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guiltyasdave · 2 months ago

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one of me is cute, but two though?

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant!f!reader

word count: ~2.5k

summary: Your cat-like mutation gives your life some cat-like qualities... like going through heats.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair but no visual descriptions beyond that, cat-like mannerisms, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, alternating pov, established relationship, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, talk of a potential pregnancy, a smidge of angst because of who i am as a person

a/n: i wrote this as a sequel to help me hold onto you, but it can be read as a standalone. i'm just in love with cat!reader, what can i say.

huge shoutout to @sizzlingcloudmentality who doesn't even like logan like that, but still patiently listens to me ramble about him nonstop. you're an angel <3

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates :)

Usually, on your days alone, you lounge around in the living room. Sun spills through the large windows, illuminating the space and drawing patterns of light and shadow over the hardwood floor.

More often than not, Logan comes home to find you curled up on the carpet, dozing in the sun’s warmth, barely awake and slowly moving with its shine as it travels across the room. Your skin glowing, soft breaths purring from your chest.

He likes to sit down next to you, watching you twitch with the sound of his footsteps. Sleep tends to pull you back under when he reaches out to gently ruffle your hair. He likes to wait until you roll over, bumping into the solid mass of his body.

Tries to stifle a laugh when you blink your eyes slowly, cocking your head in confusion at the unexpected obstacle in your way. Watches the recognition sinking in and a smile slowly spreading across your face as you sit up. Catches you when you nestle into his waiting arms, a Hey, baby murmured against your lips before they connect with his.

Nothing is more peaceful than the feeling of your body against him, to be able to run his fingertips over your soft skin while you bury your head in the crook of his neck. It settles in his chest like a weight, an anchor of warmth. The security that you’re his, that you’re safe, right there with him.

He loves these late afternoons, soaking up the last rays of sunlight with you. Relishing in your slow, unhurried movements, in the way you press yourself against him, in your bright smile between kisses.

Today is not a usual day. You had been restless as soon as you woke up, your whole body yearning for Logan in a way that is bordering on painful. Your skin is burning, a faintly feverish sensation simmering inside of you, steadily growing as the hours tick by.

By the time you hear Logan’s car pull up out front, your whole core is aflame with need. The air is thick with the scent of you, so much of you and so little of him. You’ve spent most of the day pacing the cabin, burying your nose in his clothes, curling up on his side of the bed, letting the scent that’s permeating his pillow cloud your senses. It had brought you a brief sense of relief, only for the aching need inside of you to come back with renewed force mere seconds later.

His nostrils flare when he opens the door, a growl emitting from his chest. You lunge yourself at him without a second thought, legs wrapping around his midst and holding on tight. The steady, blissfully warm embrace of his arms soothes the worst ache instantly. His eyes find yours, pools of darkness reflecting between you. Your breath is going fast, small pants fanning against his lips as you grind on him, desperate for more, more, more.

Logan holds you with ease, the thought of his biceps bulging sending another wave of arousal through you.

“Is it time again?” he asks, the deep rumble of his voice traveling straight to your core, stoking the flames.

You nod, breathlessly, a small mewl escaping when he teasingly bucks his hips into you.

“Poor kitten.” One hand soothingly scratches the soft skin behind your ears, drinking in the blissful expression on your face that you respond with. “Let’s go take care of you.”

“Please.” It comes out in a whiny plea, one that pulls at his heartstrings. One that fills him with the instinctual urge to protect you, to give you whatever you need to ban that desperation from your voice. It mixes with his own arousal that’s clawing up his chest, a beast that he can barely contain with how eagerly you welcome it, how you ask for it.

He keeps you in his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom in long strides. Every time you get jostled by his steps and your core bumps into the growing bulge underneath his jeans, you whine against his neck. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, ripping holes through the flannel and sending delicious pinpricks of pain through him.

He shushes you gently, tipping your head back up to kiss you again. You respond with hunger, your teeth catching on his bottom lip, demanding more.

“I’ve waited all day,” you complain, pouting at him between kisses. “Wanted you so badly.”

He hums, heart clenching at your expression while his cock twitches at the desperate need dripping from your every movement. “I know, baby. I’m here now, don’t worry.”

Kicking the bedroom door shut without looking, he turns around and pushes you against the dark wood. Trapped between the door and the press of his hips, you whine, hands working almost frantically to take off his flannel. Logan leans back a fraction, letting you push the fabric down his arms. The scratch of your nails against his bare skin has goosebumps following in its wake. You’re not drawing blood, yet. He can’t wait for when you do.

The heat of him is all engulfing, wrapping you up like a blanket. Finally he’s here, close enough to taste, to smell, his skin burning almost as hot as your own under your fingertips. You need him, not satisfied until it feels like your bodies are molding into one.

Urgent fingers drag over fabric, frantically tugging at hems, only disturbed by hungry kisses and panting into each other’s mouths. Ultimately, his bare torso is pressed against yours, muscles rippling under his skin and your fingertips. You lick a generous stripe from his shoulder over his neck, affectionately nipping at his skin, before you find his mouth once more.

Another groan erupts from his chest, vibrating against your tongue, before he moves you once more. Effortlessly carrying you over to the bed and dropping you onto the sheets, shamelessly staring as your tits bounce with the movement.

His hands toy with his obnoxiously large belt buckle, your eyes zeroing in on the action as you’re kicking your own pants off. A moan escapes you when he finally pushes his jeans down, taking his underwear in the same motion, his cock springing free before your hungry eyes. It’s a sight that you’ll never get used to. Huge, just like the rest of him.

He’s back onto you in the blink of an eye, so fast and yet not fast enough with how desperately you need him. He captures your lips once more while his fingers slide down your body. Stopping briefly to toy with your nipples, but quickly moving on until he’s right at your entrance, collecting your slick and rubbing a fingertip over your clit. It’s featherlight, so good and yet not nearly enough. You need all of him, full force, not holding back, smothering every atom of you the way only he’s able to.

“Logan, don’t tease.”

Your voice breaks over the last syllable, desperation painting your tone.

He chuckles out a sorry, so clearly not sorry at all, loving you like this, all needy and pliant for him. Just waiting for the wild, animalistic side of you to emerge, the side that doesn’t plead and just takes.

“What do you need, kitten?”

Still rubbing soft circles into your clit and greedily drinking in the sight of your writhing, Logan’s other hand possessively curls around your chin, his thumb caressing the corner of your mouth. Tipping your face up, he meets your eyes, your pupils blown so wide that they seem entirely black.

“Need you to fill me up, it hurts so bad, please.” You’re grinding against him, desperate to be closer, to feel every inch of his skin, to finally get him inside of you.

He allows himself a cheeky grin, one that you’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap off his face. “Yeah?” He’s so close, his voice a quiet rasp against your lips. “Want me to pump you full, huh? Give you a whole litter?”

A violent shiver runs through your whole body at his words, your eyes rolling back into your head and your hips bucking up from the mattress. Mewls of please fall from your lips as you reach for him, your grip digging into his waist so forcefully that this time, your fingernails leave deep, red scratches on his skin.

The pain of it surges through him, flaring up and dying back down as his skin stitches itself back together. He can’t help bucking into you, mirroring your movement. He loves when you turn into this version of yourself, all wild animal, feral to get what you want.

He can’t deny you a moment longer, not when you bare your teeth at him in a snarl, lost in the haze of your heat. He flips you over like a doll, husks a laugh at your surprised squeal that morphs into a moan when he pulls your hips up harshly, putting you on all fours. A loud hiss escapes him when his cock rubs against your folds. You’re incredibly wet, your slick already sticking to your upper thighs and coating him within seconds.

“My poor baby,” he coos, a hand soothingly rubbing over the feverishly hot skin of your backside. It turns into a groan when you only arch your back further, your thighs splaying wider apart. You’re putting yourself on full display for him, all needy, all his for the taking. All his.

Sinking in slowly, finally, he grits his teeth to keep from thrusting too harshly into your tight heat. He knows how sensitive you are in your current state, wants to give you time to adjust, to get used to the stretch. It’s not what you want, obviously, as you push your hips back against him, fucking yourself open on his cock. You’re gasping, breaths punching from your lungs, but your movements don’t falter. He meets you with a tentative thrust, chest swelling at the high moan it elicits from you.

“You still want more, huh kitten?”

You’d scoff at his teasing, at the ridiculous nickname, if he didn’t make you feel so fucking good right now. The tension, the emptiness that had been aching deep inside of you all day, finally subsides. A different kind of warmth is building inside your body, slowly spreading through you. Not the burning need that had been eating you up, but deep bliss that is blossoming from your core, now that your body finally gets what it’s been craving.

Reaching back blindly, your fingers wrap around one of his wrists where his hand is gripping your flesh. You don’t have to tell him what you want, he lets go to intertwine his fingers with yours instantly. You feel so safe, so connected to him like this. He bends down, presses kisses into your neck, nips at the skin playfully.

“Logan… Please,” you whine, desperate for him to hit that spot inside of you that only he seems to be able to reach. “Please, just—”

“I know.” It’s whispered into your skin, sealed with another kiss, before he straightens back up.

One hand finds your neck in an iron grip and pushes your upper body down into the mattress. His thrusts become deeper, slowing down each time he bottoms out and grinding into you, until you can feel him against your cervix. It’s exactly what you wanted, exactly what your body is asking for. You’re gushing, soaking the both of you with your wetness, your pussy clenching around him in an attempt to pull him in even deeper.

He growls above you, his other hand wrapping around your hip to steady you. To hold you right where he wants you, as he speeds up, and makes you take it. You’re trying to push back against him, to meet his movements, but he’s heavy against you, each thrust pushing you forward before his bruising grip pulls you back into him.

You cry out his name again and again, the only word on your mind right now, your whole world reduced to this moment, to him and you. The only other sounds are the wet slap of his skin against yours, and his growls behind you, growing louder with every thrust. Evidence of how the line between man and beast is blurring, how his need is becoming just as animalistic as your own.

He’s filling you so perfectly, your slick walls stretched around his length, like they were made to take him. Heat, pulsing inside of you, igniting you, blazing through your veins. It has never been like this with anyone else. You’re tightening around him, the fire brightening further, until it’s about to consume you.

“Logan,” you whimper, knuckles tightening with your grip on the bed sheets. “I’m gonna—”

He pulls you up instantly, one arm wrapping around you, holding you against his sweat-slicked chest. Nuzzling into your neck, the scratch of his beard almost too much for your already overwhelmed senses, while his hand’s snaking down to your clit, swiping through the mess of your arousal.

“Give it to me, kitten, come on.” You feel it reverberating where his chest is pressed into your back, feel his breath hot against your skin.

He’s everywhere, all-encompassing, as the tension in your core pulls impossibly tighter. One more thrust, the angle different than before, and it snaps. You shatter with a scream, your nails sinking into his arm, your whole body trembling while your walls pulse around him, pulling him over the edge with you.

His own roar is dampened by the skin of your neck against his mouth as he grinds himself deeper, coating your insides with his release. Your hormones spike in reaction, pushing your own orgasm to new heights, until you’re nothing but pure bliss, almost boneless in his arms.

He holds you tightly, lets the aftershocks slowly subside while he whispers praises in your ear. How good you feel, how well you take him, how you were made for him. How much he loves you.

Never letting go of his hold on you, he slowly starts moving. Gently maneuvers you until you’re wrapped in blankets and his arms. A kiss on your forehead, another whisper of I love you.

“Do you think it’s gonna work this time?”

Your voice is quiet, muffled against his chest where your head rests. He traces your face gently with a fingertip, watches you lean into the touch.

“I don’t know, baby. Maybe.”

It’s bittersweet, imagining a family with you. You age slower, but not as slowly as him. God only knows how things would be for a child of yours.

“Picture it, though.” You beam up at him, your eyes shining so brightly that he has no choice but to smile back. “A tiny version of me. Or you.”

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a reblog or a comment. it absolutely makes my day every time and i'd love to know your thoughts!

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett smut #janas fics #wolverine fanfiction

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ceilidho · 11 days ago

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 20 / epilogue)

masterlist

Black trees against a yellow sky at evening time.

It’s late when you finally reach home. Dark enough to almost be night—a full day longer to return than it took to leave, but then you hadn’t ridden as hard coming back, too sore and sleep-deprived to manage the same pace. Even the meager sleep you got on the road was hardly sufficient.

Then the shape of your house appears on the horizon and you nearly break down in tears. The sight of it fills you with such relief that you nearly lose your balance, your head slumping forward. Too long. Days that felt like weeks, your body and mind weary from the long trek home. Against the gold of the horizon light, it appears like a boat arriving at port.

You throw yourself off your horse and to the ground before John has even had a chance himself to dismount and come help you down. He stomps over when your foot nearly catches in the stirrup, nostrils flared and mustache twitching with his scowl.

“Don’t go breaking your leg before I’ve even gotten you home,” he growls when he reaches you, fitting his hand around the nape of your neck and giving it a squeeze. You’d shiver, but your body is too exhausted for your libido to manage more than a half-hearted twitch. Instead you nod, head bobbing like a baby doll.

John takes the horses to the stables while you clamber up the stairs on wobbly legs, headed straight for your bedroom, passing out the second your head touches the pillow. Your growling stomach will have to be addressed in the morning.

You aren’t conscious for when John comes up to join you, but you swear even in sleep you can sense his presence in the room. Certainly when he curls himself around you, the wall of warmth at your back briefly making your eyes flicker open before sleep claims you again and they slide shut.

In the morning, you eat a big breakfast before letting John rub a liniment onto your inner thighs and bandage the cuts on your hands and face. The doctor he takes you to see after breakfast for the shoulder that Graves dislocated prescribes bed rest and light stretching for recovery and laudanum for any lingering pain.

“What did you tell him?” you ask when the two of you head out for a light lunch in town before heading back home.

“Told him you fell off a horse.” He shrugs. “Not that uncommon around here.”

All you can do is roll your eyes.

Still, it’s as good an excuse as any. No one questions your story when you tell it to them over the following days, when your shoulder is still too tender for you to move it too vigorously. Only Kate lifts a brow knowingly, all but cornering you for the real story when you finally get a moment alone.

“That sonuvabitch,” she hisses when you finally break and tell her what happened.

“It’s fine,” you insist, shushing her. “John… Well, John handled it.”

She nods approvingly, then looks like she might say more before thinking the better of it. Silence falls between the two of you.

“He—” you pause in the middle of your sentence, unsure of how exactly to say it. “It wasn’t so bad. Telling him, I mean.”

Kate must catch the slight inflection in your voice because she stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. “…I’m happy to hear that.”

You inhale as if gathering your breath to say more, but nothing comes out. You know what it is you want to say, but it’s getting it out that’s the tricky bit. What you want to tell her is that your trust wasn’t misplaced in the end; all of your fears that the truth would shatter the affection and trust that had finally been shown to you after a lifetime of nothing were unfounded, proven ultimately wrong.

“Was there something else you wanted to add?”

You chew your lower lip.

“No. Nothing else,” you say in the end. There’ll be a time someday to tell her that her trust wouldn’t be misplaced with John or Kyle either; perhaps that day will come sooner than you expect, but for now it remains on the distant horizon. It’s not your place to lecture or admonish; your place in her life is to offer the same feeling of security and companionship as she’s offered you.

Today, you loop your arm through hers and join her for lunch.

In town, people greet you like you never left. Only one person asks you about the man you were walking with the previous day, and Kate covers for you when you stumble over your answer, throat constricting in your panic. There’s no suspicion in the question, but still you anticipate it because life has conditioned you to expect pain as a response to any action or inaction.

You are surprised when pain doesn’t come this time. But still, you are wary.

When you get home, John fills the tub with hot water for you and lets you wash up on your own while he tends to the horses, the third now unofficially his. You lean your arms over the side of the tub and drift in and out of your daydreams, ears attuned only to the sound of his voice and the owls calling from the trees just beyond the house. Eyes fluttering shut until slipping deeper into the water kicks you back into wakefulness.

“You falling asleep in there?” he asks when he stomps back inside, the door slamming shut behind him and nearly giving you a heart attack.

“No,” you deny, discreetly wiping the rheum from the inner corners of your eyes. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Of course,” he snorts. Amused as ever by seemingly anything that comes out of your mouth.

A telegram comes in to the sheriff's office some weeks later asking about a missing bounty hunter, and though you pitch forward in your chair when John tells you this, he’s quick to remind you that as far as anyone else knows, Graves moved on after his first visit a month or so back.

It takes time to reassure you, but slowly your hands unclench from the edge of your seat.

Still, you make yourself scarce for a week after that. It takes some time for you to feel safe again. You spend those first few days after hearing about the telegram constantly looking over your shoulder, plagued by the worry that you’ll be found out. Sharing your worries with John doesn’t go a long way towards alleviating them because his confidence never wavers. It’s almost infuriating.

“Would it kill you to just pretend?” you huff, cracking an egg into the skillet.

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for him here. ‘Far as anyone knows, he made his way west a long time ago,” he says, dismissing your concerns while clipping his fingernails at the kitchen table. You scrunch up your nose when you glance over your shoulder.

“You better not think I’m sweeping those up.”

He barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head at the same time.

True to his word, the front door stays shut. No one comes knocking looking for an errant bounty hunter. Perhaps that is a lesson that you can take away from all of this—that there is no reward for isolating oneself. Your safety has only ever been assured in community, in putting your trust in others and safeguarding their secrets in turn. Only love has ever held out its arms for you to fall into.

And now the days pass like clouds in the sky.

Tranquility hovers on the periphery of your life with every intention of calling out your name. It’s waiting for you with open arms.

In the evenings, John takes you upstairs to the bedroom and pries you open enough to fit himself in. His mouth blazes a trail across your body, sucking your nipples until they’re beaded, wetting his beard with the essence of your pleasure, and bringing you to the brink of completion time and again before pushing you over.

After a while, he leaves a piece of himself behind.

Weeks pass and the seasons change. The changes you notice in your body are physical as well as emotional. At some point since coming home, you must have started to unwind. Shoulders loosening up, knots melting down your back. Is it just you, or does the air smell fresher too?

You pin the laundry up on the clothesline and wait for your husband to come home. The sun sets earlier these days with autumn just around the corner. Already the leaves have begun to redden and brown, some breaking off from the branches altogether and floating to the ground where you know eventually they’ll rot and dissolve into the earth, starting the cycle of death and rebirth all over again.

Winter is fast approaching and you know this one will be tough with a little one on the way. You’ve already started preparing for the winter months—canning and storing corn and potatoes and other root vegetables harvested from your garden, making preserves from the fruits of autumn—apples and pears sealed in jars of thick syrup—and filling the cellar with barrels of salted and cured meats. In town, you visit the seamstress for clothes of thicker material and leave with an armful of wool flannel petticoats, fur-trimmed bonnets, and corsets of a heavier cotton coutil.

You rest a hand on your belly as you stare off into the distant mountains. Even the sky darkens earlier these days. When all of the laundry is pinned on the line, you pick up the wicker basket resting by your feet and bring it back inside, shuffling into the kitchen to get started on supper.

There’s still much that needs to be done before winter arrives. Firewood to be chopped, furs and blankets to be hung on the walls, the fireplace to be swept, and more. Enough to keep you busy and your mind occupied when you aren’t bent over a book because that’s also your reality these days. The librarian in town now knows you by name and knows to set aside a few books a week for you to pick up when you pass by with Kate.

You don’t think much of the knock at the door at first, absent-mindedly thinking that it must be a neighbor come to visit. Only when you open the door to an unfamiliar face do you pause.

It’s a woman, not too dissimilar in looks from you. A bit taller, but otherwise if someone were to describe you from looks alone, they might be tempted to use the same words for either of you. She stands on your porch with a suitcase held by her side, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead from the short trip from town. She dabs her forehead lightly with a handkerchief before pocketing it again.

“Hello there,” she greets, a bright smile on her face. “I’m looking for John Price. I was told he lives here?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her nonplussed, not understanding why a strange woman might be at your door asking for your husband in such a familiar way. It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then the light goes on and your confusion shifts to disbelief with a twinge of rage.

“We’re engaged to be married,” the other woman hurries to explain, taking a step closer, foot wedged in the door almost as if intending to barge right in.

Her gall nearly makes you lose your temper. Months ago, you might’ve welcomed her arrival, eager to prove to John that you weren’t the woman that he mistook you for so that you could be on your merry way. But that time has long since passed. There isn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be than here. You’ve put roots down, entrenched yourself in every way.

Your lips pull into a hard line, face set in stone. “You must be mistaken. He’s already married.”

She blinks, uncomprehending. “That’s…—are you sure? We’ve been corresponding. I know I’m a few months late, but I was held up back in—”

You cut her off by sticking out your hand, topaz ring shining bright on your third finger. “I’m sure. But thank you for stopping by; I’ll let John know you send your apologies.”

And with that, you shove her foot out with yours and shut the door on her face. On another day, you’ll allow yourself to feel guilty for your rudeness; for now, this is your happy ending to enjoy.

And savor it, you will.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #price/reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #john price x y/n

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lex-the-flex · 5 months ago

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Come Back to Me

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning(s): Basically porn with little plot. MEGA FLUFF, MEGA ANGST, MAJOR SADNESS + talks of character death, SMUT – 18+ oral (f! receiving), and precious aftercare + pillow talk.

A/N: No thoughts, just grieving smut with Jace. This CHOKEHOLD this character has on me and we’re only one episode into Season 2. I don’t know if I’ll continue to write for Jace, just wanted to share this idea.

He couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried. The air just refused to enter and fill his lungs as the overwhelming scents of salt and snow continue to remain in his crimson cloak.

You somehow manage to take away all the pain and sadness of grief just by standing beside him. Joining Jacaerys Velaryon on the balcony of your shared room, he just can’t wrap his mind around a calm state amidst the chaos. Briefly touching his shoulder, a long awaited sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“You okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine.” He lies, turning to face you.

Leaning his forehead against your own, the overpowering scent of sea salt and the faint smell of lilies lingers on your skin.

Wrapping his arms around your frame, Jace holds you tight, never wanting to let go. Relishing in your presence, an unwelcome wave of emotions crosses over Jace. Something wild, yet filled with sadness takes over him almost instantly. However, instead of shedding tears, he acts on the other side of what he’s feeling. Jace slowly guides his lips against your earlobe, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“You truly are my guiding light in this world, Y/N. You are the one that I was thinking about when I was riding Bermax home. To have my lips on yours and my thoughts at the door while being lost in you. I want to fuck you until you scream so the whole Palace can hear. To let them know you’re mine.” Jace explains, pulling you closer.

Feeling your breath hitching in the back of your throat, Jace nibbles on your neck, and you surround your arms around his broad shoulders. Picking you up in a swift motion, Jace captures his lips on yours before walking back into the dark room.

Collapsing with the large desk, Jace gently sits you down, his dark brown orbs staring into your own, eager with lust.

“Enlighten me, my Prince. Let me know what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.” You say, gasping as Jace unties the sash of your trousers.

Smirking in delight, Jace carefully undos the straps of your heels, and slides your trousers down your legs. Basking in your body, his once boyish eyes light up with a devilish intent.

“By the Gods… so sweet for me.” He states.

Running a series of hungry kisses along your legs, you uncontrollably shiver at the sensation. Gripping your hips in his fingers, Jace teases yours throbbing folds with his tongue, knowing how to get you numb.

“That’s my girl.” Jace whispers into your skin.

Closing his mouth around your entrance, Jace props your leg around his shoulder. Swirling his tongue past your opening, a ragged moan escapes your lips, and you run your fingers through his dark locks. Feeling your pulse rise in your fingertips, a strong growl emanates from Jace’s chest, allowing his hunger for your lust to break the very windows of the room.

Leaning your head back, multiple multicolored stars fill the darkness behind your closed lids. Briefly moving your hips against the wooden table, a tingling sensation starts to rise in your core, signaling that you’re reaching your end.

“Jace, please. I can’t…” You beg, scrunching Jace’s dark curls in your fingers.

Reaching up to cup your breast, Jace continues to venture deeper inside of you, determined to taste every inch of you. Suddenly, your legs spasm and you quickly reach your end.

“…Jacaerys…!” You gasp, not caring if anyone hears you.

Jace’s grip around your hips loosens and he crawls up your body, cocooning your shaking form in his arms. Burying your face in his neck, the collective scents of Vermax, water lilies, and the vast ocean being a wonderful distraction from the events going on outside your room.

Gazing at Jace, the two of you erupt in a small moment of laughter and delightful smiles that felt long overdue. Running your fingers through Jace’s locks, you bring his chin up to face you.

“I love you, Jace. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” You address, tracing the outline of his strong face.

“And I you.” He vows, covering you with his cloak.

a/n pt. two ~ oml this man.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacareys x y/n #jacareys fic #jacareys velaryon smut #harry collett #george rr martin #game of thrones

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neckopillows · 1 year ago

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buzju · 2 years ago

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Buzju Foldable Pillow

Buzju is made right here in Los Angeles so we have a one-on-one relationship with the people who make this all possible. The best part is when they see us coming and shout out our names.

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lacedinweb22 · 1 year ago

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Miguel O’Hara x reader ⋅⟡⋅ Boyfriend Headcanons ⋅⟡⋅ On Your Period 🦇

nsfw 18+ CW: menstruation, menstrual cramps, oral sex, blood They get dirtier as you read down so if you want to avoid the smut, just read 1-4 ;) This is dedicated to all of my fellow bleeding humans ❤️‍🔥🩸🕸️ stay strong warriors 🫡

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

✣ Miguel takes time off of work when you’re on your period. He’s his own boss anyways, so he gladly stays home for days at a time to be your caretaker. He loves feeling needed. He loves putting all of his attention on you, and on making you feel good. You lay in bed, he spoons you and puts your favorite show on his laptop in front of you; he knows you’ll only be able to listen to it, closing your eyes and meditating through the pain. He’ll watch it from behind you, rubbing his big hand along the curve of your waist. He’ll prop his head up on one hand while he watches the show, softly chuckling to himself, as you fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and exhales of amusement.

✣ He acts as your own personal heating pad. You’ll lay on your stomach as Miguel lays sideways beside you, resting his warm face on your lower back, with one large hand on the back of your thigh. He knows you need warmth and pressure on you when you’re cramping, so he provides just that. You moan and groan when you get those sudden stabbing pains, signaling Miguel to rub your lower back and give you warm kisses as he mutters, “Lo siento, mi amor. Take deep breaths.” He rubs your back, as you dig your face into the pillow, groaning and wincing at every stab. He squeezes your thigh tightly, assuring you he’s there for you. He stresses out everytime you groan, wincing at the sound of your pain. He becomes restless, offering you different medications or demanding he spoon you so he can hold you tightly against him, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower stomach, putting pressure and heat to your painful parts. When you lay on your back, he’ll lay on his side, his face in the crook of your neck, as he rubs your lower stomach, muttering in Spanish, words of comfort. He kisses your neck, sucking and brushing his fangs across your wet skin, distracting you from the war going on inside of you.

✣ He gives you endless massages. Though he offers this even when you’re not menstruating, he’s especially desperate to make you feel good. He’ll sit at the edge of the bed massaging your feet and watching tv, as you lay with your head buried in your pillow. He’ll spoon you, his warm hand under your shirt massaging your sore breasts as you moan and hum from relief. You also love to lay on top of him, straddling him, your thighs wrapped around him, your bodies pushed together creating the heat and pressure your uterus is begging for. Your face rests in his neck, as he unsheathes his claws to scratch and massage your scalp gently. His big hands also find their way to your back under your shirt. He presses his fingertips into your skin, massaging your pressure points and creating heat all over. He explores your body, squeezing your hips tightly, then kneading your thighs as they envelope his waist.

✣ He keeps you fed. He’ll constantly leave bed and come back to bring you hot tea or chocolate. He’ll cook whatever you request or pick up whatever take-out you’re craving, and eat with you in bed as you binge watch your tv show of choice.

✣ He loves your scent. He can differentiate when you're ovulating and when you're menstruating. On your ovulation days, he’s wild around you, your scent provoking his beast-like appetite. On your period though, it’s a whole other scent he can't get enough of. He’s almost blood-thirsty. You teasingly call him your vampire; he chases after your scent and even craves the taste of your iron-enhanced slick. You were embarrassed about it at first, but after him constantly whining and begging you to let him dig his face in between your thighs, inhaling your scent, you accepted and embraced his cravings for you.

✣ He loves giving you head. He’ll lay a towel under you, and go to town, loving his ability to make you feel good. He loves the taste of you, your wet heat tasting of your cum mixed with the metallic taste of blood spread between your thighs. He also loves that you’re extra sensitive, making the pleasure that much more intense and rewarding. You moan even louder, desperate for that relief, which you both know, only he can provide. He loves making you whine and whimper from pleasure rather than pain. He’ll finish you off, his face covered in your blood, then he’ll run a warm bath for the two of you.

He knows he’ll never understand the pain you’re going through, but he can at least be there for you, and make you feel good in every other aspect he has control over.

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 2 months ago

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October 09 - Impact Play

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda spanks you and makes you cum.

content warnings: impact play

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Wanda’s cold fingers dance along your spine, feeling every vertebrae as she gently makes her way from your neck down towards your tailbone. You shiver, feeling goosebumps erupt in the wake of her touch. With your eyes blindfolded and head buried in a pillow, every touch is intensified, like small bolts of electricity that hum beneath your skin.

“Comfortable?” Her voice is warm and low, murmured in your ear as you sigh.

“Mhmm,” you mutter, your words accompanied by your uncoordinated nodding into the pillow. Wanda chuckles somewhere above you, her fingers still moving over your spine.

Stretching out, you pull slightly at the handcuffs connecting your wrists. You were comfortable, safe even, in the knowledge that you were under Wanda’s control. Wherever she was in charge of a scene, you absolutely loved the loss of control and power. Handing over your body and freedom to her, even if only for an hour or two, felt freeing.

“You’re so warm,” Wanda says, her fingers moving over your lower spine. You feel her lips press a kiss in between your shoulder blades, and your muscles relax even further.

Cold fingers reach the end of your spine, and you gasp as her other hand moves to cup your ass. Wanda’s hands are firm, kneading your skin and muscle as you feel your arousal build while she fondles you.

You hear the slap before you feel it, the sharp movement of air registering in your fuzzy mind. Pain blooms, a pleasant burning sensation that travels from where Wanda’s hand struck your backside down to your core.

Fuck, you can feel yourself leaking.

“So needy already, darling? That was only the first hit.”

“I-” a hand shoves your face back into the pillow.

“Did I say you could talk?” Wanda asks, her words sharp and voice slightly cold.

Shaking your head, you breathe a sigh of relief when her hand removes itself from your head. Her fingers resume trailing over your lower spine, her other hand massaging the place where she’d landed her first blow.

You wait for her to say something else, your body relaxing even as your mind waits for the next hit. Wanda’s hands are firm, pressing into your skin and rubbing away any knots she finds. She’s humming softly, the sound of her voice soothing.

Again, without warning, Wanda’s hand quickly comes down. This time, she lands four hits, two to each cheek. The movement is so quick that you barely have time to register the pain before her hands are back to gently running over your sensitive flesh.

You moan, the deep ache of plain quickly turning pleasurable as you resist the urge to grind your hips down into the mattress.

Wanda keeps humming, and you can hear her smiling as she does. You wiggle your hips slightly, and you can practically feel the single eyebrow raise as her fingers pause their movements for a moment.

“Is this your way of begging for more? Or is your body just that desperate to be played with, sweetheart?”

You can’t respond, so you settle for whining and moving your hips once more. This time, the movement is more intentional, and Wanda chuckles at your boldness. Her hands move away from your body, and you tense slightly in preparation.

Pain blooms from your ass, her hands hitting solidly as slaps echo around the bedroom. The rhythmic hits and pleasant ache increase your arousal and push you into a vanilla-scented headspace. You can feel yourself relaxing even more, something clicking into place in your mind as you fully submit to Wanda.

There is a momentary pause, but you’re too spaced out to even realize it. After a few seconds, you register that the hits have stopped, and turn to look towards Wanda. Before your head can even lift off the pillow, you feel something hit your ass.

It’s heavy, and the pain is a deep ache that spreads and twists through you while you leak onto the mattress. Wanda brings the paddle down again and again, making sure to hit both your cheeks evenly until your skin is bright red and tender to the touch.

“Oh, darling. Your skin is so hot,” Wanda murmurs, her hands gently running over your red flesh.

You moan, the feather-light touches of her fingers sending your senses spiraling into pleasure as you sink further into subspace.

Wanda’s fingers move lower, gently running over your dripping pussy. She swirls her forefinger around your clit a few times, drawing desperate moans from you. You feel her lips pressing against your back as she kisses down your spine.

“Your body craves pain, doesn’t it?”

Nodding feebly, you rut your hips forward as Wanda begins to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses on your hot skin. Tingles of pain and pleasure course through you with each kiss, her teeth nipping at your skin occasionally.

You hear a buzzing sound, and your brain starts working again. You want to protest, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth when Wanda firmly presses a vibrator against your throbbing clit is a pathetic moan.

A sharp slap against your sensitive ass causes a yelp to force its way out of you. You feel Wanda’s hand gently rubbing the spot.

“Color?”

“Mmpph… yellow.”

You hear Wanda humming behind you, her fingers trailing softly over your skin. She raises the intensity of the vibrator as she delivers a gentle slap on your abused skin.

“What’s your color now, baby?”

“Green, thank you,” you say, moaning into the pillow as another soft hit makes contact with your ass.

“I want you to cum in under ten hits, understand?” Wanda asks, and you nod.

This is going to be difficult, but when you start humping the vibrator held firmly on your clit, Wanda doesn’t say anything. She simply chuckles at your desperation and clicks up the intensity once again.

Her hand comes down again, a bit harder but not enough that the pain overtakes the pleasure thrumming through you. She keeps hitting you, and you count 4 hits before your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

“Harder, please.”

This time, it’s Wanda who moans. Praises fall from her lips as she hits you firmly, and by the time she’s at nine hits, you’re trembling and shuddering as your orgasm hits.

It’s painful and blissful at the same time, your skin burning as you feel your clit throb against the powerful vibrations. The wet sounds of your pussy leaking onto the toy only serve to move you further into the vanilla haze. You can hear Wanda saying something, but your ears are ringing too loudly to fully understand.

A second, smaller orgasm hits you, and you try to escape from the painful stimulation. Wanda allows it, turning the vibrator off and quickly undoing your handcuffs.

“You did so good for me, love. I’m so proud. Catch your breath and I’ll be back with some aloe vera, okay?”

She kisses your cheek, and you lay there with your eyes closed as you feel her body weight lift from the mattress. You can feel yourself slipping away, drowsiness overtaking your senses. The last thing you feel before you drift off is Wanda’s gentle hand soothing your burning skin, and you smile.

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ohbo-ohno · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 1 - Breast Worship

Price x F!Reader - 1.5k (on ao3)

summary: Price pays special attention to one of his favorite parts of you. (Reader's POV)

cw: soft piv sex, price has a big dick, reader is plus-size with big tits

The slide of John’s cock inside of you is just on the right side of painful, your head thrown back against your pillows and your eyes screwed shut as he fills you slowly.

“There we go,” he rumbles above you, calloused palm stroking your hip. “Takin’ me so well, hm?”

Your breath hitches as he bucks forward, sliding another inch deeper. “Fuck, John, yes–”

He swats your ass once, light for him but still stinging, tsking. “Language, love.” His hand drifts down further, groping at one soft thigh and petting you, your skin sensitive to the rough texture of his fingertips.

You nearly choke on a cry as he continues pushing forward, his heavy balls settling against your cunt a relief in spite of your difficulty getting in your next breath. You feel him in your guts. “Oh, God.”

He settles himself against you, chest warm and wide. Your breasts are squished a little uncomfortably beneath him, but the skin-to-skin contact more than makes up for it as he runs his hands up either side of your body, tracing all your dips and curves and giving you his weight.

You run your hands down his back, nails scratching along his muscles as you grip him tight with plush thighs and breathe through the sensation of him so deep inside of you. Your body adjusts quickly, well-experienced at taking him inside of you even if it's always a stretch, and it only takes a few heartbeats for you to be nudging him with a foot, urging him to fuck you.

He props himself up on one hand above you, cupping your face with one massive paw and stroking your cheekbone. “Alright, love?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down so you can press your lips to his, sharing his breath. John takes the chance to ravage your mouth as he wants, tongue stroking along yours as you leak steadily around him, cunt holding him tightly.

He tears himself away from you, head dropping to rest between your breasts, his head rising as your chest heaves. “Goddamn, sweetie, the way you squeeze me…”

You press your hand to his face now, stroking through his beard as he looks up at you, tits pressed against both of his cheeks. ”Fuck me, John,” you say, voice throaty and rough with need.

He groans, burying his face back in your neck as he pulls out, forcing himself to go slowly if the way his grip against your hips turns nearly bruising is anything to go buy.

You cry out when he bucks back into you, filling you to the brim again. You can’t keep yourself from tearing up as he settles into a steady pace, only pulling out about halfway before burying himself to the hilt again and again, cockhead brushing your cervix on every thrust. You let the tears fall, know that John only gets more aroused the more of a mess you are for him.

“John!” You cry at a particularly rough thrust, burying your nails into his shoulder.

He’s panting as he pushes himself above you, hands fisted against the mattress on either side of your head as he fucks you that much harder, lips twisted up in his own pleasure. His stomach presses against yours, his hair just long enough to feel soft instead of ticklish.

“Sweet fuckin’ thing, aren’t you?” He asks, pulling nearly all the way out on every thrust now, sweat dripping down his neck. “Jesus, look at these tits.”

You gasp as he buries his face back in your chest, quickly moving to your right breast and taking as much of it into his mouth as he can. Your gasp melts into a moan at the hot suction against your nipple, fingers curling tightly through his hair and holding him close as he echoes your moan against you.

“John, John,” you pant, eyes squeeze shut as he continues to fuck you, the combination of a thick cock in your pussy and a hot mouth on your tit enough to make you feel like you’re melting.

He’s drooling around the mouthful he’s got, pressing himself as deeply into you as he can. When he first pulls back he looks nearly feral, pupils blown wide and lips slick with his spit. He leans back just enough to look at his work, fucking you a bit more slowly now.

He grunts a moment later, shifting so one hand can cup the underside of your breast and lift as he slows to something just above grinding inside of you. You huff, the feeling of sweat-slick skin being exposed to cool air not something you particularly relish.

“Look’it that,” he breathes, brushing the irritated skin just below your nipple with a thumb.

“Beard burn,” you supply, feet twitching as you contemplate the best way to get him to move again. “Not quite as bad as chafing, it won't last long.”

He nods but you get the sense he’s not really listening, his thumb still stroking the bit of skin that’s nearly back to its normal color. He shifts then, scooting down your body now so he’s looking at your chest instead of your face.

You open your mouth to complain, needy and ready to be fucked again, but before you can get a word out he pulls his cock nearly the whole way out of you before burying himself back to the hilt, knocking any thought of speaking from your mind.

The pace he sets now is quick and deep, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot on every thrust and kissing your cervix, your slick making the glide of him inside of you feel unimaginably good. Your thighs grip him tightly, knees locked around his ribs and holding on for dear life.

He presses his open mouth to your breast, almost rubbing himself across your chest as he kisses every bit of your skin – your tits are far from small, he’s got a lot of area to cover. His spit cools quickly on you, making you shiver beneath his assault as he does his best to suck your entire tit into one mouth.

You scratch his scalp, pulling as he massages your unkissed breast with his hand, cock still fucking you open quickly enough to keep your eyes unfocused and your mouth limp. Your pant openly as he rubs his face against you, the extra sensation of his beard only driving you closer and closer to your peak.

“Feels s-so good, John,” you pant as he moves to your other breast, kissing and biting his way across as he shifts his weight, hips never pausing. You whine a little when he massages the tit he was just abusing, the feeling of his rough hand on sensitive skin making you clench down hard on him.

He groans above you, hips snapping against yours that much harder. You squeal when he bites your nipple, back arching into him for more as you writhe beneath him. “John!”

He’s close to feral above you, chin digging into your soft skin as he nips you with his teeth, leaving his marks behind as he seemingly tries to cover your entire chest in his saliva. The quick bursts of pain combined with the way his hands are massaging you yanks you right to the edge of orgasm, your breaths hiccupping.

“Close, close, John, ‘m close–” you gasp, nails digging into his scalp as you push against him as much as you can on your back, teetering on the edge.

When he bites one nipple and pinches the other at the same time, you fly off it, vision nearly whiting out as you moan and squeeze him tight. Your nipples are throbbing but it only adds to the pleasure, a sharp bite of pain to contrast the sweet squeeze of him inside of you.

He loses all coordination a moment later, face dropping to rest in your cleavage again as he fucks you without thought, rough and nasty as you start to come down. You whine and cry a little more, the overstimulation wracking your body and sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Fuck, fuck,” you hear and feel him grunt into your skin, his hot cum spurting inside of you as his hips slow down, his thrusts slowing until he’s just grinding into you, cock buried as deep as it will go.

You hold tight to his shoulders, heaving beneath his heavy weight. A moment later he pushes himself up, cupping your right breast and examining it closely.

“Pretty,” he purrs, running his thumb over the indentations of his teeth patterned over your skin.

“Felt good,” you say, melting beneath him.

“Yeah?” He looks up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen. He glances down at the other side of your breast, smacking it lightly enough that it could almost be a tap. “Should make this one match then.”

You’re already moaning before his lips even touch your skin again.

#bo writes #john price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #how do people tag for him #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #kinktober day 1

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anisespice · 2 months ago

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“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 3

one two

synopsis: “ just drop your boyfriend. ”

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!!), mikey and baji’s are fairly long, mitsuya’s short and sweet, not proof-read, mild mention of violence, mild angst (for the exes), and i think that’s it

notes: whew wasn’t sure where to take some of these, but i’m fairly satisfied with this conclusion for hate your boyfriend! thank you all for showing it love and i hope y’all enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05, @neverlandlostchild , @darks-pet-shadow, @captaincyberqueen

The sun was the first to greet you as it peeked through your curtains.

Awaking with a soft groan and a stretch, you winced at the immediate ache in your muscles that answered instead of relief. You began to slowly sit up, hissing through your teeth as you did. Blinking groggily at your naked form, you could vaguely make out the bruises painted along your inner thighs. The longer you examined them, the more memories that came flooding in:

Your legs were high enough to nearly touch your shoulders, spread wide and unabashed with your back pressed into the mattress, fingers tangled in silky tresses that curtained over your hips like spilled ink while an experienced tongue fluent in your pleasure buried itself deep in your…

You remembered. MIKEY had paid you a visit last night.

When your mind eventually caught up with your body, you turned to the other side of the bed hoping to be met with the comforting presence of your still sleeping companion. You grimaced.

Empty.

Tears slowly welled up in your eyes. Biting your lip to push back the whimper you so desperately wanted to let out, you hit the pillow where his head laid instead, then a couple more times for good measure. To think that this visit would’ve been any different, that for once you would mean more to him than just someone to fool around with whenever he felt like it.

But, before you could wallow in self pity any further, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. You jumped, tugging the covers up to salvage what little decency you had in your vulnerable state. With your heart thumping wildly in your ribs, your breath hitched…Did he stay after all?

A second knock. This one a little more persistent.

With a stuttered intake of breath, you answered, “C-Come in.”

There’s a brief pause, as if the person on the other side hesitated in case they heard you wrong. You called out again, this time more confidently, your fists bunching up the sheets in anticipation at the sound of the doorknob turning; hope bloomed where dread had been planted. A watery smile grew on your face, however, the person who ended up peeking around the door wasn’t at all who you were expecting.

“Wha—Takemichi?!”

Your screech made the blonde startle, jerking back into whoever was standing behind him causing them both to yelp in pain before he was promptly shoved further into the room. Stumbling over his footing, Takemichi fell flat on the floor with a large thud. You winced, reflexively pulling the covers closer to your chin. Shortly after, the culprit revealed himself, a disgruntled Chifuyu holding his nose in pain as he glared down at the offender.

“Jeez, dude, s’your head made outta freaking stone?”

Takemichi grunted from below, “You were the one breathing down my damn neck!”

Like a deer in headlights, you watched the two of them bicker back and forth for a good second until the realization of your very nakedness beneath the covers caught up with you. With fire shrouding beneath your skin, you squeaked, “U-Uh excuse me!”

The two blondes froze, as if they just remembered what they were supposed to be doing. When their eyes darted in your direction, faces lit up like Christmas, Chifuyu and Takemichi swiftly turned on their heels with stiffened bodies while profusely apologizing as they faced away to give you privacy. Nervously, you searched around for a shirt or something, seeing clothes already waiting for you on your nightstand. You knew based on how haphazardly folded they were, Mikey left them there.

Your chest didn’t feel as tight anymore.

Without hesitation you snatched the shirt and sweats and quickly threw them on. Now somewhat decent, you gave the devastated pair the okay. “You can look now…”

Even from behind, you could tell how flustered they were, their ears red and demeanor meek as they hesitantly turned back around. Chifuyu scratched his cheek and Takemichi rubbed the back of his neck, both avoiding eye contact. The former was the first to break the awkward silence, “Sorry ‘bout that, [_____].”

He elbowed the latter. “Guht!… right. Sorry [_____].”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “It’s fine…you did knock. I just…wasn’t expecting to see you two.”

“Oh, right. Mikey called us. We arrived a few minutes ago, actually.”

“Yeah, he told us to check on you to see if you were awake—”

“He’s still here?” You perked up, hopes raised high to the ceiling. The duo finally looked at you again to show their confusion. Were you not aware of that?

Clearly from your elated expression, that seemed to be the case. Both nodded firmly, and they could’ve sworn the room grew brighter from your smile alone. However, it soon dissipated when an unanswered question still hung in the air.

With a confused blink, you asked, “Wait but…why’d he call you?”

They avoided eye contact again. Takemichi answered.

“You uh.. you’re needed in the living room.”

—

Though you struggled to get out of the bed and walk, you were grateful neither of them commented on it as they escorted you out of the bedroom. From down the hall, you could faintly make out a few other voices coming from the living room, nerves beginning to raddle as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt—More people?

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight you’re greeted with. Your eyes locked on the individual tied to a chair in the middle of the room, first. His head hung low, as if he were on the verge of unconsciousness, but there was no mistaking it. “A-Aki..”

Your presence was acknowledged instantly, every pair of eyes now on you. You felt rooted to the floor, utterly gobsmacked as you scanned the small area with alarms sounding off in your head—Draken, Mitsuya, even Baji came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of ice before halting in his tracks upon noticing you. He greeted you with a wordless, fanged grin before the one man you’ve been wondering about since you woke up trailed out from behind him.

His low, tired gaze slowly sparked to life when it landed on you, lips spreading into a warm grin as he opened his arms and said, “Mornin’, angel. Sleep well?”

You widely blinked.

“Mikey…what’re you.. what is—what,” you stammered, having difficulty choosing what question to ask first as you vaguely gestured.

Your boyfriend sluggishly lifted his head, revealing his taped mouth and swollen face. Your jaw dropped, hand flying up to catch it; man’s was fucked up. And to add insult to injury, the former blonde practically floated over to you to happily engulf you in his strong embrace, as if the scene in front of you wasn’t there. You hesitated returning his affection, perturbed as you watched Baji set the bowl of ice on the coffee table and submerged his fists in it to numb his knuckles.

You gasped before gently pushing Mikey back to shout at the ravenette, “Don’t!”

Baji paused, looking over his shoulder at you. With mild annoyance, he said, “But t’s my turn.”

“Fuck your turn,” you looked back at Mikey, practically staring into his soul. “Explain yourself. Right now.”

He frowned. “No good mornin’ kiss?”

“Mikey.” You pressed, making him pout. When he didn’t say anything in response, you huffed before quickly pecking his lips, face boiling at the fact that there was an audience; you could feel Aki’s glare trying to burn you both. Mikey, on the other hand, beamed with satisfaction. “Now, will you please-”

“One more.”

“Wha—No.”

He pouted again. “One more, and then I’ll explain-”

“Right now, Manjiro!”

Your volume was unexpected, the room startling to a halt. Before Mikey had a chance to speak, you cut him off by lightly shoving him while spewing questions at him, “What the hell is Aki doing tied up in my living room like a fucking hostage? And why are you giving our friends turns?—Turns for what? Is this what you’ve seriously been doing while I was asleep? Trying to make some stupid point? Sneaking around with you wasn’t enough?”

“[_____]-”

“Why did you make me wake up thinking you left again without saying goodbye, you asshole?!”

That last part resulted in you beating your fists against his chest, and Mikey took every hit without protest.

Draken went to speak, since obviously their leader was taking his sweet time providing explanation, but swallowed his words when the shorter delinquent merely wrapped you in his arms again, placing a kiss on your forehead to smooth out the stress lines. He lingered there for a moment before resting his chin upon your head, hands soothingly rubbing your back as you shakily returned the hug, tightly clutching onto his shirt.

Gazes respectfully averted from the vulnerable display, aside from Aki as he continued to watch the two of you, overcome with despair when it all sunk in; you were never his. He had always been second place when it came to Manjiro Sano.

“Don’t be upset, angel. ‘m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled. “Then why-”

Mikey replied, coldly. “Seems your little plaything’s been busy. He paid off a couple of third-rate gangs to try and ‘stomp me out for good’.”

You stiffened, pulling back to search his eyes for any hint of a joke, but the abyss merely stared back. With a slight shake in your head, you attempted to deny the information, not wanting to believe Aki would do such a thing. But, after getting confirmation from the others, there was no room for any doubt.

“Only took us minutes to find out,” Mitsuya said. “Some of their members were cocky enough to go around running their mouths in hopes of recruiting other guys.”

“We tracked down every single one of the bastards involved. Took a few days, but a success nonetheless.” Draken added.

“And guess whose sorry ass was at the root of it all.” Baji sneered, kicking the side of the chair and sending Aki toppling over. He landed with a large thud, moans of pain following shortly after, muffled under the tape on his mouth.

You winced slightly at the sound, but weren’t able to dwell on it for long when Mikey redirected your focus back on him with a gentle nudge under your chin. His expression spoke a thousand words, ranging from solemn to devotion.

Reaching down to hold your hands, he explained.

“That’s why I left town the night after your party. Didn’t want you getting caught up in anything until we got this shit sorted out.”

With a blink, your eyes briefly shifted over to the groaning figure on your living room floor. “A bit late for that.”

Draken shook his head. “Told him we could’ve gone somewhere else to do this. Dumbass just wanted to wave his dick around.”

Mikey flushed, glaring at his second in command. “Did not!”

“Did, too.”

“Shut up, Ken-chin...” he huffed, pouting. “I just knew he wouldn’t suspect anything if [_____] asked him to come over.”

Your brows furrowed. But, your questions are answered when Mikey pulled said device from his pocket, handing it back to you.

“Might’ve borrowed this while you were sleeping.”

Taking the phone in one hand, you could only stare down at your reflection in the screen as it felt like a heavy weight in your hand. Your eyes trailed over to Aki, meeting his pained gaze as he breathed heavily through his nose. A large part of you felt horrible. With him receiving a beating on top of discovering your unfaithfulness, there was no ignoring the lump in your throat as you struggled to swallow. "I...I didn't want things to get this bad..."

Mikey squeezed your other hand, "It's not your fault, angel. Aki just forgot his place, that's all." He shot down an indifferent look at his pathetic form, Aki's blood running cold as he attempted to make himself appear smaller to avoid it. The former blonde directed a softer look at you, rubbing your arm as he assured you. "But the boys'll take care of it, so don't worry your pretty head."

Draken nodded at Takemichi and Chifuyu, the two of them making quick work to sit the guest of the hour upright, each grabbing at the chair's legs to lift Aki up and carry him out of the living room. He slowly began to panic, eyes wildly looking around the room and then landing on you as he pleaded with them, yells muffled by the tape around his mouth. "Mmmh! Mmfh! Mmfhh!"

You gaped, nervously taking a small step forward, "W-Where are you taking him?"

"Relax. Pah's lending us his truck, we're gonna load the fucker up and drop him at the hospital. I wanted to let him stargaze by a dumpster somewhere, but I was outvoted." Baji grumbled.

You allowed yourself to find relief in his statement, although it only sparked another concern. One that Mitsuya picked up on as he waved a hand. "We'll have Michi and Fuyu keeping tabs on him, make sure he behaves."

Mikey scoffed. "Even if he's stupid enough to run to the cops, we've got a few of his buddies ready to pin a bunch of shit on him, if necessary."

Without realizing just how much adrenaline you were running on, you could feel your legs buckle under you. Mikey was quick to steady you, bringing you over to the couch to sit you down, gently. He gestured for someone grab something to drink from the kitchen, Draken being the closest doing just that while Baji and Mitsuya trailed Takemichi and Chifuyu out the door to help with the truck.

Sitting there, lost in your thoughts, eventually the cold sensation of the glass of water pressed to your cheek snapped you free. Absentmindedly taking it from Draken, you muttered a soft thanks before chugging it down. Mikey sat beside you, rubbing your back as he let you take it all in. The second in command was dismissed shortly after to give the two of you some alone time, him placing a hand on your shoulder before taking his leave and closing the front door with a slam.

You jumped, blinking for a moment. Mikey took the empty cup from your shaky hands, taking them into his own as he held them. “What’s on your mind, angel?”

Closing your eyes, you deeply inhaled. Everything. Everything, everywhere, all at once, that’s what. However, you merely exhaled a small chuckle in disbelief, shaking your head as you eventually lifted your gaze to meet his attentive one. Squeezing his hands back, you softly, tiredly, responded. “Can you come back to bed now?”

Mikey looked at you, caught off guard. Then, he offered you a small grin of which soon turned into a yawn of his own. “Of course, angel.”

“So. This a thing now, or..?”

Inui’s eyes darted between you and DRAKEN, all cuddled up on your side of the booth. He was sipping his drink nonchalantly with you wrapped around his bicep, playing with his free hand while scrolling through social media. Both of you exchanged looks, him swallowing and your thumb stopping mid-scroll, then back at the confused blonde.

“Yeah.”

“Pretty much.” You chirped.

Inui heavily sighed. “Great. Means ‘m officially a third wheel. I’ll think twice before agreeing to hang out from now on. I’ve been traumatized enough when you were just on friendly terms. And I use that label lightly.”

Draken rolled his eyes. “Tsk. We were not that bad.”

“Need I remind you of the time I came into the shop earlier than normal, and you had them spread across the—Ngh!”

“Whoops. My foot slipped.” You coyly hummed, going back to scrolling. Inui’s brow twitched, reaching down to sooth his poor shin.

Draken snorted, face subtly flushed having remembered that day, vividly. It was one of the times you and your boy toy got into an argument; give you one guess about who. He cleared his throat, fist up to his lips to hide the growing smirk as Inui shot him a small glare, mouth opening to say more…until he’s loudly interrupted.

“You should’ve seen ‘em. I had that loser running for the hills!”

All three of you paused, exchanging looks of bewilderment. Peering over the booth you could see a group of guys entering the cafe, their leader instantly being recognized by both you and Draken; Takeru. You blinked in surprise, the two mechanics watching with mild interest as the boastful nuisance picked a nearby table, completely oblivious to the attention they've drawn. His friends appeared annoyed, groans leaving their lips as they slumped in their seats.

"Yeah, man, so you've said...for the hundredth time already." One had said, the other shaking his head.

"I still don't buy it. I mean, you, of all people, scaring off the Draken? No shot in hell."

Inui's eyes widened to the size of plates, you nearly choked on air whilst the forementioned man merely raised his eyebrow at the slander. Him? Running from that wet napkin? Damn straight no shot in hell. Takeru, on the other hand, was very adamant on the events being true.

He gave a smug laugh, sounding like a cartoon villain as he crossed his arms in triumph. "Well, you better believe it! I told him off for getting too friendly with [_____] and left him picking himself off the floor afterwards. It was light work."

His friends didn't look convinced in the slightest. "Mhm." "Sure, dude."

"I'm serious!"

Draken set his drink down, wry smirk growing on his face. He then cracked his neck and his knuckles as he readied himself for a much-deserved confrontation. Inui sighed, following suit as he rolled his shoulders back before standing. You sat up on your knees, whining at him as you tugged on his sleeve. "Don't kill him, Ken, I still need to get some of my things from his place..."

"I'll buy you new shit, doll." He said, gun-metal eyes hardening as he looked over at the other table. "'fraid I can't make any promises this time."

With Takeru facing the opposite direction, there was no way for him to notice the impending doom behind him. His friends, however, resemble deer in headlights at the sight of the six-foot-one and five-foot-ten approaching. Instantly recognizing the infamous dragon tattoo, they knew their friend's fate was about to be sealed. One gulped and the other merely closed his eyes in prayer.

Takeru tilted his head at them, brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, only for a large hand to latch onto his shoulder and squeeze, rendering him speechless as pain racked through his body like red alerts across a screen. Draken leered over him like a blanket of death, wearing a sharp grin as he spoke venomously.

"Oi. Mr. Light Work. Why don’t you tell me and Inui here all about how you had me ‘running for the hills’ and ‘picking myself off the floor’. I seem to recall a different scenario, but hey, you can help jog my memory outside, yeah?"

When Makoto first opened his eyes after what felt like an eternal slumber, it took him a moment to gather his surroundinngs. The bright, cold lights on the ceiling. The crisp smell of lemon-scented disinfectant and latex. The rhythmic beating of his heart monitor.

Hospital. He was in the hospital.

With a few confused blinks and a groan, he wracked his brain to try and remember what happened that landed him in there. How long had it been? A day? A week? He wasn’t sure. But, he wouldn’t have to ponder long when his privacy curtain is pulled back to reveal his mother and a nurse. She gasped, flocking to his bedside with tears instantly flowing out of her face, kisses being showered on his bruises that instantly made him hiss in pain.

“Ngh-! M-Mom,” he rasped, struggling to lean away. The nurse, though nervously, advised against any sudden movements due to his weakened state.

“Ma’am, it may not be wise to overwhelm the patient so soon, he’s-”

She fixed the nurse with a hard glare, tears still streaming down her face, looking rather unhinged. “My husband doesn’t donate thousands of dollars to this hospital for you to give unsolicited advice. Do your job and get him something to eat.”

Bristled, the nurse bit her tongue before saying something she’d regret. With a small bow she excused herself, leaving just the two of them. Immediately, his mother went back to wailing about his injuries, asking him a million questions, whilst cursing about his ‘no-good significant other for getting him into trouble’—

“Wait, wait, wait. What did you say?”

“Hm? Oh, that [_____]. I told you they were no good, just based on their lack of decorum and who they associate with, it was bound to have you end up in the hospital, or worse. Thank God they agreed to leave you for good after this because I don’t know what I would’ve done if-”

“What did they say happened?” Makoto asked, exasperated.

His mother blinked, then burst into tears once more. “Oh, no! My poor baby has amnesia! Nurse! Nurse!”

“Mother!” He exclaimed, latching onto her sleeve before she could cause more of a scene. “Tell me what [_____] told you!”

“Honey, they said you got into fight trying to protect them from a mugging.”

Makoto froze. Then, with the speed of a man on fire, tossed the thin, scratchy blankets off to the side and jumped out of bed. Nearly giving his mother a heart attack, her nagging fell upon deaf ears as he made a beeline for his things gathered in a chair sitting in the corner, immediately searching for his phone. Upon finding the device, his sourtude only worsened when he saw there were no missed calls, no texts, no nothing from you.

He began blowing up your phone, but to no avail. Went straight to voicemail every time. Minutes passed, and Makoto grew increasingly more irritated to where one could see steam emitting from his ears. His mother continued pestering him, and soon the nurse came back with a tray of food, shocked to see him out of bed and joining the pestering, of which turned into the both of them arguing once more. But he paid them no mind, too busy delving into white hot hatred, ready to sign a deal with the devil himself if it meant you and that BAJI paid for humiliating him.

Just as he was about to dial again, there's a knock at the door.

The nurse and his mother pause their back and forth, looking over at the doorway to see a boy with dual-toned hair and a dangly earring. He gave a small grin, but his eyes practically pierced through Makoto. He didn't recognize the visitor, but judging based on his tatted neck and unsettling aura, he knew it couldn't mean anything good.

"Excuse me," his mother soon broke the silence. "I believe you have the wrong room."

"Oh, no, I have the right room. My name's Kazutora. I'm a friend of [_____]'s."

Makoto's eyes widened. He thrusted an accusatory finger at him, "N-No, I know you! Y-You're that felon, you work at that pet store with that psycho who attacked me, Keisuke Baji!"

Kazutora tilted his head. "Hm? Baji didn't attack you. You were knocked out cold by a thief. [_____] called him to help bring you all the way here-"

"There wasn't any mugging! I was assaulted by that thug in [______]'s apartment!"

"What?!" His mother screeched. Kazutora merely shook his head.

"Mm, no, I think you're mistaken. Baji was at the shop when [_____] called him. They're both at the police station right now giving their statement. They sent me here to check in on you." Kazutora lied effortlessly through his teeth, stare unwavering as he gaslit everyone in the room. "Clearly you hit your head pretty hard, man. Maybe you should lie back down. You aren't thinking straight."

Makoto floundered, gesturing wildly. "HE'S FUCKING LYING!"

His mother and the nurse didn't make the situation any better, cornering him and ushering him back to bed. Even though he struggled, there was no stopping the strength of an overworked, underpaid nurse as she slammed him down onto the bed, wrestling with him for a moment until she secured him with his mother's help, tucking him in tightly within the blankets. His mother fawned over him, combing through his hair, being careful of the bandages. Tears welled up in her eyes again, thinking that her son had gone hysterical. "My poor baby..."

"No, mother, you don't understand! You need to call our attorneys right now, c-call the police! That b-bastard's trying to make me sound crazy!"

"Maybe some morphine will help calm him down." Kazutora casually commented to the nurse. She grunted in agreement, worn out from dealing with the both of them as she left to prepare a heavy dosage.

He continued to shout in protest, all the way up until the nurse stuck him with the morphine. He tried to fight against it, but it was no use. And the last thing he could comprehend before the world faded to black was the hazy outline of Kazutora, approaching his bed as he leaned down to whisper a parting threat.

"Don’t try anything stupid. We know where you live."

—

Baji's phone vibrated, causing him to groan as he turned to squint at the offending device. With you fucked out, laid out, and passed out in his arms, he wanted nothing more to ignore whatever asshole was texting him. But, upon further inspection, it was his favorite asshole sending him an update on his little problem.

from : tora 9:09pm “ 👍. ”

He grinned, sharply. After locking his phone and setting it back on the nightstand, he tugged you closer to his side, exhaling deeply in satisfaction. He'll be sure to visit the 'brave hero' tomorrow. May even bring Patches.

He wished he had a camera to capture the look on your boyfriend’s face right now.

When Haji came over to apologize for his behavior yesterday, flowers in his hand and everything, MITSUYA was the last thing he expected to see. Said lavender-haired delinquent looked him up and down, disinterest coloring his expression as he leaned against the doorframe, shirtless, mind you. It didn't take Haji long to notice the assortment of hickies painted across his pale torso, all the way down to his pelvis visible in his low-hanging joggers.

Haji could feel bile rise in the back of his throat. Anger soon bubbled right after.

But, before he could even think to spew out threats, Mitsuya reeled his arm back and with the strength of God himself landed one crack right between Haji's eyes, sending him and the flowers flying backward, right off the stoop. He landed with a sickening thud to the pavement, flowers spreading haphazardly as some fluttered in the air until they eventually landed on the ground. Mitsuya shook out his knuckles, turned on his heel to grab the couple of boxes sitting near the doorway, filled with some of Haji’s stuff. He tossed them out the door to land right by his unconscious body, dusting off his hands before heading back inside, slamming the door right behind him.

Like he said. He only needed one.

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