing in envy. How come you both were so close, never able to leave each other's side?

With a good bond, comes judgement. Judgement by others, assumptions about your true relationship.

While you both were close, not everyone knew that you both were best friends, right? To any stranger, you both were the embodiment of 'siblings, or dating?'.

While you both bickered and were playful enough to be termed as siblings, the way you both acted with each other, often left people confused.

See, your love language was physical touch, while his was acts of service. After spending so much time with each other for all these years, you both were bound to rub off on each other, weren't you?

His hand was almost always on your waist, or your shoulders — didn't matter where you guys were, or what you were doing — it was always there. If somehow he forgot to put his hand around you, you would loop your arm around his, or intertwine your hands. It was cute, definitely very cute, but — the extreme couple energy that you both excluded was insane.

It didn't help that you were often touching him, skinship being basically your second nature. You were always fixing his hair, his clothes, touching him while you were speaking to him, while you were laughing with him — how could you both expect anyone to believe that you weren't dating each other?

Not only that, both of you would often be seen giving each other random gifts, without it being a special occasion. You were often seen giving Riki a chocolate at a random time of the day, while he was often delivering milk to you. If anyone asked, he always had the same excuse: “She doesn't drink enough water, she needs to stay hydrated”, while you always said “he likes chocolates, is it so wrong of me to give chocolates to a friend?” Needless to say, they always backed off after that.

It was only after a certain set of incidents that everyone finally had something to confirm that yes, you both were indeed more than friends.

IT WAS A QUARTER PAST SEVEN IN THE MORNING, fifteen minutes left for the start of the first period. You and Riki had arrived at school just five minutes ago, with his hand around your waist as usual. The two of you were giggling at some tea you were spilling regarding a relationship between a senior and a sophmore, since you were physically incapable of keeping things from him. Just as you were getting to the good part of the gossip, one of Riki’s friends from the football team ran up to the two of you. Jake.

“Hey lovebirds!” Jake cheerily waved to the both of you, his tone teasing. You simply rolled your eyes with a smile, having gotten used to the antics of his friends. “Riki, dude, I'm gonna need a favour — one of our frontiers is absent, and none of the subs are available. Please help us out for today's match — I promise I'll make it up to you, even if we don't win. You will even have a customized jersey for the match, which you can keep with yourself permanently–!”

Riki hesitated, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “I don't know, I was planning on leaving early with ___ today, to get ice cream and all…”

You immediately pinched his hand that was around your waist. “He means yes, we can always reschedule the hangout.”

Jake's eyes lit up. “Really?! Thank you so much, you have no idea how desperately we needed another player — I'll go tell the others now, you can come and practice with us during recess!”

Just before he could leave, you halted him, getting out of Riki's grasp. “Jake, wait–”

He stopped on the spot, looking at you with a confused gaze. “Something wrong?”

You stepped forward, brushing some hair out of his face gently, smoothing the slightly messy hair on top of head. You took a step back. “There you go, the mess was bothering me.”

He blinked, a faint red coating his cheeks and creeping up his neck. He was well aware of your touchy nature, but this was the first time he was on the receiving end of it, hence his flustered state. “O-Oh, thanks — I- I'll go now–”

He quickly turned on his heel and left, a light jog evident in his retreating figure. You turned back towards Riki, a smile on your face. “Let's go to class, or else we might be late.”

He nodded, his arm looping around your waist once more, guiding you around the busy halls, to class. You couldn't help but notice the slightly tighter grip he had on your waist, or the way his expression was different than his usual when you turned back towards him.

CLASS WAS BORING AS USUAL. The two of you sat at the back of class, messing around as usual instead of studying. Yet, there was something amiss.

Usually, Riki was a lot more playful, a lot more relaxed and free around you. Currently however, there seemed to be an air of hesitation, reluctance around him. His smile didn't exactly reach his eyes, his laughter feeling forced.

‘Maybe he just isn't feeling it today?’ was what you thought, so you didn't bother asking. You knew if something was seriously bothering him, he would have told you already.

Before long, the bell rang, signifying recess. You quickly held Riki's hand, pulling him out of his seat, and racing into the hall. You both had already eaten in class, — how you both never get caught, is a mystery you're both yet to solve — so he would have the entire recess to practice with the rest of the football team for the match that was going to take place later on.

You both quickly navigate your way to the football ground, spotting Jake and the rest of the team doing lazy stretches to warm up first. He spotted the two of you quickly enough, waving and rushing over to where you both were standing.

“Hey,” he began, a grin adorning his face. “I'm so glad you didn't change your mind — ___, you can sit on the benches and watch if you'd like, I'm sure the others won't mind! Also, coach got the customized jersey done already — no idea how he got it done so quickly — it's there in the locker rooms, so you can change into that right now if you'd like!”

You admired his ability to yap continually without stopping, making you smile a little. You nodded in his direction, nudging Riki to go and change already, before quickly walking over to the benches and taking a seat.

Soon enough, Riki was back, adorning the jersey, making your jaw drop. You couldn't take your eyes off him — you had never seen him in attire similar to that before, but damn, he sure did look amazing.

Your face flushed slightly, as you quickly tried to snap out of these thoughts. Nope, that's your best friend, you're not going to think of him in that sense.

You watched as they all played, Riki surprisingly being able to keep pace with them. You never watched him play before, the sight drawing you in like a moth to a flame. His concentration was — were you blushing?! 

God, what was wrong with you? Had you been single for so long that the sight of your best friend simply practicing in the field had you all giddy?

The rest of the recess went on smoothly, with you trying not to concentrate on Riki too much, lest someone caught you with your cheeks on fire. God, you really needed to get yourself together.

Once practice was over, Riki quickly went to you, his usual smile back on face. You handed him a bottle of water, quickly wiping his sweat off him. He started babbling while you were doing so. “Did you see that? I did pretty good back there, right? Jake said that he was confident we would win the match today, and said I was better than the guy I'm subbing for! Isn't that great?”

You let out a hum, finishing wiping off his sweat. “Yea, you were amazing. C'mon now, we need to run, or else we will be late for history — you know how ma'am gets when someone is even two seconds late.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He didn't need to know that you weren't exactly watching much of what he was doing, or that you were only watching him.

AS SOON AS THE BELL FOR THE LAST PERIOD RANG, nearly the whole school raced to the grounds. All the players, including Riki, ran to the locker rooms to change, whereas the rest of the students quickly found the best seats possible.

You sat at the very front, a bottle of water and a towel already in your hands. You were a little tense for the match, since the opponent team seemed to be extremely well prepared. Still, you tried to not let your mind wander, focusing on Riki, as he came out of the locker rooms, into the field.

The match started. The opposing team was putting up a good defense, but Riki’s team was able to keep up. It was hard to watch, the many nearly-goals and nearly-fouls heightening your nerves. You tried to not let them get to your head, focusing instead on cheering for Riki.

Half time arrived soon enough, with both the teams having scored one goal each. Riki came straight to you, quickly taking the bottle from your hand, gulping it all down. He gave you a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I'm really nervous for the match. The opposing team is… starting to get angry. I don't think they expected us to keep up, so they were a little dumbfounded. But now they are simply pissed — they aren't exactly known for being the fairest when it comes to playing football, and winning.”

You bit your lip, wiping off his sweat with the towel. “But they can't use unfair means to win, can they? They will get a foul…”

Your words died down on your tongue once you noticed his grim expression. “If they somehow injured one of us, leaving us incapable of playing, what is one red card going to do? They have subs available, we don't. If one of us is out, the match would already be lost.”

You didn't know what to say in order to encourage or comfort him. You knew that the reputation of their opponents wasn't the best, but there was nothing anyone could do, other than to stay safe and try their best. So that's what you told him.

He gave you an amused smile. A teasing glint appeared in his eyes.“You sound worried. Are you scared that they might hurt me?”

You scowled at him. “This isn't a joke! They could actually injure you, can't you just give me your word that you will at least try to stay safe?”

He let out a small snicker, before giving you a mock salute. “Of course ma'am. Just do me a favour, will you?”

You tilted your head to the side. A favour? Now? You decided not to question it. “Sure I can. But it depends on what it is.”

He grinned at you, before pulling his jersey off him, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath. That explained why he was sweating more than the others. Who even wears two layers to a football match?

He shoved it in your chest. “Wear it, and cheer for me.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “No way! It's literally drenched in your sweat.”

He pouted, giving you a pleading look. “Please? For me? It's only for an hour and a half, can't you do it? I'll feel a lot more motivated then. C'mon, just do it, please–”

You groaned at his incessant begging. “Fine! I'll wear it — just… ugh, help me out with it–”

The grin on his face grew, as he quickly helped slide the jersey onto you. He proudly made you twirl for him, with you hiding your face in your hands from the utter embarrassment of it — but complying nonetheless. Unbeknownst to you, a smug smirk adorned his face, as he locked eyes with Jake in the process, who quickly looked away, his ears turning red at having been caught looking.

The whistle sounded again, signifying the start of the second half. Riki quickly left, the hurried ‘good luck!’ that you threw at him bringing a smile to his face.

You watched as he advanced into the field with renowned vigour, the determined expression on his face soothing your nerves slightly. You made sure to cheer for him even louder than before, the grin that he threw your way making it worth the looks that were shot in your direction.

But the opposing team did not relent. Eager to match Riki's newfound enthusiasm, they changed their strategies. The brutality in every move that they made caused your anxiety to spike. 

Riki's team, however, didn't let it deter them. Everyone was determined to win, to not succumb to the team that always tries to get their way through unfair means.

Speaking of unfair means, the attempts at making foul moves increased ten-fold. Many of the players in Riki's team were almost injured, but somehow they managed to avoid it at the last second. Why the referee wasn't giving any yellow cards, was beyond your imagination.

The clock was ticking down. Not a single goal had been made. The audience was starting to lose hope, the enthusiasm in their cheers starting to fade. You made sure to continue screaming, cheering them on as best as you could. In the midst of it all, Riki glanced at you. Upon seeing the expression on your face, he made it his personal mission to win. He had to, for you. He wasn't going to disappoint you, he swore to himself.

With a determined look, he surged forward, trying to get to the ball. Jake had the ball, and he locked eyes with him. Upon noticing the younger’s determined expression, he managed to pass the ball to him.

Riki caught the ball without any interceptions, quickly racing towards the goal. He skillfully avoided all the attempts to tackle him, running as fast as possible to the goal. The goalkeeper froze, upon noticing the expression on his face.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, he struck. With a sudden burst of strength, he kicked the ball, watching as it flew into the goalpost, the goalkeeper just narrowly missing it.

The sudden uproar that erupted was deafening to say the least. His teammates were hugging and whooping, patting him on the back. The exhilarating feeling that came from the win, made him feel lighter, as if he was on cloud nine.

His eyes searched for you, noticing you trying to get past the huge crowd towards him. He quickly navigated his way out of the crowd, making his way towards you. As soon as he was in front of you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, making you squeal, as he picked you up and spun you in the air. His grin was wide, your own grin almost as wide as his. “We won! We actually fucking won! Did you see my last goal? I looked cool right? I still can't believe I actually made the goal–”

In the midst of his yapping, one of your friends was wiping his sweat off for him. While you tried to not let it show, you couldn't help the jealousy that flared inside you at the intimate gesture. You were supposed to do it for him, not her. Riki didn't even seem to notice, too focused on telling you the details — as if you didn't witness it all by yourself.

Unable to bear the sight of her wiping off his sweat with a random towel, you grabbed his hand, pulling him away. You both set into a sprint, away from the people congratulating him.

As soon as you reached a somewhat secluded region of the school, you turned to him, your arms crossed over your chest. But before you could speak, he spoke first, his breathing coming in short pants. “Goddamn woman, I just won a match, you're already making me run again? Cut me some slack, will you?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his outburst. “Why did you let her do it?”

He looked at you, confused. “Huh? Let who do what…?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Her. You let her wipe off your sweat for you — don't tell me that you didn't notice it at all?!”

He still looked confused. “Huh? Someone did that? I didn't even realise — I was talking to you, so I was distracted, I guess. But why does it matter?”

You gave him a pointed look, frustration evident in your eyes. Why wasn't he getting it?! “‘Why does it matter?’ Because I'm your best friend! I always do it for you, so why would you let her do it as well? If I'm your best friend, then shouldn't I get treated as such? Shouldn't I be treated differently from the rest of our friends? Why are you letting her do something that only I do to you?”

His eyes widened, before he frowned. “I didn't even notice her doing it… but if I should treat you differently from the rest of our friends, shouldn't you do the same to me as well? Why should this be a one-sided arrangement?”

Now it was your time to frown. “One-sided? How is this one-sided?! I always treat you differently, how have I ever treated you similar to the rest of our friends?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don't know, maybe yesterday? When you fixed Jake's hair for him? Since when did you start fixing people's hair other than mine?”

You were at a loss for words. You simply opened and closed your mouth several times, like a fish out of water.

Riki spoke again. “How about this: I pay more attention to my surroundings, while you keep your hands to yourself? Don't go around touching other people's hair, that should be reserved for me only. Do we have a deal?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Fine. We have a deal.”

You usually didn't back down from fights that easily. But everything seemed to be different when it involved Riki.

TRUE TO YOUR DEAL, the two of you didn't treat others even remotely similar to how you treated each other anymore. Both of you grew much closer than before. People could easily pick up on the change in the air around the two of you, the shippers going slightly insane. When were the two of you going to announce your relationship officially?

Neither of you paid much attention to those silly rumours, always dismissing the teasing. Friends were allowed to be possessive of each other, were they not? Was it a crime to want some things to be just between you guys, and not for everyone else to know and judge?

Days went by the same, the teasing never stopped. But it was always there from the very beginning of your friendship, not just from classmates, but outsiders and family members as well. Both of you had grown used to it.

Recently, both you and Riki had noticed the trend of wearing hair ties on wrists. While it wasn't an uncommon sight for girls, it certainly was for boys. What do they need a hair tie for, when their hair is so short?

It was quickly discovered that the hair ties were actually of their girlfriends’, them wearing it on their wrists being a sign of commitment — and the general fact that they had a girlfriend.

Of course, it flared jealousy among those who weren't in a relationship — including you and Riki. Both of you glared in resentment at anyone who had a hair tie on their wrist, always greeting them with a bitchy eye roll. Both of you, like every other single person, loved to hate on couples, betting on when they would break up, if they were cheating on their partner, and whatnot. You both were always met with the same responses: ‘Just wait till you get into a relationship.’

Your responses were the same too. The same eye roll, paired with a pissed off comment, either mocking them, or talking about how neither of you would ever bother with dating anyone. Everytime, you both were met with an exchange of amused glances. Neither of you ever understood that they meant when you both would get together.

It started to get unbearable after a while, with almost everyone wearing a hair tie on their wrist. It was frankly starting to annoy Riki a lot, to the point that he snapped at his friends, which was uncharacteristic of him. It was only then that the guys gave him the obvious solution: to wear a hair tie as well.

Wearing a hair tie on his wrist was easier said than done. For Christ’s sake, he didn't have a girlfriend! Why would he wear a hair tie on his wrist, when he didn't have someone's to wear?

But then a crazy thought struck him. He may not have a girlfriend, but he definitely had a girl best friend. You. He could wear your hair tie on his wrist, right?

Turns out, you didn't share the same views as him.

“ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT. Where did you even get this crazy idea from?!”

Riki bit his lip, rubbing his nape sheepishly. “Well — the guys keep teasing me, so I got desperate, and… uhm…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes, and sighing. “Riki, you're aware that only couples wear hair ties on their wrists, right? We,” You gestured between the two of you. “are not a couple. You wearing my hair tie on your wrist would be indicating that I'm your girlfriend. Which I'm clearly not. Let's not give everyone another incentive to tease us, yea?”

He let out a groan. “Oh, c’mon, who cares what others think? We can just — make an excuse — tell them that I'm wearing it because you keep losing your hair ties, so I'm basically your hair tie holder. How does that sound?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “No one will ever buy that shitty excuse.”

He scowled at you. “Oh, like you could come up with something better.”

You nodded enthusiastically, although it was completely sarcastic. “Of course I can! We forget this conversation! Because we both know what the hair tie would indicate. Not just to others, but between us too.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “I don't care. I'm going to wear one.”

You rolled your eyes. But before you could open your mouth to retort, Riki grabbed the hair tie that you used to meticulously tie your hair into a ponytail and pulled.

You watched in shock, as your hair came undone, your hair tie now in his hand. With a smug smirk, he wore it on his wrist, showing it to you proudly, before going off to his class. “Bye ___! See you after this period!”

Oh, he was definitely going to see you. Maybe two of you or even more, depending on how hard you punch him.

JUST AS EXPECTED, you both were on the receiving end of everyone’s teasing, becoming the new hot topic of your school. No matter how much you both tried to ignore it, it just didn’t work.

Questions about whether you both were secretly dating or not followed you both left and right, comments assuming the status of your relationship were thrown about casually — it was simply too much. None of your friends believed you either, their cheeky smiles and teasing comments following you both everywhere.

All because of Riki’s obsession with wanting to wear your hair tie.

At some point you both got sick of trying to clear up the accusations, just letting people think what they wanted to. After all, their assumptions and comments weren’t going to magically come true, just because they think a certain way.

Right?

THE TEASING HAD GOTTEN TO A POINT WHERE NEITHER OF YOU COULD STAND IT ANYMORE, causing you both to avoid people as much as possible. Did no one understand the concept of personal space anymore? Or did they forget that minding their own damn business would always be more fruitful than trying to gather tea about other people’s love lives, or lack thereof?

Most of the time, you both hung out in the library or rooftop, sometimes even resorting to taking refuge in the janitor’s closet, that’s how much you both were affected by the constant teasing. How come everyone was so damn invested in the love life of you both, when it didn’t even concern them in the slightest?

Today was no different. From the morning, all you both could hear were comments like ‘So when are you guys planning on making it official?’, ‘When will you both drop the bomb?’, ‘Don’t bother lying, it’s too obvious that you both are super into each other.’, etc., etc. Your fist was clenched tightly by your side, Riki’s grip on your waist also tighter than usual. The urge to punch them in the faces was extremely high. When were they going to get bored of teasing you both?

In order to escape them, Woohak steered you through the crowd, escaping into the stairway. The two of you quickly climbed up the stairs, going to the rooftop. You pushed the door to the terrace open, the cold wind whipping in your faces. Riki slammed the door shut behind him using his foot, his hand never leaving your waist.

You went towards the railing, leaning on top of it. Riki finally let go of your waist, leaning on the railing beside you. Neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze, and the majestic view of the cityscape beneath. The cars and people looked quite tiny from up there, like ants, which was to be expected, given that your school building was eight stories tall.

Suddenly, Riki cleared his throat. He spoke up, his voice low, eyes facing his front. “Do the rumours and the constant teasing bother you too much?”

You snapped your head towards him, your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Where is this coming from?”

He looked at you. “You know, the constant questions and comments that are thrown in our way? It just — it got me thinking: ‘What if it all bothered you too much? What if our friendship isn’t worth all the comments and excessive teasing we face?’ Just stuff like that.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god — don’t you ever think like that, you hear me? Just because some people like to be annoying and poke their big ass nose in our goddamn business, doesn’t mean our friendship isn’t worth the trouble. Do you really care about other people’s opinions enough to end our friendship? Just like that?”

He quickly shook his head. “No no no, absolutely not — I just thought… actually, nevermind. I thought the rumours were making you uncomfortable, I’m glad I was wrong.”

A hint of a smile crept up your face, as you looked in front of you again. “A few silly comments can never make me break my friendship with you. You’re my best friend, aren’t you? Best friends are supposed to stick together, no matter what. Through thick and thin, all of our ups and downs Riki.”

He looked in front of him again, letting out a scoff, which was supposed to be an amused one, but it came out more bitter than intended. “Yea, best friends… that’s all we'll ever be…”

The last part was quiet, but you still heard it. The tips of your ears burned, a flush creeping up your neck. You quickly tried to change the subject. “L-Let’s try something.”

He furrowed his brows, looking at you again. “Try what?”

You bit your lip, quickly trying to think of something. “Uhm — let’s climb the railing and sit on it! Sounds fun, right?”

He raised a brow. “Absolutely not. That’s the stupidest, and most dangerous idea you’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.”

You pouted. “Come on, it’s not that bad — the railings are sturdy, we won’t fall.”

Riki firmly shook his head. “Nope. You want to climb it? Be my guest. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when you fall off and possibly break your leg. Or an arm. Or crack open your skull. Either way, I will say ‘I told you so’.”

You rolled your eyes, beginning to climb it up. “Oh shut up — I’m sure you would love to goad about it, if I fell off. You revel in my misery after all, don’t you–?”

You got cut off by a yelp of your own, your hand slipping. Riki immediately came to your rescue, pulling you off the railing. In complete and utter fear of the sudden momentary lapse of judgement that almost caused you to fall off the roof, you turned around, hugging him tightly.

He held you close, wrapping his own arms around your waist. He could feel your heart beating erratically in your chest, matching his own. He couldn’t believe how stupid and unaware of your surroundings you were.

He glared down at how you buried your head in his chest, in disbelief of your previous actions. You were shaking slightly in his hands, but he didn’t care. “Are you fucking insane?! You knew that was dangerous, why on earth would you still try to climb the damned railings? For the love of god, you could have fallen off and died!”

You meekly raised your head, preparing to retort, before freezing. He was so, so close. You could make out every single detail on his face, every freckle, every pore, every single blemish. Yet, he was so… mesmerizing.

Riki’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you. His voice took a softer edge, a gentle note evident in it. “Promise me that you will never…”

Too lost in his eyes, you didn’t hear him. His voice and every other noise faded to the background, your sole focus being on his eyes. They were pulling you in, drowning you in them. Like a siren luring an unsuspecting victim.

Your lips parted slightly, as you kept staring at him, his warm breath fanning your face. He swallowed hard, realizing exactly how close you were. The adrenaline pumping in his veins was fucking with his head, thoughts of what your lips would feel like against his filling his mind. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, the urge growing, before they quickly darted back up to your eyes, meeting your gaze once again. “Promise me.”

The words seemed to be stuck in your throat, which suddenly felt parched. “I…”

His breath hitched, eyes fixed on your parted lips once again. His heart was still racing, the world seeming to narrow down to just the two of you, standing flush together on the roof. “You…” He whispered, leaning just a fraction closer without realizing it. “You what?” It came out softer than intended, just a barely audible murmur.

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, wetting it with your saliva. The words tumbled out of your mouth, without you even realizing it. “God, you’re so pretty…”

Riki’s world seemed to stop, his mind going blank. His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “What did you say?” He whisper-hissed, leaning just a tad bit closer. His gaze flickered down to your lips again. The shift in the atmosphere around the two of you was becoming impossible to ignore, becoming electric with unsaid words and unacted-upon impulses.

You blinked, biting down on your lip. There was no going back now. “You’re pretty…”

His heart skipped a beat, then another, then another. He could barely believe what he was hearing — no one had ever called him ‘pretty’ before. Sure, he had heard other words: handsome, attractive, stunning, eye-catching — but ‘pretty’? Never did he hear that one before. But damn, he would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart race — probably more than the other praises ever did. It was a word typically reserved for women, but hearing it from you directed towards him? It made his brain short-circuit.

He asked you again, just to confirm. “Pretty?”

You nodded, no longer scared of his reaction. “Very much so.”

He felt his cheeks flush again at the unusual comment. He was blushing, and he never blushed. But everything seemed to be different when he was around you.

His mind was reeling, as he tried to process this new information. You, his best friend, thought he was pretty. He leaned even closer, his lips just a hair breath away from yours now. “You really think I’m pretty?” He whispered, his voice just barely audible.

You gulped, nodding. “Yea — yea, I do.”

His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest, his breathing shallow. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the closeness of your lips, the way you were looking up at him. It was starting to all fade out into white noise, the sound of his rapidly beating heart in his ears. His eyes zeroed in on your parted lips, and something in him snapped.

Throwing all rational thought out of the window, he closed the barely there gap between your both, softly pressing his lips to yours. Your lips were as soft as a cloud, feeling pillowy against his. The kiss was brief, barely more than a whisper. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was enough to make his heart jump out of his chest, into his throat. When he pulled back, his eyes were as wide as saucers, surprised by his own boldness. “I–”

You didn’t let him complete his sentence. You grabbed his face, cupping it with both hands, pulling his face towards yours again. You kissed him again, with a lot more vigour, pouring out your pent up feelings into the kiss.

He was caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the kiss, but he melted into it. His hands pulled you even closer, as if trying to meld your body into his. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss, as he felt your arms wrap around his neck, pulling you even closer.

One of his hands came up to your face, cupping it, tilting his own to further deepen the kiss. The lack of air was starting to hurt, despite how addicting your lips were. He pulled back slowly, not before gently biting down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, before letting go of it with a pop.

You felt a little dazed, but still smiled up at him, your eyes slightly hazy and unfocused. He chuckled at your state, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Pretty, huh?”

Your cheeks grew warmer at the teasing undertone in his voice. “Shut up. I meant it, you know.”

His grin grew wider, as he kissed your cheek. “I know. I hope this is a good time to say that I like you? Like, I really fucking like you, I was just scared to confess because of the recent situation… with the excessive teasing and all… and, well, the fear of rejection.”

You hit his arm. “You silly goose — if I didn’t like you back, do you think I would behave the way I do with you? Absolutely not. You’re lucky I put up with your antics, you know.”

He rolled his eyes, although there was a smile on his face, one which he didn’t bother hiding. “You know, the hair tie was just a ploy? I just wanted any potential suitors to back off of you, but I didn’t expect people to react like… that.”

You let out a giggle. “I figured. It was honestly a really cute, albeit smart move on your part. Certainly made everyone back off… only to approach us with a different reason.”

He smiled down at you, his expression utterly lovesick. His eyes were practically resembling hearts. “D’you think if we announced it officially they would finally stop?”

You shrugged. “Probably not. Hopefully yes. But — in order to make it official, you need to ask me first, you know? Learn to be a gentleman, Riki.” The last bit was just you teasing him, something that he caught on to pretty quickly.

He playfully rolled his eyes, before speaking theatrically. “Fine — would you like to do the honour of becoming my girlfriend, ___? Wait no, scratch that — would you make me the happiest man alive by letting me take the position of your boyfriend?”

You scoffed in amusement at his dramatics, before pretending to think. “Take me out on a date first, then I will think of it.”

He gave you a smug grin, a determined glint in his eyes. “Deal.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST— @senascoooop

[kbwrites]

Husband! Nanami

synopsis: your husband comes home for another long and arduous day. He only wishes to stay with you forever.

⚝tags: husband!nanami, reader is a housewife, nsfw, nanami loves eating his wife out

⚝wc: 1.6k

Husband Nanami! Drags his feet, trudging wearily to the entrance of his shared home. Each step heavier than the last. Work has been increasingly stressful, each day more demanding than the last. Today was no different. He brings a tired hand up to the doorknob, turning it slowly. The soft yellow light of the foyer illuminates his face, the scent of his safe space hitting his nostrils.

“Kento?” There it was, the most melodious symphony he’d ever heard. Rounding the corner it was you, his loving wife. In that moment it seems as though all the stress from the day melts away, a small smile graces his lips and his tired eyes close briefly.

“Hello dear.”

Kento wasn’t exactly sure when he fell in love with you, just that at some point he stopped being able to imagine what life would be like without your presence. You became his peace, a ray of sunshine that cut through the darkness in his life. He never believed in karma or fate, but sometimes he’d wonder what he had done in his life to be deserving of your love.

He slips out of his shoes, heavy footsteps and drooping shoulders trudge toward you. He wrapped his strong arms around you, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Kento bends down slightly, burying his head into your hair allowing your scent to permeate his senses. You always smelled so good… A low hum of content emanates from his throat, almost like a cat purring. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly close.

“How was your day?” He mumbles into your skin.

“My day was good.” You reply quietly. “What about you?”

“Long. Tiring..” He says with a sigh, pulling away slightly so he can have a better look at his sunshine. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb making small circles on your cheek. You look at your husband, honey-colored eyes half-lidded, dark circles occupying his face. It was taking everything in him to stand right now.

“Are you hungry?” You muse, nuzzling your face into his hand. He only nods, still looking at you with tired eyes. Taking the hand that held your face you lead him to the dining room. The smell of food wafts through the room, a plate of steak and mashed potatoes, still hot. He takes a seat at the table, eyes lighting up at the dish.

“Thank you, my love.” He says before taking a bite, his eyes closing in satisfaction as the savory taste hits his tongue. He loved your cooking, it was like a balm to his weary soul. He continues eating in silence, looking up at you. You rest your chin in your hands, smiling at your husband.

“You’re not eating?” He says after swallowing.

“I ate before you came home.” A pang of guilt washes over him, Kento knows you probably waited as long as you could hoping you could hold out and wait to eat with him. With all the long hours he’s been putting in, he's barely had time for the one thing that made his life worth living

“I’m sorry…” He reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You just smile, how did he end up with an angel?

He finishes eating his food, you get up grabbing the empty plate. Kento gently grabs hold of your wrist.

“Please, you cooked let me-”

“You can barely stand Ken.” You’re right, he’s come to find out that you usually are. He sinks back in the chair, too exhausted to protest. After loading the dishwasher you come back into the dining room, your husband exactly where you left him. Fighting off sleep in the chair.

You take his large hand in your smaller one, leading him to the bathroom. Although, Nanami is a serious man, one who was insistent on retiring you when you got married. He secretly loved when you took care of him, your gentle hands working his sore muscles combined with the hot water cascading down his body; he thinks in this moment he could fall asleep standing up.

He looks down at his wife fussing over him, your naked form, suds of soap covering your glistening skin. Even running on 3 hours of sleep the desire in him for his lover burns. His hands roam over your curves, gripping your hips. You pause your movements looking up at him as he pulls you closer, pads of his fingers digging lightly into the fat of your hips. How long had it been since he touched his wife? Made her writhe under him? Far too long in his opinion.

You finish the shower, leading his towel-clad body to your bedroom, drying him off you grab his night clothes from the top drawer. Suddenly bashful at all the attention you’ve been giving him Kento grabs your arm as you try to slip on his pajama pants. You look up at him inquisitively.

“Kento?” He doesn’t answer, just pulls you onto his lap. His large hands holding you in place.

“Darling..” His voice hoarse. Your body shivers in response, even after a year of marriage the sight before you— his chiseled abs, damp blond hair framing his sharp features, his lips parted and pupils blown… It was still too much. You feel the arousal pool between your legs.

“K-kento, you’re tired...” You try to be the voice of reason, but the love of your life looks so damn good right now. He places soft kisses on your chest, setting fire to your skin.

“You’ve been so good to me, allow me this.” He says before trailing kisses up and down your neck. His hands leave your waist, his touch slow and deliberate. His lips ghost over you, landing next to your ear.

“It’s been terrible my love… working all day when I’d rather be here… having you.” His breath against your ear.

“Ken!” You say embarrassed, he was always so blunt when you were having sex. “Just don’t go overboard…” You chide in between moans, your hands find his damp hair, raking through it gently. 

He uses the bit of strength he has left to lay you down on the bed, your back hitting the plush comforter. His hand trailing between your legs, he groans as he feels the wetness between your folds. Your back arches as he brings his digits up to your clit, making slow deliberate circles.

He looks up at you, eyes clouded with lust.

“Honey, I need you.” Is all he says before he buries his face into your cunt.

His tongue darting out to lap up all of your slick. Your darling husband sucking gently on your clit as his fingers tease your entrance. Your moans and whimpers only serve to encourage him. His long finger slides in, curling it upwards to your sweet spot.

“Kento~ s’good” You breathe, one hand snakes up to your stomach, giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His way of saying he heard you. His eyes flutter shut, completely enraptured in pleasing his precious wife. All the paperwork, unnecessarily long meeting with his boss, the entire shit storm of the day all seems to float away as he rests between your thighs.

“So good f’me my love.” He mumbles against your skin. The hand he had on your stomach reaches below to his growing erection. He wraps his hand around his thick length, rutting into his tight fist. He moans against your cunt, imagining his fist were your heavenly walls.

He knows you so well, just by the slight change in your voice he can tell he’s bringing you closer to the edge. His pace quickens, inserting another thick finger into your cunt, your walls flutter around him. Hot squelching noises emanate from your core. He released your clit with a ‘pop’ using the wet muscle to circle around the bundle of nerves. He wants so badly for you to cum, his own pleasure completely reliant on it. Your breath hitches, body spasms as you finally release. Your arousal coating his fingers, he removes them from you replacing them with his mouth. 

He greedily slurps up all the slick from your entrance, humming as your sweet essence coats his taste buds. 

“Kentooo” You whine, slightly overstimulated. You squirm trying to push your lover's head away from your throbbing cunt, he only grunts, strong arms holding your legs in place. Only after he’s had his fill he crawls up to you, resting your head on his broad chest. 

Your husband places kisses on your forehead, stroking your slightly damp hair. He takes deep breaths, helping to pace your own breathing. He looks down at his world, even your blissed out state was irresistible to him. 

“Was that too much for you my love?” He questions softly. You shake your head, a tired smile graces his lips.

“I’ve been neglecting you honey… I’m sorry.” He says apologetically, tracing patterns on your skin. You look up at him, the guilt evident on his face. 

He worked so hard so that you wouldn’t have to, his darling wife shouldn’t have to lift a finger. However he couldn’t bear the thought of you waiting up for him, missing him. The light of his life, so lonely in the big house he bought for her.

“It’s alright Ken.” You offer a gentle smile, of course, you missed your husband, but you didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was. 

“No. It isn’t.” He said firmly. “I’ll request more days off, I need rest. And I need you.” He holds you tight as if you’d disappear at any moment. His mind was set, you swoon at your husbands' words.

“Good.” You say smiling, he leans down to place a gentle kiss to your lips. He rolls over to his back, the exhaustion hitting him again. You throw the cover onto both of your bodies. Sleeping taking over him quickly. You place a kiss to your husband's cheek before closing your eyes.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬✧✧✧

[yanderenightmare]

Okkotsu Yuta

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, bullying, suicide by nameless side characters

♡ fem reader

Thinking about the mean girl curse...

Manifested through all the incel boys who both fear and hate the pretty girls who roam the school hallways and never spare them a second glance. 

You’ll appear in empty classrooms – preying on the poor loser boys who eat their lunch all alone.

You’re such a bully – looking perfect in your short school skirt with your pink lips – smacking them as you pop your bubblegum – uniform shirt a size too small with buttons undone to the midway point.

You make the poor losers cry with your harsh words and haughty laughter – goading them into buying you things in exchange for promises you never keep. Whispering all coyly that you’ll give them a kiss on the cheek, that you’ll let them touch your tits, that you’ll give them your panties – but in the end, all you do is pour your strawberry milk on their heads with a grin – before disappearing with a giggle.

You choose your victims and stay with them until you’ve pushed them over the edge – literally – until they’ve taken a swan dive off the school roof and bloodied the pavement. That’s how you feed – blowing on their ear, whispering mean little nothings until they just can’t take it anymore.

Too many incidences and Jujutsu tech is alerted of the abnormalities.

You appear sitting on a desk when Okkotsu comes looking to exorcise you. You’re sucking on a pink lollipop as you eye him and his pitiful eyes.

He had a handful of bullies like you back in his schooldays – he remembers them as clueless sluts who’d set their thugs on him for a sense of superiority. Clueless sluts –no idea how lucky they were he hadn’t set Rika loose on them all.

You remind him of them. Pretty and full of yourself. You speak as though you expect him to grovel – to throw himself down on his knees for a chance to kiss your feet.  

He doesn’t need Rika to fight his fights anymore.

You can't believe how he has you muffled with your own underwear – squealing as he rams your cunt fast and hard from the back. Bent over the desk, hair a mess with your mascara running in black streaks down your pretty face – as he wrings your wrists in two tight fists while stretching your arms behind you, using them to pull you back against the snap of his hips.

Your skirt’s a ripped mess pooled around your ankles as you shake – thighs glossed with slick and quaking as he pounds another orgasm right out of you. A sweaty mess resting with your cheek mushed against the desk in your own drool.

Meanwhile, he sucks your lollipop – far from done.

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