#n go looking for prompt lists.....

[serenescribe]

ooooh your idea to open up requests sounds like a lot of fun!! if it's something you're interested in it could be super cool, especially with prompts and stuff like that :D

aaa i'm glad it sounds fun! yeah, it's something i've been thinking about for a while ;u; i'll see if i can get off my ass and figure it out soon; i'm itching to write again but not to get back into another longfic for a while, yknow?

[padfootastic]

I raise you this crack scenario: the final year that Sirius Black is allowed to win hottest person at Hogwarts is actually a tie between him and Bellatrix, because they may be deranged murdering bigots but they looked fucking stunning in their arrest photos. The Black family: Giving people complexes since their family began

hehehehe this is even funnier if like. bella was a few years above them. and by the time reg’s in say, 7th year, he thinks he might just have a chance since he’s more visible now, prefect and capt of Quidditch team and what not ykno? sirius has been out for a bit, bella’s shacked up w a cult leader.

everything’s on track for him winning it. some random student doing so isn’t even the question—for as long as a black has been in hogwarts, they’ve bagged the top spots (except that one year when james potter’s robes disintegrated in the middle of the great hall due to an accidental self prank and all his assorted muscles & tattoos were on display just a few days before the voting. reg maintains it was sabotage. others say it was an attempt to flirt with his brother, which is exactly the worse option)

except. except. nope. that’s not gonna happen either. sirius consistently sweeps the whole thing. (i forgot the timeline for a sec but if u could ignore canon years and pretend like bella and s were caught when reg was in his final year—this scenario is HILARIOUS)

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[moonlight-prose]

I saw that prompt list you reblogged and so if you’re looking for logan ideas i really liked:

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Love your fics btw too!!! 💜💜

hunger

a/n: oh my brain went to mush at this one. like actively i've lost brain cells and am currently scrounging to find more. this is basically me being a horny bitch for this man. (possibly cause i'm ovulating). but that's okay. we're all here to do the exact same thing!

summary: things are set into motion the second logan opens your drawer. suddenly you find yourself the center of a show with only one audience member.

word count: 1.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, hints at oral (f receiving), cigar smoking, voyeurism, dirty talk, he's so filthy i blushed writing this.

Accidental was far from the word he'd use to describe the current situation. He'd rather say it was intentional. At least that's what it felt like when you sent him to your drawer for a pair of clean boxers you stole from him in the first few weeks of dating. Logan was used to the act. Finding his flannels strewn throughout your closet—his leather jacket draped across the foot of your bed like a fancy throw blanket.

He felt it before he saw it. The soft silicone feel of something small—an uninteresting object he normally would have overlooked. He pushed it out of the way at first, mistaking it entirely for the little portable charger you usually keep by the bed.

Only for it to roll to the side, the button hitting the drawer. A loud buzz drew his attention close within seconds. His hand grasping the small vibrator and flicking it off with a smirk. A look he wore when the choice to fuck you into the mattress solidified in his mind.

"Hey what's taking so long?" You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel—water droplets streaming off your naked body, forming a small puddle on the hardwood floors of your shared bedroom.

He close his fist around the small device when he stood, holding the clothes you were waiting for. Logan watched you smile, reach for his hand, and stop short as his other palm opened—revealing the black little toy you only kept for emergencies.

For nights when he was called on a mission that might land them in deep waters for days on end. You never minded—it was part of the job after all—but telling Logan that you fucked yourself in your spare time to ease the thoughts of him that plagues you...wasn't an easy conversation to have. Yet there it was. Staring directly at you; taunting you with the knowledge that he found it before you could locate a better hiding spot.

"Got somethin' to tell me bub?"

Your mouth dried at the sight of his grin—nostrils flaring as your scent sharpened in the air. Thicker than before; the tell tale sign that you weren't angry or irritated. But interested in where he might take this.

Before you could snatch it from his hands, he tossed the clothes back into the still open drawer. His smile on deepening at the sight of your swallow—the steady thrum of your heart now a quick flutter under your chest. There was no hiding how you felt with him. Not when he was so in tune with your body it nearly scared you.

He could smell the pool of slick that began to form in between your clenched thighs. The sharp breath you sucked in giving him enough confirmation to keep going. You wanted this—him. And though he could never understand why, he rarely questioned it.

So he nodded towards the bed, dragging the chair you kept at your desk over to sit a foot away from where you were perched. Your hand still clutching the towel and eyes stuck on the vibrator in his hold.

Logan lowered himself with a sigh—legs spread and body relaxed as your eyes trailed down his stomach to the thick expanse of his thighs. Last night you were perched on one, reduced to a whiny moaning mess as he dragged you along the rough denim. Watching you work yourself into a high that left you immobile.

His head tilted, gaze dragging down your body, tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip. "You aren't gonna need the towel bub," he rasped.

"I don't know what we're doing."

"Don't you trust me?" You nodded quicker than you expected. "Then drop it and spread those pretty legs for your old man."

A soft whimper barely legible above your gasp echoed in the room. Logan heard it as if you pressed it directly to his ear. You scooted back on the bed, the towel now forgotten and dropped to the floor. He shifted at the sight of your feet pushed against the soft comforter, your cunt on full display for him to view.

"There we go," he murmured.

Your hand slipped down, sliding through your slick for barely a second before he was clicking his tongue. "That's not what I want."

"B-but you said-"

"I said spread 'em. Not touch your pretty little clit."

"Logan," you breathed, fighting the pull that demanded you find some sort of relief. Even if that came in the form of your own touch.

He merely lounged in the chair, smiling at how you battled with yourself in order to be good for him. Oh how he loved the sight of your brows pulled together—need eating away at the very core of your body. If he was a better man he'd let you choose what to do.

He'd follow your lead.

But that remained something he never excelled at.

"Don't worry. She'll get the attention she needs." He leaned over you, placing the familiar device between your breasts—a kiss quickly snuck against your nipple that peaked under the wet heat of his mouth. "I'm real interested in how you use this sweetheart. Show me?"

The breath escaped you with a punch to your stomach as he settled back in his previous spot. You glanced at him—heat spilling beneath your cheeks—and felt a wave of slick drip down to the bed at the sight of him pulling a cigar free. He cut the end off, stuck it between his teeth, and flicked the lighter on with practiced ease.

This was a show and he remained the only audience member.

"Go on," he mumbled, smoke unfurling past his lips. "Be a good girl."

With a shaky breath, you gingerly picked up the vibrator and turned it on. This was second nature to you now. Laying in bed with your legs spread as you listened to the buzzing sound that would bring you your desired orgasm. You'd been here before. You would no doubt be here again.

Only this time Logan paid attention to every minuscule movement. He clung to the way you slid your hand down and pressed the end of it to the very top of your clit. Almost as if you were the best fucking program he had the privilege to watch.

Instead of the rush of sweaty embarrassment you almost expected. You were greeted with a boost of pride at the sound of his harsh groan. The chair creaking under his weight as he shuffled to find some relief for his growing cock.

"How's it feel bub?" he breathed, inhaling another drag from his cigar.

You sighed, high pitched and needy. "Good."

"Yeah?" He shifted again when you slid the vibrator through the lips of your cunt, a moan spilling past your parted lips. "Fuck. You normally take your time with it?"

Nodding, you dragged it back up to your clit, teasing yourself with small circles. "F-Feels better like this."

That familiar tug in your gut began to grow the longer you held it against yourself, building quicker than before. You knew it was on account of him watching you. Licking his lips and white knuckling his cigar to keep from sliding his tongue through your slick. You had half a mind to beg him. To see if you could get him to break.

The minute you slipped it down further and plunged it into your tight walls was enough for him. He snapped with a feral grunt. His hands working the belt buckle of his jeans—a whisper of his zipper being tugged down—before his cock sprang free. The tip red and shiny with precum.

You moaned at the sight, legs trembling as you pumped the vibrator clumsily into your cunt. "Touch yourself," you gasped, stomach going taut. "Please. Need to see you baby."

"Fuck sweetheart. Gonna make me cum like a fuckin' teenager." He spit loudly into his palm, slicking up his cock with a heady moan.

"P-Pretty," you slurred.

"Look whose talkin'," he huffed. The cigar now clamped between his teeth.

The intensity of his gaze only grew when you replaced the device with two of your fingers. Rapidly working them in tandem with the buzzing on your swollen clit. Sparks shot down your spine, heat clamping tight around your stomach. What time you thought remained now worked its way to an eviscerating crescendo.

"Your creamin' around your fingers bub," he grunted, the wet slap of his hand blending with the echo of your cunt. "Want to lick you clean after this."

Your walls fluttered, heart leaping to your throat. "Can I suck your cock?"

A ragged moan filled the empty spaces that lay between. "Can't say no to you."

"Logan," you mewled. "'M gonna-"

He snarled, abruptly sitting forward, hand still working his cock in rapid strokes. "C'mon. Cum for me. Give me a show."

The string holding you together broke in two, flooding your body with bliss and turning your vision blurry. His name was a broken cry torn from your throat—hips canting up into your touch as you pushed the vibrator harder against your clit. Until the pleasure began to seep into pain. A whimper echoed in the room when you pulled away, legs falling to dangle off the bed—body now entirely spent.

The soft press of his lips against your knee jolted you slightly; the nerves under your skin still sensitive. He dropped to the floor, eyes latched onto the way your entrance fluttered, cum now forming a mess between your thighs.

"Made such a pretty mess for me bub."

You sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "You like it?"

Wet open mouth kisses trailed along your inner thigh, his nose pressed to the curls above your center. "I fuckin' love it," he sighed, inhaling your heady scent with a groan.

"It's yours."

You gasped when his tongue slid along your cunt, thumbs spreading you to reach every fucking inch. "Yes it is." He pressed a kiss to each lip, sucking them into his mouth as if he was kissing you. "All fuckin' mine."

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ skz and the reason you aren't together !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: angst

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: i loveee me some angst so i hope you'll enjoy! <3 seungmin's part is slightly longer because i wrote it for my beloved keisy @starlostseungmin <3

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - he chose work over pursuing his feelings for you.

He knows how you feel about him, and you know how he feels about you. Things couldn’t be simpler.

But in reality, things were more complicated than ever. Yes, Chan did in fact confess, but with the same breath he also told you this could never go any further.

You were devastated, confused and sad, not understanding what was going on through that bright mind of his.

You liked each other, you both wanted this – so, what was the issue?

It wasn’t you, it could never be. It was him, as always.

He was too busy, his job too demanding to leave any room for you and the precious feelings you’ve developed for him.

Chan felt like he didn’t deserve your love, because he could never be there for you in the way you needed a boyfriend to be.

He could never be there every morning when you woke up, kiss you goodbye each time you left the house or greet you with a big hug when you returned. He just couldn’t, too caught up in work to even notice the hours tick by.

You didn’t deserve an absent lover, one that could not put you first.

No matter how much he cared, how much his whole being longed for you, his job would always be his main priority. Then, his seven brothers. While you, would end up being third on his list.

It pained him to admit it, and even more so admit it to you but since he respected you so much, you deserved nothing but the truth.

This information crushed you, every word that left his mouth a stone that contributed to the mountain you were quickly getting buried under.

“But I love you.”

He shook his head, brown curls getting into glossy eyes. “I love you too, but we – I, can’t.”

At the end, just as you were preparing to depart his studio, he stood up. Without thinking, you hugged tightly, aware this would be the last time before things would change forever.

“Please don’t be sad because of me.”

How could you not? How did he expect you to not mourn the beautiful relationship you could have had, if only he wasn’t so against it?

If only he would have chosen you.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - because he broke up with you.

Yeah, pro idol Minho ended your relationship on a random Thursday night, taking everyone but most importantly you, by complete surprise.

“Let’s break up.”

You can’t believe your ears, especially since you’re in his house, eating the food he just prepared for the both of you, in his kitchen while wearing one of his shirts.

Nothing was amiss, nothing even prompted it. Things have been going great in your relationship – there was no recent argument or disagreement that could explain his sudden decision.

Blames it on his work and his hectic schedule, trying to appear as detached and unaffected as he possibly could. But you know better; you see it all.

The way his fist clenches over the dish rag, how his eyes won’t meet yours even for a split second. This isn’t something he wants to do, not in the slightest. Yet, here he is, breaking both of your hearts for a reason he doesn’t even bother revealing.

It stings in the worst way possible, even more so when you stand up to hug him and he just puts a hand up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please, Y/n. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes and that’s when he looks away, slumping against the counter as a sniff reaches his ears. He’s gripping the wood with such force you’re afraid it might actually snap.

“Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”

But Minho doesn’t respond, not even as you start crying and begging him to talk to you, to tear down the wall he suddenly plopped right between you two in your relationship.

He’s so close, mere inches away, but his heart that belonged to you, that always responded to yours, is suddenly grabbed harshly out of your hands and shipped away to an unknown destination.

“Minho.” You sniff, not hiding your tears or the pain that’s slowly ripping your heart to pieces and letting them fall all the way down to your stomach, trying to escape from the torture. Because even the idea of not having him in your life was pure torture.

“I think you should go.”

He walks past you, head hung low as he throws the dish rag on the table without saying anything else, putting an end to the conversation. An end to your relationship. Throwing it all away like the time spent together meant absolutely nothing to him.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t, not like he’d ever let see you the way he broke down as you slammed the front door shut, walking out of his life for good. Even if you didn’t agree, it was better this way.

Your life was better, and happier, without him in it. That’s what he kept murmuring to himself as he slid to the ground, against his bedroom door, crying while clutching his chest, afraid his heart might stop beating.

It was all for the better.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - is already in a relationship.

The most stupid thing you can ever do in this lifetime is fall in love with someone who’s already in love with another.

Not only is he in love, he’s also in relationship that’s been going on for three beautiful years.

The thing is, you haven’t always had feelings for Changbin.

It was weird, really. For the longest time now, he was just your bubbly co-worker who laughed so loud the whole department could hear him. The mood maker of the company.

It happened on the annual Christmas party, where you drunk a little too much as you were nursing a broken heart after your ex dumped you out of the blue.

The whole world was spinning but you were happy – happier than you’ve been in months.

Noticing you could barely stand, Changbin ever the gentleman, offered to drive you home.

You complained and complained but after some more convincing from him, Changbin managed to coax you onto the passenger seat of his sports car.

You were silent the whole ride but as he parked on your driveway, he gasped, worriedly grasping your hands and exclaiming about the tears on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

But that’s when the dam broke and it all came to the surface, tears flowing freely down your face and neck as you sobbed, telling Changbin everything from beginning to end.

And he listened, holding your hands and nodding when appropriate, offering you the occasional sip of water or a tissue to wipe your face, not interrupting once.

His heart broke for you, unaware his mere presence was already working on mending yours.

The next morning, you almost didn’t show up to work as you remembered everything, how you made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone but especially Changbin. But something pushed you to do so.

As you arrived, a care basket was on your desk, accompanied by a little note with a crooked smiley face and then, he appeared, doing the exact same expression.

And you laughed, wholeheartedly. And you continued to do so as you began taking your lunch breaks together, working side by side and even taking turns on driving the other home.

Falling for him was inevitable, but you didn’t mind, all warm and fuzzy on the inside as the heart your ex broke was anew.

That is, until you met her. You and Changbin became so close that he couldn’t help but want to introduce you to his other half, the woman who loved him unconditionally that knew a little too much about you.

And just like that, your heart shattered once again, the pieces so tiny they were easily blown away in the wind, leaving behind a big whole were all of your love once resided. How could you be so stupid to believe someone could ever love you again?

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - you found out he was in love with someone else.

Plain and simple, as heartbreaking as it sounds.

Let me paint this picture: you two are best friends, each other’s safe places. You always talk about everything and anything with one another, feeling comfortable to share even your darkest secrets.

Because of that, you genuinely thought he might even reciprocate your feelings at some point.

But one day, as you’re both hanging out at your house, watching a movie, all of the hope and daydreams you held in your heart for a happy ending with him just get crushed.

He suddenly dumps this new information on you while he’s casually munching on some popcorn, watching the couple on the screen confess their love for each other like your heart didn’t just stop beating.

You’re so taken aback that you stop breathing for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

For some strange reason, Hyunjin doesn’t meet your gaze even as it goes silent between you two and your eyes keep burning holes into the side of his head.

Only when you finally tear your gaze away, eyes glossy as you try to murmur encouraging words does he finally turn to you.

His breath hitches in his throat at the sight but other than that, he doesn’t comment on it.

The whole ordeal feels like a slap in the face, hurting more than any physical injury you’ve ever sustained but, it’s not like you could blame anyone but yourself for it. You’ve missed your chance and now, Hyunjin was going to be in a happy relationship with someone else.

So, as expected from any best friend put in that situation, you say through gritted teeth.

“You should confess.”

Hyunjin searches your face for any sign of discomfort and finds many – but, as expected, doesn’t say anything, just looks away and nods slowly. Like he just can’t maintain eye contact for more than five seconds at a time.

And that’s the end of it. The whole vibe changes, now uncomfortable and cold and it’s clear that neither of you is paying any attention to the movie anymore.

But he still remains till the end, and when the credits start rolling, you stand up first and bid him goodnight without your usual warm smile or departing embrace before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest as your door slams shut, the tears in your eyes bringing him unexplainable sorrow.

And as he leaves your apartment that night, down in the dumps, you know things between you have changed forever.

Because that’s the last time you and Hyunjin talk.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - he hasn’t confessed yet.

Jisung has liked you for a while now but for some reason, every time he wanted to take that leap of faith and finally confess, something always came up.

You were interrupted, plans had to be cancelled or you were simply too busy to even talk to each other.

It was driving him insane, especially when he’d spot you at an event surrounded by people he felt he couldn’t push through, missing his chance at your attention every time.

He felt forced to watch you from the sidelines, a background character in your life that would never get his moment to shine.

You were friends, but he often felt he cared about you more than you cared about him and it was tearing him apart.

Each time you smiled or laughed at one of his jokes, everything around him disappeared as time seemed to come to a stop, making you look even more beautiful. Which was a hard thing to do since you were already perfect in his eyes.

His insecurities and crippling fear of rejection were literally ruining his life, preventing him from experiencing the love story he’s been yearning for.

Jisung was good at hiding his feelings from you, but sometimes, he slipped up.

Like that time, he held your waist for a little too long, or guided your hands over the piano keys like it was the most natural thing in the world. Those moments when he wasn’t overly conscious, when he got lost in the moment, were your favorite.

You see, in his mission to prevent you from discovering how insanely in love he was with you, Jisung managed to make you believe the opposite. That he hated you. Okay, maybe not hate, just strongly dislike.

Always avoiding being left alone with you, barely meeting your eyes or pulling away when you got a little too close. He seemed repulsed, and it hurt you.

Where you really that unpleasant in his eyes?

He was nice and bubbly around everyone else, no matter the gender. Why couldn’t he be the same Jisung whose smile made your heart skip several beats around you, too?

This went on for a long while, which solidified the idea he hated you in your head, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

One day, Jisung almost walked in on you and Felix…hugging on the practice room floor? His heart dropped, brows furrowing in confusion. Felix knew how he felt about you, he would never disregard that, right?

Everything clicked when he heard your muffled sobs and pained voice.

“I give up, Felix.” You said, hiding your face in his chest as a loud sob escaped you. “Jisung hates me, it’s official! I tried so, so hard but it was no use.” Felix murmured something back, deep voice uncharacteristically soft as he comforted you, caressing your back.

Jisung couldn’t hear what he said though, eyes filling with tears as the only thing resonating in his ears was the pounding of his own heart. You thought…he hated you?

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - because your relationship is too…complicated at the moment.

Complicated didn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the ray of sunshine.

He was your ex that somehow slithered his way back into your life again, only this time, as a friend. Not even, just an acquaintance that knew too many of your secrets and biggest aspirations.

There was no denying the feelings you still harbored for him, the flame flickering in your heart each time he was around; each time he spoke, he smiled, he laughed or even as much as looked at you, your heart thumped so loudly in your chest you were afraid he was able to hear it.

It was embarrassing, especially since he didn’t seem as affected.

Your relationship ended on a sour note – arguing, screaming, crying, the whole package.

Yet a few months later, when you happened to be at the same party, Felix accompanied by a friend walked up to you like nothing even happened, greeting you brightly.

It was horrible, and you almost cried right there and then, missing the way his doe eyes took in all of the little details that changed about you ever since you broke up, desperately committing them to memory.

Like he never wanted to forget, because he didn’t. Felix never wanted to forget about you, even if you didn’t love him anymore.

And so, this happened a few more times until the inevitable took place.

You kissed. And never spoke about it.

And then you kissed again, and again, until he was coming over to your house in the middle of the night to do more than kiss.

It messed with your head, the way he was looking at you – like you hung the stars on the night sky for him and him alone. Like he loved you and wasn’t breaking your heart each time those plush lips kissed every inch of your skin, worshipping every part of your body.

“Why do you keep coming back?” You’d whisper one night, resting your head on his naked chest as the moon bare witness to your unspoken feelings.

“You keep calling.”

“And when I’ll stop,” you move to look at him, face mere inches away from his, hands supporting your weight on his chest, “will you still come?”

He hesitates, staring straight into your eyes. “Most likely, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Yeah…complicated.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - because he is your best friend.

For most, the transition from best friends to lovers was as natural as breathing, something inevitable that was bound to happen one way or the other. Not for Seungmin.

He didn’t even allow his mind to go down that road, to think about being more than friends with you, one of the people he held the closest to his heart.

Not because he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, but because he was afraid.

Yes, he was afraid that once that line was crossed, the one that kept you firmly in place in the beautiful friendship that only blossomed and became very special over the years, it would all disappear.

Things would change and shift, which would bring forth your downfall.

In his eyes, the risk of fighting and breaking up was too big for him to even consider taking your relationship to the next level. He didn’t want to lose you, never.

But what he failed to take into account was that you would not stay single forever.

That’s why, the moment you skipped over to him and squealed about having a date, his heart almost stopped beating.

His world was spinning, like an earthquake started in his head which was quickly crumbling down every single wall and boundary, and rational decision he ever made over the years.

“You…have a date?” He gulped, ignoring the alarms going off in his head that were deafening him. “With who?”

“This guy from work.” You shrugged, excitement dimming as your gaze met his, serious. “He isn’t the one I like, but I guess it will have to do for now.”

Seungmin wasn’t stupid but his heart understood your allusion before his mind did, thumping loudly and stealing his breath away.

You were talking about him. You were going out with another guy but were thinking about him – he was the one you liked!

Still, he didn’t vocalize a response, choosing to nod and pat you on the back gently, staring at anything else other than the disappointment that overwhelmed your whole frame, making you appear oh so small.

The day of your date arrived sooner than he’d like, and Seungmin was miserable, especially since you texted him the location ‘just in case’.

Usually, he was more than happy to know where you were, safe and sound, but this time he would have preferred you didn’t let him know you were with another guy at the restaurant you frequented together.

Hours passed, and night was making its presence known, but still no sign from you. Was he worried? No. Because for once, you staying out meant the date was a success and you were having the time of your life with this guy that wasn’t him.

That’s until, a mere half an hour later, loud knocking had him off the couch in a second, opening the door to find you frowning, and with tears in your eyes. Opening his mouth to speak, shocked, thinking something had happened on the date, your finger hitting his chest stopped him.

“Why didn’t you come?” You sniffed. “I thought going out with someone else would finally prompt you to admit that what we have is more than a simple friendship! Do you hate me that much?”

He was speechless, grabbing you by the elbows as you barged in, tears streaming down your face.

“Answer me, Kim Seungmin!” Well, he was fucked.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - isn’t sure what he feels for you yet.

Or better yet, his commitment issues prevented him from admitting to any feelings he might have.

See, you weren’t just friends. You were a little more than that, spending most of your free time together going to cute cafes and what would be considered dates, acting all lovey dovey.

That is, when you weren’t spending the weekend bound to his bed. That wasn’t fair, sometimes he was the one tied up. A very mutual arrangement.

Jeongin managed to drag you into a situationship you were now too deep into to break off, having developed actual feelings.

But each time you tried to speak to him about said feelings, he’d close off quicker than a frightened snail, impossible to reach.

After each one of these occasions, he wouldn’t contact you for days on end, sometimes even weeks, leaving you wondering if he’d ever come back.

He always did, he couldn’t stay away from you no matter how much he tried.

Even if he messed with other people in that time, he’d still make his way back to you, smiling like nothing even happened and ready to give you all of his attention and affection again.

It was exhausting, and very, very painful.

But you still welcomed him back with open arms, too happy to see him to even care that each time he appeared in your life again, you were not the same.

Every time he disappeared and you didn’t say anything, a piece of your heart was ripped off harshly, stomped on and then thrown in the trash, devoid of any color or life. Like an old toy, forgotten in favor of a new, shiny one.

But Jeongin didn’t care. It’s not like he could be bothered to pick up your scattered pieces – they didn’t interest him, you did.

Not like he ever noticed the light in your eyes dimming each time he stormed back into your life after pretending you didn’t exist for weeks.

To be honest, you don’t think you’ll ever be together.

Not now, or in the future.

No matter how much you hated to admit it, the facts were neatly laid out before you – Jeonging didn’t care about you at all, no matter how sweet, loving or good you were to him.

He thought you couldn’t notice, that your love for him was too blinding for you to see anything else other than him.

But you did. And he also did when one day, for the first time since he met you, as he stumbled out of a bar, giddy and tipsy with his phone to his ear ready to hear your sweet voice, his call didn’t go through.

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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[e-nonsense]

“We’re not going anymore, get on the bed.”

pairing. jason todd x reader

warnings. SMUT, use of pet names (ma), Jason being a horny bastard, he refers to your titties as ‘my pretty girls’, and your coochie as ‘she’

prompts used. “We’re not going anymore, get on the bed.” from smut prompt list

a/n. this one made me giggle. Jason just loves his girl

“Holy fuck,” Jason gawked at the sight of you in that pretty little red dress. Dick and Kory had invited the two of you on a double date, much to Jason’s dismay you wanted to go.

You glanced up at him, eyes wide and pretty like that lipgloss you were wearing, his words rang worry through you, “is it too much?” You ask nervously.

Jason snorts, “oh ma, it’s just enough.” He grins as he moves closer, hands on your hips, pulling you into him. His hands wander down your hips to your thighs as he presses kisses down your neck. “Red?”

You nodded, “wanted to wear your colour.”

Jason swears he could cum with just those words alone, the innocent and pure adoration you have for him and wanting to wear his colour. His colour, something to mark you as his.

“We’re not going anymore, get on the bed.”

“What—” you don’t get another word out when he tosses you over his shoulder, walking you over to the bed. “Jay, we told Dick we’d come.”

“Mhm,” he hums in response, not really listening to you as he presses kisses all over you chest. “You’re gonna be coming alright.”

“Jason!” You shriek as the spaghetti straps of your dress snap.

“Shhh, I’ll buy you another one.” He mumbles, freeing your breasts with a little grin, “there’s my girls. My pretty girls.” His big hands engulf them, pinching at your nipples before sucking one into your mouth.

He worked his way down your body, lifting up the bottom of your dress so its bunched around your hips, the pretty pink lace under your dress on display. “You’re so pretty, she’s all dressed up f’me.” He presses a kiss against the gusset of your panties, right against your clit.

“You ready, ma?” He looks up at you with all the love in world in his pretty eyes. “We’re not stopping until sunrise.. heh.” He snorts, “maybe not even then.” He adds before pulling your panties to the side and diving in.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[grandline-fics]

Nightmare Wedding

DESCRIPTION: They have a nightmare that you marry someone else

WARNINGS: slight angst and some insecurities but with comfort and happy endings in all

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Kid, Katakuri | Law, Zoro

WORDS: 3,014

A/N: I loved this idea and couldn't help but do another. Of course as soon as I posted the last one an idea for Ace finally came to me. Added Ace and Kid for @breadlover6969 and Mihawk, Shanks, and Katakuri (who also won the poll) for @kabloswrld

Hope you all enjoy!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

Ever since you and Ace became a couple, Ace noticed that he slept amazing when you were beside him. The nights you had to sleep apart however, brought restlessness, sometimes strange dreams that left him feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all, but it was worse when he had to suffer through nightmares. Tonight, he reluctantly went to bed while you had to stay in the infirmary while you recovered from a sickness. It was just a precaution to avoid you infecting the others but Ace needed more convincing than the others. He didn’t care if he got sick and would have risked it but you managed to talk him around, promising it would be just one night and it would make you feel better to know he was safe and healthy. Reluctantly he climbed into the bed and pouted at your empty side until his eyes grew heavy and sleep claimed him. 

“Ace how do I look?” You asked him in his dream and he broke out into an overwhelmed smile, taking in your breathtaking appearance. You were all but glowing, dressed for a wedding; your wedding. Slowly he reached out to cup your face before taking your hand to playfully twirl you and take in your outfit with growing appreciation. Unable to hold back, he pulled you into a tight hug. “You look amazing, you always do.” He whispered, pulling back to see your eyes light with joy as you you looked down at your outfit, smoothing the fabric into place. 

“I’m glad. I hope Marco thinks so too.” You beamed up at him, unaware of Ace’s expression dropping into one of confused dread. Marco? What did Marco have to do with it all? He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when you quickly took his hands into yours and leaned in with an excited smile. “Ace, will you walk me down the aisle? It’d mean so much to me!”

“B-but…aren’t you going to marry me?” Ace asked with a frown, his heart sinking when you tilted your head in confusion before laughing. 

“Ace, don’t be silly!” You grinned, giving him a playful shove. “You know I’m marrying Marco, come on I can’t be late!” Before he could react, you grabbed his wrist and hurried down a corridor that seemed unending. Finally the corridor shifted to reveal a filled room, your hand was no longer in his and you stood with Marco at the altar. 

His stomach lurched and Ace let out a yelp as he landed on the floor of his room, tangled in the bedsheet and head swimming as he tried to let his brain catch up with the fact he was awake and what he’d just witnessed was a horrible dream. Scrambling to his feet, Ace bolted out of the room and hurried to the infirmary, hearing the sound of you coughing when he neared the door. Quietly he entered and walked quietly to your bedside. “Ace? You should be in bed.” You told him weakly. 

“No, I should never have let you talk me into leaving you.” Ace said as he climbed into the bed with you, pulling you close to let you rest against him. His fingers lightly moved over your back, soothing your aching body while also finding your presence soothing him from the nightmare he’d had. “We’re a team right? Through thick and thin…sickness and in health.”

“Aren’t those wedding vows?”

“Are they?” Ace asked innocently but you could hear his heart pick up speed slightly. “Must have been a coincidence…”

SHANKS

Before meeting you, Shanks never saw himself as the settling down type. He was more than content to live his days exploring and enjoying himself with a lover in every island should the mood take him. Then you came along and changed his life in every wonderful way imaginable. You were the adventure he’d been missing and hadn’t even known he was searching for. He couldn’t imagine ever being apart from you. You might have fallen for his charm and flirtatious smile first but he fell for your warmth and beautiful soul so much harder. 

So when he dreamt of himself standing at the front of an altar, he knew you would be the only other possible person his subconscious would conjure to join him. Shanks felt excitement gather in his chest and then in a blink he saw Beckman appear beside him. “This is a big thing, Captain. You sure you can go through with this?” His right-hand man asked with a grin before continuing. “I mean you’ve never preformed a wedding ceremony before, will you be able to handle it?”

Shanks felt his excitement fizzle out and it was quickly replaced with confusion and apprehension. Yes, as Captain he would be the one to marry members of his crew but he couldn’t possibly be the one to get married and preform the ceremony at the same time. It didn’t make sense and as much as he wanted to know, he dreaded what the explanation would be because he already knew it wasn’t going to be something he’d like. “Benn! Shanks!” 

Both heads turned and Shanks’ chest felt like it was going to explode with adoration and pride as he saw you hurry to them. He waited for your hands to reach for him but instead you merely smiled at him and hurried to Beckman’s side, eagerly letting his arms wrap around you and hold you close. “Sorry I’m late but we can start now.” You beamed, your gaze settling on Shanks’ face expectantly. “Whenever you’re ready Captain, I can’t wait to marry this man!”

With a jolt and gasp, Shanks woke to the calm, dark silence using the sound of the gentle waves hitting the side of the Red Force to help calm his breathing. He glanced to down to see you curled up on your side, your back against him and your arms loosely but just as possessively wrapped around his arm. Shanks let out a small huff as he silently laughed at his stupid mind for conjuring such a ridiculous scenario. Rolling onto his side, Shanks pressed a kiss against your temple, stilling when you began to shift. You turned as you began to wake, curling into his chest and let out a sleepy smile when his now freed arm tightened around you, keeping you close. “Everything okay?” You mumbled. 

“Never better.” Shanks affirmed with a smile, pressing another kiss against your cheek. As much as he knew it was a ridiculous dream and that things between you both were beyond amazing, Shanks considered that maybe he was worried in some part that someone may take you from him someday. “Promise me you won’t marry Beck, okay?”

“Why, you wanna marry him?” Even half-asleep you were still able to make a joke and help your lover relax. 

“The only one I want to be committed to is you.”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise?”

“I do.”

MIHAWK

“Clown, what is the meaning for all of this…fanfare?” Mihawk asked, looking around the extensibly decorated circus tent. Brightly coloured ribbons adorned the ceiling, flowers were displayed in grand, flashy, and quite simply ostentatious arrangements that just screamed ‘Buggy the Clown.’ None of it was to Mihawk’s taste but it was clear the clown was up to something. The figurehead of Cross Guild spun around, dressing in a bright suit and his painted smile, spread wide in triumph. 

“Mihawk! So glad you’ve arrived. We were worried you were going to miss the festivities. They’ll be writing about this in the papers for weeks.” Buggy declared with a laugh, allowing his hands to detach from his arms to gesture widely as confetti seemed to rain down from nowhere. Mihawk’s eye twitched at the useless theatrics, he’d asked a question and wanted an actual answer. Thankfully he didn’t need to repeat himself because Buggy cleared his throat and stepped to the side to show the altar Mihawk could have sworn wasn’t there before. “It’s my wedding obviously.”

A wedding? This was the first Mihawk heard about it. As far as he knew, Buggy hadn’t had a serious relationship in a long time, certainly not serious enough to warrant a wedding. So who was the clown’s secret betrothed? The answer came instantly when he heard footsteps behind him. Mihawk turned and did a double take when he saw it was you. The look in your eyes was filled with so much excitement and joy they practically sparkled. He began to reach out for you but you slipped past him and continued with conviction until you were proudly beside Buggy. Disbelief gripped Mihawk at the scene in front of him. No, this was impossible. Letting his instincts take hold, he reached for Yoru and charged for Buggy. 

“Mihawk, no!” You pleaded, stepping in front and stopping his attack mid-swing with just your voice. “Please it’s my wedding day. Promise there’ll be no fighting. For me okay?” Mihawk snapped awake immediately and let out a sigh of relief to see he was in his own quarters and not a garish decoration in sight. Despite having slept, the nightmare he was forced to endure had left him exhausted. Part of him was reluctant to try and fall back to sleep out of worry of what other hellish thoughts his mind would conjure for him. 

With a sigh he reached out your side of the bed and only now he noticed it was empty. Yet it was still warm, you’d only just risen but it was still late at night. Just as he was about to rise and search for you, the door opened and you silently crept in, pausing to see Mihawk was awake and watching you. Now seeing you had no need to be stealthy you smiled and walked back towards the bed. “I was getting a drink of water. Did I wake you?”

“No, love.” Mihawk answered, holding out his arms to pull you close against him, his eyes closing when your fingers slipped into his hair. “Had an awful dream you married the clown and wouldn’t let me cut him to pieces for it.” 

“How strange…” You mused with a yawn. “Although I’m not opposed to the idea, truth be told.”

“Marrying the clown?” Mihawk leaned back to look at you, unable to hide his disgust as the images from his dream came flooding back. 

“No!” You laughed pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Marrying you. Although people consider us married anyway.” Mihawk chuckled, it was true. Mihawk supposed now that it had been properly brought up, it was worth considering to finally propose. His golden eyes observed you carefully and saw your eyes were growing heavy. That was a conversation best saved for the morning. 

KID

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Kid shouted as he looked at you standing hand in hand with none other than Strawhat Luffy, both of you dressed very clearly for a wedding. At his outburst you both turned to look at him in shared confusion. “Him? You’re seriously going to marry him! He’s a moron!”

“Only sometimes.” You shrugged before smiling dreamily at the Strawhat pirate. “He’s also super strong, and funny, and he’s King of the Pirates now so-”

“What? No he’s not!” Kid argued angrily trying to charge forward but every step he took kept him firmly on the same spot. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be happening. You were with him! You had no interest in the pipsqueak Captain of the Strawhats like that. You weren’t as shallow to only be with something because of their title, you weren’t like that. You saw the good in people, you’d seen the good in him and you loved him. Of that much Kid was certain of. This just had to be some awful dream. He just needed to wake up and everything would be okay. 

“Kid!” Kid jolted upright with a yell meeting your bewildered gaze. “What is it? You were calling my name over and over. Are you okay?” You hesitated from touching him as out of fear he was still clinging to the nightmare he was waking from, not wanting to overwhelm him but you had to speak to him, to reassure him your were here. You watched as Kid steadied his breathing and reached out towards you with his good arm. Quickly you took his hand into both of yours and guided his fingers to rest against your collarbone so he could feel your steady heartbeat under your skin and feel the rise and fall of your chest, hoping he would copy the steadied breaths and calm. “I’m here, we’re safe in our room. What do you need?”

“Kill Strawhat.” Kid ground out tightly as he calmed, his fingers flexing around yours just a little tighter to ground him in the reality. Finally he let out a long, heavy sigh and shook his head. “Nah, he’s not worth my time. Just need you babe.” You let out a sigh of your own, soft and relieved to hear him speak and inched closer, smiling when his hand moved up to curl behind your neck and thread into your hair, pulling you in for a soft and gentle kiss. Parting he lay his forehead against yours, finding his ability to be vulnerable around you to be proof of the love you both shared.

“Promise me, even if that little runt becomes King of the Pirates and asks you to marry him, you’ll say no.”

“Kid, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You reassured him softly. “Don’t care about titles or any of that stuff but if you want to give me a ring and let me call you husband if it makes you feel better we can do that?”

“Did you just half-ass a proposal to me?” Kid asked with a grin, all worries from his dream vanishing instantly. 

“Not at all, Captain. Was just letting you know you can half-ass propose to me if you want.” With a laugh and a playful shove, Kid considered taking you up on the offer but now he had to wait for a while so that when he did propose, it would seem like it was all his idea.

KATAKURI

Another tea-party, another celebration filled with people and a feast of the finest food imaginable. Katakuri stood firmly in place, watching all of the guests and his family occupy the space, prepared for anything to happen. Like everything else, nothing would escape his sight and nothing would ruin his mother’s carefully planned party, he always made sure of that. Across the large garden he caught sight of the extravagant mountain-sized wedding cake and now he felt confused, he hadn’t known this was a wedding. Curiously he looked around, searching for his siblings to spot who would be the bride or groom. But then that thought went out of his head when he saw you of all people standing at the altar at the top of the cake. 

His heart all but skipped when he saw you but that led him to become even more confused. If you were up there and waiting to get married, why was he all the way down here and standing watch? He was madly in love with you and you loved him, so why were you both apart? Then you turned to face someone who was on top of the cake with you. Katakuri watched in dismay to see his brother Perospero take your hand in his and grin at you. Behind his thick layers of his scarf wound around the lower half of his face, Katakuri’s lips curled in a tight snarl and he gripped his arms tightly to control the mounting anger. Why was this happening?

From behind him he heard his mother’s loud laughter, delighted by the ceremony taking place on the cake she couldn’t wait to devour. Katakuri lowered his gaze and took a deep breath, of course. Big Mom did enjoy arranging marriages for her children and this was clearly one of her arrangements but he couldn’t help but feel the pain of how you’d been taken from him and he couldn’t do anything to intervene. Worse still, you didn’t even look like you wanted him to be in Prosperous place. 

Katakuri woke instantly, his eyes snapping open and his mind clearing just as fast. As though sensing the change in his body, you stirred from your comfortable place on his chest. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned, Katakuri’s hand fell over your back, making sure to keep you comfortable knowing that your mind was still hazy and body was still heavy as it clung to the need for sleep. If he reassured you all was well quickly, you’d fall back into your own pleasant dreams in no time. “Kata…what’s the matter?” You mumbled, managing to crack your eyes open slightly to look at him. 

“Just a bad dream. I’m fine now.” Katakuri informed you simply, never needing to lie to you. 

“Hm, what kind of dream?” You asked, absently running your fingers over his chest as you listened to his steady heartbeat that always lulled you to sleep.

“Dreamt mother had arranged for you to marry Perospero.” He explained, rubbing your back in response to your soothing touches. “I could only stand by and watch.”

“Sorry you had to dream such a thing but don’t worry that won’t happen.”

“If mother demanded it, I couldn’t fight against her wishes.” Katakuri mumbled, feeling his own mind grow hazy once more as your radiating warmth was coaxing him to sleep. He blinked when you abruptly pushed yourself up to frown at him in the dark. “What?”

“Katakuri…we’re already married.” You reminded him, lifting your hand to show the band of metal on your finger glinting in the moonlight. With a tired, amused huff at your husbands momentary lapse in memory you flopped back down onto your husband’s chest. 

-----------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment. 

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze. 

 König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others. 

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!” 

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect. 

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up. 

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child. 

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru. 

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes. 

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest. 

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!” 

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away. 

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!”  König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture. 

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you,  König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you. 

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt. 

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny. 

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone. 

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge. 

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.” 

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction. 

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl. 

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance. 

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.” 

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!” 

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience. 

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done. 

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling. 

Evolve, or die. 

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later. 

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.” 

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants. 

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA. 

The Lieutenant is one of them. 

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead. 

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t. 

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact. 

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself. 

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins. 

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.  

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was. 

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding. 

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed. 

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes. 

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide. 

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady. 

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire. 

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock. 

Your finger slams into the trigger. 

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself. 

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König. 

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary. 

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch. 

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later. 

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure. 

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König. 

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone. 

Anyone but you, that is. 

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter. 

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced. 

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down. 

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm. 

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment. 

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour. 

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you. 

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence. 

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up. 

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh. 

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest. 

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.” 

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given. 

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly. 

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.” 

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?” 

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

 König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?” 

He freezes, muscles going taunt. 

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?” 

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away. 

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate. 

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit. 

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over. 

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side. 

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air. 

König kneeled to you and bared himself. 

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this. 

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood. 

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug. 

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning. 

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he. 

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame. 

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears. 

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him. 

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat. 

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English. 

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril. 

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust. 

You find none. 

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening. 

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words. 

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize. 

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized. 

For you to come back to him. His partner. 

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths. 

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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[revasserium]

beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

beloved

tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki

summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see

a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u

01.

in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.

“kei… what’re you doing?”

“don’t go… i was warm.”

there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.

“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”

“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.

he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —

“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.

“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.

02.

out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.

you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.

“what do you think? does it look good?”

tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“’s all the same to me.”

“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.

“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”

and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.

03.

over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.

“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.

you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”

at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.

“mm! it’s good!”

“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”

tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.

slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.

later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.

04.

after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.

“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.

“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”

“break… in?”

“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”

your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.

“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.

“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”

tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.

“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”

you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.

“quit it.”

you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.

“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”

you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.

“i — ts-tsukki —!”

“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”

you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.

“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”

05.

before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.

“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.

tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”

you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.

“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.

“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”

he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.

“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.

“well then, what are we waiting for?”

06.

after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.

his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.

“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.

tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.

“what’re you crying for?”

you sniffle, shooting him a glare.

“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”

he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.

tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”

“wh-what — i wasn’t —”

his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.

“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”

your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.

this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.

[luvrxbunny]

gullible

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Breeding

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot of body descriptions, reader is on the curvier side, some grinding/dry humping, male masturbation (barely), ovulation, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 4.7k

A/N: lets say spider society is funded by the most rish spider-people and thats what the dinner was for. also this is long asf- i blacked out im so sorry 

It’s a formality. This whole dinner party. It’s something Miguel gets invited to every year and every year he dreads going to it, having to play posh in order to get some extra funding from the higher-ups. Although, he doesn’t mind too much this year because he’s bringing you. 

He’s fidgeting, and complaining about his collar when you come out of the bathroom, you’re asking him if you look okay and he knows his answer before he looks at you. He knows you look good, he tells you so before turning to you and only reassures you upon gazing at the outfit. 

This dress is new, and you’re worried your tummy might be too big for it so you’ve thrown a coat over to hide it. Miguel knows what the coat is really for but doesn't mention it, not wanting to risk making you so uncomfortable you change out of everything. He compliments your new perfume instead, winning a confused smile from you. You’re fidgeting with the coat on the ride to the venue, saying that it’s itchy and you’re getting too warm. He suggests you take it off but you gently refuse and stop complaining. 

He gets dragged away from you the moment he walks through the door. He hates leaving you alone at these things, he knows you don’t socialize well and he knows the men here want a taste of you. He’s anxious to get back to you for the entire hour these deep pockets talk his ear off. He hasn’t been listening, he’s thinking about you. He’s almost overwhelmed at the love he has for you, he’s never felt this way before. He’s missing you even though you guys are in the same place, even though he’s only been away from you for an hour. He can’t get out of there fast enough, shoving the doors of the conference room open and searching for you immediately. 

When his eyes find you, they find that you’ve already taken your jacket off and you’re socializing with an entire group of people. They’re conversing with you comfortably. You bring a smile to his face as you laugh at someone’s joke. His eyes rake over your body, finally taking in your true outfit. 

It has him stiffening in his pants. You’re wearing a dark red pencil dress, the same color as his suit. It hugs your curves perfectly, doing justice to your plush thighs, your ass and showcasing the curve of your back. His favorite part though, is the way it hugs your front. Your boobs look great, sure, but it’s emphasizing the little pooch that sits at the bottom of your stomach. 

You hate it, saying it makes you look fat, that you wish you could get rid of it… but in Miguel’s eyes? It’s just proof you’re the perfect woman to mother his children. He came to this conclusion before he even knew about your tummy. He had seen your wide hips, your care toward others, how good you are with children, and decided he wanted you. 

Once he got you to date him, to fall in love with him, he found out about your little belly fat. You’d been sucking it in as much as you could whenever you were around him, sometimes wearing higher pants than necessary in hopes of the jeans pushing your stomach down. It broke his heart to hear you so insecure but there was also a little flame igniting in his stomach. 

The flame never left. He didn’t tell you about it, but every time he noticed your belly pushing against your tank top, or a tight shirt, whenever he felt your soft tummy on his hard stomach- through the t-shirt you insist on wearing while he fucked you- the fire raged brighter. He added it to the list of reasons you’d be an amazing child-bearer. He’s obsessed with the protective fat over your womb. 

He watches you cover your stomach with your arm as you laugh, not even realizing you’re trying to hide his favorite part of you. He’s walking over to you before he plans out what he’ll say. He just stands beside you, inhaling your sweet perfume, and waiting for you to feel his presence, it doesn't take long. You turn to him with a surprised smile and give him an excited hug. “Miguel!”

His heart expands at your excitement upon his arrival, he wraps an arm around your waist and presses you against him. Your voice is muffled as you speak to him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He’s not listening though. 

To any outsider, it looked like Miguel just really missed you, when in reality, he was making sure you could feel what you do to him. You let out a pretty sigh into his ear once you feel his bulge press into you. Your eyes are on his as you pull away, searching them for a reason as to why he’s hard but all he’s too busy taking in every piece of you. 

You’re both lost in your own world, you don’t realize the people you were talking to have moved on from your conversation, talking with some other people now and leaving you and Miguel to your moment. 

His hands are resting on your hips before one slides behind you, pressing his open palm against the small of your back before the other presses against your lower stomach, right over your uterus. Miguel can feel your stomach tense under his hand as you suck in, tightening your muscles but Miguel just tuts and tilts his head at you, disappointed. “Don’t do that, cariño. I love her.” Your gaze is on the floor as you listen to him, he sounds drunk, his voice is distant and hazy. 

His head is cloudy with fantasies. He can see your stomach, how it would grow and swell as you create his child inside you. He thinks about how beautiful you would look with your womb stuffed full of him. He swears she’s calling for him- your womb- begging him to fill her up, paint your walls white until his seed takes, maybe a little more after that just to be safe. 

You can see his thoughts racing, you can tell he’s working himself up, you just don’t understand what is doing this to him. His hand on your stomach is making you a bit self-conscious, but your muscles have been too tight for too long, and they give out. Your soft tummy relaxes and presses into his hand, pulling a relieved sigh from Miguel. His breathing picks up and his eyebrows furrow before he looks up from your stomach, looking into your eyes instead. “You know I love this, right?”

He looks back down at your belly as he readjusts his palm, opening his hand wider to cover more of your pooch. You whine and shift uncomfortably, the way his hand is resting over your womb is hot, it’s turning you on but you’re barely aware of that fact because anxiety is overrunning everything. You’re waiting for Miguel to slip up, for you to see a crack in his lies. You appreciate the attempt at making you feel better about your body but you don’t- you can’t believe him. 

Until you look up into his eyes. 

They’re drowning in need, his pupils entirely blown out, covering most of the red in his eyes. He’s gazing at you as he slowly pulls you in and presses his plump lips against yours with a moan. You pull away quickly and look around, a few people looking your way at Miguel’s louder-than-safe moan. You look back up at him to warn him, tell him to keep it down but the words die on your tongue. His eyes are hazy and confused, still looking at your lips like he can’t figure out why you pulled away. You smile at him incredulously and pull his hand away from your back but he whimpers when you try and take his hand off your womb. 

“Miguel, we’re public, baby.” Your voice is soft yet frantic, and his eyes are still begging you. “People are staring…” That gets a reaction, his face twitches and his eyes clear and harden a bit. He looks around the room with a snarl and you have to pull his gaze back to you. 

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?” The question hurts him a bit as he thinks it over, he really is trying to pinpoint why this is affecting him so much.  All he can focus on is you though, your scent enveloping him like a cloud. It smells like everything good, like flowers and honey, but also clean like soap and linen. It’s suffocating him, stopping all thought. 

“You smell so good, amor. What is that? I don’t recordar buying este para ti.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in the top of your head, looking for the source of your scent. You’ve had enough, he’s doing all of this in the middle of the party, and you’re starting to feel a bit embarrassed. You’re pushing him back, slowly walking him to the edges of the party. You feel people staring until you finally hit a wall, pushing a grunt from Miguel. “What is up with you?” Your tone is gentle but you’re getting concerned, you’ve never seen him like this.

His eyes are shut tightly as his brows furrow and he lets out a pathetic whimper. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know.” His hand leaves your stomach to bury in his hair and you instantly miss its warmth. You take a step closer to him, waiting for him to say more. “Can we leave? I think we’ve been here long enough, yeah?” He’s already pulling your hand to the exit. 

He’s silent in the car and on the drive home, constantly running his hand through his hair, and bouncing the leg that isn't on a pedal. You’re taking in his frantic state and notice that through all this, he’s still hard. “Miguel…” He gasps softly and turns to you for a moment. “What’s wrong?

“I don’t-” His eyes dart to your form. “ Your dress for one.” You glance down and wish you hadn’t, you see your stomach split into rolls, folding the fabric of your dress, accentuating the it’s softness. Your arms cross over it, trying to hide and Miguel groans.

“Don’t do that, I told you.” His voice sounds painful and strained. You look back at him to see a distressed look on his face and his hand palming his throbbing cock through his suit pants. “I fucking love her.” His breathing gets heavy, causing him to inhale more of your painfully sweet perfume. “What the fuck is that smell, baby?” 

You can hear him take a big inhale of the air in the car and a shiver runs up his spine. “I’m…” You struggle to round up enough thoughts to answer him, too distracted by the way he crushes his dick against his thigh and the little moans that accompany his movements.  “I’m not wearing perfume, Miguel.”

That's when it hits him. Why he’s so desperate for you, why your scent is clouding his every thought and taking over his mind… You’re ovulating. 

A broken groan rips from his throat at the realization, he speeds the rest of the way home. When you guys finally arrive he parks in the driveway and unlocks the doors, but doesn’t move. “I need you to get out, bonita.”

You feel arousal settle in your stomach as you press your legs together. Miguel’s head falls back, and his hair falls with his head, revealing his red-tipped ears. His hips are still gently thrusting into his hand, the other is squeezing the wheel so hard you thought it might crack. “I- I need a moment, baby. I’ll explain everything, just go inside and-” He lets out a breathless curse and his hips stutter against his palm. “And go change and just- just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in a moment, go.” You’re in a trance as he speaks but the force in his command shakes you out of it. 

You leave the car silently and make your way to his place. You change out of your clothes in a daze, putting on a tank top and one of his sweatpants as you try to process what just happened. You grab a blanket and wait for Miguel on the couch. 

It’s only a few minutes before you hear his footsteps approaching the door. You stand in front of the doorway, oddly nervous as you watch the knob turn. His eyes meet yours the moment the door opens, his eyes stay on yours as he ducks through the frame, and takes his shoes off. They only tear from yours to take in your new outfit, your lower belly is the first place his eyes land. He gets that weak look in his eye you’ve been seeing all night and his breathing picks up.

Miguel notices the way your stomach sucks in for a moment before relaxing, letting your body be as she is and it making him feral. He needs you so bad, he wants to just take you right here but he promised you an explanation. His eyes flicker up to you and he takes a shaky deep breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Have a seat, hermosa.”

He looks nervous, he keeps wiping his hands on his suit pants as you walk over to sit on the couch, he seats himself at the other end, across from you. You’re turned to him, legs crossed and laying in his lap. He turns to face you more and accidentally places your legs over his bulge, you can feel his thighs tense as he folds in half, letting out a choked moan that he tries to cover as a cough. You let him think he got away with it, he leaves your legs over his bulge, giving him enough stimulation to think straight. 

You’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain and he decides to just rip the band-aid off. “You’re-” Arousal stabs in his stomach at the sentence he has to utter. He bites into his lip and tries to regulate his breathing. “You’re o- ovulating.” Your legs shift in his lap as your expression falls, embarrassed. “And I can smell it.” 

Your legs pull out of his lap quickly and you bring your knees to your chest. “What?!” You sit up and tuck your legs under you, sitting on your calves. “You can smell it? I’m- God that’s so- I’m so sorry.”

His mind is getting hazy again without your contact. “No. Cariño, not that. It’s not like that.” He sighs at your confusion, he wishes you understood how desperate he was, maybe then you wouldn’t ask him to talk so much, maybe you’d just let him fuck you already. “It’s more like pheromones.”

His hand slides across the couch cushion, wraps around your ankle and slowly drags you toward him. “It’s a change in your personal scent. Your body is trying to trick mine into breeding you, and guess what?” He’s pulled you straight and is crawling up your body, slowly lowering himself against you so his bulge is pressing against your pussy, right over your clit.

 He’s so hard he’s able to split your lips, rubbing the cloth of his sweatpants against your naked pussy and you gasp at the feeling. Your hands slide up from his biceps to pull his head in, anxiously awaiting the rest of his sentence. He smirks at the eager look on your face and leans in, just inches from your lips, and whispers against them. “My body is so gullible for you.” You whimper.

You can feel your entire being heating up as he kisses you so intensely, like he’s trying to devour you. He’s groaning against your lips and licking into your mouth as he wrestles his jacket off. Your hands shoot to his belt and struggle to get it off, whining into the kiss when his belt gets caught on the loops. He smiles into you and his hands come to rest over yours. “Tranquila, bebe. I’m the desperate one, remember?”

You shake your head his words and let him take his pants off while you wiggle out of his sweats. He moans at your bare pussy and his arms give out for a moment, almost dropping his weight on you before catching himself. “N-no panties?” His fingers are on you, rubbing your clit and spreading your slick all over you, coating his fingers in it. He’s being downright messy.

“Miggy- Miguel, I need it so bad- need you so bad. I love you so much. You’re so-” Your mind is already gone as you grind up into his fingers, overwhelmed by the added pleasure of his desperation. He’s groaning into your ear as he humps himself against your thigh in time with his fingers. 

“I don’t know. I need-” You cut him off with a moan and he smiles as you apologize in between whimpers. “I think I’d need to cum in you, cariño. I need- My brain can only focus on-” He groans as you writhe against him, pushing your thigh into his crotch. His head lowers to rest against yours as his fingers speed up inside you. He can feel the way you’re coating them, soaking every crevice with your sweetness. He can feel the way they’re sliding inside you, the way your walls are squeezing him, it’s too much. “I can only think about cumming in you, bebe.” 

Truthfully, his thoughts were more focused on what would come afterward, watching you swell with his child but you guys haven’t even had a conversation about kids yet.

“No.” You whine at him, he feels sadness shoot through his stomach but he tries to mask it. “Just fuck me, please?” You’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, your hands around his neck pulling his face impossibly closer as your lips try and lock with his. He nods at you gently, he wants to give you anything you could possibly want.

“Okay, amor.” He kisses you quickly before taking his hands off of you and starts unzipping his pants, pulling himself out of his boxers while you wait. You watch him for a bit as he gets undressed before a thought pushes into your head.

What if I took my top off this time? 

You think it over for a second, you want to be yourself with him, completely and he’s explained his love for your tummy over and over again. 

What could be the worst that happens?

Images of Miguel’s face twitching in disgust flash through your head. Unrealistic scenarios of Miguel pulling away, starting to reject your advances and your kisses plague your brain. 

He wouldn’t do that. 

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, pulling your tank top over your head quickly and Miguel freezes, causing an abundance of discomfort on your end. You thought this was something he’d want, something he’d like, now that you’ve exposed yourself though, he’s silent. 

You try to stand strong, but your hands are twitching at your sides to cover your stomach. You pray to whatever god there may be that you somehow gain the ability to read his mind, to see his thoughts, to force him to say something… anything. 

His cock pulsing. He’s never seen you completely shirtless, despite being together for over a year. He never wanted to push you, too scared that he’d push you away. He’s seen you with no top but only with a towel over your stomach, or pants pulled over your stomach as you change. But now? Her full glory was on display, there’s a little curve underneath, separating your tummy from your pussy and he’s in love. 

His eyes are zeroed in on your naked stomach and your hands come up to cover it, legs pulling inward as you fold into yourself. He can’t have that. “Don’t” 

His voice is sharp and dark, a strong command but you don’t listen, covering your stomach fully. “It was a bad idea. I’m so uncomfortable, Mig. Can-” You let out a heartbreaking sigh. “Can you just pass me my top?” You threw it down just out of reach and your hands are occupied covering your stomach. Embarrassment is coursing through every vein.

How are we gonna move on from this? I fucking killed the shit out of the mood. Fuck. God, I hate this. 

“No.” He’s moving back toward you, climbing up your body again, ignoring the obvious confusion you’re facing. You curl in even more which just upsets him. He grabs your leg and pulls, forcing you out of your ball before pinning it under his own. “Uh-” You let out a noise of surprise but Miguel pays it no mind as he reaches for your arms. He takes both of your wrists in his hand and pins them above your head, holding them there as he admires your tummy. 

Your heart is racing but you don’t struggle. Miguel is looking at you like to most amazing piece of art and you’d do anything- anything- for him to keep going. You feel yourself leaking between your legs as he just stares. His breathing is slow and shaky and his brows keep furrowing, like he’s having an internal battle with himself. He takes another breath and exhales through his mouth, letting his breath fan over your face before releasing your wrists and leg. 

He’s waiting for you to pull your hands back down, cover one of your most beautiful features… but you don’t. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. “Can you please, please, fuck me now?” His face twitches before he smiles, taking a deep breath as he pulls away. He kisses your chest as he slowly rises, his hand already on his cock, pumping himself gently as he aligns himself with your entrance. You’re gripping the cushions with all your strength as he works himself in. 

He’s worried. You feel insane around him, the softest thing he’s ever felt, extra wet and open for him to breed you. His mind keeps wandering back to cumming inside you, even though you said no. He’s walking the line of some dangerous thoughts. 

I am stronger than her…

He shakes the thought out of his head and focuses on you. The way you’re moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know, your hips are growing frantic as the grind up against him. “Miggy-“

“Amor.” He smiles at the moan that rips from your chest as you bury yourself in his neck. His hips speed up at the sounds of your moans right next to his ear, your breath tickling the shell of it.  

“‘M gonna- “ Miguel cuts you off with a growl and his brows furrow. He doubles down on his thrusts, bringing his hands to the small of your back, gripping you hard and fucking you into his cock. 

It’s going to take a serious amount of focus to keep his orgasm at bay until you’re done. “Go- Fuck. No, just wait, baby.” You let out a confused noise at his command. He’s never asked you to hold it before. 

“Fuck! Mi- I don’t know how!” Your sentence turns into a sob as he watches your body tense up, pulling all your muscles tight and gripping the roots of his hair. “Haah- Miguel. Baby, I ca- an’t. Please let-“ 

A moan stops your sentence as Miguel presses onto your womb, forcing his cock against your walls, stretching you even more. You feel so full you don’t know what’s happening. Your eyes are wide as you stare at his hand, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. They’re frantic, desperate and wild when they meet yours. 

His panting aggressively, intermittently pausing so he can try and regulate his breathing. You’re staring into his eyes, shocked at his reaction and a smirk pushes its way into your face before you moan at him again. He pulls his hand away from your womb like it burned him and pulls out, gripping the base of his cock so hard it must hurt. 

You were so close, teetering on the edge, just hearing Miguel utter your name could’ve tipped you over… but he pulled out instead. “Miguel!!! Why? I- I’ve been good, haven’t I?” 

Your desperate pleads are worsening his situation. He ignores your words and starts rubbing your clit, his fingers moving over the little bud lightning fast. “I’m not punishing you, bebé bonita”

You whine at the love name and grip his arm, trying to pull him closer to you. “No puedo correrme dentro de ti and I’m… I’m too close right now, cariño.”

You’re trying to push his hand away now, shaking your head and whining. “S’okay”

Your yanking at his arm, trying to get him back over you. “Cum inside, Miggy.” 

His eyes widen and he doesn’t move. He honestly thinks he’s hearing things at this point, fantasizing without realizing but you’re look at him all shy and expectant. So you actually said something… “W-“ He takes a deep breath. “What?”

You whine at him and avert your eyes as your legs slowly spread for him. “You- You wanted to, right? I want it…” You whine at the thought. “I need it, Miggy.”

His vision blurs as he reaches out for you, lining himself up as quickly as he can. He can already feel his balls pulsing, tensing and preparing a load for you, for your pussy, your womb. 

It’s worse than the first time he ever had sex with you. Every nerve is alight, he can feel every little detail in your pretty, perfect pussy. On top of that, you’re moaning like he’s never heard before, louder, more high pitched, more desperate than earlier and they’d already shocked him then. He can’t. 

“Mm- Not- fuck. I’m not gonna last. Not even a min- shit. Oh my god, cariño. Not even gonna last a minute. Fuck me, niña bonita.” Your almost screaming his name at his words, his languid pace and the way he’s literally shaking for you. “Gonna- shi-it.” His words sound like broken sobs as his tip gently abuses your cervix. 

You’ve pulsing around him, trying everything you can to wait for him so you can milk him while he pumps you full. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in- in you, baby. Voy a follarte un bebé, amor. Te dejaré embarazada, te mantendré llena de mí en todo momento. Mierda. Te verás tan hermosa, manteniendo a nuestro bebé protegido en tu grueso útero. Oh, joder"

(“I'm going to fuck a baby into you, love. I will get you pregnant, I'll keep you full of me at all times. Shit. You will look so beautiful, keeping our baby protected in your thick womb. Oh fuck.”)

Your eyes roll back and the coil in your stomach snaps as Miguel rambles, hips thrusting into yours gently, his gaze on the back of his skull. You’re fucking yourself on him as best you can in this position. It’s awkward and over-exerting but completely worth it when you hear a whine of your name and Miguel’s cock starts throbbing inside you. 

Twitching once, twice, before hardening even more and pouring a torrent of cum into your waiting pussy. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard. Moaning out your name on repeat, thanking you for letting him cum in you with a lot of other Spanish sentences in between. 

His hand presses to your womb as he winds down but his cock twitches out another load as he pushes down, fucking into you slowly again. “Te amo tanto, mi querida. No puedo imaginar la vida sin ti. Una vida en la que no tendrás mis hijos, en la que no estemos casados…” His entire body shudders as he finally stops pouring into you. 

(“I love you so much, my dear. I can’t imagine life without you. A life where you don’t bear my children, in which we aren’t married…”)

He leans down and kisses you slowly, eyes hooded but still focused on you. Your eyes are teary and trying to shut, exhausted from the entire night. Miguel keeps pressing kisses all over you as you drift off. 

“Un mundo sin ti es uno en el que no podría vivir, amor.”

(“A world without you is one I couldn't live in, love.”)

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Can I make a very NSFW request? Severus x reader fem. Ever since Severus and Y/N had sex for the first time, Severus feels a lot of sexual desire, and he likes to have his girlfriend moaning for him all the free time they have.

"Are you tired, love? So soon? Don't worry, you stay in bed and enjoy while I work between your pretty legs"—Severus

Addicted to My Girl ~Severus Snape xFem Reader

Summary— Established Relationship, ever since Severus first heard Reader properly moan, he can’t get enough of her. He now lives to draw those sinful sounds from her. Smut ensues. Anon Response— Hi hi hi anon!! Thanks for the request! Yes, I absolutely would love to write this for you. Thank you for your detailed explanation. I sincerely hope you Enjoy this! ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Prompt— "Are you tired, love? So soon? Don't worry, you stay in bed and enjoy while I work between your pretty legs"

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, fingering, sex, p in v, implied clit stimulation, overstimulation, light praise, pet names, voice/moan kink, honeymoon phase, established relationship, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

From the second that Severus had heard an unbridled moan erupt from your throat and vibrate through your entire body for the first time, the man was hooked. Owned. Addicted. Powerless. At your mercy.

You were spread out on top of his desk. Your legs wide and Severus planted in the middle of them. Clothes were discarded all across the room. It was heated and passionate. You had both finally snapped, not even making it to the bedroom.

Marks were littered across the neck and chest, but Severus’ tongue was not working away at something else. You gasped and your hand jumped into his head of hair, as the man’s tongue went feral on your cunt.

“OhhHhHh Sevvvvv—!!”

Before you could stop it, your sinfully loud moan tore through all the fibers of your being. Severus stopped at that, looking up at you dumbfounded.

Severus now spent all of his waking hours, that weren’t taken up by his classes, coaxing more heavenly sounds from your lips.

His sex drive, while he had always had one, had fucking skyrocketed since that first night, when you and Severus had first had sex. He couldn’t get you off his mind. Hell, he spent most of his time alone just getting himself off to the thought of you.

Severus stole you away every second he could get you. When you both had free blocks, the man was guaranteed to be teasing you or already in between your legs in some capacity.

Severus was extra lucky today, because it was Friday night, and neither of you had anything planned after your last class in the afternoon. So Severus thought you’d both skip the great hall dinner, after all, the man had the perfect dinner in front of him already…

It wasn’t even dark out yet, and Severus already had you in his lap as he sat in his office desk chair. The man’s fingers had simply slipped under your garments and past your knickers, sliding in and out of your cunt with ease. Your eyes rolled back as you held onto your man for dear life as he bounced you up and down on his fingers.

“S-sev… I’m going to… OhhHhH Sevvv…!” You moaned lewdly, nuzzling your face into the crook of Severus’ neck as you moaned out.

Severus eyes darkened further at your beautiful, addictive sounds.

“That’s it, my love… Cum on my fingers… Again…” Severus told you in his destructively low and sultry, sexy tone.

You held nothing back, crashing over the edge for the second time in the last 40 minutes, having already cum once in Severus’ lap from mere clit stimulation. You let out another sinful moan as you reached ecstasy, biting into your man’s neck to manage the overwhelming pleasure.

Severus fingered you through your high with ease, knowing just the right way to bring you down from your climax, while keeping you buzzing for more.

The man then gently removed his fingers from your dripping cunt, licking his digits clean, before he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your shared bedroom. He laid you on the bed, where you instinctively began to curl up with a yawn. But Severus chuckled, crawling up on top of you, beginning to remove his and your clothing. You giggled and let him help you with objection on your end.

“Are you tired, love? So soon? Don't worry, you stay in bed and enjoy while I work between your pretty legs” he cooed lustfully, coming up to your face and giving you a cheeky kiss on the lips, as he spread out your naked form across the bed.

You gasped as you felt Severus’ dick grinding against your dripping core. You immediately grabbed any and all of his exposed skin, pulling his body against yours and moaning once more.

“Tsk tsk tsk, not so fast, my love… Want a proper taste of you first…” Severus hummed, getting off of you to your dismay, and lowering himself down the bed so that his mouth was level with the cunt.

Your hand found purchase again in his hair as the man’s mouth began to devour your precious pussy. His tongue glided in and out of your core with ease, lapping up all your juices and using his own spit as even more lubricant. You threw your head back and let out a groan, as his tongue worked your centre.

“F-fuck Sevvviiiii—” you choked out, pulling tightly on his hair, as Severus buried his face in your cunt and pressed his nose against your clit while his mouth continued to work its wonders on your cunt.

Severus groaned in delight at your sounds, struggling with the urge to take you right there. But he took a deep breath and simply fucked you harder, knowing the wait would be well worth it. His tone continued to swirl its way through your folds, alternating between stimulating your clit and your entrance. And as soon as you tugged at his locks hard enough a gave him a desperate mewl of need, his tongue sunk into your core.

“Christ Severus Yesssssss…!!” You moaned, your back arching and toes curling into his touch.

The man worked you up with precise skill, having paid intense attention to exactly what made your eyes roll back. The pad of his thumb began to roll your clit, making your knees wobble and pulling another string of whimper and groans from your lips. By the time you reached your third edge, you were a begging mess.

“Please please Sevvv Oh God please—!”

Severus happily hummed into your cunt, “Cum for me, my Darling…”

Your third orgasm rocked over you like a fucking tsunami, feeling like every single one of your nerves were on fire as a hot, white pleasure took over your entire body. You sparked underneath your man’s hold, but he never relented, continuing to tongue fuck you through your high.

By the end of your climax, your vision was a little blurry and you were shaking.

“Still want more…?” Severus’ voice gently asked, as he came up from in between your thighs.

“Mhmmmmm yessss, give it to me Sev…” you mumbled, with a drunken nod.

With a smirk, Severus lined himself up with your dripping heat. You held onto the man in a vice grip as he sunk down into you. And the man nearly came right there from the sinful moan that spilled from your lips… Bloody Hell, he would be chasing those pretty noises of yours for the rest to his life.

~~~

Severus Snape Masterlist

[russo-woso]

Turned on by the simplest thing || Alessia Russo

Masterlist | Prompt list

Request Breastfeeding kink gets turned on every time you go to feed she gets annoyed someone else is sucking your breast instead of her

A/N Now I debated whether to add something into this fic, and I asked my readers and you can see their responses here and here.

Warning smut 18+, breastfeeding kink, soft smut, cunnilingus, postpartum sex, insecurities

Summary Alessia gets turned on by the simplest thing, breastfeeding.

Alessia’s favourite part of your body was your boobs.

You knew that, she knew that, most people knew that.

In the changing rooms, she’d always get caught staring at your bra.

If you were lying in bed, she’d have her hands resting on your boobs.

If you were having sex, her mouth would always be latched to your nipples.

She just loved your boobs.

But there was a new person who loved your boobs just as much now, your newborn baby girl, Ava.

The first time you had to feed Ava was eventful.

The nurse was teaching you how to get Ava to latch on, Alessia was sat just watching, specifically eyeing your boobs.

But because she was so wrapped up in the moment of becoming a mama, she failed to notice that someone was slowly replacing her.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that she finally noticed.

“Hi Ava, hi baby.” Alessia cooed, picking a crying Ava up and cradling her to her chest. “Let’s go see mummy, huh? She’ll feed you.”

Alessia walked out of Ava’s nursery, walking into the living room where you were sat.

“Hi, bubba.” You said, taking Ava in your arms and preparing yourself to feed her.

Alessia came and sat down next to you, helping hold Ava as you latched her on.

The room was silent apart from small hums of contentment from Ava as she drank.

You just so happened to look at Alessia to see her eyes drilled on your boob.

“What’re you looking at?” You asked, a smirk in your face.

“She’s stealing my job, your boobs are mine.” Alessia said, a pout on her lips.

“Lessi, baby, she has to do this.” You pointed out, a slight smile resting on your face.

“I know, but…”

“You can have them later, okay? When we’ve put her back down. As long as you’re gentle.”

Alessia’s eyes lit up, nodding her head eagerly before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

—

Ava had fallen back asleep and you’d managed to transfer her back to her nursery crib without waking her.

Both, you and Alessia, had decided to start getting Ava to sleep in her nursery during the day so when it was time for her to go from your room to her nursery, she would be comfortable in there.

You heard Alessia in the bedroom and so you creaked open the door, your heart swelling with love as you did so.

You watched as Alessia lit candles around the room, playing some relaxing songs through the Alexa.

“Baby!” Alessia whisper shouted, not wanting to wake Ava up.

You waited a while and then opened the door, pretending to be surprised.

“Lessi… you did this?”

“I want to show you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.” Alessia explained, wrapping her arms round you and bringing you in for a hug.

You responded by kissing her gently, all the love you felt for one another being poured into it.

Whilst kissing you, Alessia reached for the bottom of your shirt, gently pulling it over your head.

“Baby, listen, my body… it’s not how it used to—” you began, pulling away from the kiss.

“—Y/N, you really think I care about that? Pretty girl, you’d just given birth to our daughter. I don’t care what you look like. I love you no matter what.” Alessia said gently, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, lessi.” You told her before reconnecting your lips in a passionate kiss.

Alessia guided you to the bed, unclipping your bra in the process and laying you down on the bed.

Alessia lips didn’t leave yours, even when she climbed on top of you.

Her lips travelled down to your boobs, gently kissing them.

“Fuck.” You hissed at the sensitivity as she licked your nipples.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alessia asked concerned, but you shook your head no.

Alessia continued sucking gently at your nipples.

You hadn’t realized straight away, but when you heard Alessia swallowing, you realized she was drinking your breast milk.

“Tastes so good, baby.” Alessia mumbled before sucking again at your nipple.

“Lessi, you’re drinking it?” You asked, shocked, but it came out as a moan due to the pleasure.

“Tastes too good not to.”

“Fuck, baby.” You gasped, finding the action hot.

Alessia hummed, satisfied, before moving down to your soaked core.

“Gonna be so gentle, love, I promise.” Alessia whispered, her tongue flattening against your folds.

You arched your back at the contact, having not felt it in months.

Alessia lapped at your folds before licking your clit.

“Feel good?” Alessia questioned, the vibrations of her voice clearly evident as jolts of pleasure ran through your body.

“Yes, lessi, feels so good.” You told her, your hand finding her hair.

Alessia stuck to your clit, thinking that you’d be very sensitive, due to the birth, anywhere else.

“Fuck, less — I’m so close, baby.” You warned her, pulling on her hair. “Please don’t stop, please.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You let out a cry as your legs spasmed around Alesia’s head.

She licked your juices before coming up to be level with your face.

“Thank you for being gentle.” You whispered, bringing Alessia in for a kiss.

You moaned as you tasted yourself on Alessia’s tongue.

Alesia’s lips left yours and travelled down to your left boob.

“Can I have some more?” Alessia asked and you nodded, resting a hand on the back of her head and playing with the baby hairs.

Just as Alessia began to suck, a cry was heard over the baby monitor.

You and Alessia both looked at each other and sighed.

“I’ll go get her.”

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist here

Word Count: 470+, 900+, 1,200+, 900+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Kid, Killer, Heat

Warnings: wet dreams, gn!reader (penetration-reader!receiving), swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader', headcanons, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: This is the Kid-Pirates version of the original Heart-Pirate fic. @jintaka-hane asked for it, @nerium-lil and I needed it. I love these guys. Please read the warnings. Art link.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @indydonuts @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @carrotsunshine

“Please, don't stop. Don't stop!” You sobbed in desperation, the feeling of his thrusting causing tears to spill from your eyes in ecstacy. You writhed as he sheathed himself deep within your stomach, overcome by his brutal rapidity in using your body to chase his own high.

He tugged at your hair, pounding you from behind while he anchored his chin into your neck. Turning his head, he gnawed at your shoulder with a deep, purple bite, prompting you to cry out his name as he kept bullying that sweet spot deep within you. He tugged harder on your hair, looking into your face from behind and witnessing its contortion in pleasure.

“Please, please,” you whined his name, in a begging chant, “Please cum in me. Use my body for your pleasure. I n-need it.” His eyes rolled back, tightening his hold on your waist and digging his nails into your hair. He immediately barked out a string of curses, spilling his hot cum deep within you with a soft chant of your name.

The contractions of your body fluttering around his throbbing cock prompted him to cry your name and chase his high with more intentional snaps of his hips. His hot spurts splash up within you as he molded your body to the shape of his throbbing cock.

“Nnghm, you f-fucking feel that?” he growled, his brows furrowing as he pressed his hand on your stomach to feel the tip of his cock deep in you, “I’m cumming so fucking deep. I'm-... fuck, hnmh-... I'm cumming.” You mewled for him, throwing your head back on his shoulder and rocked yourself on him.

“Yes. F-Fuck, yes. Keep going,” The spectral, dream-like image of your body crying for him branded itself into his memories. He couldn’t get enough, his eyes glazing over as he witnessed you take his entire, heavy load deep within you.

The yelp of his name, the dopey smile on your lips, and body glistening in a soft dew of pleasure had him chasing your high and over stimulating his thick cock buried within you. He pummeled himself deeper, huffing and panting before feeling a sense of pride at feeling you clench around him as you cum for him.

“Ahh, f-f-fuck,” he barked, shooting the few final spurts of his release into you before the image dissipated and was shrouded in murky shadow.

His eyes snapped open, looking down to his stomach as he witnessed the damp patch of sticky cum deep into his pants. His cock twitched, grinding his knob against his underwear as it began to deflate.

Cringing, he opened the waistband of his pants and growled at the translucent release coating his cock, fluid pooling down his shaft and leaking down his balls. He groans at the sight before falling back and wallowing in self pity.

“Fuck-...”

Eustass Kid

“..-You.” Kid growled, pinching his brow with his right hand before rubbing his eyes and face with his palm, “Fuck you!” He kicked back his bedsheets, springing to his feet and growling all the while.

Aggressively peeling off his pajama pants, he used the coarse material to clean his cock of the remnants of his illusionary desires. He rolled them into a ball and threw them to the other side of the room, snarling at the fact his body betrayed him in such a way.

Grumbling, groaning and pouting, he kicked at the side of his bed and sifted through his clothes to find a fresh pair of pants. He was angry, mostly, at himself; the way his cock decided to take the lead in ushering him through dreams he knew would never be a reality. You were a part of his crew! His job was to lead you, and your role was to trust him enough to follow his orders.

Drawing back over encounters with you on his crew, real and tangible moments you shared together, his frown deepened at the thoughts. Your smile beaming at him, the way you stood in front of him to protect him from harm's way, the way you followed his orders with nothing uttered besides a simple: “Yes, Captain”, the way your back arched when you recoiled tangled ropes.

He halted at that thought, zeroing in on that moment. Your ass. Your perfect ass. His cock twitched in his pants, prompting his right hand to reach down and readjust the angle within the tight fabric.

A sneer found its way to his lips, pouting as he replayed the hazy dream he woke from moments prior. Listening to the way your tongue rolled over his name, the way you so easily sucked his cock deep within your body, the feel of his hand reaching around your stomach to feel the protrusion from within your abdomen externally - he began to grow angry.

You did this to him.

This was your fault.

He began to stomp towards the top deck, knowing that he rostered you on for the night shift in the crows nest to keep watch. Twitching his right hand, he began to buzz the sparks of magnetism to coil around your leather uniform at the metal ring in center of your chest.

Gazing over at the sea, you feel your eyes droop. Your body is overcome with exhaustion after keeping yourself awake through the cryptid hours, a yawn calling to you with a tightness in your chest. As you clamp your lips shut after a lengthy yawn, you feel the tightness in your chest grow, the center of your harness buzzing to life and shaking with static.

“What the-... Ahh!” you exclaim, feeling your body soar through the air and down the top mast towards the angry figure of your Captain. You shriek in shock, your back thumping against the stiff mast as the crackling energy pinned you against the wood.

Eustass Kid stomps his heavy boots over to you, your brows knit in both shock and fury at how he made your body dance within the air so easily with his devil-fruit ability.

“What the fuck is your problem, Captain-?” you attempt to ask, your voice being silenced by a feral, barking growl of your Captain.

“-You’re my problem!” Kid roared, looking down his nose at you and curling back his lips to bare his teeth at you, “Walking around wearing that leather outfit like you're some part of BDSM club!”

“The fuck?” you question him, truly confused as you downturn your lip, “You gave this to me, Sir. It's a part of our uniform? You make all of us wear one!” You bark back at him, sneering up at him.

“Fuck you,” Kid snarled, stepping closer to you and closing the gap between your bodies. You end up more confused, up-turning your lip as you feel your anger more tangible.

“Fuck me?” you snarl, shaking your head, “Fuck you, Sir,” you spat, darting your eyes down his chest to get a read on his posture and body language. “You can't just go around calling people to you when you feel like it! What the fuck is wrong with- Mmmfph!”

Hot lips crash atop yours, Kid's bruising kiss shocking your senses more than the initial spectral grab through the air. His teeth bit at your lips, his roaming right hand snaking around your waist and grasping at your ass in a rough fistful. You cry out in shock as he begins kneading it beneath his palm.

“Fuck-,” Kid muffled against your mouth, tilting his head and dragging his tongue over your lips, “-You.”

Offended, you fight back. You bit his bottom lip, aggressively flicking your tongue into his mouth and wriggling against the buzzed pin of your harness against the wood.

“Fuck you, Captain,” you snarl, gasping into his mouth, and wrapping your legs over his hips to find purchase against them. He drove his hips forward, grinding its clothed, thick cock against your pelvis; his knob already beginning to weep with precum from the moment you reciprocated his advances. You groaned against his lips, still partially in shock as to why your captain was kissing you like this.

Kid refused to allow his dreams to get the better of him, falling victim to its foggy, illusionary composition. Why should he make up some fictitious memory when the real thing was so much better?

Massacre Soldier Killer

Overcome with the sheer embarrassment of his intrusive thoughts, he closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself.

“Keep going,” the mirage called to him, his hazy form using your body as a muse for pleasure, “Killer, I need you.” He snapped upright, stomping over to his laundry basket and peeled off his sticky pants and underwear. Aggressively thrusting the soiled garments in the hamper, he drew his hands up to his hair and scraped it back with his fingers.

As his fingers met with his hair, he was reminded of the image his mind made of the texture of yours. The thump of your hips meeting his, the ripples of your ass as it slapped back into him, the way your body felt wrapped around his cock: he was haunted by you. He growled, his hands shaking with rage at his mind defiling the image of you and forcing his body to cum.

“You deserve better than this,” Killer whispered aloud, shaking his mask-covered face and scowling at his cock, “The fuck is wrong with me?” He cleaned himself up with a few tissues from his bedside table before shrugging his pants over his hips and making his way to the bathroom.

He saw a light reflected in the basin and vanity of the small bathroom, watching as your hunched figure bent itself over the sink and washed your face. You had a soft wiggle in your movements, humming as you shook your hips and splashed water on your face.

Frozen in place, he had never been more thankful to be wearing a mask. He shamelessly raked his eyes over the curvature of your ass, watching as you arched your back to gaze at your reflection. Focussing on ridding the night off your features and waking yourself up, you didn't notice him standing behind you.

Transfixed by your gentle hum, he couldn't bring himself to scold his rapidly buzzing thoughts at what you looked beneath your pajamas. The prior dream and lustful visions had his cock twitch beneath his pants. You finally noticed his presence beside you, calling out your greeting to him and asking your question.

“Killer, can you fuck me, please? I need to know how your body tightens as you paint my insides with your sticky cum. I need it, please.”

Killer snapped his eyes up to your face, noticing you cock your head to the side with a puzzled expression. His body tightened, tensing his muscles as he gulped back a large, dry lump; his Adam's apple bobbing at the thought.

“Wanna run that by me again?” Killer asked, stuttering over the words. You smile warmly at him, briefly examining his body.

“I said: ‘Morning, Killer. Can you pass me that towel please? I kinda need it to dry my face’,” you giggle, gesturing to the towel beside him with your index finger. He hastily rustled the towel into his hands and thrust it out in front of him. You express your gratitude with a soft nod of your head, swiping at your face to dry it.

You take a moment to study him, noticing the tension in his chest and subtle shake in his hands. His body remained stationary, staring at you as you attempted to get a read on him.

“Did you want the basin?” you ask him, no response being met with your question. Killer deeply inhaled, exhaling with a soft sigh of deep mourning. “Kil? You okay? Rough night?” He snapped out of it, gazing at you through the holes in his mask and smiling softly.

“I feel like I should apologize to you,” Killer confessed, reaching out his hands to take your towel and hanging it on your allocated hook. “Look, I-...” he trailed off, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, “...I had a dream about you, and it didn't put you in a good position. I feel like I should apologize to you for it.”

“Oh? What do you mean? What position?” your brows knit together, looking at him with confusion, “Were we fighting or something? Hah! Did I win?” He took a moment to step forward, offering his hands up in defense.

His silence has you concerned, looking down at him before your eyes widened in shock. Killer was admitting he had a dream about fucking you.

“O-Oh…” you exclaimed in shock before your lips curled into a light smirk, “Ohh, that kind of dream…” Stepping forward, you gently jab at him with your index finger with a loud, teasing laugh. “And how was I, big guy?” you teased him, grinning a winning smile and biting your tongue playfully at him, “Did you finish? Did I finish?” He remained silent and crossed his arms over his chest, prompting you to squeal out a choked laugh.

“Oh shit, did you-...” your eyes snapped down to his pants before gazing back into the holes in the mask where his eyes would be, “...Did you actually finish? Like, in the dream, and outside of it?” your smile widened, a soft blush growing on your face as he remained silent and stoic.

“Oh, Killer!” you laughed, clapping your arms around his biceps and giving him a gentle hug with a light laugh, “It's fine. Honest! No judgment from me” you break from the embrace to glance up at him. “Sometimes our minds just run away with us. Enjoy the show. I’m flattered, truly.”

He couldn't help but be in awe of your response, watching as you turned back around and began fixing your hair in the reflection. You began humming your song again, attempting to ignore the rising flutters in your chest at the notion that somewhere, deep beneath the muscular exterior of Killer’s extremely built body, the first-mate had a soft spot for you.

“You forgive me, then?” Killer asked softly, unfolding his arms and hanging them by his side.

“There's really nothing to forgive, but if you think you need it, sure. I forgive you, big guy,” you suggested, getting frustrated at yourself as your hair decided to become uncooperative, “Can help me with my damn hair, and then tell me all about it? In graphic detail? I gotta know what you had me do in your dreams.” Laughing at your own response, your smile was wiped from your face as Killer grabbed a rough fistful of your hair.

He arched you back, feeling your body meet with his chest as he held your hair. His grip was tight enough to halt your motion, but loose enough to not harm you. You let out a soft squeak of shock, eyes widening as you stared at him in the reflection. His other arm snaked around your hips, holding you flush against him.

“Tell you?” he whispered into your ear, tugging your hair to have your head lull back against his shoulder, “Why do that when I can show you?” He nuzzled his head into your neck, freezing before flinching away to check in, “That is, if this is something that you want?”

You blink back your shock, gawking at the position he had you in. Your mind raced a thousand ways a second as you darted your eyes over his hold on you. You whisper quietly, eyes wide and innocent while your curiosity peaks.

“Yes, please.”

Heat

Heat growls at himself, thrusting his left hand into his tangled head of lengthy bed hair before slumping back down into the mattress. Scarred lips quirk down at the corners, his mouth pouting as he contemplates over what just happened.

His crewman, his confidante, his friend: you. He had conjured up an astral projection within his slumber of you writhing on his cock as he thrust deep, languid movements up into your body. The feeling of your spectral image wrapped around his thick shaft, the way you shook like a leaf around him the moment you came undone; it was all enough to spark a new round of inspiration to ignite within his cock.

He reached down into his pants, wrapping his underwear around his already half-hard cock and began grinding the slippery material down over his shaft. The shame he felt was eclipsed by the way your voice haunted him, the way you poured his name over your lips.

“Heat,” he heard you within his mind's eye, “Fuck me, Heat. I need you. Please fuck me.” He whimpered, drawing up the covers to his lips and biting down on the thick blanket. Scrunching his eyes shut, he began thrusting his hips up to meet with his pistoning cock in his palm.

He whispered your name, groaning as his tongue brushed with the duvet. He rolled within the bed, keeping the blankets within his clamped teeth as he began bucking into his hand. Although he took you from behind in his dream, he was picturing your face in his mind.

The way you'd hang your mouth to form a perfect “O” when you came, the way your thighs would quake as your body tingled with the first contraction of your orgasm, the way he would be able to see the deep bulge within your stomach considering the size difference between you. He huffed, panting your name as he heard what you'd say when you came undone.

“Heat, I-I’m gonna cum,” he screwed his eyes shut, tongue flicking out over the blanket as he continued to chase his high, “Please let me. I n-need to. Please let me cum on your cock.” He allowed his mind to get the best of him, picturing exactly how your toes would curl behind his back.

“Y-You like that?” he whispered your name, “You like the way my cock feels deep inside you?” His whisper and huffed pants of your name echoed in his private quarters, his solitude in this moment being his only comfort.

Giving himself permission to use your name while he pleasures himself, he came to terms with the way he felt about you. To him, you were perfect. You were the person for him: his favorite person. The person he wants to come to bed with after a long day to snuggle - to fuck into his mattress, and to ruin for any other partner due to how well he would seek to please you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered your name, screwing his eyes shut tighter and feeling the soft prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, “You wanna cum? Wanna cum with me?” He doubled down his efforts, “You want my cum? I'll fucking fill you up.”

He groaned a final call of your name, rutting into his hand deep against the mattress and painting the inside of his underwear with thick spurts of scorching cum.

“I-I'm cumming,” he cried your name, whimpering and growling it like an animal in heat while staggering his thrusts into his hand, “Oh, I'm cumming for you.”

After riding his palm coming down from his high, he immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame at the fact he used your image to chase his release into his hand. His blush deepens, his disgust growing as he feels the sticky pool seeping through his underwear and into his pajama pants.

Hastily springing to his feet, he kicked off the pants to avoid more of a spill and grimaced as he peeled off his underwear. Folding the material in half, he used it to clean the rest of his shaft before tossing them into a hamper beside his bed. He redrew up the pajama pants over his hips and walked over to his door, collecting his bathroom supplies as he prepared himself for a proper shower to wake himself up.

As he opened his door, he was met with a statuesque figure of a fist balled at his chest height and intending to knock. His eyes widened, looking down to see your widened eyes and deep flush coating your face in several shades darker than your original hue.

His own face immediately flushed with blood, his cheeks darkening to a deep purple color the moment he saw your face. Your fist shook lightly, your lips parted and your eyes slowly blinked.

You had just caught Heat masturbating, and he had whispered your name while he came. Without truly a clue as to what to do with this information, you gulped back a dry mouthful and stated your purpose.

“Captain sent me to get you to come on watch-shift with me in the next twenty,” you managed to choke out, avoiding eye contact with Heat as his shock drew further up his face, “I made us breakfast-.”

Heat immediately slammed his bedroom door in your face, turning on his heels and throwing his hand up to cover his eyes in shame. He yelled into his palm, stifling the sound as his embarrassment and shame washed over his body in a cold, icy wave.

This was going to be one very long, very awkward, and very tense shift.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈*

Paring: Jisung x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut (Fluff ending)

Warnings: Face Siting, Creampie, Unprotected sex (P in V). I think that’s it? Slightly proofread.

This was requested from my prompt list (here) numbers 30 ‘sit’ & 40 ‘mine’

A/N: The tittle makes me giggle😂 but fr I absolutely loved this concept. I think it came out so well imo

-🖤

A few days ago you and your boyfriend had an argument over how much he’s been over working himself. It was a dumb thing to have an argument about but, you were just concerned. He’s been staying so late and not eating as he should be. You just wanted to make sure he was alright but it escalated and now it’s been silence for a few days.

Although you wanted to apologize you also didn’t think you should have to. I mean you were just looking out for him. He hasn’t apologized either so it’s just perpetual silence on both ends. Neither wanting to make the first move.

Today was a bit late, you stayed up watching a show as Jisung got home. He stood at the entrance for a while rubbing his head. He was so stressed, stressed from work, stressed from the silence. He felt like he was gonna just have a break down if he didn’t do something about it. He looked over his eyes smiling a bit as he saw you on the couch. His brain running with ideas until ‘click’ he had such a perfect idea.

He walked towards you not even saying a word. You looked at him with wondering eyes before he took your hand in his. He tugged you a bit asking for you to follow without saying a word. You rolled your eyes a bit but followed with wondering what he wanted. He sat down on the bed, taking his shirt off. He laid back getting comfortable before looking over at you. “Sit” he said blankly.

You tilted your head a little “what?” You questioned looking at him. He sighed loudly “let me eat my stress away” he said hoping you’d get the picture but you were still slightly confused. “Y/n. I’m asking you to sit on my face.” He said with a slight chuckle.

Your face got a bit red at his words as so many thoughts went through your head. “Jisung” you said softly eyes wondering everywhere but his. He sat up looking over at you with a smile before pulling you on top of him. He kissed you lovingly as his hands traveled down slowly trying to push off your PJ shorts. You sigh against his lips finally giving in as you moved a bit to let him take them off.

He moved in position again looking up at you with pleading eyes “take your seat sweetheart” he said his voice thick with need. You groaned at the sound of him, wanting this just as much. Taking you place about him he swiftly wrapped his arms under your legs holding you still. He pulled you down to his face before you knew it he was sucking relentlessly at your clit. He knew all your weak spots, spending hours upon hours going down on you.

The feeling of him had you gripping your head board trying to keep steady as jumbled words and moans fell from your lips. He licked up your folds his tongue laying flat as his nose rubbed your bud. He was so pussy drunk at this point. You could see the strain in his pants, the wet spot from his precum soaking through.

You leaned back a bit touching it as best as you could making jisung groan loudly against your folds. However as much as he wanted you to touch him he pulled you back to him making you whine. He wanted all the focus to be on you, making you cum before he got any pleasure. He quickly moved himself back up a bit swirling his tongue around your clit as he pushed a finger inside you. He curled it ever perfectly as he sucked on your clit. Your hips moved on their own grinding against his face. You grabbed ahold of his hair as you felt your orgasm approaching.

He moaned at the feeling, having you grind on his face and pulling his hair? He was so gone. Your legs clenched as your body shook cuming hard on Jisungs mouth. He lapped up all your juices not wanting to waste the sweetness. Once you moved away you could see how wet his chin was. The way his beautiful lips glistened from your arousal. “Jisung” you panted out. He smiler pushing his pants down boxers and all. He sat up wrapping his arms around you before pushing slowly inside of you.

“Sweetheart you tasted so good, always do.” He said kissing your neck sloppily as he nibbled up to your ear. He wasn’t moving yet, taking a moment to whisper into your ear “I love you so much, you’re all mine forever” he said softly as he started moving slowly. You moaned feeling every inch of his cock pushing deep into you. “Ji- f-fuck I love you too!” At your words he let out a low groan picking up his pace. “My beautiful sweetheart is all mine” he said as he squeezed you tightly. Your body’s so so close as he fucked up into you.

Your bodies could be melted together at this point. He titled your head to him kissing you again before leaning his head against yours. “Tell me you love me again” he said. You panted out a broken “I love you ji, god I love you so much.” The way his thrusts speed up had you both seeing stars. His cock head kissing you g-spot ever so nicely. He started to play with your clit looking at you with drunked out eyes. “A-again say it again” he stuttered feeling his high approaching. “Jisung! I fuck- I love you- only you, I love you, I love you jisung!”” You babbled out.

Your body trembled around him as your high hit you hard moaning loudly. He wasn’t doing any better his body shook as he spilled out your name and a string of curses before cuming deep inside you. You held onto each other for dear life before jisung broke the silence. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you, I shouldn’t have taken my stress out on you” he said kissing your nose.

You smiled placing your head against his “I’m sorry to, I love you so much I just get worried but I mean if this is how you’re gonna relieve all that stress I mean” you teased making him laugh. “I love you sweetheart so very much” he said as he pushed a piece of hair out of your face.

“I love you to ji. Now let’s go shower and watch the show?” You asked smiling at him. He kissed you softly before pulling you off of him “after we shower let’s order food too, my desert was pretty sweet but I need some real food” he joked making you both laugh this time. You playfully hit him before kissing his cheek “sounds good to me”

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat