#my heart aches and so do my paws.

[itsrhodi]

Major Armored Core 6 spoilers (Liberator. If you don't know what that means don't click read more)

God damn the ending that I got for Armored Core 6 kinda hurts my heart. I dunno how "customizable" the endings are (like if you can reach the same end through different means, i.e. killing less people, changing your mind at the last second, etc.) but 621 ended up getting nearly everyone who ever showed them any love or care killed or ruined their dreams.

Walter? Last second, 621 decided to ignore any kind of lineage Walter wanted to create in them to ensure the destruction of the Coral. In fact, they killed him with their own hands. Or rather their own AC.

Carla? Knowingly betrayed her in her last stand against Arquebus and brought down her half-century-old supercity colony ship.

The once-welcoming teams of AC pilots (the Vespers and Redguns) are both disbanded and most of their members meet their ends. Even if 621 *didn't* decide to kill Michigan on their own, he was fated to die. Rusty would have beat him.

Speaking of Rusty, the battle on the Xylem airship was so intense that he had to run off on his own to hold up an ENTIRE Arquebus fleet of warships, solo. Naturally, despite how impressively long he held out for, he gets shot down.

You could even argue that Ayre was left in the dust a bit. Sure, 621 spared the Vascular Plant and, by extension, the Coral, from being destroyed, but the battle on the Xylem didn't *destroy* Arquebus or anything (or, it shouldn't have. Xylem isn't THAT big). The corporation was STILL the major political and military superpower on Rubicon III, and were still in control of the Vascular Plant. And even if they lost control of the VP, it's not like 621 even HAS a solution to helping Ayre's dream of human-Coral cohabitation. Her dream is still on the shelf. Like we've reached this point, and for what?

Nothing came out of 621's presence on Rubicon III except for destroying the PCA, bringing Arquebus to power, and 'discovering' a Coral containment plant. And, yes, those are important and significant things, but it didn't REALISE anything. Not for anybody they cared for. This ending is betrayal basically all the way down and it hurts so bad. Of course, I'm oversimplifying some things a lot here. I love it though.

I need to get all the endings ASAP.

[bunnis-monsters]

A subby demon with a body worship kink 🙏 like kiss the ground you walk on type

NSFW

If perfect had an image next to it in the dictionary, in his opinion, it would be a portrait of you.

Everything about you made his body ache with need. Your pretty eyes, the soft fat on your hips, the way you kissed the top of his head and held him in your arms when he needed your love… it all showed him just how perfect you are.

“My love, my goddess…”

His tail swayed as his head rested on your soft thighs, a purr rumbling from his chest. There was nowhere he was happier than right here with you.

A soft whine escaped his lips as he nuzzled his cheek against your thigh, careful not to poke you with his horns.

“What is it, sweetheart? Does my baby need something?”

You didn’t know it was possible, but he purred louder, the bed rumbling underneath you. It felt good, the vibrations stimulating your clit just enough to get you wet.

The second he smelt your arousal, his nose gently nudged against your panties. He looked up at you for approval, his tongue poking out. Honestly, you thought he looked like a puppy ready for a treat like this.

“Can I?”

And there they were, his pleading puppy dog eyes. His claws kneaded into your thighs as he continued to softly nuzzled his nose into the wet spot on your panties, letting out soft whimpers and whines.

You smiled, giving his horns a gentle rub, causing him to let out a muffled moan. “Go on, love.”

As soon as you finished your sentence, he tore your panties from your body and buried his face between your thighs. His claws kept your thighs squished against his face.

The feeling of your plump flesh against his cheeks as he devoured your pussy was enough to have his cock standing at full attention… but he ignored it. His goddess was right in front of him, her cunt soaked and delicious. How could he care about his pleasure at all when hearing you moan and tasting your pussy was all he could ever need?

But you were so kind, a saint to him… you lifted your foot and gently rubbed his cock, making him moan into your pussy.

You looked down at him, your cheeks hot. “Can you cum just from that, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes… if you want me to, I’ll do anything…”

Before long he was shooting cum all over your legs and feet, barely able to keep himself from humping your leg like a dog in heat.

You didn’t give him much of a break though. While he was still panting, you straddled him, your hips hovering over his leaking cock, still shooting cum.

“Tell me what you want, baby…”

He desperately pawed at your hips, tears in the corners of his eyes. “W-want you to use my cock… please, please lemme cum inside…”

You cooed, pressing a kiss into his forehead as your hips settled on his lap. He cried out as you lowered yourself onto his cock. “Mmph!”

His tail whipped around furiously, wrapping around your leg. As you began to bounce on his cock, the tip of his tail rubbed against your clit.

“S-such a good boy… feels so good…” you whimpered out. He whined, raising his hips to meet yours.

“W-wanna cum… please..!”

“Shh, shh…”

Your lips met his in a sloppy kiss, feeling his tongue rub against yours as he explored your mouth.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart… wait for me, we’ll cum together okay?”

His cheeks were red, tears now beading down them as he nodded. It was hard, he wanted to fill his beloved up with his cum NOW!

But… he could never disobey you, not when he adored you so much.

“C-cumming!”

The second your pussy clenched around him, he painted your walls white, shooting his cum into your womb. A muffled moan left his mouth as he buried his face into your neck, biting down to mark you as his.

Soft panting filled the room as the two of you recovered. “My perfect angel, oh my love…”

He peppered your face and neck in kisses, cooing and praising you. “Sorry… does it hurt?”

His claw gently traced the bite mark he left, a dull ache in his heart when you winced.

“A little… but it’s okay.”

You fell onto the bed with him, giggling as he started up his purring again. With his face buried in your breasts and his claws kneading you, you couldn’t help but associate him with a sweet kitten.

“I love you… you’re my everything, I’ve never adored someone like I adore you…”

That meant a lot, considering he had lived for centuries…

“I love you too, sweetheart… let’s rest, hmm?”

He nodded, placing his palm over your belly as he rubbed his face against you. He was hoping to have successfully planted his seed in your womb…

Your body, glistening in sweat was his temple of worship. He planted kisses along your belly and chest, licking up the mess he had created on your legs and feet.

He kissed your soles, worshipping you like a goddess, rubbing his face against you to make sure you were covered in his scent.

“My beautiful angel… so soft and warm…”

He settled between your thighs, laying his head on your soft belly. His purring increased when you scratched between his horns, playing with his hair.

As the two of you drifted off, he couldn’t help but thank whatever entity sent you to him enough. He was lucky to have such an amazing lover, and he would worship you until the day you died.

[ncroissant]

I was feeling a little silly :3 (I wrote a whole ass fanfic on Sub! Francis Mosses :|)

—————————————————

You sighed, the sound of your door unlocking echoing in the vast silence of the hallway. Stepping inside your apartment, you closed the door behind you, before taking off your coat. A breath of relief escaped your throat. Work had been particularly unforgiving today, and you were glad to finally be home and away from it all.

You hung your jacket on the hook that stood on the plain wall before you. You slipped your shoes off your aching feet, a delightful scent wafting your way. You perked up. A smile tugged at your lips. Despite the hardships you faced daily at your bore of a job, you could always count on one thing at the end of the day: your beloved husband, Francis Mosses.

“Darling?” a call resounded from the kitchen, enunciated in that tired, gravelly voice that you had grown to love.

“I’m home! Just give me a second, dear,” your response was short lived, as you heard hurried footsteps in your direction.

Before you could blink, two warm arms had wrapped themselves around you, breaking you away from the real world if only for a couple moments. And just as soon as they had appeared, they were gone. You could feel your beloved husband dutifully remove the rest of your work attire before those same warm hands guided you towards the living room.

“How was work, my love?” a gentle tone graced your hearing, followed by a ginger peck on your cheek.

You let out a tired chuckle, “The same as always,” you sighed, taking a seat on the couch, “John can’t keep his mouth shut and Mary’s always on my trail.”

There’s a droop in Francis’s tone. “That woman from HR?”

You’re too tired to speak so instead you just nod in response, the weight of your day creeping up on you.

“Well, don’t worry about that now, love,” you feel his palm cup your cheek, heat bouncing off his skin and onto your own as he turns your head ever so gently. Your gazes are locked together now; a faint sparkle in Francis’s.

“I made your favorite.” the words are uttered so softly that you would not be able to catch them if you weren’t paying full attention to him. The tenderness of the moment overwhelms you, and you can do nothing but smile at the man that had stolen your heart. He returns the expression whole-heartedly.

You feel his warmth break apart from you abruptly, and your eyes trail after Francis as he heads towards the kitchen. The aroma is much stronger now.

You can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude as you get up to follow him.

—————————————————

“Hic—wait—not there-mmgf~!” your husband’s eyes roll back into his head for the umpteenth time tonight, a dizzying flush coating his body.

Your hand is wrapped relentlessly around Francis’s cock, erect and leaking uncontrollably. He lets a gasp as your thumb begins to rub over his slit, a keen clawing at his throat. Your touch glides almost painfully slow across his tip, and the poor man doesn’t know whether to buck into your touch or away from it…it’s just too good.

Instead, his hands paw uselessly at your sides. A series of hiccups escape him from all the crying he’s done, and you lap up the sounds like a man in the desert. You absolutely loved how vocal Francis was. He bites down on his bottom lip in an effort to silence his cries, flush coloring his cheeks out of embarrassment. It doesn’t work, of course.

“Ngh! F~uck…why..”

“Why what, darling?” you crooned, relishing in his state, “Use your words.”

Francis’s mind goes blank. A helpless whine leaves his mouth, and a shaky breath exits him when he feels your hand tighten around the base of his ruined cock.

He lets a sob, “Hnng! I can’t stop..leaking! S-shit~” tears begin to wet his face once again, rolling down to frame his features in a way that you never imagined up until now.

—————————————————

…was that OOC—:0

imagine him falling apart in your lap, his back pressed up against your chest, squirming in your grasp...twitching with whiny moans and drool dripping down the side of his mouth with fat tears in the corners of his eyes. turning back to look you asking if he did a good job ......

AHHHHHH. u did so amazing anon, not ooc at ALL. REAL FRANCIS IS SOOOOO SUB CODED. like he's so inexperienced it hurts and it just makes me wanna UGHHHH.

[sleyu]

thinking about how mean!bf sirius would have a hugeee corruption kink, he just wants to ruin your mind yk

idk maybe its just me

i think mean or not, it is definite that sirius black has a corruption kink and it unquestionably couples with his possessive nature.

just imagine mean bf ! sirius meeting you for the first time. you’re a timid, but undoubtedly kind individual who is meek next to him—fully aware of sirius’ notoriety in his personality and habits. he becomes so awestruck, he has nothing to respond to your unassuming questions aside from the occasional nod or gentle murmur.

he displays a calm, relatively friendly aura until the pair of you begin to become acquainted with each other and ultimately, begin dating. it is only then, that the mean teasing and snickers begin, and his heart bursts with joy at the sound of your bashful whines and protests every time he playfully slaps your ass or tugs your skirt, laughing and pulling you close to him, muttering how his actions are all in good fun and that he’d never let anything actually hurt you.

‘so bloody sensitive. y’know i’d rather die than let someone lay a hand on you, dummy.’

and of course, sirius isn’t stupid. he’s been having lewd, perverted thoughts about you since the day he met you. in fact, it was only the same night that sirius cast a silencing charm around his bed to hide the sinful sounds of him grunting as he fisted his cock, thoughts about bending you over the classroom desk polluting his already depraved mind.

since you’ve started dating, he reckons it’s time to manifest these fantasies into life, especially after noticing how your meek gaze has begun to linger on his broad chest and widen at the sight of his bulging crotch. his inner self beams with joy and crude anticipation every time he feels you pawing at his thighs, looking up at him in despair as if you’re unsure of what you really want or why the throbbing ache in between your thighs is only getting worse.

i think mean bf ! sirius would definitely become dizzy at the sight of you on your knees, hands gripping his muscular thighs, begging him to let you suck his cock or to fill your cunt up. usually he was the one doing the begging, but here you were, pliant, obedient, and desperate for his every touch. he genuinely has to sit down and stare at you while also controlling the immoral urge of forcing his cock down your throat, watching how your eyes widen and become teary as your throat contracts and chokes around his pulsating cock.

he genuinely cannot control himself once he sees you fully submit to him, begging him to give you the exact things you were too shy about even insinuating merely a month ago. it makes him feel so accomplished knowing that he was the one that made your brain all cloudy and fuzzy—that he was the one who got your cunt hooked on the feeling of his relentless, unforgiving cock.

‘sirius—my fingers—they’re not good enough—need your cock in me—jus’ want you to ruin ‘n abuse me—please da—’ as soon as you become close to uttering the last word, he’s already lifted up your skirt and forced his cock inside your aching pussy anyways, groaning into your mouth and fucking you ten times harder than he would have any other day.

‘slut—you’ve become a little slut—oh, fuck—‘n who’s are you, huh?’

it becomes the first time that sirius loses all sense of reason and caution as it has become evident to him that he’s irreversibly corrupted you into becoming just as disgusting and perverted as him.

‘nah, not sirius’, honey, you're daddy’s, yeah?’

‘gross fuckin’ bitch loves that, huh, puppy? you like it when daddy forces himself inside you like that, hm?’

‘hogwarts newest slut, yeah? but only mine, isn’t that right? only i get to ruin—fuck—this whorish cunt—mmm,’

sirius is so mean, he doesn’t even tell you when he’s about to cum :( he makes you cum and afterward, you’re a fucked out mess because he just doesn’t stop. your eyebrows begin to furrow and you can only manage to mumble a quiet ‘sirius?’ before he groans into your neck, breath all hot and heavy, and pumps you full of his hot, sticky cum. all you can do is whine and writhe beneath him as he pushes your knees to your chest and uses your cunt to drain his massive cock.

all the while, he’s reveling in the realization that he has just cummed inside you and that if spells and birth control were forgotten, it would be no surprise if you fell pregnant with the copious amounts of cum pumped inside your spent hole.

‘my dirty girl likes when daddy breeds her, doesn’t she? oh, don’t shake your head, pup, i know you like it—can feel you clench—god—around me right now.’

sirius gets so turned on when you confess that you can’t make yourself cum without him ever since the two of you started having sex. the image of you crying out in frustration at the feeling of your own neediness and the dull throbbing in between your sore thighs—incapable of doing anything without his guidance—makes his cock harden far quicker than it should have.

‘poor thing. my dumb girl can’t do anything without me, can she? your small fingers just aren’t as daddy, hm?’ paired with a faux, mocking frown because sirius black is an asshole that is very visibly ecstatic that you’ll always have to come to him to find a release.

and nothing fuels his ego more than having you beg him to stuff you full of his cum before class begins. he loses his mind seeing the effects of ruining your perfect, angelic interior. his once smart, goody-two-shoes, good-girl has become a conniving slut, her own cunt betraying any logic or rational thinking within her mind :( seeing his shy, perfect-attendance girlfriend begging him to skip class with her to fuck in a dingy broom closet is all it takes for him to bust right then and there.

[endlessthxxghts]

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too. W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵‍💫) 18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking. Pics for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵‍💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this… ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise. 

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face. 

Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”

His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently. 

Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear. 

Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”

“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud. 

Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”

Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?” 

An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”

Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal. 

Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie. 

Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be. 

With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop. 

He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes. 

He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-” 

His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure. 

He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste. 

Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face. 

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble. 

“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous. 

“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?” 

Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.” 

End note: LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH

[ilycosy]

subby season one rafe has my heart omg please share ur thoughts on the cokehead when he's high lmao

subby rafe is my fav type of rafe !!! i wna take care of him n mother him sm 😕

warnings: rafe is high (technically dubcon) , mommy kink n issues , dry humping !!

you both knew this wasn't okay in any way, other than personality differences and the fact that you're his dealers best friend— you're a pogue. rafe couldn't think of anything worse that he could be attracted to, but whenever he's in need of a fix he finds himself at your doorstep.

you hadn't really meant for this to become a thing, but rafe was cute. he was still baby faced and jittery every time you brushed him, pouting his pretty lips whenever you told him no more.

he hadn't come for a fix this time, rather showing up already high. his pupils dilated, and his brain moving faster than his mouth could speak. he barely got out the word 'mommy' before his lips were on yours. it hadn't been the first time you and rafe had slept together (don't tell his friends), but it's definitely the first that he's been so.. needy.

his slick lips had moved from yours down to your neck, shoving you through the door as you tried to grasp what was even going on. your hands found their way to his hips before you fully registered that they were even moving, pushing him back.

when you pushed him back, you could see the traces of his coke under his nose. his breathing was heavy, his hands trying to paw at you and bring you closer. whimpering for you, pleading that you pay attention to him.

you ignore the ache in your heart and focus on the ache between your legs, pulling him closer so you can properly kiss him. your hands run up his shirt, teasing his cold clammy skin.

he pushes back, trying to get your hands on him more. "fuck," he whines, his voice throaty and high. "please, mommy." you can hear your heart beating in your ears as he pleads, bringing your hands up to his chest manually.

your fingers find his nipples, just to tease him, not expecting to pull a whine from his throat so easily. his voice raising in volume as he tries to pull away when you pinch them, "fucking– stop!" he grunts, not like that'll stop you.

your hands slip out from under his shirt to rest on his throat, his dilated pupils hazily looking at you as he easily lets you push him to your broken couch. he can feel something sharp digging into his back but he doesn't mention it, not when you climb onto his lap.

"rafe," you tease, dragging your nails from his neck down his chest, resting at his v-line. "i always knew you were just looking for attention."

he thinks he rolls his eyes, whether he actually did is unknown to him. he doesn't argue with you, half because you're right and half because he's liking everything you do. a certain weight is lifted off him when your weight comes down on him, grinding onto the bulge in his shorts.

you bite back a giggle when rafe's head drops to your tits, his hands finding the back of your shirt to untie it. his shaking hands undo the knot of your shirt and tug it completely off, almost ripping it when it gets caught on your shoulders. so needy to have access to your chest.

his breathing hitches as he tunes into all his senses at once, the feeling of your cunt dragging up and down on his clothed cock, the smell of your coconut shampoo and your vanilla bodywash, but especially the soft muffled noises you make.

you watch him with hooded eyes, looking down at him as he drools on your tits— leaving warm spit to cool every time he pulls away slightly to look down and watch you grind. you can tell he's cumming before he even notices, his whines becoming louder and his hips bucking up.

he doesn't notice that he's cum until he feels the prickling pain of overstimulation rush through him when you keep moving, then he feels the uncomfortable wetness in his boxers— then comes the embarrassment. he came, in his pants, before you!

he almost apologizes, maybe begs for you to listen and not be mad but he's cut off by you. "there's mommy's boy," you coo at him, bordering teasing and loving. "did you cum for mommy?"

he swears his heart soars as he nods, a heavy blush spreading across his face as he looks up from your tits. peeking out from them innocently, like he didn't just do lines of coke with barry and cum in his pants.

"sweetheart," you whisper, running your fingers through his greasy hair, noting that he needs a shower after. "can you please make mommy feel good now? it's unfair that you've came n' i haven't.."

he almost gives himself whiplash with how fast he starts nodding, moving to get up and shove you onto the couch.

[comfortless]

Pygmalion!König and Galatea!Reader………. 😖 What do you think?

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, light angst. self harm, implied animal death (not done by König or reader), fluff, König is horrible and by that i mean yes— he fucks the statue, outercourse, unprotected piv, implied mutual loss of virginity.

notes: lovely Salome did something similar to this already! 💖 however. yes. i am thinking about it and well…. take this out of my hands.

König has never had anything that could properly be called his own.

He walks the city entirely alone, no wife at his side to paw at his chest and bless him with adoring glances. His only steadfast companions are the grit slipping into his sandals as he walks, head held high even as the shadow of a boy begging on his knees for any semblance of love eternally tethers itself to him.

A glance lingering too long at the appeal of a soft face, the brush of his calloused fingertips against a pornai’s bare stomach before deciding that no, he didn’t want something so simple.

He merely slips a few apologetic drachma into her waiting palm and sets her free of him.

A warm body would never be enough, it was the heart that he starved for. To bed some poor creature that would never properly love him would be worse than the greatest of tortures in his mind.

It wasn’t a simple affair to find a lady to marry, either. Foreign soldier that he was, he had no right to some politician’s pretty daughter, court her properly and sweep her away to a bed that’s only ever been a harbor for lonely, twisted bitterness and blood.

Most turned away the moment he passed by: frightened glances that rightfully accused him of immense violence, shushed whispers of “barbarian” passed from soft lips before the sand beneath their fretful feet shifted and their shapes had disappeared from view entirely.

The ceaseless loneliness carves a burning ache somewhere within the expanse of his chest, something he knew he would never truly be free of, not until it rotted it’s way out of him in full.

It only seemed to quiet in moments he shed blood for this foreign country; burying his sword in some poor man’s gut was the closest he could get to sheathing a part of himself inside another, to touching a heart, seeing lips part in a gasp as their world becomes entirely consumed by him.

Just as the many days prior to this one, he grips the hilt of his blade, letting the metal dig into his palm, his knuckles bone white, as he makes his way back to the empty shack deemed a home.

Streets quiet and crowds disperse with each of his silent footfalls— not one of these smaller men or fearful women dares to look him in the eye. The only thing that does, the only eyes that ever lock to his, are those peering out from the harbor.

The figurehead guarding her expertly crafted ship has always called to him.

Her beauty was remarkable, from the curl of her hair to the patient look in her eyes. Her hands clasped before her breasts in silent prayer as she looms over the darkened depths of the sea beyond the soil, calling him to board, to venture away from this place that his left him in such an acute state of misery.

He swears he hears it then, a mere whisper on the wind, urging him in featherlight comfort to lie down his sword and take up the chisel and hammer.

It’s only when he pauses to look the gentle face of the figurehead over once more that he finds himself resolute in what he must do.

— — —

When he took to crafting her it was born of this desperation; hazy moonbeams cutting through the shade of his shack for hours before he would reluctantly pull away from a beautifully carved hand or the soft but stiff curve of a neck to retire to the straw-stuffed mattress at the corner of the room.

She was beautiful, a representation of all of the sweet, effeminate softness he would marvel at from afar. The swell of plush breasts, curved hips and silken thighs, eternally parted by her stance, the sweet face that could make any man feel entirely weak…

His hands tremble when they rest upon her form, unsure of just how such splendor could have come from his own coarse palms.

Weeks of scarce sleep only seemed to further his devoted madness. Though the warring dulled the ache and sated his blade, the longing seemed to only grow far more prevalent.

He yearned when they were apart, dreamt of coming home to her less lifeless and only demure smiles and hurried kisses the moment he would return to her. He would always come back.

Upon her completion, he took to courting her proper. Though she could not in any way reciprocate or reject his advances, he believed wholeheartedly that the cushiony love that had blossomed within his aching, neglected heart must be mutual.

Gifts were strewn at her cold feet, some gilded and shimmery, some soft with an abundance of colorful petals: offerings for a silent goddess that kept a part of his soul hidden away deep inside the pristine marble that she was carved from.

When he wraps her neck in a necklace with a sparkling beryl amulet attached, his hand does drift to the swell of her breast beneath the woolen chiton.

It’s hard and cold, but his groping becomes as incessant as the kisses he presses to her jaw, to her cold lips, tongue leaving a warm path down to her neck before he finds himself committed to having her.

He’s careful when he disrobes her, slowly revealing the mounds and curves and softness of her imitation of human flesh.

Dropping to his knees, his tongue laps at the ivory depiction of smooth lower lips, spearing between each silken ridge until he imagines her eyes squeezing shut as she cries out for him, rolling her perfectly sculpted hips to coat his tongue in waves of vulgar honey.

He moans into her cunt, drools and sucks at the mimicry for as long as it takes to find her thighs drenched in his saliva and his cock aching horribly between his thighs.

He rises to slot himself between her legs, pushing forward with a keening whine that dissipates into a relieved gasp. The feel of her pressed against him; the smooth ridges of her makeshift flesh running over his stiff, leaking cock is akin to finding divinity.

His hands rove over her breasts, thumbs pressed against her eternally pebbled nipples as he kisses her, each sloppy and filled with years of need.

It is pure bliss, almost as though he is burying himself to his hilt inside of her pulsing cunt.

He would fuck her better than any man— not a single other could match the strength of his affections nor his hapless willingness to please.

If he could have carved a proper hole between her legs, not a drop of his seed would be wasted on thin sheets or spilled into his palm, she would be filled, womb brimming until some loving god or goddess blessed her with child.

His pace quickens to the point of frantic, feverish hands drifting to her hips as he mouths at her breasts instead, hissing out praises for how good she feels against him, how his heart bleeds to feel her nearer.

There is so much heat between her thighs now he could swear it burns like the cold mist of the Underworld itself; the fuzzy heat pools from his navel and further as his muscles begin to tense and leave his thoughts a haze and his lips parted in a silent, worshipping cry.

It’s only when he envisions her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, back arching as she drags her nails over his shoulders and whines through her own damnation that his cock throbs in repetition as his eyes roll back. His heavy sack arrives at her mound as his seed spills from him, cascading down to paint the thighs of his silent lover, smeared pearly and glistening over her labia as he rubs his cockhead against her with an agonized groan.

His forehead finds her shoulder, warm breath replacing the coldness of her skin as he wraps his arms around her perpetually beckoning form, lovingly trailing kisses from her clavicle to her ear where he whispers a breathless, “I love you.”

It’s only after he’s finished wiping away the evidence of depravity from her that he feels the first wave of shame, sharp and feathering from his chest that leaves his jaw set and throat tight.

What lowly man envies the warmth others experience with far less gratitude? König has never seen himself as pathetic, no matter how commonly he’s been sent off and kicked like a stray.

She’s the only thing that’s brought him any sort solace in a world that’s left him starved, but also a cruel mirror casting a reflection of his own nature.

Pulling the thin blanket from his mattress, the statue is soon swallowed up in her entirety, all guilt and pity-drawing attestation neatly hidden away behind rippling sable fabric; her form silent and waiting as it would remain eternally.

None of this is enough.

———

König has never found himself fond of prayer, never felt the need to partake in the festivals and ceremonies. His luck in battle was only a mere measure of skill, of a body so brutal and immense that most trembled before him, not born of any benevolent gift. There was no need to kneel, to bestow offerings upon the altars. If the people turned away from him, then surely any god or goddess would be even more inclined to do so.

Only… his mindless wandering has led him here, to Aphrodite’s altar whilst the festival of Aphrodisia plays on everywhere around him. The people invoke and dance, abundant offerings brought forth as the scent of timber burning and bold floral incense floods his senses. Blood and flowers already riddle the stone, a stark vibrancy of color that lures him closer, commands him to kneel.

He doesn’t have a thing to offer to the goddess, not so much as a petal, but if the pull were not just the first signs of a withering mind…

The glimpse of hope he’s offered is not taken for granted.

Thick fingers curl over his sharpened blade, dragging his palm against the steel until it stings almost sweetly. If she could accept the blood of a goat then surely, his could be no more polluted. Beads of crimson revel and dance along his forearm before dropping down onto the stone.

And he does pray.

It is not a vulnerable prayer, one that bares him in full, but only a wish— a longing for warmth, to have her share his breath, to admonish his shame and live free with the one thing that has never given him anything but safe harbor.

He unveils her when he returns, knowing that this is the closest he will ever come to love.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against her cheek, leaves a kiss there before dragging himself away to disrobe and pull himself back into bed.

When the weariness takes him, his sleep in dreamless and calm. If any blessing were bestowed upon him at all, the surely that would have been more than enough. A night without turning, without visions of a darkened grave devoid of anything to haunt him.

He only begins to stir when the mattress dips at his side, a soft palm pressed to his chest, stroking along the loose curls of auburn there.

“König..,” a voice calls out, more gentle than any he’s ever heard.

He wakes to find her, leaning over him with the sweetest glimmer in her eyes, wide and fascinated. Her touches only trail further up to his face as he tries to silence the rapid beating of his heart, the stinging born of adoration in his own pale blue eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispers, moving to curl at his side, her hands cradling either side of his jaw.

König is utterly stifled and so terribly smitten, the most he can manage is a quiet huff of breath as he rolls onto his side to take this sweet, unreal woman into his arms. Dreaming or waking, it mattered not, if he were given only the night or a lifetime with this beautiful little creature it’s still more than he has ever had.

His head dips to press a chaste kiss to her soft lips, only finding a warmth there that had never been the many times he had kissed her prior. His palm runs along her side, feeling ever perfect dip and curve, all heated and so very alive.

She only falls apart beneath his touch, already quivering and softly gasping even from such a gentle kiss. The thought that this little dove has been longing for him just as much makes his heart bleed. He whispers his apologies against her temple, for his frustrations, for his doubt in their love, for all of the temptations and hatred that plagued his mind before she came to be.

She only answers with eager touches, grasping at him as she murmurs her own perceived shortcomings. If only she knew that she could never do wrong, that she was what’s saved him and that nothing could shatter that.

When her tongue slips past his lips and his breath grows heavy, there’s little else he can concentrate on than the throbbing pillar between his legs, the scent of her around him, under him when he guides her onto her back.

Thanking the goddess could wait, he’s far too focused on the one that’s willingly climbed into his bed.

One hand splays at her side forcing him upright as the other trails over her breasts, a satisfied groan leaves him as he feels her softness, fighting back to urge to squeeze and pinch until she cries in pleasure, howling out like those at the altar he had encountered only earlier.

A nipple is snared between his thumb and index, twisted gently beneath each pad, her back arches…The wetness of the dew slicked flower between her legs brushes against him and he whines like a starved dog finally presented with the aroma of a meal.

His hand falls from her breast to her hip, encouraging her to buck the source of her own need against him— take anything she needed. If she were to pull a blade and carve a hole in his own chest he would only let her, the taste of this heated bliss and the look that she gives him, enchanted and curious, is more than he has ever deserved.

Only does he pause when he parts her thighs, and her stare becomes more curious, searching him for any reason as to why he would even stop.

“We have done this before. Are you afraid now?”

No, he wants to tell her, that before was not the full extent of it. Instead he only laughs, peeling away just enough to fit his head between her legs, mouth only a small measure from her weeping cunt.

“I want to taste you.”

With a whispered plea from her lips, he raises her hips, mouthing and suckling at her until she shivers and sings against the cushions. He groans against her when she does come, her hips stuttering in his grasp as she drives further against him.

He hisses in his mother tongue when he pushes the backs of her thighs up, grinds his leaking tip against her until he swears he really will fall into madness if he doesn’t fuck into her immediately.

The ache in his chest that his been so prevalent for so long is finally smothered out the very moment she tugs him down by his shoulders and pulls him into a frenzied kiss. She encourages him in each lapse, murmurs how long that she’s waited, how starved she’s been for him while hidden away.

He nearly sobs when his tip snags against her entrance, so divinely wet, pulsing and begging just as he is. When he penetrates her, the breath is punched from his lungs, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her within reach as she wraps around his shaft as though her cunt was made for him.

His little dove only covers him in kisses in turn as he mumbles obscenities into her flesh, revelling in her tightness, in the way her body fits so perfectly against his, mutually carved by the gods to fulfill one another. His professions of love come in abundance as she fits her legs over his narrow hips, crying out from his sudden depth as his cock jumps against a spot that leaves her writhing.

Though it’s almost painful to keep himself restrained, he tries his best not to rut into her like a mindless animal, even when he feels her constrict around him as another orgasm leaves her cunt drooling and pulsing. He doesn’t give her time to recover, however… forced to lie in wait for so long, it’s nearly taken out on her as he spears into her as she moans and babbles her praises against his chest.

He’s lost to the empyrean as his muscles finally pull taut, crying as he buries his head into her shoulder and pumps his come into her, shaking as he wraps her up in his arms and clutches her close as he melts against her.

Spent and sated, König holds her tightly against him as they pant and share sweet words, secrets and giggles from her that make every moment of dolor before this night seem insignificant.

She slots her fingers between his own, compliments his damaged face and the worships his body with brushes of her lips and tongue just as he does her. He does not leave her empty, warms her heart with words he’s kept trapped in his throat for months, guides her gently as she perches over him to descend back onto his cock, his thumb stroking her stomach as he tells her over and again just how much he loves her, compared his feelings to that of Orpheus, how he would suffer anything all for her.

A pleading “Stay” is uttered as she falls limp against him, stroking along her back as they come down for the second time that night.

The last thing that leaves her lips before sleep takes her is the most saccharine she’s said that night, a simple, “I love you.”

It’s the only thing that he’s ever truly longed for.

———

They marry after the voyage back to his homeland, his head clouded during the entire trip of seeing her swell with his child in time, a home built with her in mind for the two of them, of lying flowers at her feet just as he had before.

His blade lies neglected in the little glade they had chosen, taking up only a hammer and his own hands as he works tirelessly to provide for his wife, the dove that looks at him as though he were not a dog but a king.

When their home is built after many weeks of tedious work during day and bedding her beneath the stars each night, König only then thinks to pray his thanks to the foreign goddess who gifted his salvation to him with little more than a scrape from his palm. All the while his true goddess leans over him to tickle his cheek with flowers he had plucked for her only moments prior, covering him in a fragrance so sweet it only seemed befitting of herself.

She giggles and sighs when he pulls her down into the grass to roll over her, blanket her in kisses and gentle bites to her throat.

The beryl amulet around her neck catches the glimmer of the sun above as she sifts her fingers through his hair and tells him that the gods already knew he was grateful, that his worship of her was already telling enough.

[bookwormjust]

Fever (established relationship Eris, caring hounds)

The night is quiet, the autumn breeze gently rustling the leaves outside the grand windows of your shared bedroom. You’re lying under the thick blankets, your body weak and trembling with the creeping fever that’s settled in once again. Though you're fae, your body has always been prone to sickness, a vulnerability that still clings to you even in your immortal state.

Eris had been working late again, the weight of his new responsibilities as High Lord of Autumn keeping him away more often than either of you would like. Since the death of his father, Eris had inherited not only the title but the endless demands of ruling his court. He was trying to be everything his father wasn’t—just, fair, protective—but it meant you spent many nights alone in your bed. 

Except for the hounds.

Eris had insisted that his pack of loyal, powerful hounds guard you while he worked. They never left your side, curled at the foot of the bed or lying just outside your door, always on alert. The largest of them, the pack's leader, had taken a special liking to you, his amber eyes always watchful, his presence a constant comfort in Eris's absence.

But tonight, something’s wrong. The fever that had started as a faint warmth earlier in the evening has now become a roaring fire under your skin. You’re shivering uncontrollably, your breaths coming in labored gasps. The room spins around you, and despite the layers of blankets, a deep chill settles into your bones. 

Suddenly, through the haze of fever, you hear a low growl—then the sound of paws padding softly across the floor. You barely manage to open your eyes when you see the chief hound standing beside your bed, his gaze sharp and concerned. His muzzle nudges your hand gently, as if to check on you.

You attempt to reassure him, your voice weak and hoarse. “I’m okay,” you whisper, though the trembling in your body says otherwise.

The hound doesn't buy it. With a determined huff, he turns and trots out of the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the hall. He knows exactly where to go.

---

Eris is in his study, pouring over stacks of parchment by the dim light of the fire. His head aches from hours of work, but he refuses to stop, not until everything is perfect, not until he’s sure his court is safe and thriving. But his thoughts keep drifting to you. He hadn't missed how pale you'd looked earlier, the slight flush of fever beginning to color your cheeks. He’d meant to check on you but got caught up in endless council matters.

The sound of paws rushing toward him breaks his focus. His head snaps up just as the leader of his hounds barrels into the room, his amber eyes wide and alert. Eris instantly knows something is wrong.

“What is it?” he demands, his voice tight with concern.

The hound whines, nudging at Eris’s leg before turning back toward the door, clearly wanting him to follow. Eris doesn’t waste a second.

He moves swiftly through the corridors, his heart pounding with worry. When he reaches your bedroom, the sight of you lying in bed, shivering and drenched in sweat, makes his blood run cold. 

“Gods,” he whispers, rushing to your side. He kneels beside the bed, his hand instantly going to your forehead, feeling the scorching heat radiating from you. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

You blink up at him, your vision blurred from the fever. “Didn’t want to... bother you,” you mumble, your voice weak. “You have... so much to do…”

Eris’s jaw tightens, guilt flooding him. “You’re my mate,” he says softly, his voice filled with both frustration and affection. “Nothing is more important than you.” 

Without hesitation, he calls for water, cool cloths, and medicine from his healers. His hands move with urgency but care, placing a cold compress on your burning skin, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face as he whispers soothing words. 

The hounds gather around the bed, watching anxiously as Eris tends to you, their loyalty to you as fierce as his own. The leader nudges Eris gently, as if to say *I’ve brought her back to you—now take care of her.*

“I’ll never leave you like this again,” Eris promises quietly as he sits beside you, holding your hand tightly. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles, his fiery gaze softening as he watches you, concern etched in every line of his face. “You’re going to be alright. I’m here now.” 

Even through the fever, his presence calms you, and despite the heat that consumes you, you find comfort in his touch. You drift into a restless sleep, knowing that with Eris and his loyal hounds by your side, you’re safe.

[fanaticsnail]

Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”

[heartfullofleeches]

[18+, Top/Dom Reader. Male/Amab Darling, they/them pronouns used for personal preference]

Femboy Cheerleader Darling dragging their jock bf to the mall- Normally, he'd just hand Darling money and lets his sweetheart go off on their own, but on this day darling decided they needed a little company. How could he refuse when Darling propositioned the idea of him tagging along as a cute date? Walk around for a bit, grab some lunch- Knowing how easy it was for Darling to get side tracked, their boyfriend knew the afternoon wouldn't be as linear as they implied- He only went to big spaces like the mall when he knew what he needed, but since it was time wasted with his future spouse he'd cherish every second.

Darling is so happy he agreed- The additional company meant more freedom for their hands when the bags started piling up. Hands they could use to properly thank their generous boyfriend who does so much to make them smile. It's starts off with Darling massaging the side of his thigh while they're in line to grab a smoothie. He loved whenever they tended to his aching muscles after practice. They've been walking for some time now so he's probably feeling some tension down there, the poor guy.

Their hands paw at his waist as the crowds grow denser. There's so many people around Darling might get lost if they don't hold onto him. With strangers squeezing and pushing past them to get by, Darling has no choice but to cling on to their big, strong boyfriend tighter - cock pressed to his meaty ass from the lining of their favorite skirt. It's not like anyone notices but him, face hot as he balances all of Darling's purchases on his arms.

Things only escalated from there as the couple find themselves alone in an elevator - Darling's face now smushed against their boyfriend's large pecs as they check his heart rate. With all that commotion outside it has be through the roof- Darling isn't entirely wrong when they come to that conclusion.

Darling has a big surprise for their lover when they teach their final destination- If it's still in stock that is. Something that cute is bound to have a lot of eyes. The most adorable sundress which hung off the wearer's shoulders and complimented their figure. Darling had picked up other items on their trip, but this is what they came to the mall for. There was another reason they chose this store to end things off on. They'd heard through the grapevine vine how understaffed this store in particular was and how they had no cameras in the changing roos. Perfect for thief....and other activities.

Jock Yan stumbles out of the changing room short of breath and drenched in his own sweat - amongst other fluids. It's a miracle he was able to keep quiet. Darling had to reward him in the best way they knew how, but perhaps they should have gone a bit easier on him until they got home. Their boyfriend was always a little sore after they were through playing with him. Darling pays for the dress they still have on - carrying their man back down to the food court where they treat him to some ice cream with their own pocket money as if it were just another normal date.

-

Smaller Dom Femboy Reader, my love- I wanna do a full length version of this someday, but I got two horn-knee fics coming this week so come back at a later date....

Unless.....👉👈

[jenchan-writingmultis]

What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Series: Part 2)

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Pairing: Leona x Gn Reader

A/n: Ooh It took me a while to create an update of this, I’m still in my second semester hell but I got a bit of time! So, I decided to write something for our dearest Lion, also I wanted to note that I’ll be doing this based on the book chapters, for example, Riddle First, Leona Second, Azul Third, and so on… I hope you like this part! I loved writing every part of it.

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards.

Warning: Cussing, OOC Crowley (lmao), smitten Leona, slight blood mention Masterlist Part one (Riddle x Gn Reader)

──────⊱⁜⊰────── Sypnosis: You went off already, actually, they didn’t even know where you were right now, Grimm was worried about you, where have you gone? You just vanished into the mirror that you were talking to every midnight, he knew that he should have listened to his gut feeling when he realized that you were warning him about your sudden disappearance. The moment he went dashing out of Ramshackle, paws cold from the snow that he stepped on and it was really bad that when he needed Hornton he wasn’t there.  Savanaclaw:

Leona: He was annoyed when Grim started screaming outside of his dorm in the middle of the night causing all beastmen to wake up due to his ruckus, but his annoyance vanished when he realized what the furball was saying. You were gone, while he looked indifferent outside, telling Grim to calm the fuck down because he can easily hear him without him screaming in his ears, he was a bit worried. (Just a bit)

“Oi, can you tone down your screaming?” he grabbed Grim by the collar as the kitty sobbed, “Calm down, we’ll help” He sighed, causing Ruggie to stare at him surprised, “What do you mean we?” Leona scoffed before he threw Grim at him. 

“This furball will just keep on screaming if we leave him” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Ruggie huffed “Well, it’s surprising for you to immediately agree to help though” he whispered to himself, Leona could clearly hear him, but he ignored what the other said. It was rare for you to leave Grim all alone, you two were practically attached to the hip, so you vanishing out of nowhere was odd, did you finally get back to your homeland? You didn’t talk about it, but he can see how you look at others when they’re with their families and he knows that look. It was a look he had when he was younger, when Farena was the golden child, and he was the black sheep. 

He wanted that kind of familial love from his parents before, but they never gave it to him. You probably missed your family in your original world, he understands the feeling, but he can’t help but feel a bitter ache in his heart. Did he and the others not make you feel at home here? Sure, they overblotted and probably could have killed an herbivore like you, but he’s a changed man, surely you didn’t leave because you got sick of him or the others, right?

Of course, he went to interrogate Grim, asking him various questions, and after a few hours of barking orders to his fellow beastmen, he went to Crowley personally to ask, he was running out of options, and he was starting to feel that his theory that you went home was right. The last time Grim saw you was you got sucked in the mirror that was inside your bedroom. He tried to check on that mirror too, he didn’t feel any type of magic in it, it was just an ordinary mirror. You’d know he’s already at the edge of his seat trying to find you when he asked Crowley out of all people for help, denying the feeling in his gut that you were truly wiped out of this world.

“You’re saying that the prefect vanished?” Crowley put his hand on his chin, he was a bit annoyed about how calm Crowley was, and he crossed his arms glaring at the guy. “Did you send them home?” He questioned, getting straight to the point, which made Crowley shake his head “No, I didn’t, I have yet to find the portal back to their homeland, but this is certainly worrisome, I’ll try to help you find them, and can you summon the other head wardens for a meeting?” Crowley walked past him, Leona’s eyes following him. “I’ll be getting the teachers involved, this is a missing student case after all” He murmured, now that’s the sight he likes to see, somehow his opinion of Crowley increased. He guessed Mc became important to him as well. 

However, despite the ton of effort to find you, none of them got any leads, the ache he was feeling from before got worse, he found himself awake than asleep most of the time, his head was aching, it was affecting his health too. When the housewarden meeting along with the teachers happened, of course, the majority of them volunteered to have their housemates search for you outside and inside, Crowley couldn’t get any officers involved since you weren’t officially in Twisted Wonderland, you were a walking unregistered herbivore; it was dangerous, it could get the school closed so he had to ask his staffs and students to help around, which no one complained. Everyone cared for you, you helped them one way or another; helped them grow as a person and as a mage, it made him fascinated that you get to change almost everyone in this school in just a few months of your presence, and you’re magicless even. 

The improvement of the school happened because of you, and you just vanished out of thin air just like that, like some God who graced everyone with their presence only to leave once everything was sorted out. What about him? 

Leona couldn’t help but feel numb, eyebags evident on his face, it was so unlike him to be overworking trying to find you, you were just a herbivore to him, someone who had the audacity to annoy him before just to gain his help. Ruggie was worried about him too, the guy tried to ease him into that he would try to use his “connections” to gain more manpower to search the whole twisted wonderland, it made him laugh, he was a second prince, he had more connections that can help with the search than Ruggie, plus he knew that you weren’t here anymore. He couldn’t accept it at first, it was just slapped on his face multiple times.

Your scent continued to fade as the days continued, he didn’t have any motivation to do anything else but try to find you, find you, and find you for the first few weeks health be damned, but when you manifested in his mind, festering him to do something else, to try to finish third year, then maybe during internship he can find leads to you. He decided that if he plans to continue to persevere, then he will. After all, he was known for his tenacity before. 

Ruggie was surprised when one day, Leona started to become focus on his studies, Leona was sometimes going to class, just enough to the point he could be promoted to 4th year, where he could do internships.  He thought that Leona might have forgotten about you, which kind of annoyed him, was Leona only good at doing stuff in the first place and abandoning it once he realized it was futile? Of course not! Ruggie slapped his cheeks and shook his head, Leona could never, he’s mischaracterizing his Housewarden. 

While the search died down, plenty of students gave up because they kept reaching dead end after dead end in their search. Grim was often with Ace and Deuce, he noticed that the furball lost a lot of weight and he often seemed out of it. Most of the students who knew Grim understood the devastation of losing someone whom he treated as family. They try to get Grim to eat more, but he always ends up either overeating or not eating at all, the only housewardens who get him to eat normally are Vil and Riddle who have strict diets for him. Riddle is more lenient due to knowing Grim longer than Vil. 

The housewardens get split custody of the Cat, and the main custody being with Riddle, Ace, and Deuce. Leona barely gets any time with Grim, and when he does, he usually just gives him to Ruggie. One time, Grim got really upset at him though.

Leona flinched in pain, blood seeping out of his arm, a scratch mark forming on it. Jack jolted and grabbed Grim’s arms, subduing him immediately. “Grim! What are you doing!?” Jack yelled out, gripping on the squirming cat. 

 “You! Out of everyone here, you’re the one who’s always so calm and relaxed!” Grim cried out, glaring at the Lion. Leona glared at him as he used his magic to heal his arm. “Do you even care! You just gave up after a few months!” He continued, biting Jack making Jack let go out of pain, and when Grim jumped on Leona. He got grabbed by the scuffle. 

 “What makes you think I stopped trying to find them?!” Leona snapped, gripping on the cat, as if he’s a cub misbehaving, this was annoying, people thinking that he doesn’t do a lot when in fact he’s been giving more than just effort  “You think I’m not trying my best here!?” He lets Grim go who is surprised at his outburst. “Shit” He pinched the bridge of his nose, Jack carrying Grim again. “I’m really sorry Leona” He apologized on Grim’s behalf, but Leona just waved him off. “It’s fine,” he said, looking down at the cat. “But I want you to understand that some people just prefer doing work behind the scenes, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean they’re not trying.” 

He really was trying. The you that was cuddling him in his dreams, playing with his hair and kissing him, telling him to do his best. That had kept him sane while trying to find you. It was stupid and pathetic, but at least he knew that somehow, he never forgot your face, your scent, and your voice even if it took years. Even once he graduated, even if Falena tried to set him up with other Beastwomen or some high-ranking princess. He rejected them all, in favor of waiting for you, despite not knowing if you’ll ever come back. 

He never even got to tell you his feelings before you vanished, if he did would that make you not go back to your own world? Even after a few years, your friends had already graduated, he was working in Sunset Savanna, temporarily because his brother asked him for help, he was busy jumping from place to place to maintain connections and build new ones so while his brother is gone, he was the one in charge, Cheka was already in Junior High school dreaming of getting inside Royal Sword Academy where his friends would be around as well as his father encouraging him to enroll there due to being an alumni, and his sister in law kept festering Leona about mates and stuff. 

Right, did he tell you that he kept the mirror that you vanished from to his room? When he finally graduated, he felt that he needed the mirror, so he decided to buy it from Crowley, who graciously gave him the mirror without any complaints. Sometimes, he looks at himself in the mirror, hoping to see you behind it. He really wishes you would come back. 

He went to sit down on the edge of his bed, sliding himself into the covers, his bed feeling cold and needing another, he stared at the ceiling, wishing in his mind that when he woke up, you’d be there, touching his cheek. 

Drifting into sleep, he dreamt of you again, a dream that he saw multiple times after you vanished, his head laying on the soft plush of your thighs, he stared up at you, who was looking down at him with a soft smile, he nuzzled the hand that you placed on his cheek, placing his hand on it as he guides your hand to his lips, kissing it. 

 “I miss you” he murmured in his dream, your hand felt incredibly warm and soft right now, it felt… real. Maybe whatever Deity from above decided to pity him today and give him your touch that he was constantly seeking.

He didn’t want to wake up, the warmth of the sun hitting his body except for his face which you were shielding it from. The moment he lifted himself up, to go nearer your face, he wanted to kiss you now or else he might never feel this surreal experience ever again, a blinding light suddenly flashed in his vision, causing him to flinch. 

 “Oh, sorry Leona” a familiar voice apologized, making him groan and blink a few times, was he still dreaming? He felt his head resting on something else and not his pillow, it felt softer. When he finally was fully awake, he realized that he was in fact, not dreaming anymore. He looked up only to see you, in the same position as you did in his dream. 

“Herbivore…” he froze as you rubbed his cheek gently. “Yes, I’m here” You hummed as you pushed away a bit of his hair just to see his face better. “Oh wow, Leona you became prettier!” you giggled, causing him to sit up, grabbing your cheeks, he examined you. He can’t believe it, it really is you, he’s not dreaming anymore. 

“How? What?” he questioned, glaring at you maybe this was a trap, if this was some doppelganger or some shapeshifter, he’d turn you to dust, but the way you weren’t scared of his glare made his will falter, you were warm, you were there, your scent was there too, nobody can replicate that.  “Herbivore you’re back” he finally caved in, pulling you into a crushing hug, which you gave back happily. “I’m back Leona, I’m sorry I vanished,” you said, burying your face into his shoulder. “You idiot, I definitely deserve an explanation for this” He growled out, not letting you go at all. 

Word Count: 2,359

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter ten

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

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You kick yourself for leaving your room a mess. Your fluffy pajamas are strewn across the blue sheets of the bed, your makeup bag is scattered across the bathroom sink. The sheets are fluffed up from when you threw your luggage on them and the remote is nestled in your pillow-

But Aizawa doesn’t notice. 

He’s too busy kissing you like he can’t get close enough. On the greediest of movements, his teeth click against yours and he whimpers into the plush of your tongue, desperately pushing into you. His body follows suit, cornering you against the backside of the door, crowding you until your heart rate spikes-

Then his lips travel down, down, to the curve of your neck, the spot that makes your knees buckle a bit with his tongue drags across the skin. He must feel it too, because he does it again. Snd again. The sensation rips through your body the way fire rips through oil and you fear that you may combust before the fun’s even begun.

“Ah-hh-a-” Your body punches out without your permission. He growls in return and sucks at the same spot again- “Jesus, Shouta-”

“Say it again-” Aizawa demands.” Say my name again.”

And you do.

This time, he sucks you skin into his mouth until you whine for him to stop. He does and you can feel the blossoming pain of a bruise in his wake, throbbing for less and more concurrently.

You can feel how hard he is against you. It presses through the thick cloth of his pants, right into your lower stomach. It's thick. It's hard. He wants you-- unbelievably so. It takes every firing synapse in your skull to reach down and paw at his cock, to feel it beneath your fingertips.

 Heated desire flows through you, thrums, hot and totally overwhelming in every way. You barely notice how you’re sinking, down the smooth plane of the door, down until your knees hit the floor. He follows you the whole time, hunching over you as to not break the contact for even a moment. Tickles of hair and breath and simply him touch your cheeks. Somehow you end up supine, Aizawa slotted between your legs, carpet catching against your hair as he sinks lower, lower-

“We shouldn’t do this.” he whispers and you kiss him deeper, because no, you shouldn’t, but there’s something inside you that needs this, needs him. You press into his shoulder and off of the ground, flipping both of you around so he’s splayed on the floor. Gravity grinds you down against him and he groans - pained, wanted-

“We shouldn’t do this.” He’s firm this time, even with those dark, wet eyes that seem to be begging for it- “You’ve been-”

“I thought you wanted me.” You grip his shirt and you aren’t sure why. You aren’t going to disobey his wishes, but you wish you could, just to derive some pleasure from him, from tonight. “I thought we were past this hot and cold thing.”

“I do,” he says. “I am.”

Gently, he places a hand on your thigh. The cuts on your feet thrum in the silence, the pain sharp and demanding, just like the ache in your chest.

“But, not like this. You’ve been crying, drinking…”

Your grip loosens.

“Do…do you even want this?” he asks.

Do you? You let him sit up and you fall away and try to process it all. This whole drama between the two of you has you upside down; the fighting, the truce, the spark that's just lit between you- it all came together tonight. He waited for you, he was here- 

You want everything that Aizawa could be to you- but do you want him?

You barely know who he is. Even after all these years, Aizawa Shouta is basically a mystery to you. You don't know his favorite color or food or anything-- hell, you didn't know he owned cats until today! The emotional high you’ve been riding starts to waiver. You don’t think you’d regret sleeping with him, but…

“I don't know,” you say,  carefully, because you don't. Not really. You know you need someone new, but you aren’t sure if that’s Aizawa.

Aizawa nods, solemn, swallowing the news. He takes it better than you thought he would; he seems thankful to have a chance more than anything. 

“I don’t want you to almost want this.” He adjusts himself awkwardly, pants still tight at the front. It’s funny- you don’t even think you’ve seen a man use both heads at once. You don’t laugh, though, or even smirk; not while Aizawa looks so utterly defeated. “I want to be more than that.”

The two of you untangle from each other, you fixing your shirt, him fixing his pants. His hair is disheveled, wild from your touch and the carpet, and his lips are freshly kissed red. The hotel clock changes to the top of the hour, blinking its deep red pattern as you both sit there, silent. You find spaces against the door, side by side. Occasionally you can hear the elevator ding in the distance of the hall.

Fucking would be easier than this. Sex doesn’t need pretext or explanation, it just is what it is. You could just do it and move on, let tomorrow’s problems stay unaddressed, but instead you have to percolate it your emotions, decide exactly how you feel-

“It’s not that I don’t not like you.” You interrupt your own thoughts. “I do, I think. Like you.”

You shrug, still avoiding his gaze even as your shoulders slim each other. “At least, you make me do some stupid shit that no one else makes me do, other than--”

You don't want to talk about Touya. Luckily, he seems to understand. Aizawa just nods back to you, eyes lowered, expression tight.

“You also make me do some things that I regret,” He speaks so carefully.

“Like firing Denki?” You try to joke. “And moving the coffee machine?”

“I only fired Denki because he was abusing your good will and pushing his work off on to you.” Aizawa shifts a bit again with a sigh.  “I don’t regret that. I do regret making you so upset over it all.”

You guffaw. “You knew I did his work?” You thought you had been secretive about it!

“Of course I did.”  He shifts to turn your way, face so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek. You watch from the corner of your vision and try not to let that fluttering in your stomach take over. “No one else double staples like you do.”

You throw your hands up in frustration at the thought. “I never get the angle right the first time!”

And he smiles back at you with only his eyes, soft and sweet.

“I know.”

Since when did he start looking at you like that?  And since when did you start to like it?

Did Touya ever look at you like that? Maybe a long, long time ago, before the pills and heroin, back when you were both human and young. The attention is so sweet that it aches to bare, and yet you still do, maybe even smiling back. 

 You try not to shatter the moment.  “You really do like me, don’t you?”

He nods.

“Then why were you always so-?”

Aizawa opens his mouth, then closes it, Then, he does it again, seemingly finding no answer. His bad leg curls up to his chest and he loops an arm under his thigh to hold it in place. Silver peeks out from under the cuff, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The shape is very calf like, but utilitarian- no real design other than smooth curves. You try not to stare, especially when he speaks up again.

“I don’t know.” Shouta pulls himself tighter. “It’s like I’m still some stupid twenty year old when I’m around you.”

You remember the feeling of being twenty: the turbulence, the love, the fear. You think about your ink stained hands, the ones so desperate to hold and be held. Ones so young and yet so, so wounded. Against your better judgment, you reach out with those hands and grab Shouta’s free hand, giving it the lightest of squeezes.

“I feel that way too.”

And, when he squeezes back, you think, just for a moment, that maybe you do want this. 

The time he’s granting you is so appreciated and you almost want to try and fuck him again-

“Where do we go from here?” Aizawa asks.

“I think I’d like to try… whatever this is,” you say. A thrill and a fear thrills inside you. Something new, something unknown. The mystery of it all is terrifying. 

“It’ll be a lot of paperwork though.”  Aizawa, of course, brings you back to reality. That’s right, as coworker’s, it’s probably not the most smiled upon thing to date-- especially since Aizawa is so high up in the company. Bakugo and Izuku are together, but they had to disclose that fact before they were even hired. 

God, you’ll have to tell Yagi that you’re seeing Aizawa, won’t you? You can’t decide if he’ll be proud or alarmed. 

“We don’t have to jump right into dating,” you say, quickly. “We can just.. Go on dates.”

Aizawa’s scowl makes a return. “That’s dating.”

“No, it’s going on a date.” You stay firm. “Very different. Much less commitment. Nothing to tell the company about. Or Hizashi.”

“Hizashi can never know.” Aizawa groans. His hands fly to his head in mock pain. “He’d be insufferable about it.”

“The whole town would know if we told Hizashi!”

A giggle escapes you, then Aizawa follows suit. His laugh is crackling, low, rumbling, but it makes your hands vibrate with something you don’t recognize. Before you can stop it, you laugh harder too, then he follows, until you’re both nothing but laughter and tears, crumbling over almost nothing at all. Your head rolls onto his shoulder so you can feel how he bounces with joy, and it only fuels you more. It takes a full minute to pull yourself together again, core aching from the exertion.

“Okay,” There’s still a hint of levity to his voice. “Let’s move slow then. Figure out what you want on your own time.”

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The fact that you’re so intertwined with him sets in. Your head is on his shoulder, leg popped over his, hands clasped so tightly you think you might never let go. It’s juvenile, like two kids behind the bleachers, savoring the moments before they get caught. You… like it. Dopamine receptors that haven’t been tickled in years are alight in your brain, giving you this tickling, quantifiable satisfaction. 

You stay there until the carpet burns your ass. 

“Do you want to sit on the bed?”  you say, peeling yourself from him and rising to your feet. Exhaustion is already aching under your eyes and in your joints. “It’ll be comfier.”

“I shouldn't stay too long.” He's already standing and walking towards the bed. “I have to present in the morning.”

You quickly throw your mess to the slide and then slide on top of the sheets.  Aizawa follows, stiffly flopping beside you. His bad leg kicks out a bit when he falls and you can’t help but wince at the thought. Another mystery about him that you haven’t been about to uncover: his leg is his business, but you can’t help but be curious, especially since it’s related to his speech tomorrow. Tensei or Hizashi could probably tell you, but that seems like a violation of Shouta’s privacy.

“I need to sleep,” he says, drifting along to your silent siren’s song.  He’s already slotting himself against you. “It’ll only be for a couple minutes.”

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

For a  while in comfortable silence, you listen to the way he breathes; its rhythmic, tempo only hitching when you move at all-- especially when you drape an arm across his chest. His eyes are bloodshot from work and the late hour, but you almost like how it looks, how the red deepens the brown until it’s past inky, almost bottomless.

Aizawa suddenly sighs, expression downturned.

“Can I say something?” 

You nod.

“I don’t want you to watch the presentation tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat to buy time. How are you supposed to react to that? You want to lash out with anger - after tonight, he turns you away? Again?- but you try to swallow that down. Jumping to conclusions hasn’t helped either of you.  “Did I do something?”

“No.” He’s quick to correct. “My leg will be on display and--”

Aizawa sucks in his peach slice lips. “It’s different when it’s strangers looking at me with a scientific eye. You-- you’re different.”

Oh.

“You feel vulnerable,” you guess.

“Perhaps,” he all but confirms. Now, he won’t meet your eye, his gaze stuck to the ceiling. You try and find where he’s looking, try to pick one dot out in the uneven ceiling that makes sense, like you’re watching stars instead of plaster. 

But there isn’t anywhere to look.

Maybe you’ll never see things completely from his perspective or see what he sees. Maybe that’s okay, as long as you’re here to listen. Your hand finds his once again, just as his started looking for yours.

“How did it-?” you try.

“Car accident.” Aizawa cuts you off.  “Head on collision with a drunk driver. I was twenty.”

So young. You wince as you remember your fight for the front of the car that morning; he probably does need it, both for his leg and his mental well being. You try to imagine him, twenty, unscarred, no little crescent scar on his cheek and no hitch in his gate-

“That must have been so scary.”

He hums an affirmative. “Not as scary as the recovery.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, as tight as you can muster. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Me too.”

You almost talk about Touya, how your twentieth was hard in a different way, but the words don’t come. As close as you two have allowed yourselves to become, there’s still a wall between you-- double sided. Behind yours is years of loving a man who is set on destroying himself, loving someone that’s forgotten how to love you back-

Behind his, his own traumas. 

“I’ll hang out with Hizashi tomorrow,” you say after a very long time. “We’ll go slow.”

“Thank you.”

His nose presses into your cheek, followed by the plush of lips. When it draws a giggle from you, he does it again, slighting closer to your lips. His hands are trying to loop around you, under you, through the warmth of blanket to grab handfuls of your waist and thigh. When he squeezes, he laughs too, something low and grumbling that gets caught in his throat. If he weren’t about to kiss you, you probably wouldn’t have caught it.

“You said we should move slow,” you curl your arms around his neck and drag your body closer, until you’re pressed right against him-

“I think-” He presses his lips to your temple. “A kiss-” He does the same to the other. “-or two-” There’s a pause before he hits your lips. “Is alright.”

You oblige.

You never imagined being here, with him, would be so incredibly gentle. Not that you ever thought you’d be here, having a slow, meticulous kiss with Aizawa Shouta. He just seems so rough, so uncaring from a distance; who could have guessed he had such a capacity for the saccharine? Who could have guessed that he’d hold you like he needs you, that he’d suck on your lip like he’d die without you? 

It slowly devolves. The heat between you burns brighter and brighter, a rolling core of embers right under the surface, but you start to drift. Maybe it’s the expensive bed and perfect pillows, maybe it’s the comfort of being held, but sleep starts to creep into your mind. He must feel it too; the pauses between yet peck grow longer and longer, each drag of skin against skin getting lighter, more fleeting-

The bed creaks as he rolls over. 

“Shouta?” you ask, unable to open your eyes. “Are you really okay with me not knowing what I want from this?”

There’s a pause. He shifts back to you, hand on your waist.

“Don’t sleep in your contacts.” Shouta mumbles into your temple, on the precipice of sleep himself. “You’ll be mad in the morning.”

You hum his worries away.

---

He’s gone in the morning. You awake to creased sheets, the peep of sunlight creeping through your blinds, and sticky, blurry eyes. He was right- you do regret sleeping in your contacts, but that doesn’t kill the butterflies that have hatched inside you, flitting about in sheer excitement. You (kind of) (sort of) (not really) have a boyfriend. At least, someone in the shape of a boyfriend, who holds you all night and kisses you deep and makes your pussy-

You shake that off.

As you prepare for the day - brushing your teeth, washing your face, stripping off your dirty clothes and replacing them with a fresh pair of undies- you keep thinking back to him, him, him. Aizawa’s right- you feel twenty again. Maybe even better. You have no qualms about walking around naked post shower, breasts out and pearled in the thrull of the AC.

You’re standing in the middle of the room, watching the news and googling ‘coffee near me’ when you hear the door. It beeps, then creeps open, Aizawa ducking back in. Gone is the outfit from yesterday, replaced with a nice top and… sweatpants. He’s also freshly bathed, raven hair barely damp against his shirt. His usually hooded eyes pop wide and he freezes when he sees you standing there, only your panties to save your decency.

“Hi!” you say, more surprised than anything else.

“Hi,” he says back, just as awkwardly. He’s trying not to stare at you; you quickly scurry back under the covers to hide yourself, shoving handfuls of sheets over your tits.

 “You look-- I didn’t think you’d be awake--- I brought breakfast,” he tries, holding a brown bag up for you in one hand and a cup in the other. “And a latte. Nice-- glasses.”

You look at him. Really, really look at him. Breakfast in bed? You didn’t even fuck him. Why would he--?

“Really?” you try not to sound skeptical.

He hums a yes. “I borrowed your key, hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s-” You’re less concerned about that than breakfast. After not having a real dinner, you’re starving; he must have been too. Taking the bag, you quickly look inside. It’s a little bagel sandwich, wrapped in tin foil and a heavenly smell. “You really brought me food?”

“Stop asking me that and take this.” He places the drink on the nightstand. “It all seemed like things you would like.”

You aren’t sure if you’re hungry or if the sandwich really is good. All you know is that you unpeel it from its wrapping and take a less than demure bite, followed very quickly by a second. Your eyes actually flutter back into your skull for a moment; fuck-- that’s a good fucking breakfast. The coffee smells fantastic too. All of this while sitting in high thread count sheets? You might be in heaven.

“Don’t look at my breasts if they fall out,” you mumble through your food. 

“I will be looking,” he says, completely serious. “Maybe even praying.”

With your free hand, you scooch the comforter down, exposing your tits to the cool hotel air. His expression grows hard and you glimmer under the attention. It’s new enough that it still feels elicit, dangerous, wrong, to be topless in front of the man.

“There is a God.” Aizawa sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes never leave your body. “Remind me to bring you breakfast in bed again some day.”

He leans on to his palms to duck over you, catching your cheek in a rather sloppy kiss. 

“You aren’t going to eat with me?” you ask.

"I'd rather spend the morning eating you.” His flirtation merely has you choking on your spit.  “But we agreed to go slow.”

He dots your other cheek with a kiss again. It’s funny how soft he has become in such a short time. Has this always been there, hiding under that stupid yellow sweatshirt? Or have you broken through him this weekend?

Then, you process what he said. Fuck, that sounds-- you’re still a little wet from last night, riding the high of being touched. It would only take a couple licks for you to-

“Don’t look at me like that.” Shouta shuts down your train of thought. “I really should be going to prepare.”

That’s right- there’s only a little time before he presents.

“Hm, okay. Another morning, then.” You take another bite. “Good luck with your speech. I won't be watching.”

You’re still a bit conflicted about not going, but you respect his choice. The accident seems to be a huge scar on his past; if he isn’t ready to debride it, you can’t force him. Besides, you haven’t discussed Touya with him-- that’s probably an equally big trauma in your life.

Especially because you may still be in love with Touya.

That thought cuts the wind from your sails.

[rachalixie]

a/n: you've read you when minho gets hurt but get ready for a fun new concept of minho when you get hurt!!!!

if you thought that you turned into a mother hen when minho got hurt, the antithesis lives in the way minho would react when you were the one in pain. he’s calm and he teases but he somehow always knows exactly what to do, even before you yourself know what you want.

you weren’t particularly a clumsy person, but everyone has times where their feet refuse to work or they nick themselves in the neck with their hair straightener - or in your case now, when you take the biggest sip of your tea, forgetting that you had just made it and it was a near-boiling temperature. you have to resist the urge to spit it out, and it feels like fire working it’s way down your throat when your muscles finally cooperate enough for you to swallow the burning sip. 

you must make a noise, because minho’s attention - which was previously trained on the way your cat was licking his paw - flips to you so fast you’re surprised you didn’t hear his neck crack. his eyes flicker all over your body, from your head to your fingers and down to your legs like he was looking for blood to be gushing out of you. he must see something in your expression because he melts a bit when he meets your eyes, scooting himself closer to you and letting you lean into his body.

“what happened, mine?” he says, words curled up with fondness. 

“i burnt my tongue,” your say with a wince, the shape of the letters sending pings of pain across your tongue. you glare heatedly at the cup of steaming tea you left on the table, sitting there in it’s false innocence. you stick your tongue out at him like a petulant child, the cold air from the room soothing the ache a little bit.

“let me see,” he cups your face in his hand, pulling you closer to him so he could get a look - you’re sure your tongue is ridiculously red, and the look on your face even more so. he peers down, his eyes crossing a bit and he looks so cute that you want to bite him. he smiles a bit, leaning up to press a kiss to your tongue, a quick thing that catches you off guard. 

an unintelligible sound leaves your mouth, muffled by the way his fingers are still squeezing your cheeks and your tongue is still peeking out of your mouth. 

“did i fix it?” he looks so pleased, like he truly believed that his kiss would heal your physical wounds. you don’t have the heart to tell him that your tongue is still stinging when you put it back into your mouth, but he has healed any distress you were feeling on the inside, so you just nod and snuggle into him, tea forgotten.

it was so silly, such a simple thing, but something about it made your heart want to burst out of your chest. god, you love him, with every fiber in your being. you love him for knowing you, love him for knowing that while coddling is what he needs, a distraction was the cure that would sooth your hurt in any circumstance. 

later, you’d be pouty all day until he caved to your wide shiny eyes and went to buy you ice cream to soothe your tongue. later, he would spoon feed you and babble at you like you’re one of his kittens, later he would flutter kisses all over your face and tell you that you’re never allowed to be hurt when he’s around. 

right now, you’re content to sit in his arms with a burning tongue as long as he’s there.

—

soft hours

[mikkomacko]

blurb of when mob boss! nico and reader get their dog

Muscles aching and tired, you shove the last of the moving boxes into the oversized trash bag on the kitchen floor. You look around the space, heart fluttering happily.

You have a house. Yours and Nico’s home, a forever home. A place that’ll hold dinners and parties for your large family, will fill up with stupid trinkets and legos that you two collect. One that’ll hopefully one day hold wedding photos and then baby photos, that’ll protect and raise your family in whatever way you choose to grow it.

Biting at your lip, you move back into the living room, mentally thanking Nico for having the boys set up all the furniture this past week. All you and him had to do was overlook everything, and unpack the boxes of personal things from the apartment.

“Hey,” Nico calls from the living room where he’s supposed to be setting up your takeout dinner on the coffee table. “There’s another box in here for you.”

Any sense of peace or relief you felt at finally being done fades, irritation filling the space instead. “No I don’t,” you grumble, but he’s right.

Right in front of the fireplace and tv is a large box, unmarked except for the thick black sharpie on the side that reads FRAGILE and your name underneath it.

It’s Nico’s handwriting.

“What is it?”

He’s sat on the couch, Gatorade in hand and he laughs. “I don’t know, s’yours.”

You glare at him, tired and even more annoyed when you see how good he still looks after a day of moving. You feel gross and sticky, hair a messy knot on your head and eyes heavy.

“You really couldn’t check for what’s in there?”

Nico shrugs, a sly smile on his face and you groan. All you want to do is sit on his lap and enjoy your favorite ramen place, watch tv and soak in your first night in your new home before Alex moves in tomorrow.

Dragging your feet over, you frown in confusion when you see the box move. The top of it isn’t even open, in fact it looks like it’s been placed upside down. You prod at the box, startling when the box feels like air and a tiny snort creeps out from the cracks underneath.

“Oh my god Nico I’m scared.”

He gets up from the couch, touching the small of your back with his warm palm. “Of what?” He laughs, nudging you forward. “Just open it.”

Sighing, you press into Nico’s side, stretching your leg out to kick at the bottom corner with your sock clad toes. Tentatively, you lift it with your toes, leaning down to get a peek at what’s in there.

Four large paws, white and fluffy. You gasp, scrambling back from the box and turn to look at Nico.

“No,” you say, shoving at him not that he budges. “You did not.”

His eyes crinkle, a laugh shaking his chest and he motions to the box. “Well let the poor thing out, Jesus Christ.”

As if knowing that you’re talking about him, the box snorts again and you giggle. Crouching onto your knees, you gently lift the box again. This time you keep going, smile widening when the white paws extend to furry little legs, and then a chubby little chest, and finally a big black nose. Two dark brown eyes stare at you, a dark fluffy tails wagging.

And yet the Saint Bernard stays perfectly still, like he’s waiting for you to reach out and touch him.

“Nico,” you murmur, tears welling in your eyes. His hand touches the top of your head, fingers stroking through your hair.

“Sprechen,” he says, and the dog tips his head back, yelping in greeting. You giggle wetly, looking up at Nico and he smiles proudly. “It means speak. You try,” he encourages.

You peer at the dog, “sprechen,” you mutter quietly and he yelps again, tail wagging even faster when you laugh in delight.

“Oh he’s so cute Nico,” you cry, finally reaching out to pet him. He nuzzles into your fingers when you scratch between his ears, the tag on his collar jingling. You grip it in your fingers, lifting the silver tag. It’s a smooth silver circle, a devil engraved into the front.

You flip it over, lip wobbling when you see the name engraved.

Moose Hischier

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know how you live here,” Nico grumbles, glaring at the roof of your apartment where the neighbors dogs are howling.

You laugh, stroking your fingers over the back of his hand and turning up the volume on the movie. The dogs have never bothered you, but Nico hates how loud they are. You think he’s just gotten too used to his soundproof penthouse because you find the dogs comforting.

They’ve never kept you up at night or interrupted your studying or woke you up too early.

“I think they’re sweet,” you murmur, and he runs his fingers through your hair, twirling a strand around his finger. “And I like to baby sit them for extra cash when the family is out of town.”

Nico snorts. “They sound vicious.”

“They’re not,” you insist, “plus I’ve always wanted a dog. But my mama is allergic and it’s too hard to have one in school.”

“Yeah?” He hums, “what kinda dog? I hope not one of those rat ones that always look dirty.”

“No,” you laugh, tilting your head to look up at him. He’s leaning against the headboard of your full size bed, looking down at where you’re laying in his lap. “I want a big one. A Saint Bernard.”

His eyebrow raise in surprise, but he looks delighted to hear that. “Really? You need a big yard for a dog like that.”

“I know,” you say proudly because you’ve done extensive research on these dogs. And you know how expensive it is to adopt one let alone raise it. “S’why I’m waiting. But I know I’m gonna get him one day.”

“A boy?”

“Yeah,” you look back at the movie, “and I’ll name him Moose.”

“But he’s a dog?” Nico asks, amused.

“That’s why it’s cute.”

He’s silent for a moment, fingers still playing with your hair and you think he’s dropped the topic, invested in the movie again.

“Saint Bernard’s are from Switzerland, ya know?”

You grin. “I know.”

“We use them for avalanches because they’ve got good noses.”

“Yeah,”

“They’re really loyal too. And protective.”

Teasingly, you look up at him. “It seems I have a type…”

Nico raises an eyebrow, cheeks tinging pink and he shakes his head, trying to bite back his pleased grin. “My nose good be better.”

You reach up, stroke your finger down the bridge of straight nose. “I like it,” you whisper earnestly. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you remembered his name.”

You let go of the tag, stroking over Moose’s fluffy little face. He licks at your hand, steps closer to you and you scoop him up in your arms.

“Course I remembered,” Nico says incredulously, “you talked about that dog like he was your long lost child.”

You dig your fingers into his fur, squeezing him to your chest as you stand up to look at Nico with teary eyes. “Moose,” you try, and he wiggles excitedly, nuzzling into your neck. “Sweet boy.”

Nico reaches over, pets at his back softly. “You like him?”

Nodding, you sniffle back tears and hug Moose even tighter. “How could I not? Oh he’s perfect Nico.”

Your boyfriend beams with pride, dimples in his cheeks and teeth biting his bottom lip. “He was trained in Bern,” he tells you, “German commands but he understands English too.”

“He’s bilingual?!” You gawk, “what?!”

“Yeah,” Nico chuckles. “I wanted him to be able to protect you. Certain commands in English will make him more protective, vicious, ya know? That way if you say them in a dangerous situation he knows to protect you. But in German he knows it’s just regular behavioral ones.”

Your eyes sparkle, so enamored and in love with Moose already. Peeling him away from your neck, you look into his pretty, brown puppy eyes. “You’re already so smart,” you coo emotionally, “so smart and so pretty.”

You hug him again, looking at Nico with sweet eyes. He can’t help himself, he wraps you and the dog up in his arms and squeezes you into his chest.

“Thank you so much Nico,” you mumble, “I love him so so so much.”

“You’re welcome baby,” he kisses the top of your head. “I love him too.”

Preening, you pull back from Nico and skip towards the couch with Moose in your arms like a baby.

“Now I just need your daddy to teach me German words, huh?”

His chest warms, fuzzies and pleasant prickles fluttering where his heart is. Nico swallows heavily, urging the butterflies to go away but he can’t help it.

He loves you so much.

“Moose,” he calls, following you over to the couch. The dog’s ears twitch, looking at Nico expectantly. “Kuss.”

You giggle like a child on Christmas when Moose licks a wet kiss onto your cheek. Shyly, you tilt your cheek to him again. “Kuss.” Nico laughs when Moose licks you again and you gasp in surprise.

Tilting your head up at Nico, you flutter your eyelashes at him. “Nico, kuss?”

Chuckling, he leans down and kisses you. And again when you repeat it because really, who is he to deny you?

[angelicpoison12]

first kiss ღ

Alastor finds out you’ve never been kissed.

MFA, SFW, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Alastor was an odd fellow. Not in a bad way-he was just.. Strange, to say the least.

— ☆ —

He was constantly cooped up in his room, listening to jazz, or doing his little radio broadcasts. I knew better to not be a little vermin towards him. I mean, Alastor had a fuckton of power, who wouldn’t be scared of him? I stayed away from Alastor. His smile kind of freaked me out. He was never mean to me, but I still had my guard up out of reflex. Whenever I interacted with him, it was short, tasteless small talk. I think we could both tell that we wanted more from each other-to have a bond at least-but fear held us back like floodwater gates.

We both wanted more.

I was sitting in the lobby, scrolling on my phone. I felt the couch dip, weight being added. I looked up, squeaking when I saw Alastor right next to me. His grin was still wide like usual, but it seemed strained? His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that frightened me. Yet his gaze also intoxicated me. It made me want more. That stupid longing ached in my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to snuggle him, feel him, to… Love him. Alastor looked at me, cocking his head to the side. “Y/N?”My eyes shot up. He must’ve been calling out to me for a while. “Oh-I’m sorry, Alastor.. I got lost in my thoughts,” I said with a nervous chuckle, my cheeks dusted with a soft blush. Alastor let out a soft, cackle-filled laugh. “Oh, no need to apologize, dear! Now, what is it that’s on your mind? You were staring a lot.” My eyes widened further, embarrassment washing over my face like a tsunami wave. Was I staring at him? Was I staring at the wall? What did he mean when he said I was ‘staring’?! God, he was so fucking confusing!

“Y/N? You’re staring again, dear.” I heard Alastor say. Fuck.

I swallowed, sighing. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Alastor.. It’s just-“ “You’re attracted to me, Y/N.” “What-?!” My voice was a soft shriek. Alastor’s grin widened scarily. I didn’t even know the fucker could smile wider than he already was able to. I squirmed under his gaze. I felt like a tiny rat under the paw of a tomcat. Alastor chuckled darkly, his irises practically glowing. “My dear, it’s quite clear.. Your eyes shimmer when you gaze at me. It’s not the usual, frightened stare I get around here, no. It’s one of curiosity. As if you’re a lost soul, wandering without a shepherd. Is that right, dear?” My head slowly turned upwards towards Alastor. My face was bright with a blush, and I was shaking. He’d gotten my emotions right. More accurate than even I could get them.

Maybe I wasn’t scared of Alastor. Maybe I was just, without a doubt, in love with him. He patted my shoulder, kindly saying, “Give it some thought, Y/N. You know where my room is if you need me.”

And just as sudden as he’d appeared, he was gone in the blink of an eye. I didn’t know what the fuck just happened, but I knew I wanted to explore it further. And I wanted my exploration to be with Alastor.

— ✩ —

I found myself at Alastor’s door not even twenty-four hours later.

What the hell was I thinking? Just a little bit ago, I was scared out of my mind to even look at him. Now I was yearning for him. It was as if a gravitational pull was curling itself around my heart, forcing me towards the darkest pits of Hell, where there was no return or exit. I was willing to take the path. I wanted to know if Alastor truly wanted to help me, or just make another searing deal to a weak victim such as myself.

Alastor seemed delighted to see me in his room. He was eating a few slabs of grayish meat. I didn’t ask about it; I kinda wanted to keep down my dinner, thank you very much. Then, after some meaningless small talk, I managed to choke out,

“Al.. Kiss me.”

I heard Alastor’s internal freak out. It sounded like a record had been scratched. He fully turned to look at me, sitting across from him at his desk. In a soft voice, he asked, “Y/N, are you sure? This isn’t some.. Mania, is it?” “No-! No, it’s not!” I choked, sighing shakily. “I’m just confused right now, okay..? I don’t know what to do about my feelings, or how to move forward with them-“

Before I could even finish, his hands had cupped my cheeks, claws oddly warm as his lips brushed against mine.

The kiss wasn’t dirty at all. It was soft and kind; nearly chaste with hints of reassurance hidden throughout his coldish lips.

When we pulled away from each other, my heart was beating rapidly, I could feel blood in my ears, and my cheeks were flushed. Alastor grinned wickedly, and holding his cane, he purred, “Not confused anymore, dear?” All I could do was nod, whimpering out, “Yeah.. I think so.”

I should’ve told Alastor how ‘unsure’ I was ages ago.

— ✩ —

[philistiniphagottini]

happy nutvember goat! might i interest you in jing yuan + fingering for the girls… the thought of sitting in his lap while he’s evil as hell about it mmm. thank you kindly

Happy Nutvember to you too lmao. Thank you for the request, Jing Yuan is always a fun little treat to write for. Hope you enjoy~

Jing Yuan + Fingering

Nutvember

cw. smut, nipple biting (fem receiving), fingering ((how do I wittingly say that he finger bangs you on his desk??)), female reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

A loud squeak fell from your parted lips as Jing Yuan pulled you into his lap, your legs falling beside his hips as you came to straddle him. Luckily, you were currently situated in his private office at home and no one else was privy to the debauched whine that fell from your parted lips when Jing Yuan hooked his fingers into the sash of your robe and tugged it open. A warm hum stirred in the General’s chest as the silk robe slipped off your shoulders with a simple flutter, your fat tits spilling out as his greedy hands pawed at your plump figure perched in his lap. A small huff of air breezed past your lips as Jing Yuan nuzzled his face between your soft breasts, hands squeezing your plump hips as he lazily dragged his lips over your scorching skin. 

"I thought you were supposed to be working, General" you gently teased.

You combed your hair through his thick mane of hair, wisps curling around your fingertips as you brushed the strands out of his warm, honey-coloured eyes. He peered up at you through thick lashes, a smile tugging at his lips as his hands grabbed your soft stomach, squeezing until the soft pudge spilled through the splayed digits of his fingers. A pleasant shiver rolled down your spine as he continued to blaze a trail with his lips, his touch featherlight as a hand slipped between your thick thigh to cup your bare, dripping sex. 

"I’m taking a break" Jing Yuan replied. "After all, how could I resist the allure of my lovely wife when she came sauntering in wearing that?"

He gestured to the robe that lay forgotten on the floor before his large, warm hands smoothed over the expanse of your plush thighs and causing heat to trickle in the pit of your stomach. You moaned sweetly for him, loosely tangling your hands in his hair as his fingers played with the dripping seam of your fat, needy cunt. Your long lashes fluttered wildly over your burning cheeks as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, tasting the shape of your mouth as his hand disappeared between your plump thighs. You were already trembling in his lap and he had barely done anything, thick fingers ghosting over the petals of your soaked folds as beads of arousal webbed over his skin and glistened like morning dew as it cascaded down your thighs. Your pulse droned loudly in your ears, heart ready to leap up into your throat as Jing Yuan pulled away from your lips and trailed back down to the swell of your breasts. 

Your nails bit into his scalp as he sucked the delicate bud of your pert nipple into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. His tongue cushioned the puffy tip as he moaned hotly into your skin, fingers playing with your drooling folds as your sopping hole fluttered and clenched around nothing; aching to be stretched and deliciously filled. You threw your head back as Jing Yuan suckled on your breast harder, teeth applying pressure as his fingers continued to graze over your weeping cunt. The hot knot in the pit of your stomach twisted tighter as the pad of his index finger swirled around your entrance, just barely dipping in and testing the waters before retreating to play with the pearl sitting pretty at the top of your pussy. You gently tugged on Jing Yuan’s hair, hips swaying enticingly forward as your sumptuous body trembled in his lap.

"Jing Yuan, please stop teasing" you implored. 

Jing Yuan smiled against your skin before he let go, your breast wet and sticky with saliva as he switched to your neglected teat. 

"Hmm, so wet" Jing Yuan cooed against your searing flesh. "Darling, you’re making a mess in my lap."

Before you could retaliate, the breath was stolen from your lungs as Jing Yuan finally pushed a finger inside of you. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing around the stuffy room as every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation. Your cunt noisily swallowed around him as he pressed another digit inside of you, thick fingers splitting apart your folds and emptying your head of every single thought until it felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Your nerves buzzed with bliss, blood simmering hotly in your veins as Jing Yuan continued to lazily suck on your breasts, tongue twirling around a stiff peak until your legs were shaking around his waist. Just when you thought you got your breath back, it was promptly taken from you when Jing Yuan suddenly picked you up and slammed on top of his desk.

The tips of your fingers tingled with numbness as you suddenly yanked on his mane of hair, hands knotted in his hair as the pace of his fingers abruptly grew faster. You shrieked with delight, your stomach doing flips as Jing Yuan drilled his fingers into your soused walls in just the right way to make stars swirl in your vision. His name was stuck in your parched throat, tingling on the back of your tongue as you tried to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head from the sheer rapture exploding in the pit of your soft belly. The pressure was intense as the desk creaked loudly beneath your combined weight, papers and scrolls scattered all over the floor as Jing Yuan ravished your chest like a man starved, bordering on a feral beast as he playfully growled into your skin and scraped his teeth across the puffy tip of your nipple. A constellation of tears clung to your lashes as you writhed beneath him, head growing dizzy as he crooked his fingers and hit the soft, gummy patch deep inside of you that made a rush of slick spill forth from your needy cunt. 

"Yuan" you cried. "Shit-fuck…gonna cum."

You threatened to start tugging his hair out at the roots as his teeth clamped down on the sensitive nerve of your nipple, sending little bolts of electricity to crackle down the notches of your spine as dots swirled in your vision. You completely ripped apart at the seams when Jing Yuan jammed his thumb against the flushed nub of your clit, roughly flicking the bundle of nerves in just the right way to send you tumbling over that familiar crumbling precipice. The cant of your hips came to a shaky halt, breath coming out in short, hard pants as the coil in your stomach burst forth into white, hot ecstasy. Pearls of your sweet nectar gushed from your core like a flowing river, coating Jing Yuan’s fingers in the creamy essence as your voice scratched in your throat. 

You struggled to catch your breath as you were slowly worked down from your high, senses blissfully dull or completely numb as the pleasure did a victory lap around your weary body. Jing Yuan’s hands were a soothing balm against your skin as he dragged the palm over your soft, round belly, fingers dipping into the alluring v-line of your plump figure as he squeezed your love handles. He placed gentle kisses and licks to your sore tits, softly apologising for the rough treatment as he soothed the sting of his bite. You brushed your shaky hands through his hair as he slowly withdrew his fingers with a loud pop, your pussy twitching and mourning the loss of contact. You watched with mild fascination as Jing Yuan placed his fingers into his mouth, the tips of your ears turning red hot and arousal still smouldering in your core as he lazily sucked his fingers clean with a moan of delight. He looked just as pleased as a cat that just got the cream.

"Hmm, sweet" he complimented once he withdrew his fingers from between his bruised lips. "Such a good girl. Do you think I should take an extended break?"

You eagerly nodded your head, hands cradling the nape of his neck as you pulled him down for another heated kiss, losing yourself in the moment and resulting in Jing Yuan overindulging you until late into the evening.