#slight role models

[lavendercatboy-blog]

It’s weird being at a point in my life where hearing the sound of my own voice is not physically painful and makes me want to tear my vocal cords out and then launch myself off a cliff.

I sound like my older brother but with an inexplicable accent

I guess that’s neat

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends �� a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[bexisanidiot]

When you sitting in health class and get asked abt a role model you have then yo ass realizes you have no good role model

Can someone be my role model

[yeyinde]

baby blues

John Price + the panic of fatherhood x reader

pregnancy. babies. soft. sappy. angsty. slight allusions to rough sex. John being possessive and smitten. allusions to childhood trauma. the fear of children is somehow more potent than the fear of god. girl dad John. mentions of Price's divorce lmao

Most assume he'd take to fatherhood like he'd been born for the role; handcrafted to cradle a swaddled babe in his arms. The perfect father figure. But as he hovers over your sleeping form, the little bundle nestled in the sleepy bracket of your arms, he's overcome with a sense of dread that punches hard enough to shatter bone.

The reality is this: Price doesn't understand kids. He wants them. Covets them with a viciousness that almost immediately sets alarm bells off in the heads of those who were opposed to the idea of children, parenthood. Giving birth. But when it comes to being a dad, a role model, an effigy to siphon wisdom and knowledge off of, he flounders. Hesitates.

All he has as an idea of fatherhood is bruises laughed off by the neighbours as him being a clumsy boy. A man who drank in the living room, silent in his fury, his belligerence, until something—anything, really—set him off. He always seemed like he was itching for a reason to punish.

And god, was he ever fucking good at it.

If anger issues are hereditary, then Price picked up the generational slack of his seething ancestors. 

It's this, and the plethora of scars and burns that decorate his skin (well hidden, tucked away like a dirty secret because if Old Man Price was anything, it certainly wasn't stupid; he knows how to hide the ugliness of himself away, and how to turn a boy into a punching bag without causing too much damage, too much alarm) that make him ache something fierce when he sees his chubby little child for the first time. 

Price doesn't know how to be gentle. All he has are worn, rough hands and a constant stench of smoke. A voice that makes grown men tremble. An ire unmatched thus far in his life. 

Until you. Little spitfire. His hellion. You stood on the tips of your toes just to tell him off for being a stubborn pig! and then taught him how to hold you. How to be tender. But even now, he can see the wear on your skin from his bites. His propensity for violence that he morphs into desire. Into lust. 

How is he supposed to be a dad when he's this caustic? This mean? 

The answer doesn't come. All he gets is the rhythmic sigh of your breath as you sleep, well and truly exhausted after giving birth to their child. All alone. A constant in your lives, it seems. Aloneness. His work takes him away, throws him into dangerous situations. And you carry the brunt of it. 

It caused the rupture of his first marriage and is a needling fear he carried with him when you started pursuing him some odd years ago. To think that he'd be standing here now, gazing down at you with your heavy eyes and your soft cheeks, rounded with the additional weight you gained during your early trimesters. A plushness he's trying to keep on you for good—all softened edges, flesh that gives when he touches you, marshmallows out between his fingers when he squeezes.

You look good like this. Motherhood, despite your misgivings (it took three years of him hinting and hounding you before you'd relented with a sure, what's the worst that could happen? We're terrible parents and raise a terrible kid? Or we end up the catalyst for a list of psychological issues and get reamed out during their therapy sessions later on in life?), suits you. Fits you like a glove.

A fact you'd been quietly overwhelmed by in the first few months, grieving the loss of something he couldn't ever understand, or experience. A piece of yourself morphing into the mother that raised you. A kaleidoscope of feelings that you choke on when he asks, unable to render them into coherent words. 

But you're good at that, aren't you? Good at culling expectations, at superseding the limits others place on you. Even him. 

Especially him. 

When he'd said, don't know what you're gettin’ yourself into, love, you took it to the chin like he challenged you to a brawl, and set out to show him why you knew what this was, what he was, and why it didn't matter much. 

Even now—

Giving birth all alone. Overcoming the isolation of being shackled to a man who married his post first. Sisterwife to his career. Second in all things. 

Even this. 

He was in Iceland when he got the call. Laswell, of all people, was on the other line telling him his own wife was in the delivery room. Water broke. Baby is on the way. 

And you—

Don't worry, old man. Just do what needs to be done and we'll be waiting. Always. 

—well. You certainly are. Alone in a hospital room with the curtains drawn to blot out the sun as you sleep, cradling this thing he made with his fingers shoved deep into your mouth, uttering foul under his breath as he crushed you to the bed, rutting you like an animal—the most tender he could ever be—and he's suddenly all too aware of his own inadequacies. His shortcomings. Failures. 

He's not a dad. He's not the sort of man people think about when they think healthy father figure. He likes cigars and whiskey, and sometimes aches for a mission that will let him cut his knuckles on teeth—bloodletting; exorcising his demons out on the people he's sanctioned to kill. How is he supposed to guide a child when he threw a man over a railing without a second thought—

The bundle stirs. Wrinkled, red face scrunching up tight. Little thing is just like you, huh? All softness and give. All—

They cry, and it's shrill. Loud. It jars him.

Not the sound, but the anguish he feels piercing through his chest as they bellow out their confusion to the world, this lost little thing. Strapped with a father who was beaten black and blue and told to be a man when he cried. 

But right now—anger is the furthest thing on his mind. He can't fathom that emotion when his child is whimpering in your arms, chubby little fingers grasping at the air. Seeking comfort. 

Waking you feels cruel when you've spent the better part of two days awake. Four, really. You couldn't sleep when the contractions hit, wide-eyed and worried about everything. What if something went wrong? If they hated you? What if you hurt them—

Worries he tried to assuage, but couldn't deny he felt them, too. 

All he knows how to do is hurt. But as he reaches down for this little thing squirming in your arms, he tells himself to be tender. To be the man his dad never was. 

And they're soft. So fuckin’ soft. Tiny, too. His hands dwarf them, engulfing them completely. He tries to blame the way he trembles on the denial of nicotine for so long, but the mist in his eyes, and the burn in his throat, call him a liar. He doesn't know what to do. Even with all the hours spent thumbing through manuals and books and scoffing under his breath at the parenting courses you dragged him to (but paid rigid attention to every word the heavily bangled woman said to him), he feels lost. Unsure. The ground is shaky. Control slips. And that's maybe the crux of it all—

Babies can't be controlled. And it's the loss of this, what makes him whole, keeps him steady, that has him feeling rubber-limbed and fawn-like. 

“Quiet, now,” he murmurs, and then winces at the rough drag of his voice in the silence of the room. Too firm, too forceful. All the gentleness he has in his bones was devoured by your greedy mouth when you cracked him open like the legs of a snow crab, marrow slurped up until he was hollow. Empty. His tenderness rests inside your belly. What else does he have to give—

But the warm bundle in his awkward, clumsy hold stops their shrill cries. A girl, he remembers you saying. Crying. Sobbing into the phone when he called, all ugly and gross. He heard you sniffle, snot undoubtedly dribbling from your nose as you wept to him about how fucking cute their baby was. Their little girl. 

She's soft. Smells of a newborn, too—something powdery. Sweet. Warmed milk, fresh bread. The clinical books that made you squeamish, the ones that outlined every anatomical and chemical change to your body, mentioned that newborns smelled distinct to each parent. A phenomenon meant to encourage protection and bonding. 

It made you shiver, muttering my little parasite under your breath, even as your hand curved possessively over your bulging belly. 

He knows that's what this is. Chemical. His mind is evolving, shifting. Changing. And it's then that he feels something hot thicken in his throat. Something ugly, and bitter. The scars on his knuckles, the cigarette burns on his fingers are a sharp reminder of what his father felt and ignored. 

He scoffs, then, irritated at himself. He's a grown man and still—

Still thinks of him. 

“Won't be like that,” he says, still rough. Still firm. She blinks up at him, eyes rheumy and wide. “Not with you.” 

Never. Never. He pins the word to his pericardium, letting it rot his tissue. He'd rather die, he thinks, than ever hurt this little girl. But despite that, he knows he will. Inevitably. Just like he does everything good—or bad—in his life. Leaching from the goodness of others, sucking them dry and letting them moulder. A disappointment everywhere except the battlefield where he screams himself hollow and rents the air with his ire. Incorrigible. Immovable. An object of cruelty. Unforgiving in all aspects. A curse that follows him home, into his marital bed when he pins you down, and makes you profess your love for the beast inside of him. Never satiated, never quelled, until you're shackled at his side. Tucked away from the world he knows is too cruel to people like you who end up a corpse he has to step over on his way for empty retribution. 

He thinks, too, about all the ways he's going to ruin this chubby little thing in his arms, and wishes, suddenly, he was a better man. 

“Gonna hate my fuckin' guts when you're sixteen, aren't you?” In response, this little thing just opens its red maw and blows bubbles. He huffs. “You're gonna be nothin’ but trouble, mm? Steal my car. Crash it because your mum's gonna teach you how to drive and she backed into the garage six times already. Gonna gang up on me. Both of you. Little nightmares.” 

He's not sure what else to say, and thinks, already, that he said too much. Bared his belly to her too soon. She'll have this memory, buried down in the deep recesses of her psyche of her father falling to pieces while he held her. An impossibility, he knows, but can't shake the feeling that this, in itself, is an epoch. A marker for what's to come. All the ugly, the hate. The screaming matches that make him curl his hand into fists as she levels his failures at him. Not to hit. Never to hit. But to stop the tremble that won't stop. That has already started. The shake in his joints that tell him to run before he hurts. Before he ruins this precious mass of his blood and your tissue in his arms. 

“Gonna—” he isn't crying. Isn't. But there's a thickness in his throat as he thinks about how quickly she'll grow up. Age marked in the crows feet that gather around your eyes. The laugh lines. “Gonna be a fuckin' menace, and I'll—” he chokes, then, when she reaches up with a pudgy, red fist and snags the strap of his vest he didn't even bother taking off before he fled here. Fat, tiny fingers curling into the spot he grabs to ground himself from lashing out. “Fuck.”

He'd burn the world for her, he knows. Sacrifice everyone and everything just to keep her warm. Both of you. It begins and ends with this little thing that has your eyes and his nose. 

But he doesn't know how to translate that into love. Into affection. 

It comes out caustic. Abrasive. Possessive. 

And he is. 

Now that he has her in his hands he knows that nothing else will ever compare. That they'll never be empty because she'll always fit in his palms no matter how big she gets. There's only ever been enough space in his heart for you. Chiselled into with a fuckin’ pickaxe because you wouldn't wait for it to grow on its own. 

But there's give, he realises. This domicile you carved yourself has a room attached. A place for her. And she fits like a glove. Sliding inside. Cocooned against his pulse. 

He loves her. Endlessly. Forever. She deserves better. More. 

But when he tells her this, she makes a noise and it sounds like a giggle. 

“Laughin’ at me already, mm?”

She giggles again, and he likes that her laugh is a little ugly. A little mean. 

“Scarin’ the wits outta me,” he confesses, shifting her weight as she occupies herself with the clasp of his vest, disinterested in the man that breaks into pieces around her now. “I don't know—fuck, I don't—”

You come to in a panic. It starts as a slow roll to the side before your eyes flash open, wide and furious even as sleep congeals in the corners, pawing at the empty spot where the lingering warmth of your child presses into your chest. Anger, fury, darkens over your brow, and the apoplectic rage that simmers in the gaps of your dread, your fostering panic, softens him. Makes him melt. The burn of your ire, your fear, liquifying his bones. 

He falls in love with you a little bit more at that moment. When the snarl rucks your upper lip up, up, teeth bared to the world as you whip your head around in frantic, desperate dismay, searching for the little girl he knows you, too, will burn the world for. 

“I've got her,” he says, whisper-soft and low. Cadence even, clear. Tries to quell the howl he can see hammering its fists against your throat before it rips from your lips and scorches the world around you in a hail of horrifying anguish. “She's safe.”

It says something when you immediately go still at the sound of his voice, muscles going lax, slack, as you slowly turn your head toward him, blinking against the fog clotting your vision. Something that cuts him to the core. Rents his chest in halves. One side for you, and the other for her. Nothing left to spare. 

This feeling brimming in his chest sweetens when you startle at the sight of him, them, lashes shuttering like an old camera as if you were trying to sear the image in your head forever. Branded on the back of your eyelids. (A sentiment he knows all too well considering the stream of photos added to his camera roll of you and her nuzzled together.)

“You—” your voice catches, breaks from sleep. Fatigue. You swallow, slowly licking your lips. “When did you get in?”

Your eyes are glued to them. Unblinking. Widened with pure affection, the intensity of which makes him want to touch you, hold you.

“A few hours ago,” he murmurs, glancing down at his—

It cuts a jagged line through his chest. Knicks his bone with how deep it goes. False starts pressed tight to his heart. 

—his daughter. Fuck’s sake. 

He's choked. Strangled. Rendered mute, immobilised. It guts him, this. Daughter. The ring of it echoes in his head, filling the recesses of his mind. Embedding itself within his head. Congealed over. Fixed in place. 

“I have a fuckin’ daughter,” he breathes at length, the air knocked from his lungs. He's not sure why this is what breaks him, but it does. And it's you, then, holding the fracturing pieces together, hands reaching out—in a startling mimicry of his daughter, and fuck, doesn't that just eviscerate him—and curling against the heaving brackets of his ribs, boxing him in. 

“John,” you say, but your voice wobbles. Wavers. When he peels his eyes away from the sleepy yawn she lets out long enough to look at you, there's tears flooding your lashline. Threatening to break. “Fuck,” you say, crass and beautiful, and he's overcome with the urge to tuck you into his other arm, keep you both cradled in his hands. “Don't make me cry or my stitches will tug.” 

“We've got a daughter,” he says again, just to hear it uttered aloud. We. Yours. His. It messes with him. Bludgeons into his core. “We've—”

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” 

Your words shatter him, but the pinch of your hands on his waist keeps him from buckling. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice thick. Ugly. It's mangled in his throat. All fractured and raw. “Just like her mother.”

He shows his affection in the burn of his embrace. In the way he holds you tight, refusing to let go. Keeps his words callous and firm. Soft utterances, declarations of love, tucked away in the sure, greedy way he clings to you in his sleep. Yields to you like no one else. Lets you in. 

And he supposes he ought to say it more often if the way your face crinkles up just like his daughter when she cried, tears spilling over your rounded cheeks. 

“Don't,” you heave, ugly and brittle, and he thinks you're the prettiest thing he'd ever seen in his life. “Don't or I'll rip my stitches—”

He huffs. Nods only once, and then steps toward you. “Do you want—?”

“Keep her for a little while,” you mutter, leaning back into the bed, eyes lidded by fond. So in love with him, the picture they paint, it's almost sickening. “She likes you.”

He snorts. “She's only three hours old. Give her time.” 

You're quiet for a beat. Pensive. Mulling something over. It's never a good thing when you're silent, and the unease that grows in his belly is justified when you heave out a long, tired exhale through your nose. 

The way you look at him is raw. “You're not your father, John.” 

And isn't that just the worst lie he'd ever heard.

He scoffs, then. Shifts his weight, still cradling his daughter tight to his chest. “Mm, 'dunno about that.”

“I do.”

“Jus’—” leave it. Keep going. Keep feeding him lies as he stands here and pretends that he wasn't a horrible bastard for wanting this from you. From taking it. Strapping you with a man who's always, always, one foot out the door—

“No.” You say, soft and sure. “You're not him. I know you're not because you're still here.”

“So was he.” 

You don't acknowledge the interruption. Content, it seems, to rattle off lies and half-truths into the stifling air. Your eyes close, the curve of your lashes leonine. Breathtaking.

“Do you want me to take her?” You ask instead of the multitude of things he can see piling behind your eyes. Some of the ugly. Jagged glass. Others powder soft. 

He shakes his head. “You need your rest,” it's a half-truth. Fatigue clings to you still, swathed in the purpling of your skin. The slow, heavy blinks you take to try and fight the tug of an artificial sleep. 

But the real reason is this:

He's just not ready to let her go. 

Thinks, viciously, suddenly, that if he does, this moment built between them in budding, liquid blue will cease forever. Severed too soon. She'll carry the same resentment in her heart he feels for his own father, and he'll die in a shallow pit thinking about how badly he wanted just a second longer. 

Generational, right? Trickle down hatred. Ancestral rage. It's what your grandma talks about sometimes over tea and fried bread, half disbelieving you brought a white man into her home, and making a show, a facade, of wisdom even though he spotted the how to raise a child notebook she hastily shoved into the kitchen drawer when you arrived. Taking over in place of your own mother, stepping up. And yet—

She just doesn't get it, you said, rubbing your hands over your belly when she steps away after another long-winded conversation about traditions, spirits, and dead languages. Raising a child like yours in a world like this. She's just. I don't know. Ignore her. 

(He doesn't. But you don't have to know that.)

So. He clings to her a little tighter. Holds her a little firmer. Brings her close to his chest and hopes she can hear the echo of his heartbeat and know that this tired, old song is just for her. 

(The heart itself for you—)

And maybe—

Maybe he's not quite ready to see you be a mother. Some perverse part of him is already trembling at the promise of watching you nurture and feed her, the tantalising whisper is enough to make the air in his lungs turn humid, sticky. Tar, you remind him sometimes, having seen the ugly spatter of black in the grainy photos the doctor in Hereford likes to shove at him. Never too late to reverse the damage, John. 

Or maybe he wants you for himself just a moment longer. An hour. A day. When you're still you, shackled and bound to a man who reeks of stale tobacco, and started sneaking cigarettes in the dead of night like some pimply, awkward teenager when you first came to him, cheeks wet and eyes wild, and said:

“John, I'm—”

Pregnant. 

He did it, of course. Put that baby in you. Made it with his teeth buried into your throat and your hips canting up to meet him, taking everything he had to offer. Animal aggression. Nothing tender in the way he chewed you up, made you beg him for it. But still—

Wanting and having are worlds apart, aren't they? 

Faced with it, the consequences of his actions, he's at a standstill. 

You hum, and when your eyes slide open, he feels the mallet against his head. Cracked open. You fossick about until you find what you're looking for. Cheeky fuckin’ thing—

“Fine. Just pull up a chair before you keel over, old man.” 

“M’fine,” he grouses in that voice that serves as a dice roll between making you feel hot or homicidal depending on the mood he catches you in. Muttering something under your breath that sounds like a whispered plea for guidance (“tss, gimme strength.”)

But even with the waspish denial, he's inching closer to the spare chair left in the corner, looping his ankle around the leg to slide it closer. The squeal of rubber on aluminium makes him grimace, eyes darting down to his sleeping girl, nestled in his arms. Her brow pinches in the same way your grandma’s do when she's annoyed by the news. Her bingomates. The way he refuses her offering of burning tobacco and lemongrass whenever he goes away for a while, unable to really commit to this little, broken family that feels more like home than his own ever did. 

(“aint my place,” he says, and she scoffs. 

“fuck, s'matter wit’cha?” is her counter, the harsh line between her brows now perfectly superimposed on his daughter’s face. “tss. ain't yer place, eh. are you tryna piss me off? fuck, you make me mad—”)

He sees that spitting anger in you. Generational, he knows. The same inherited attitude his daughter will inevitably have. The one that singles him out as an outlier. Outnumbered. Three, now, to one—

There's got to be a reason why his chest bubbles, innervated by the thought of a Sunday dinner when she's old enough to watch her grandma make intricate bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and pins with thread and glass beads as you, her mother, cuss at the stove that doesn't burn as hot as it used to, flipping over golden dough in a sizzling pan. 

Orange juice in old cups your grandma kept since the nineties. Something soft playing on the radio. The peeling, waterlogged wallpaper flakes off the wall when you slam the pan down too hard. The way the spill of the sun through the rusting window rents the room in half. Pale yellow and oak. Little orange blossoms in soft pink above the speckled granite countertops. Everything awash in a gossamer of sleepy-eyed affection. 

Just like it is now. But—

He looks down at her, head full of lead. Cotton. 

Complete, maybe. 

“Don't know how to be a dad,” he confesses to you, and thinks of how much easier it is to slam a sledgehammer into a metal door than it is to peel back the veneer sometimes. “Don't want to mess up.” 

“You'll be fine.” 

The crinkle of the plastic mattress, the scratch of the sheets sliding across the bed is louder now than it was before. He cuts the gentle sounds with an abrading hum that clicks off his teeth. 

“Get some sleep,” he says again instead of the awful truth that buoys in his throat. Things like you don't know and I tricked you this whole time into thinking I'm a good man and look what you’ve let me do to you. “You need it.” 

Another noise. In his periphery, he watches you lean back against the upright pillows, lips parted on a soft sigh. He feels—

Small, then. An oxymoron considering he has to duck his head to get in and out of the room, towering over most he meets daily. But the inadequacies gut him. Vivisect him. He should be more comforting to you, he knows. This whole thing has been difficult. Tiresome. Cut into and having the life you grew inside of you cut out—

“Did good,” he rasps, still staring down at her even as he pulls the chair as close to your bed as he can get. “With her.” 

You snort. It's inelegant. Ugly. Brittle, like you're holding back tears. 

When he glances up, he finds that you are. “You're strong,” he adds, and knows he should have started with this first. “Doin’ this all on your own.” 

“I had help.”

It's awkward trying to adjust himself in the seat with his daughter perched in his arms, but he finds a way. Settled, then, with her still sleeping away, he lifts his hand from her back, keeping her cradled in his arm with the other, and reaches for you. 

The starchy sheets catch on the bramble of hair on his knuckles, the back of his hand, and the static jolts tickle against the rough scar tissue thickened over his knuckles, some still fresh, scabbed from the latest mission he'd been deployed to. You watch him, misty-eyed and tremulous, as he draws nearer, eyes flickering like a pendulum between the bundle nestled on the thick of his arm, to him, watching you back. Greedily taking in every spasm, every blink. 

Something inside of him cracks. Softens. He thinks, breathless, that you've never been as beautiful to him as you are right now. Bubbles of snot in your nose. Eyes reddened, dropping from exhaustion. A dizzying mess. The sort that speaks of tireless work, of physicality. Muted pain brimming in the backs of your eyes when you pull on your stitches. 

“Got a pretty wife,” he says, and it's not enough. He knows it isn't. Looks away before the fracture lilt to his tone breaks him in two. “And—” it's hard to say. He forces himself to. “And a beautiful daughter.” 

The tears stream down your face at this quiet, clumsy admission. 

“Don't—” you sniffle, hoarse. “Or I'll tear my stitches.”

“M’not doin' anythin’, love.” 

“Fuck you, John—”

He leans back in his chair with a hum, eyes slipping shut. A brief respite amid the panic still clinging tight to his ribcage. “Love you too.” 

It's quiet. Nothing but the soft drag of each breath his daughter takes, the tremulous sniffle you give as you try to dam the tears sliding down your cheeks. His heart hammering in his ears. He commits it all to memory. Glueing it to the fibrils of mind where it'll stay, embedded in tissue, for as long as he is of sound mind. 

Much like the grainy, black-and-white ultrasounds stuffed in his breast pocket. Tucked inside the drawer of his desk where he keeps the pictures of you. Keepsakes he's unnecessarily possessive over, elbowing the rowdier men who try to needle him for sparse information on the little wife he hides at home and the baby they'll never meet. Something just for him. Unshareable to the rest of the world because they don't deserve you. 

The feathered snores tell him you're finally asleep, and he thinks about resting for a moment as well—the bone-deep exhaustion he feels jetting from Iceland to home, to the hospital catches up to him with a vicious kick to temples—but the weight in his arm keeps him awake. Hyperviligent. 

There's this urge clawing at him, making ruins of his chest, and he answers its worried insistence by opening his eyes just a sliver to stare down at the little bundle in his arms only to find she's staring back at him. Eyes wide. Comically too big for her chubby face. 

She has your complexion, but his dark curls. Her eyes, though, are the perfect equilibrium between pools of sapphire, burnt blue, marbled with the dark gleam, that vibrant shade of yours that he's so fond of, the one that's often accompanied by a smart-ass remark. Seeing it gaze up at him with such incipient adoration knocks the air from his lungs. Has his heart shuddering in the brackets of his chest. 

It's love, he thinks first. Instantaneous. Apodictic. And then, cold, callous—

Chemical. 

Just to hurt himself, maybe. Just to let it cut deep. Scar. Because as he stares down at her, he knows it doesn't matter. No amount of hatred, of anger, will ever rip her away from him. His daughter. His family. His.

Like her mother. The root of it all. The catalyst. The start. 

Shackled to this gaping chasm that devours endlessly, never satiated. Always starving. 

Needy. Full of greed. 

Because even now he covets. Craves. Muses to himself about how he can convince you to have another the moment the opportunity arises and you're healed. Whole. Aching for it. 

He wasn't joking when he said he wanted a football team. 

But for now—

The soft sighs you make in your sleep, ones that almost sound like his name, and the comforting weight of his daughter in his arms are enough to make the beast inside purr. Preening under its own conquest, its own victory of successfully turning your body into a home he can rest his weary head on. Sacrosanct. 

He looks at her, then, and feels the dread ease into pride. Into elation. An emotion he knows should have come first, but it's here now, and that's all that really matters.

“Gonna be trouble,” he grouses, watching her pink mouth gape wide, blood-red maw grinning up at him in delirious glee only babies can imbue. Unhindered by the ruination of the world around them. Unfettered. 

Something he couldn't protect you from, but knows you're both on the same wavelength when it comes to her. At all costs, you'd said, hand against the burgeoning swell. And he kissed you until he couldn't feel his lips anymore. Until all he tasted, all he knew, was the taste of you.

“Of the best kind, though, mm?” 

In response, she coos. And he hews the sound into his chest where it sits beside the brand of when you first said, i love you, too, John. 

So, he relaxes. Whispers soft, conspiratorily. "Think you might need'a brother, mm? What'd you say about that?"

And she giggles.

[touyaz]

The ability to block whoever you want is like one of the best perks of social media but also humanity's worst enemy bc like curating your online experience is great and all but the way people shut out other's simply for disagreeing w their own opinions is so detrimental I think like if seeing anything that opposes you impacts you that badly I really wonder how you will deal in real life situations where you can't just Remove People

[fatkish]

Alpha Rengoku x Omega Reader

Pt. 2 NSFW

You met again during the Mugen train fiasco. You went ahead of Tanjiro and the others and met up with Rengoku

You both talked, well mostly you talked while he ate, about the theories you had for how a whole train’s worth of passengers could disappear

Rengoku tried to feed you and insisted that you eat but you told him you didn’t want to eat in the event that it gave you a cramp mid battle. Rengoku understood and backed off

When you fell asleep from Enmu’s ability, you dreamt of a future with Kyojuro. You both got married and had children. You were so happy

When you woke up and realized it was a dream, you knew then that you wanted to persue a bond with Kyojuro

When Akaza showed up after defeating Enmu, you refused to let the fight go on after Rengoku lost an eye. You ran in between the two and faced down Akaza

You refused to move and told Akaza that if he’s going to kill your mate, he may as well kill you too, since you wouldn’t want to live in a world without Kyojuro

Akaza, having a self set rule of not killing and eating women and Omegas, decided to let you both live and fled, (it totally wasn’t because his human memories tried to interfere with him)

Once morning came you turned around and began scolding Kyojuro for being reckless with his own life. Whilst you yelled at him, he stood there still trying to comprehend the fact that you called him your mate

When you were finished scolding him and asked if he understood you, he asked if you really meant it when you called him your mate. You shyly admitted that you wouldn’t mind being his mate

Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to do much as a demon slayer anymore, Kyojuro decided that he would spend his time training the next generation of demon slayers, that way he still had enough time to be there for you as your mate

Once Kyojuro got all healed up, he retired and you went with him.

Shinjuro and Senjuro were so happy to have another member of the family. Senjuro was so excited to hear that you would be living with them permanently. Shinjuro was glad to have an omega to help look after

As things settled down, Kyojuro began to officially court you, he made sure you had a comfortable place to nest, he made sure you ate, he kept you safe and at night he’d keep you warm as he snuggled with you, holding you in his arms

When your heat came about, this man unleashed a feral side of him. You saw stars as Kyojuro ate you out like you were his last meal. His tongue writhing inside of you, his fingers curling and stretching your walls as he sucked on your pussy/bussy

Kyojuro has a 7 1/2 inch cock with delicious veins and a red tip. There’s a slight upwards curve and he has about 2 inches in girth. His knot is about 3 inches

When you presented for him, he descended upon you and sheathed his whole cock inside of you before plowing through your insides. He growled and bit at your neck as his cock pummeled your poor sensitive cunt/bussy

When his knot swelled and pushed inside of you, locking you both together, he snarled and bit down on your scent gland, marking you as his as he came

After your heat hit and passed, his rut happened two weeks later. During his rut, he had you in all kinds of positions, enjoying you in every way he could imagine. You couldn’t walk straight for a couple days afterwards

As time went on, Kyojuro had gotten you pregnant 5 different times. Each of your children have his flame like hair. You both had five children, three boys and two girls

When you gave Kyojuro the news, you surprised him by giving him a box that had baby clothes in them. When he asked what this meant, you smiled and told him he was going to be a father

He sat there for a few moments as his smile slowly grew larger as your words sunk in. When he finally registered what you said he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around before kissing you

When Shinjuro received the news of his becoming a grandfather, he smiled and promised to be a better role model for his grandchildren than he was for his boys

Senjuro was so excited to be an uncle and helped you during each pregnancy. He helped you cook and do the chores and even helped you get around when Kyojuro was busy

When your first child was born, Kyojuro wept as he held his first child for the first time. He thanked you endlessly for giving him something so precious as a child

When your milk started to come in, Kyojuro begged you to let him taste it, he gave you his best big puppy dog eyes and you caved. Kyojuro fell in love with the taste of your milk and you’ve had to scold him to leave some for his pups. Whatever they don’t drink, he’ll finish off, you never have issues with leaks since Kyojuro and the pups never let your milk overfill

His pups developed their father’s appetite for your milk, they’ll drink their fill then take a nap. When they wake up they’ll be hungry again

Kyojuro is always happy to get the babies when they cry at night, his pups love him and they immediately calm down

Shinjuro helps out as well. He and Kyojuro take turns with getting the kids

Kyojuro loves his pups and he happily plays with them. He teaches his pups to fight and defend themselves and plays rough with them, even the girls, when they want to

He lets his girls play with his hair and give him ridiculous hairstyles to which he happily shows off as a sign of his love for his children

Your kids love their grandpa Shinjuro and will tackle him to the floor to which he happily laughs at

He reads them stories and spoils them with toys. He loves his grandchildren and constantly thanks you for giving him grandchildren. He does still miss Ruka but he realized that his children love him and that even though there is still a void left from her passing, his loved ones will always be there for him

Senjuro helps you teach the pups and often visits with them. The pups love their uncle Senjuro and they think he’s cool and fun

Senjuro helps you in the kitchen since the family has become rather large and Kyojuro’s appetite has only grown. You and Senjuro share recipes and love cooking together

You’ll give him advice on life and he’ll happily take it. You also give him encouragement to find love and enjoy his life

Eventually, once Muzan is killed, you and Kyojuro open a dojo, there, you and Kyojuro teach people how to wield swords and how to properly fight with them, passing on the flame breathing techniques to your children

Tag list: @imagineshazamlokimight

[princesssmars]

sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

[elssero]

/ BITE ME

-elssero kinktober

✟ vampire!reader x sub!prohero dynamite, dom!reader, fem! reader, monsterfucking, bloodsucking, cumming untouched (kinda), overstimulation, public, m!masterbation. porn WITH plot. sorry it’s a lot of plot. (you attack him, slight violence) (apologies for any typos!)

pro hero dynamite- often described as a strong willed, stubborn, determined and valiant man- a role model to many. but most importantly- he’s incredibly overconfident.

he could guess that’s how he found himself in his currently situation. on a solo mission deep inside dark woods that he’s unfamiliar with- a mission that he was warned over and over again should have been a team up.

but he’s dynamite? the number two ranked hero? a symbol of power and strength. he doesn’t need backup or help on trivial missions like this. it should be easy, in theory- at least for him.

the brief he was given for this particular mission has minimal information- with each victim seeming to not completely remember the events of the night they were attacked, memories coming back to them in fragmented pieces.

the case involves a series of attacks that take place in a small, rural town. rich with folklore and community, on the surface- the location seems perfect. having a low crime rate and filled with life.

from what each victim can remember, the attacks seems to begin the same. the statistics of the assaulted immediately draw the hero’s attention- young people, ranged in their early twenties with eighty percent being men.

now normally, in cases like these that describe who seems to be a serial attacker, the victims, most of the time are women. and although it is not impossible, it it very rare that most of the victims are men.

this in itself interests dynamite. he feels stupid, and incredibly sexist for thinking it- but he can’t help but enjoy the challenge of taking down a villain who appears to be targeting men around his age group.

seemingly- each attack begins somewhat innocently. the setting of a bar or the local park being the beginning of the story.

the victims describe being approached by an entity that seems to take the form of a beautiful women. with eyes so enchanting they struggled to look away, a smile so captivating they couldn’t say no.

their lured- seduced into a forest, the same one he’s in now. they describe following the women as she leads them deeper into the trees, under the impression that she had a home- or at least a place for them to stay inside the woods.

as they move further and further into the forest, a piercing feeling of unease fills their stomach. an indication that something isn’t right, but when the women turns around and gives them a sly smile they can’t help but continue to follow her.

a shift happens almost immediately- the entity they were previously trailing behind seems to disappear in front of them, moving faster than able to understand by the human eye.

it happens in an instant, a cold breeze catches the victim, before their able to process the change she appears directly in front of them, pulling said victim towards her with inhumane strength.

if they’re able to see her- for even a second they would take note of her eyes, once captivating now glowing a deep shape of red- she approaches almost invisibly, illuminated only slightly by the glimmer of the moonlight. sharp fangs extrude from her mouth for only a second before a piercing cold slices their neck.

victims describe feeling something they can only describe as being drained, their life force being taken from them before they blackout- waking up the next morning on the outskirts of the forest, alone.

as far as the local authorities are aware, no one had died from these encounters, just severe pains and blackouts lasting upwards of a week.

what intrigues dynamite the most about this case is the way the victims describe their attacker- as someone beautiful, enchanting, even going as far to describe her as having ethereal beauty, somewhat otherworldly.

he can’t help but be interested, wanting for himself to see the mythical appearance of the entity who continues to terrorise this town. the assumption the commission have came too is that it must be a downside of a quirk. a quirk that forces the inhabited town feed on the blood of others in order to stay alive.

the cold of the night is beginning to affect bakugo as he wanders aimlessly through the darkened woods, the air is cool and thick with the scent of nature. his senses are heightened as his vision adjusts to the dim light. it makes every silhouette of the trees, every breeze of a branch appear more mysterious.

every step on the soft and damp earth feels purposeful, amplified by the surrounding silence. the deeper he ventures, the more disoriented he feels. the trees feel like their closing in, wait? has he seen that log before?

that’s when he hears it, a louder, heavier rustling of leaves, branches snapping under what sounds to be a prominent weight unlike any of the forest creatures he had encountered during his journey.

the hair on the back of his neck stands sharply as he whips his head towards the sound- not fast enough when he hears it again on the other side of him. he’s being surrounded, circled.

the forest seems to breath with him as he takes faster, heavier breaths, fighting the fear he feels inside the vast, dark woods, filled with whispers.

seemingly in a flash he feels a hand reach his back- his reflexes allowing him to turn towards to figure before he’s tackled, his back hitting the ground his a thud, closing his eyes quickly as he winces in pain.

the feeling of the hand on his back and the weight of the creatures legs beginning to straddle him make it clear he hasn’t been attacked by an animal, certainly not.

upon opening his eyes, he is met with a sight he hadn’t fully prepared for. you. illuminated only by beams of starlight that struggle to penetrate the dense canopy of trees surrounding you.

he can see you though, the glow of your red eyes captivate him, he knows he has the right person. you look down on him, hair drapes along your figure, looking up at you now, he feels as through the previous descriptions of your sightings don’t even do your intense beauty justice.

your mouth is agape, breathing almost animalistic, before you move your face down into his neck, taking a long, drawn out breath. when you move back to look at him his breath hitches, a smile evident on your face.

“your not from here, are you?” the smile on your face makes him feel uneasy, unable to move even if he tried due to your intense grip on him, he can’t speak.

instead you nod, taking his silence as an answer, thankfully. “cute costume.. what are you? some sort of hero?” the mocking in your voice agitates him.

he groans as he attempts to move- you only increase the grip you have on him in return. “oh come on hero- your really trying to run away so quickly? the fun part hasn’t even begun”

the vice you have on his waist with your legs only tightens, digging your knees into the ground to capture him properly. this isn’t the way this was supposed to go- you had him trapped before he even laid eyes on you.

helpless- a feeling dynamite does not enjoy, but with every struggle against your grip it becomes clear you aren’t letting him go anytime soon.

a pit in his stomach begins to grow- you won’t kill him, it doesn’t seem to be your style but he can’t help the fear- and the desire that pools inside.

it was foolish of him to wander into unknown territory- he knows that now as he watchesyou take in the scent of him- his eyes go wide when he feels your breath on his neck once again.

a giggle escapes your lips, thighs tightening around his waist, an increased pressure building in his pants, he feels pathetic.

rushing to force something out of mouth he attempts to speak to you- “w-wait!”- it comes out a little more breathy than he’d like.

“huh- so you do talk.” you don’t appear to be taking him seriously- instead aiming to mock- make fun of his resist.

“w-what are you?” it seems like the right question to ask- even if he can’t turn you in, maybe he could get more information to give to the commission. even if the story is ultimately too embarrassing to bear. “oh? me? are you sure your in any sort of position to be asking questions right now?”

he lowers in his head in response “you have put me in a good mood.. it’s a little difficult to explain-” he doesn’t fully understand what you mean, opting to stay quiet and allow you to continue “you might not believe me, but i guess you don’t need too- i’m a vampire.”

his mouth forms an o in shock- and confusion? his brows furrow slightly, unable to determine if your being serious or not “w-what?- like in the stories?”

“hmm yes i suppose so-” you don’t seem to be paying any mind to his confusion- instead moving your fingers delicacy along his chest.

“so w-what you just, feed on people?” he watched the movements of your fingers- as they rise and fall with every breath he takes-

“i have too” you seem amused by his questioning- he wonders if you’ve ever had to explain yourself before, you look down at his face now, noticing his red dusted cheeks “however it appears that you don’t seem to mind huh hero?”

he feels uneasy, the tone of your mockery going straight to his stomach, his pants tightening “you wanna give me your name hero?”

“d-dynamite-” you shake your head at that, clearing unimpressed by his answer “what about your real name?”

he takes a second to think about his answer- not finding any positive reasons to lie he continues “bakugo- katsuki bakugo.”

you analyse him for a second- trying to work out if he’s feeling the truth, you take his flushed expression as honestly “katsuki huh- that’s pretty cute- and there’s so much of you too-”

you move your attention away from his face, moving your hands around his frame, a hand coming up to grip his throat “how do you feel about letting me you drain you?”

his breath hitches- his stomach begins to flutter at the thought- his hips rutting up slightly as he imagines it “you wanna let me suck your blood? hm?”

his answer is immediate- it comes of desperate, worried if he takes too long to reply you’d leave him here- alone “o-okay- fuck.”

he feels your breath on his neck again, this time even closer, your nose inches away from his nape as you bury your face into him.

with a vice-like grip the feeling of your fangs  immobilises him, the sharp cold bite pierces the soft flesh of his skin and a flood of warmth spills into your mouth- “taste even better than i’d imagined-“

it comes out deep and gritty- matched with the groan that leaves his throat, you both seem to be enjoying this- “s-shit”

unable to control himself- his hips beginning rutting up against your own- the bulge in his pants feeling to heavy to ignore, moaning at the feeling of you against his neck, getting impossibly more hard when he attempts to move his hands but is stopped by your grip.

totally under your control- unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, the feeling begins to pool in his stomach even quicker- embarrassingly quickly.

sooner than he’d like- he’s bucking up with an increasing fast pace, you don’t make any move to help him- instead entirely focused on the blood seeping from his neck.

in a sudden move he’s cumming- dampening the inside of his suit with his seed as he continues to rut upwards- unable to contain his moans of pleasure.

this seems to grab your attention- moving your head away from his neck and lifting your hips slightly- he whines at the loss of pressure “oh? this is new.”

you take a moment to look at him- taking in his fucked out expression due to both his premature orgasm and his loss of blood “god aren’t you pathetic? the feeling of me sucking your blood made you cum hero?”

degradation- this is new to him, infact everything going on right is new to him, he’s not used to this feeling of submission, it makes his cock stir. “oh. f-fuck”

you think for a second- contemplating your options before you completely remove yourself from him, ignoring his plea “yknow- blood isn’t the only way a vampire can steal human essence.”

manoeuvring yourself beside him you delicately place your hands around the belt of his suit- teasing him. his eyes blow wide as you tug on his pants, taking his ruined boxers with them. he groans at the sudden feeling of the air against his cock.

gaping at him, you run your fingers up his dick- it’s long and thick, covered in cum from the ruins of his previous orgasm, you take some on your fingers and lick it off- all while maintaining intense eye contact- “i think this will do just fine- you wanna cum for me again hero?”

he can’t help the way his eyes roll back when you hum against your fingers- sucking them clean of his cum “y-yeah” the same feeling of patheticness washing over him “fuck y-you!”

a low chuckle comes from your lips-“hm i don’t think you mean that- look at you! made a mess all over yourself-” the sentence itself makes his cock twitch-

wrapping a hand around his dick- squeezing it slightly before before you begin to move your hand up and down- listening to his groans.

“o-oh fuck” his words come out disgruntled- his cock painfully hard as you work your fingers up and down it.

“what’s that katsuki? you wanna cum?” yes- yes god his head falls back at your words, mouth agape as he’s unable to control the sounds leaving his throat- doing nothing to stop you ruining him. “y-yeah!”

“how badly?” he groans in response- unable to deal with your relentless teasing- wishing nothing more than to cum again.

you stop your movements in an instant- he whines at the lack of stimulation “cmon answer the question katsuki? how badly do you wanna cum for me?”

it comes out in whines as he speaks- “s-so bad- ah!” his hips buck up into you as you begin to move your hand again- attempting to match your pace.

unable to control himself any longer due to the sensation your movements- and your words are giving him- he cums again- this time shooting ropes all over the pair of you-

you move quickly in order to catch it all, licking up his chest to catch the parts that landed there, you continue the movements of your mouth until it reaches the base of this cock- now red and twitching.

“coming all this way to deal with me too.. i’m starting to think that maybe you came looking for this” he shakes his head in refusal-

instead you begin to take long- slow licks from the base of his cock to the tip- teasing him relentlessly “you think you can give me another?”

tears breach his eyes when you take his tip into your mouth, tongue swirling around it- “n-no! can’t ! it’s too much!”

you remove yourself from him in an instant- tears now rolling down his face as he whines “are you sure?”

he’s too far gone already- completely immersed in your movements- embarrassment bubbling in his throat “no- no stop! touch me!”

you smile- a wicked one, you know you’ve got him. “i knew it- gonna cum again for me?” you dip back down- latching your mouth onto his cock yet again, hands move to grip his waist to stop him fucking your face.

“gonna cum like some touchstarved bitch for me huh?” you stop your attack on his dick only momentarily to speak before lunging down again- this time taking him fully.

it doesn’t take long to have him cumming again- thick ropes down your throat as both of your eyes roll back in pleasure- “thaats it- good job..” you allow the remaining seconds of his orgasm to rush though him- by the time he’s conscious enough to open his eyes your already stood up, fixing yourself.

“this was fun dynamite-” you take a look at him from the ground below him- dominating him as he pouts up at you-

“however, if you come around here looking for me again.. i can’t promise that you’ll be so lucky a second time round.”

he’s upset- upset that your moving away from him so quickly, upset that you seem to be leaving him“w-what? what do you mean?”

almost- you almost take pity on him, his fucked out face and the dust of red on his cheeks- he looks cute like this. that’s the problem. “was already hard enough for me to hold back this time”

you begin to walk away from him- ignoring how he seems to grasp himself up- fixing himself in the process“well- have a good one katsuki-” your voice comes out even more mysterious than before-

“s-stop! where are you going??” there’s longing in his eyes- already missing the effect your touch has on him- but by the time he gets up to catch you- your gone.

he whips around in circles- hoping- maybe to find a trace of where you went, failing miserably.

leaving him alone- in that same dark forest he first ventured to find you- he feels a sense of emptiness, alone with a pang of drowsiness that seems to hit him all that once. reaching his hand up to take a feel at the pain in his neck- he graces over the marks you left. cold, wet blood lacing his fingers before his vision goes black.

[wwaheoh]

“Making Lunch For Them” - Victoria Housekeeping x gnReader (Platonic)

Alexandrina Sebastiane, Corin Wickes, Ellen Joe, Von Lycaon

a/n: was hunger bungers when writing this

You had been pretty steadily acclimating to your new part-time job at Victoria Housekeeping. It was pretty fun! Apart from the whole “fighting Hollows” on the side- but with your high Ether Aptitude and company sponsored martial arts classes, even the fighting from time to time became enjoyable.

Your coworkers were all very kind. The elegant and warm Mr. Lycaon, your employer, who always aimed to uplift you and never showed any sort of malice or anger whenever you messed up or were unfamiliar with a task. The graceful, gentle Ms. Sebastiane, your senior, was always so nice to you and gave you tips and advice whenever you asked, even offering to cook you food sometime! You haven’t taken her up on her offer yet, but seeing as how well she does the rest of her duties, you could only imagine how great her cooking tastes! There was Ms. Corin, a timid girl who always undervalued her skills- even if truthfully, they were contrary to how she described them. And Ellen Joe, who was also part-timing while attending school. She tended to sleep pretty often, though it made sense, juggling education, work, and maintaining social lives.

They were incredibly helpful and as you became more comfortable around them, you wanted to show your appreciation to them. It took a while, having to subtly probe for information while not giving yourself away. Thankfully after a few questions it was easy to figure out if they had any allergies or favorite foods.

On a weekend, you rose early before your shift began, pulling ingredients from the fridge and starting up the music from your phone. Recipes written down and tweaked to fit their preferences.

After a few hours, you added the finishers and promptly put the food into storage, lunch boxes with Halloween icon stickers slapped on. Frankenstein, a shark, ghosts, and a werewolf.

Taking a shower, you donned your work attire and made your way to the location of the job for today, something not too difficult, just some cleaning and guarding the premises, the usual. Now was the time to deliver your gifts!

Carrying the lunch box with the Frankenstein sticker, you made your way through the premises to find the first victim of your gifts, Corin! You knew she was nearest to where you were stationed- and after a few minutes you found her. Turning the corner, you found the soft green-haired maid cleaning up a vase with a brush.

Approaching from behind, you called out to her, “Corin! There you are!” “Ahh!” She yelled, nearly dropping the vase before quickly getting a handle of it and setting it down before turning to you. “Ah, sorry! Didn’t know you had something in your hands.” You apologized, knowing how the maid was a little accident-prone.

“It’s fine! Uhm, what did you need?” To answer that question, you lifted up the lunch box, “I made some lunch for you all, to show my appreciation!” “Oh! That’s so nice of you, but I didn’t really do much…” “Ah c’mon! You’ve done a lot! You’ve really helped me get used to this job and are a role model!” “Oh that’s so nice to hear…” She shrinked into herself, thankfully not out of negativity but basking in your compliment, a slight giggle escaping her. “Uhm, well thank you! I can’t wait to eat it!” “Hope you enjoy it!”

With that she took her lunch, taking the lunchbox with her to a nearby suitable dining area and opening up the lunchbox.

Inside were some of her favorite foods! Small decorations and a smell that was heavenly. It wasn’t heavy- seeing as she was still on the job, a perfect portion! Her heart wobbled, thinking of how kind you were to offer your cooking to her, she was going to enjoy it for sure!

Shark-stickered lunchbox in hand, you looked through the premises, before finding the shark-girl resting her arm on one of the shelves as she dusted them off. A lollipop in her mouth as usual to help keep her up.

Just as you rounded the corner, it seemed like she already knew you were in the room. Turning towards you, she nodded as greetings, “Yo.”

“Hey Ellen!” You lifted one of the lunchboxes up and towards her. “I made lunch for everyone!” She was surprised, touched that you went through the lengths. Gladly, she took the lunch box and opened it up, chuckling, much to your confusion and worry, as she did.

“So that’s why you were asking all those questions.” “Oh! I thought I was pretty subtle about it…” “You call that subtle? Well you pretty much got it perfect, was feeling pretty tired- this should help!” Pleased to have gotten the food right, you waved your goodbyes, “I’m gonna go deliver the rest to the others!” “Seeya!” She waved back.

Going over to a nearby suitable dining area, she set the lunchbox down and opened up, the familiar smell of her favorite food filling her nose. With a giddy feeling, she dug in, already feeling her energy coming back.

With a lunch box decorated with ghost-themed stickers in hand, you made your way through the halls of the premises and to where Ms. Sebastiane was directed to maintain. You wandered back and forth, confused from not being able to find her before feeling a light grip on your shoulder. “Boo.” A silky voice whispered into your ear, an audible smile in her voice. Turning, you nearly let out a yelp- only a small one escaping you, before realizing who the hand that was on your shoulder belonged to. The very person you were looking for.

“Ah! Miss Sebastiane! I was looking for you!” She nodded as you had quickly recovered from the surprise, “Mhm, what was it dear?” “I uh, I made something for everyone! You all have been really nice and I wanted to make something to show my appreciation!” Pulling the lunchbox out, you hand your senior the box.

Taking it with a grateful smile, she opens it up, the familiar smell of her favorite food filling her senses. A small chuckle leaves her, “So that’s why you’ve been asking all those questions…” “Oh, I thought I was pretty subtle about it…” “Don’t worry, we don’t deal in undercover work apart from what you already know.” Closing the lunchbox, she drifted close and embraced you. “Thank you, it looks wonderful!” You returned the embrace, after a few seconds the two of you let go and she drifted back. “I’m going to go deliver the last of the lunch boxes I prepared!” She nodded, bidding you adieu as you left.

She made her way to a suitable dining area, softly settling herself and the lunchbox down. Opening it up and preparing the utensils, she took a bite of what you had made for her. While she usually projected gracefulness and a soft professionalism, she could not stop the squeal of delight and the smiles brought from the gift.

Going over to where Mr. Lycaon was stationed with the final lunchbox, stickers of wolves decorating the case, you rounded the corner and found the boss of Victoria Housekeeping pretty easily, with him being vacuuming.

“Uh, sir!” You spoke over the loud fans inside the vacuum he was holding, with him quickly noticing you and turning it off. “How may I be of assistance?” His rumbly voice spoke in the now quiet room. “Well sir, I brought lunch!” You both approached each other, meeting in the middle as you handed the lunch box over to him, with him gratefully accepting the gift. “It smells wonderful, I imagine this is why you’ve been inquiring so much about everyone’s tastes?” “Ah- yes sir! Though I believed I was subtle about my information gathering…” “Haha, it’s of no concern. I thank you for this meal, you must give me the recipe some time!” “Of course sir! I have it written down somewhere at home, I’ll get it to you as soon as I can!”

With that, you bid each other farewell for now, with you going to where you had been stationed and beginning your shift properly. Lycaon on the other hand had decided that now was a perfect time for a break, finding himself somewhere suitable to dine before cracking the lunchbox open once more and enjoying what you had made. It was incredibly well made, making him wish he could have seconds. Alas, as he licked his snout and attempted to get his tail under control, he hoped to try more of your cooking.

[artssslut2]

New Normal

Dilf!Art x Reader

Summary: A lazy morning with Art Donaldson.

You and Art became inseparable soon after you started dating, well as inseparable as you could be while Art was raising a five year old. You had met Lily for the first time a while ago and she loved you, she called you her best friend, it was the sweetest. Nowadays you and Lily would spend more and more time together.

However you never slept over when Lily was with Art. You didn’t want her to be confused or get too used to you being around all the time. Even though Art was sure you were it for him. He was a father first and a great one. Tashi had Lily most weekends - when she wasn’t out of town coaching, but this weekend she was home and had their daughter. Art always misses Lily so much, but it was nice to have some alone time with his girlfriend. You stayed over since Thursday, it was amazing. Art was so romantic and caring. It was like you were royalty anytime you were around him.

You rolled over in the morning still groggy from waking up, you saw your boyfriend laying next to you admiring you sweetly

“Hey sleepyhead” Art whispered tucking hair behind your ear. You smiled and kissed his hand as a response “think about how great it will be when you live here.” He hinted curling up next to you

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled with a raspy sleep voice “when’s that gonna happen?” Art looked at you lovingly and took a breath

“Soon, when I propose.” He winked, your heart started pounding and you felt 100% awake. You loved art and wanted a future together, you knew this talk would come but it caught you off guard in a good way.

“Yeah?” You asked with an enormous smile that made Art return the smile

“Yeah” he chuckled “if you’d want that” he followed joking around because he knew the answer. You nodded enthusiastically and he laughed then you laughed crawling up into his lap giggling like a kid

“I just… gotta talk with Lily and come up with a plan so that she feels good, I don’t want her to feel left out or anything.” He told you in his concerned dad mode. You loved seeing him as a father, watching him worry about his little girl made your heart melt

“You’re a really great dad, you know.” You smiled, he let out a soft exhale and smiled slightly, you felt butterflies in your stomach before asking him what’s on your mind “D-do you… want to be a dad again?” You asked shyly. You were young and still wanted more kids, surprisingly it’s something you hadn’t talked about. You couldn’t read his face and started to panic a little “maybe… later on like someday?” You continued nervously. Then a smile spread on his face and a tear formed in his eye

“Yeah. Yeah I would love that.” He said wiping a tear before it could fall.

“Baby are you okay?” You asked holding his face and he just continued smiling

“Of course I’m okay. I just never thought this would happen to me… I thought I was done with that stuff I felt kind of I don’t know unlovable. I’m thankful for Tashi but that marriage took everything out of me. But when I met you. Baby when I met you everything changed, I felt so alive again for the first time in so long. I love you so much y/n.” He said teary eyed. You hadn’t seen art this emotional. It made you tear up too, watching Art learn to love himself again was one of the greatest things to watch.

“Art you deserve the world. You the greatest partner and father and role model, I’m in awe of you everyday. I want to help give you the marriage and life you deserve.” You touched your forehead to his.

“I’m gonna give you everything.” He said kissing your forehead and then you passionately. Then he felt his phone go off. He wouldn’t normally pick it up when he was spending time with you but since it could be about his daughter he did. He looked at it with slight disappointment

“Tashi has to catch a flight she needs me to go pick Lily up.” He told you. He wasn’t upset, it’s not that he didn’t want to pick up Lily. Not that at all, he just hated seeing Tashi choose work over their daughter more and more. He never wanted Lily to feel how he felt.

“Oh, do you want me to head out ?” You asked understandingly

“No… come with me. Lily will be happy to see you.” He told you putting a shirt on. You wouldn’t go with him on drop offs or pickups you tried staying out of the day to day routine. “You sure?” You asked

“Absolutely. Gotta get used to the new normal.” He smirked buckling his belt. Your heart fluttered and you nodded.

You and Art got to Tashi’s about thirty minutes later, Art went up to the front door and didn’t even get half way there before Lily burst through the door and ran straight into his arms, it made you smile and think about what a good man he was. He put Lily in his hip and then met Tashi by the door. They talked for a minute and then Art gestured towards his car and Tashi gave a quick wave in your direction. Then the door shut and Lily and Art were on their way to the car.

“Y/N!!!” Lily greeted excitedly leaving from the backseat to give you a hug,

“Lily!” You returned and Art smiled

“Y/n are you coming home with us?” She asked with the same scrunched up smile her dad had

“Yes of course I am!” You matched her energy and she was ecstatic “we’re gonna stop at Starbucks first though right?” You asked leaning towards Art and he gave you a smile

“I guess so” he said playfully as you have Lily a wink and she laughed.

You couldn’t wait to officially be apart of their family, they were your world.

[aledmorningstar]

╰┈➤Bad joke

Summary: Sukuna discovers that you don't like jokes.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Note: Slow updates, my editor and I are in a fight with my university administrators.

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, slight angst

The terrible hours of class had finally ended, the hard day of university had culminated its torture at 6:00 pm, every day you reconsidered the idea of ​​continuing studying so intensely, did you really need that university degree?

Without a doubt, life sounded more beautiful in an imaginary world, being a pretty housewife who patiently waited for her millionaire husband who loved her madly, your days would be spent helping your children with their homework and wasting an unreasonable amount of money on any whim.

“We've told you to stop daydreaming, it could be dangerous in the wrong places.”

Your daydream was interrupted by one of your best friends, it seemed like your group of friends had already finished putting away their belongings and were just waiting for you to leave the classroom.

"Oh I'm sorry. I was just thinking about the future."

“Is the young lady returning to the fantasy of married life with her impolite boyfriend?”

"Hey! I already told you not to talk about him like that."

You argue while you put your notebooks and computer in your bag, the one that your boyfriend Ryomen had given you on your birthday even though you told him that a gift was not necessary, you knew how difficult it must be for him and how limited which can sometimes be the money in your situation; his mother, playing the role of both parents and trying to provide a bright future for her children; Yuji, his twin who had to complete several courses to be a firefighter and also study a Bachelor's degree in automotive mechanics; and finally Ryomen himself, who had to complete his university career as a lawyer.

It was definitely not easy for him or his family, unlike you, who had lived the life of a princess in an imaginary bubble impenetrable by the dangers and worries of reality. Even though you had insisted on helping that modest family financially, you were not allowed to do so. Both Sukuna and his brother and mother refused to accept a cent of your generous support, saying that they did not want to take advantage of your kindness. That did not stop them from you gave expensive gifts to each one on special dates.

Maybe that was the reason behind that expensive gift from your boyfriend, one day he simply listened to you talk about that beautiful designer bag that was going to become fashionable with its next release on sale, he used all his savings and even did part-time jobs, washing cars, walking dogs, helping model clothes for the fashion design department; just to be able to see a cute and excited smile on your face.

You are a princess, the most beautiful flower he could find and of course he would give you everything you deserve, everything that fine society has given you and he does his best so that you do not have any lack by his side, to be worthy of you.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you had pre-ordered that bag thanks to your father's contacts and that you had to refund it, angering some merchants for their wasted efforts.

“Hurry up, if we don't get to the cafe on time the tables will be full.”

Like every Friday you and your friends got together to talk about the latest news in your lives, your social circle was mostly made up of girls just as privileged as you, it wasn't difficult for your father to convince you to choose a career in law, much less make you enter one of the most demanding and prestigious schools in the country.

Your friends are good girls, you knew that otherwise you wouldn't have even looked at them; However, like you, they were overprotected and followed the sophisticated rules that society had imposed on them. This was one of the reasons why they didn't quite agree with your relationship with Ryomen Sukuna, a commoner in their eyes.

Like any conversation between friends, the topic of boys and relationships could not be avoided, a topic in which you came to light with your strange relationship of “opposite poles”, the little princess of the city and the delinquent of the campus, it was the funniest and most interesting experiment your friends could witness.

“So… How is our little princess's relationship going? Did he already ruin it?”

Of course there were going to be silly comments that doubted that your relationship was authentic and that waited for the slightest mistake from your boyfriend to shout in your face “I told you so.”

"No and he won't, you don't know my 'kuna"

“We know his history”

Even though all your friends were always supportive and kind to you, there was one in particular who wasn't very nice. Ann, always making sarcastic comments and believing herself to be better than everyone, everyone could see how jealous she was of you; She had been the last to join the group, one day you saw her alone and decided to integrate her into your group, unfortunately you never found the words to tell her that you no longer wanted to be her friend.

“Come on, darling, everyone here remembers how your relationship began.”

“He has changed, he is not the same person he was before, he is a new man”

Sure, your relationship may not have started off in the most convincing way possible, there were lies, misunderstandings and a lot of tears, but everything is different now. Now you have the romance that any girl could dream of, one full of love, affection and trust of those you only find in books, you would have your happily ever after.

“Well, I'll wait for your bad boy to do one of his things and don't say I didn't warn you.”

"When pigs fly, that's not going to happen"

The atmosphere had frozen in an awkward silence as you and Ann exchanged a big forced smile, it was strange to see you angry because of your sweet personality, but it would certainly be even stranger not to see you jump into an argument that included Ryomen Sukuna's name, you are his unofficial lawyer.

“Okay girls, let's talk about something else…”

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

You love Fridays, the best day of the week, since you could sleep over at your loved one's house and enjoy the weekend in his arms watching movies, doing puzzles, taking photos, listening to music, talking, watching videos, going out on dates, ordering takeout or even when he played a video game on the console and you were left coloring the pictures he printed for you (sometimes he needs his space).

That Friday the drawings were finished quickly, so you decided to watch some videos on your tiktok while Sukuna played a video game that you only knew had weapons because of the shots. The videos on your fyp were about pranks between couples (something that amused you), some light and others a little harsh.

Sukuna was someone who was a joker, someone who liked to make jokes but couldn't stand having one played on him; However, you were a couple, a slight joke between you could be kind of funny, it wasn't even a funny joke you just wanted to see how funny his reaction could be.

A message made Sukuna's phone ring, you thought it was the perfect time for your little act as you held back your laughter.

“Who is sending you so many messages? You have another girl, right?”

Your comment surprised Sukuna slightly, you weren't the jealous type, he looked at you for a split second and that was enough for him to know you were joking, he can play too.

"Oh my love. It's not even one girl, they´re five precious ones."

The amused smile that adorned your face disappeared in an instant, being replaced by a strange grimace, your eyes glistening from the tears that formed and that you refused to let go as you bit your trembling lower lip, preventing any sound.

"Really?"

“Of course, pretty. I'm too cool to stay with just one girl."

Memories of your conversation with Ann invaded your mind, Sukuna Ryomen had a past that was difficult to overcome, would he really change overnight for you?

Your boyfriend quickly realized that you had started packing your belongings back into your suitcase, why would you do that? The plan was that you would stay with him like every weekend, what was happening?

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Well, you had dropped a little bomb that exploded in your face and you didn't like it, but you wouldn't let him notice that it dealt a low blow at least for you.

“I'm just putting my things away. “Can you pass me my colored pencils?”

Sukuna decided to make the difficult decision to abandon his game and pay attention to the seemingly serious situation that was occurring with his beloved.

He did as you asked, you put away your colored pencils next to your other belongings with quick movements and finally wrote something furiously on your phone.

“I asked you a question, what are you doing?”

“Nothing… I'm asking my driver to come pick me up.”

"Now?"

“Yes, now. In fact I'm writing to him 'Please hurry up, I want to leave here right now, come as fast as you can'”

You could barely feel the force and speed with which Ryomen snatched the phone from your hands, he stood up and placed your phone on one of the highest pieces of furniture in the living room.

"Why would you do that?"

"What do you mean why? Did you hear what you said earlier?”

The hardest question you can ask a man, ask him the reason why his girlfriend was angry. The pink-haired man's reasoning quickly went to work.

Connect the dots, you had gotten angry within a period of 5 minutes, you weren't angry with him before that time, all he had done was play video games. Had that bothered you? No, he had given you drawings of your favorite characters to entertain you, the only thing he had done besides playing had been answering your joke... Oh.

“Ah, that's it.”

“Is that all you will say?”

Okay, a mental note for Sukuna: You like making jokes, you don't like having them made or returned to you. You're a crybaby, but he still loves you.

“Sorry, love, it was a joke. You know that I only love you, you are the only girl who occupies my heart, the owner of my soul and my body, I would kill for you, ask me to kill for you."

Ryomen approached to hug you from behind, he placed one of his hands on your abdomen and one on your shoulder, crossing your chest to bring you closer to him, you could feel his breath on your neck and after a few seconds you shivered from the kisses he gave you. he left on your cheek.

“I didn't find your joke funny.”

“In my defense, you started joking that I had another woman. You’re a baby, jokes aren’t your thing, darling.”

The look on your face made him feel like he had just kicked a puppy, his solution was to carry you back to the couch and hold you in his arms.

"I'm sorry baby. You can choose the movie we watch today, deal?”

"Deal"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

[minnies-puppydoll]

Lucky’s KinkMas Event!

Join me for the 12 days of KinkMas with Twelve different filthy fics! 🐶

Take a look at the Menu!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•*.•*

12/01 ~ Snow Bitten •.*❄️

summary: you beg chan to play in the snow with you, but who knew it would be that cold? but don’t worry, he’ll always be there to warm up his favorite little girl.

tags: daddy kink, caretaker roles, praise, comfort, more coming soon….

12/04 ~ Gift Wrapped~*🎁

summary: what’s the best way to spend time with your lover if you aren’t tied up? minho found a new skill to teach his viewers, and you just so happen to be the test dummy.

tags: hard dom!minho, bondage, camming, vibrator, more tags soon….

12/07 ~ The Real Present . *💐

summary: you notice how stressed out changbin has been recently about christmas planning, and you just want to show him how much you appreciate him and give his beautiful body a break.

tags: body worship, cum eating, hickeys, more tags soon….

12/09 ~ Galaxy of Lights •*.🎄

summary: your boyfriend, hyunjin, takes you on a romantic date to see the christmas lights. but, while driving, he has so many words to say to you, and so many things he wants to do.

tags: car sex, semi-public, oral fixation, confessions, more tags soon….

12/11 ~ Goodnight Moon~*🌙

summary: your boyfriend, jisung, wants to stay up till midnight to see santa, but he needs something to keep him awake and occupied till midnight.

tags: cum eating, overstimulation, ruined orgasms, more tags soon….

12/14 ~ Red Nose}~*.•🦌

summary: a harmful argument with your lover, felix, ends in a flurry of words you both didn’t mean. you make up on christmas eve of all days, and your body can’t deny how much you’ve missed him.

tags: dacryphilia, facefucking, slight angst, degredation, more tags soon….

12/16 ~ Broken Toys >•<*.🐶

summary: you’ve been planning this scene with seungmin for a while, and when a secret present is given to you, he’s fully set on making sure you enjoy your christmas eve.

tags: mean dom! seungmin, puppyplay, slapping, more tags soon….

12/18 ~ Home for Christmas .*🚪

summary: you miss jeongin so much, he’s been away from home for too long on a travel job reporting overseas. when he comes back home unexpectedly, he takes back what he’s been missing.

tags: news reporter!jeongin photo exibitionism, pent up sex, more tags soon….

12/20 ~ Elf on the Shelf~*💫

summary: bangchan decides to bring over his friend to spice up your night, and seungmin decides to show him how it’s done.

tags: seungchan doms, facefucking, kinda gay, more tags soon….

12/22 ~ Christmas Cookie*•.•🍪

summary: you’re single, so your two best friends spend the night on christmas eve. jisung brung some films, and felix made some snacks, but both felt like they had alterior motives.

tags: aphrodisiacs, porn use, kinda gay, oral sex, more tags soon….

12/24 ~ Silver and Gold >•<*☃️

summary: your dom, lee know, is just helping his maknae lose his virginity, and you happen to be the testing doll he uses.

tags: leashes, hair pulling, instructed sex, more tags soon….

12/25 ~ Winter Studies•.*🌨️

summary: hyunjin needs some anatomy references, but he can’t draw while fucking you himself..so when changbin walks in on you modeling for his pictures, he figures it’s the perfect opportunity to get some muscle references too.

tags: exibitionism, very gay, messy asf, anal sex, more tags soon….

[kaiser1ns]

#. FASHION PUT IT ALL ON ME !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. takiishi chika, endo yamato

fluff + slight suggestive. everyone loves the designer, but the designer loves his model a little bit more than the others.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

Takiishi Chika was a name, that made everyone got goosebumps when mentioned. The mere thought of him, a figure whose influence loomed large over the fashion industry and as one of the creative masterminds behind 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊, where he shared the leadership with the flamboyant and public-facing Endo Yamato. While Endo played the role of the charismatic creator, Takiishi preferred to lurk in the shadows, and his critiques were final, his words absolute and whatever he decided, happened.

Through his distant approach, one thing was undeniable—his eye for design was flawless. And that’s how you, a new model, had caught his attention. You were still coming to terms with how you had become Takiishi’s assistant, but Endo often joked that you were more of his doll than a working partner. At first, it seemed purely professional with you being the one he called upon to wear designs he was unsure of, the ones that were about to be thrown out but once you put them on … they were suddenly the best-created piece of clothing. Somehow, you had a way of making the dresses he disliked, those dull and lifeless fabrics became art on your body. Effortlessly stunning as if they had always been meant for you.

You didn’t know why it worked, but every time Takiishi’s usual bored expression softened. He liked the design—no, he liked you in the design. It wasn’t long before he stopped looking elsewhere and was attached to your hip, he needed you and made sure that your schedule was the same as his. Thanks to Endo, though, you spent every day with the critique.

Tonight was no different, you were in his apartment, a space you had become more familiar with over time, even calling it your home on accident. You’d agreed to make dinner, something simple since it was your cheat day that Endo didn’t need to know about, but Takiishi never policed your diet and around him you felt you could be yourself, free from the pressure of the runway. He never expected anything from you other than just to stay by his side, just like now as you moved through his kitchen and hummed softly, occasionally glancing at him lounging on the couch, absorbed in his phone. 

“Do you want the usual drink?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He usually stuck to the same thing, but tonight he didn’t respond. Normally, he would give a nod or a low murmur, and now there was nothing. Takiishi was a man of few words, but he always acknowledged you in some way. “Chika?” you called again, but still no response. He was so engrossed in something, so the curiosity got the best of you when you wiped your hands and crept behind him to see what had captured his attention.

It was TikTok of all things. Your heart stopped when you saw the video on his screen. It was an edit of you, a compilation of clips of your viral moment when you wore one of 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊’s most famous mini dresses. It was a rainbow-stripped piece that had practically broken the internet. You were trending everywhere, and now it seems you still do. You remembered the chaos of that day, the media went crazy so did your fans. But what caught you off guard was the used audio and the caption that was put in. A mash-up of “One Of The Girls x Good for You” and the post description was “CAN’T THEY DATE ALREADY?”.

Your heart skipped and cheeks flamed as you noticed something else—Takiishi had liked the video, he even saved it to his favorites. The music continued to play, almost teasing you as you stood behind him, watching the video of the two of you when the final clip showed him, holding your hand and leading you into a limo after the show. A moment that was a pure mess, at the time, but now you saw it differently. 

He felt your presence behind him and turned his head slowly, catching you in the act of peeking at his screen. His golden eyes met yours, staring at your flushed face. Why were you blushing? The question was that he wanted to ask, though he didn't. The video kept playing, the lyrics of the song making their way to your brain—Let me show you how proud I am to be yours/Leave this dress a mess on the floor/Still look good for you, good for you, oh-oh.

You swallowed hard as the memory of that day appeared and how that dress indeed ended up on the floor of his bedroom. In Takiishi’s eyes, you always looked good, wrapped in the most expensive silk or wearing nothing at all. It didn’t matter as long he was the only one to see you, to hold and have you. His expression shifted, something hiding behind his calm facade. He felt like he wasn't being in his skin, something in his chest was making him uncomfortable and he was about to rip his heart. It was like he wasn’t in control of himself for once, and that unsettled him. Takiishi turned off his phone, but the echo of the lyrics lingered between you.

You smiled, feeling both vulnerable and proud because you knew that you belonged to him. You are proud to be his, even if you didn’t put a label on, it wasn’t necessary for what you had on. Both of you knew without voicing it or showing it to the rest of the world.

The dinner you’d spent the evening preparing was forgotten because what he craved wasn’t food—it was you and the taste of your love.

ENDO YAMATO

Endo Yamato was the embodiment and the definition of art. In every stitch, every fabric, every stroke of his pen, he transformed the materials into a well-painted canvas, and his dreams came true walking down runaways under the flashing rights. He was art himself. His name was synonymous with fashion because everything he touched became the next sensation. Top models fought to wear his work, to be scouted under 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊, but one model stood above the rest in his eyes.

The world knew you as the face of the 21st-century fashion scene, gracing the covers of magazines, appearing in music videos, and promoting the newest products, but to Endo, you were much more than that. You are his muse, the heart and soul of creations, his favorite girl. Whenever you wore his designs, it was as if the fabric became alive, elevated by your confidence and charisma, something no other model could replicate. And no matter how packed his schedule became—traveling to interviews, collaborating with brands, or organizing his shows—he always found time for you.

He remembered the day you chose him, how you could have signed with any fashion house you wanted, yet you chose him. It was a decision that left him awed and flattered beyond measure. The outfits he made for you, even before you joined, became best-selling clothes and still sold, in limited editions of course. You were already a rising star and the trust you put in him, he never took for granted. The others could wait, competing for his attention, writing him tons of emails, but you were already the sun in his galaxy; the brightest star of them all.

Today was no different with you in his private studio, wearing a dress he had been inspired to create when you mentioned how you would like to wear bold colors like red. The soft, red silk clung to your figure perfectly, and the asymmetrical design with the front of the dress is shorter, revealing the legs, while the back is longer, paired with black thigh-high boots, which contrast sharply giving you the edgy effect you wanted. His eyes traced every inch of the cloth, but more so, they lingered on you.

“Turn around, doll,” he said softly, as he measured once more, though he already knew the dress fit you like a second skin, it was just one of his excuses so he could physically be close to you. You turned, facing him fully, and your reflection in the mirror was a second bullet to his heart. Endo barely registered the fabric he tried to fix, it was you who captivated him.

In a few days, you’d be wearing this dress to one of the most prestigious fashion events of the season, an event he was invited to headline and though he was making sure every thread was in place, he wasn’t there just for the measurements and to play dress to impress. He called you saying how you had to do one last try on the garment...one of many last tries over the past few days. Of course, it was another excuse, and you didn’t mind at all.

“You look…” His voice trailed off, dreamlike, lost in his admiration for you. How could words even capture what he was? You weren’t just his best model—you were everything to him. The fashion world adored you and crowned you its new queen, but to him, you were simply you. The muse he took inspiration from, his most precious gem, the one who sewed up his heart hiding all the sharp things the string could be cut off. 

Rumors had started swirling lately. People began noticing how much time you spent in his studio, how he’d rearrange his entire schedule for you. They whispered, speculating whether there was more between you than just designer and model. But neither of you spoke of it. This remained private, a secret to share when you feel ready to.

“Yamato…Are you okay?” you asked, concerned as he stared at you, eyes lingering for a little too long making you think there was something wrong. You had grown accustomed to his perfectionism, but something in his gaze told you that this wasn’t just about the dress. The way you said his first name made him melt that he could sew you a wedding dress right then and there. For a moment he forgot about the dress, the show, the world outside.

He set down the tape measure and scissors as he stepped closer, his fingers grazing the smooth fabric, tattooed skin gently caressing your exposed shoulder then his hands found their way around your waist. You stood tall on the small round podium, slightly towering over him and none of that mattered when you were in his embrace.

“I just can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, though his tone was quiet you heard everything, you felt everything, and his heart was beating so fast, just like yours. You can’t get enough of him either, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. In his eyes, you weren’t just another model. You were the reason his creations had meaning. You were his one and only, and though the world might see it soon, for now, he was content to keep that secret between the two of you.

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[pandorafairy]

Secret Cove (Part 2: Busted)

Neteyam x Metkayina (oldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief)

Neteyam is 18

Contains: arguing, protective Neteyam, slight violence

I squint against the morning light and place a hand to my pounding head. Where am I? Someone moves behind me— Neteyam. His arm is draped across my waist, his long fingers spread across my stomach. Memories of last night come back to me instantly; us slipping away from the village, swimming under the night sky, kissing in the cove. Heat creeps onto my cheeks as I turn towards him. 

His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling. His dark hair frames his face as his tail swishes back and forth. I inhale sharply. We really should go, we’ve been out all night. Someone will definitely notice if we don’t show up for morning chores. But he is so peaceful. He looks like an angel. 

He stirs and cracks his eyes open, revealing their brilliant golden hue. “Staring at me, ocean girl?”

“You wish,” I reply and flick him with my tail. He tries to grab it but his fingers aren’t quick enough. I smirk at him. “You missed, forest boy.” 

He looks challengingly at me before flipping on top of me. My back scraps against the wet rocks as he leans over me, his face inches from mine. He reaches to the side and touches the end of my wide tail softly. “I didn’t miss a thing.” 

 The heat of his breath caresses my cheek, his face is an inch from mine. Neteyam smiles lazily. He is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. I can’t help myself. I reach my hand out and place it along his jaw. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes watching me, like he sees something in my gaze that intrigues him. 

I pull his jaw close and tilt my lips upwards. He leans towards me, his lazy smile growing by the second. Nothing matters but his lips as they brush against mine, just a whisper of a kiss. I open my mouth to kiss him harder when a voice erupts through the cove. 

“SISTER!” Aonung yells. My heart drops into my stomach. Aonung floats in the middle of the cove, waves lapping around his chest. His eyes blaze with fury as he narrows them at Neteyam on top of me. 

I push Neteyam off of me and we scramble to our feet. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I’m speechless. Aonung slaps his arms against the water as he quickly swims to the edge of the cove and climbs onto the rocks. 

“You brought him here?” Anger drips from his every word. He’s never been this mad at me. In the past, I was always the one who was mad at him. 

 Neteyam looks between us, assessing the situation. I take a deep breath. “Aonung, please. Calm down.” 

“Calm down?” He yells at me. He starts to take a step towards me but Neteyam steps in front of him, his eyes hardening. Aonung’s tail slashes furiously behind him. Guilt washes over me. My siblings have never seen me break rules before. I’ve always tried, so hard, to be the perfect role model.

Aonung eyes dart between Neteyam and me, his eyes flashing with rage and confusion. “This is our family’s place,” he says. 

I push past Neteyam. He moves but stays close behind me. “I know. This isn’t what it looks like—”

“Did you mate with him?”

“No!” 

“What are you doing here then?”

“Aonung, stop.” I have to stop his questions. He can’t think this of me. No one in the village can, I have a reputation and duty to uphold. Panic begins to coat my insides.

Aonung shakes his head. “You came here to drink,” he starts and points to the empty wooden bottle. “Drink and do whatever it is you two did.”  Neteyam blows out an angry breath at his words but Aonug continues on, “I thought you were better than this, sister.”

“Aonung,” I say, doubting myself for the first time since last night. I normally would never, ever do something like this. Something that could bring shame to my family. “This isn’t what it looks like. I came here to show Neteyam where we hold celebrations. That is all.” 

Aonung raises an eyebrow at me. “He was on top of you. It looked like—” 

I cut him off by forcing myself to laugh, and doing everything I can to make it sound convincing. “We were just messing around. It didn’t mean anything.” 

Neyetam becomes completely still. Relief floods Aonung’s features and his tail stops its angry swishing. “Good! I’m sorry,” he says to me and then to Neyetam. “I thought my sister had lost herself for a moment.” 

I give him a tight smile. Of course, Aonung would believe me as easily as that. He’s never had to question his older sister before. Neteyam says nothing. Aonung pats my arm. “See you soon for training.” He winks at Neteyam, dives into the water and swims out of the cove. 

I blow out a breath of air. That was so close–too close. I almost lost it for a second. A small hysterical laugh escapes my lips as I turn to face Neteyam so we can laugh this off together, but his face is like stone. 

“Neteyam?” 

He pushes past me and picks up the empty bottle. He shoves it back into its place before jamming the compartment shut. His ears twitch against his skull.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “We weren’t caught.” 

Neteyam mumbles something forcefully under his breath. He looks at me, his eyes full of indignation. “Doesn’t matter. Didn’t mean anything, right?” 

Oh, no. No, no, no. I reach out for him but he dodges away from my grasp. “Neteyam, I didn’t mean that.” My voice comes out desperate. 

He walks to the edge of the rocks, not meeting my eyes. 

“I only said that so we wouldn’t get caught,” I say following behind him. 

“So you wouldn’t be caught with me,” he states.

“No–” I begin to protest but he turns. 

“Don’t worry, ocean girl. It didn’t mean anything to me either.” He didn’t even look at me as he dove into the water and left me alone in the cove. 

~~~

I’m late for training. Everyday, we meet with the Sully kids to help them train and learn our ways. I’m so nervous to see Neteyam, my mind keeps thinking of a million things I want to say to him. I need to explain. I had tried to swim after him once he left the cove, but he was too fast. When I’d swam out, he was already gone. But he has to show up for training. I’ll get him alone then.  

I make my way quickly down the beach. It’s late morning and the group is already gathered by the palm trees. I can make out Tuk’s small silhouette and Tsireya’s wavy hair. My stomach churns, I don’t see Neteyam. Don’t stress, I tell myself, he’ll come. He always does. 

Once I reach them, I put on a big smile, pretending everything is fine. “Hello.” Kiri glances up from her spot in the sand, next to Tuk. Aonug and Rotxo turn around at the sound of my voice. Lo’ak and Tsireya don’t look up as they continue their conversation. 

“Hi!” Tuk says as she runs up and hugs me. I smile at her while patting her hair. 

“Sister,” Aonung begins. Seeing his face causes anger to boil in me, even though it isn’t his fault Neteyam is mad at me. That's all my doing. “Ready to begin?” 

“Neteyam isn’t here yet,” Lo’ak replies, leaning against a palm tree. Tsireya looks at me, her eyes growing concerned. I quickly face Aonung. My sister has always been good at seeing through me. 

“We can’t start without my big brother,” Tuk states before plopping down in the sand again. 

Aonung looks like he is about to argue with her when a familiar voice comes from around the corner. “I’m here, Tuk,” Neteyam appears from behind the palm trees and walks over to Aonung. “I apologize for being late.” 

My heart quickens at the sight of Neteyam. Lo’ak smiles at his brother and Aonung gives him a quick pat. I try to catch Neteyam’s eye but he purposely doesn’t look at me. He looks at the ocean and nowhere else. His shoulders are tense. There’s a crease on his forehead that isn’t usually there. All his walls are back up. 

“Let’s start with some breathing exercises. Everyone, sit down and face your partner.” I say, hoping my voice sounds normal before I begin to move towards Neteyam. He quickly grabs his brother and pushes him into the sand. Lo’ak’s eyes widen at Neteyam’s sudden movement. Neteyam sits across from him, his face unreadable. I groan quietly. This is going to be harder than I’d thought. 

“Need a partner?” Rotxo asks before sitting in the sand next to Lo’ak. 

“Yes, I do,” I reply and sit down right next to Neteyam. He stiffens as I cross my legs under me. Lo’ak raises an eyebrow at Neteyam before exchanging a look with Tsierya. She shrugs at him. 

“Begin with deep breaths. Focus on slowing your heart rate. Pay attention to the rhythm of  your partner's breath,” Aonung calls. 

We all begin breathing. Tuk and Kiri, Tsireya and Aonug, Lo’ak and Neteyam, Rotxo and me. I can feel the heat radiating off of Neteyam’s body. I want to reach out and touch him. It’s torture being this close to him and having him not look at me. 

“You okay?” Rotxo asks. Neteyam’s eyes shift slightly so he can see my reaction out of the corner of his eye. I nod. 

Rotxo smirks playfully. “Might be tired from your late night.” I freeze before forcing myself to act natural. How did he know? Neteyam stops his breathing. 

“What are you talking about?” I question, pretending to seem clueless. 

“I saw you leave the cove early this morning.”

Shit. Tuk and Kiri look at something in the sand, ignoring their breathing lesson and, thankfully, this conversation. 

“So what?” I argue, a little too defensively.  

“So, I know what happens in those types of coves,” Rotxo wiggles his fingers at me. “Didn’t know you got down like that.” 

Bile rises in my throat. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Neteyam’s thin tail twitches. I open my mouth to respond but Rotxo continues, “Who was the lucky guy?”

Lo’ak looks at Neteyam in confusion but he doesn’t notice. He is looking at Rotxo now, not bothering to hide his eavesdropping. 

“Stop talking, skxawng.” I retort before closing my eyes and pretending to focus on my breathing. 

I think Rotxo is done talking until I feel the sand shift beneath me. I open my eyes to find him right in front of me, a dangerous smile on his face. “Well, if you get bored of him there’s always me.  And if not me, then I can think of a least a dozen other guys who want to—”

I don’t even see Neteyam move until he is on top of Rotxo. Neteyam shoves him into the sand before I can even register what’s happening. Rage covers Neteyam’s face making him look like a vengeful angel. Neteyam balls his fist together and punches him. Rotxo’s head slams back against the sand, blood already flowing out of his nose. 

“Damn, bro!” Lo’ak calls as he jumps to his feet. Surprise shoots through me and keeps me frozen in place. What is Neteyam doing? I snap out of it and climb to my feet. “Neyetam, chill! He was just teasing.” Lo’ak yells again. Aonung leaves Tsireya’s shocked face and comes running over.

Neteyam doesn’t hear or notice our reactions. His eyes are glued on Rotxo as he punches him again. He tries to roll away and push Neteyam off, but it’s no use. Neteyam is too strong, he pins him down easily, mustering angry words that I can’t make out. I place a shaking hand over my mouth. 

“Help me!” Aonung motions to Lo’ak. They each grab one of Neyetam’s arms, trying to haul him off of Rotxo. Neteyam fights against their grip. He doesn’t look at anyone other than Rotxo, his gaze is murderous.

“Neteyam! Stop!” Tuk cries. Her eyes are full of tears as she hugs Kiri. Kiri strokes her scared sister's head, a look of confusion on her face. Neteyam never starts a fight. 

At the sound of his sister’s cry, Neteyam freezes. He allows Aonung and Lo’ak to haul him away. Rotxo rolls over, he groans in pain as blood covers the sand. Neteyam blinks like he is waking up from a dream. He looks at me first, his face raw with emotion; anger, sadness, and longing. I want to run and hug him but he turns his gaze to Tuk. Shame and guilt gather in his eyes. A feeling, I know all too well. He opens his mouth to say something when a voice yells at us. 

“Children!” an adult Metkayina sits on an ilu in the ocean. Their eyes widen at the sight of Rotxo’s blood. “What’s going on here?” 

My stomach drops. We’re screwed. 

~~~

Rotxo and Neteyam sit before my father in our family pod. Kiri, Tuk, and Tsireya had run to get Jake and Neytiri. They had slipped into the pod, worried expressions on their faces before telling the girls to run along. They stand behind Neyetam. Jake asses Rotxo’s face with a harsh expression. 

I stand against the wall, next to Lo’ak and Aonung. They keep whispering about how crazy that was. I don’t have the energy to respond to them. I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t even begin to process. My breath comes out in ragged, quick spurts as I try to calm myself. 

“What happened?” My dad asks, his deep voice echoing through the pod. My mother stands behind him and puts her hands on her pregnant stomach. 

Neteyam stares down at his five fingers, each one bloodied and beginning to bruise. “It is my fault,” he says solemnly. 

Shock covers Jake and Neytiri’s faces. “What?” They ask at the same time. 

My dad’s eyes harden, as they always do when he’s about to give a punishment. I clench my shaking hands together. 

“Wait,” Lo’ak interrupts. “He was defending her.” Lo’ak points at me, causing every pair of eyes in the room to look right at me. My face burns. Neyetam and I lock gazes, and shared worry passes between us. 

“From what?” My mom asks. 

Rotxo runs his hands through his hair before looking up at my parents. “I was just messing around. I don’t think Neyetam got the joke.”

“And what joke was that?” My father questions and leans his large body forward. 

Rotxo swallows nervously. “I saw her leave your family cove this morning. I was joking that—”

“Our cove?” My mom repeats as she looks at me in surprise. Shit, shit, shit. My heart pounds so hard I worry that everyone in the room can hear it. Neyetam’s shoulders tense up, the way they always do when he’s on edge. 

“Mother, father,” Aonung says and puts his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to calm everyone down. “Let me explain.” He looks at me with a reassuring nod that does not reassure me, not in the slightest. He continues on, “She was just showing Neteyam where we hold celebrations.” 

My father cocks his head to the side and looks at me. I nod at him, affirming Aonung’s story. He looks at Neyetam, who follows my lead and also nods. My father’s stern face begins to relax. Jake and Neytiri also seem to relax, now that they have an explanation for their son’s unusual behavior.

“They even cleaned up the empty bottles before their little wrestling game thing,” Aonung finishes with a proud smile like he’d just solved everyone's problems. 

“Wrestling game?” Jake whispers in confusion to Neytiri. She shushes him. 

My mother sets her mouth in a hard line. “Empty bottles?” She and my father exchange looks. All the heat that had gathered in my face vanishes, I feel cold all over. 

“Children, out!” My father’s voice booms. Lo’ak jumps at the sound, Aonung looks at us, Rotxo scrambles to his feet. They all leave, whispering to each other as they go. Neyetam begins to stand when my father glares at him. 

“Not you.” He looks over at me. “And not you. Come, sit down.” 

I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. This can’t be happening. I sit down next to Neteyam. He looks at me with sad eyes and his ear twitches nervously. 

“What’s happening?” Jake asks as he motions between the two of us. 

“All the bottles in our cove are full.” My mother responds, disappointment coating her voice. I cringe at the sound. 

“Neyetam wouldn’t drink,” Neytiri replies. Jake nods in agreement. Neyetam breathes slowly out. 

“Then who did?” My dad asks. I look at Neyetam but he’s staring down at his hands. I sigh and brace myself for what’s about to come as I open my mouth to respond.  

“I did,” I say at the same time Neteyam says, “It was me.” We look at each other in surprise. Neytiri gasps as Jake lets out an irritated groan. My mom shakes her head and my dad’s lips turn downward. He points at Neyetam accusingly before looking at Jake. 

“Your son’s influence?” 

“Neyetam is a good kid. He’s never done anything like this before,” Jake replies.

“It is my fault, truly,” I say. This time I stare at the floor, not wanting to see anyone’s face. “I asked Neyetam to go with me.”

“I wanted to go—” Neyetam protests. Jake reaches out and puts his hands on his shoulders, silently telling him to stop talking. 

“Daughter,” my dad begins, “I’m very disappointed.” Neytiri flicks the back of Neyetam’s head as if to say she is also disappointed in him. 

I look up and instantly wish I hadn’t. My mother is studying me, her eyes darting between Neyetam and I, accusingly. “What’s this about wrestling?” 

Neteyam and I freeze, each of us sitting so still we look like statues. I don’t risk stealing a glance at him even though I want to. My mom walks towards us before kneeling in front. Her eyes move slowly from his face to my face, absorbing every detail. I feel exposed, like everything that happened last night is playing right out in front of her. Neteyam’s tail swishes behind him, letting me know he feels that same way. 

“What is it?” Neytiri asks. 

“There is more between these two than they have told us.” 

My dad’s mouth falls open. Jake steps forward, “What do you mean?” 

“Did you two mate?” My mom asks, her face completely serious. Neytiri gasps again. Jake stumbles backwards in shock. 

“No, we didn’t!”

“No,” Neyetam looks at his parents. “We did not. I swear this.” 

My mom believes us, it’s clear in the way she looks at me. Everyone in the room relaxes slightly. I don’t feel any relief, I feel so tense. How is this happening? 

My mom stands. “But you came close.” 

I don’t have a response to this and neither does Neyetam. Jake steps forward, anger shining on his face. “Neyetam, is this true?” A moment of silence passes before he nods slowly and forces himself to face his dad’s furious face. My heart breaks for him. My Neyetam, who tries so hard to please his father. 

My dad grabs my shoulder suddenly. “So you two got drunk and–” he shakes his head incredulously, “This isn’t like you.” 

I hang my head in defeat. Defeat that I know Neyetam feels as well. This is all such a mess. 

“It isn’t like Neyetam either,” Jake says before crossing his arms in front of him. “Maybe the two of you aren’t good for each other.”

My father cocks his head to the side, thinking about this. He nods. “Yes, you two are not to see each other outside of lessons and training.” 

“No!” I yell, not bothering to hold my emotions back. I let them flood my voice, my desperation and pain. “Don’t do this, father.” 

Neytiri looks between my dad and Jake before staring at Neyetam and I, a strange look crossing her face. My mother says nothing, she just looks at me as if she doesn’t recognize me.  

“We shouldn’t have drank last night but we,” Neteyam motions to me. “We are good, she makes me happy, sir,” He says to my father, an open and honest look in his eyes. Relief floods through me for the first time. She makes me happy. I had been so worried that he was only angry at me, but he still cares for me. 

Jake shakes his head. “You can’t afford distractions like this Neyetam. Think of your siblings.” 

“And you,” my father says to me. “Have a clan who looks to you. You are my eldest. Act like it.” 

Jake nods to my dad before gripping Neyetam’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of him.” 

Neyetam looks at me, his forehead creasing together in panic. I reach out for him as his dad pulls him up to his feet, my fingers just missing him. He looks at me and tries to say something but Jake pushes him too quickly out of the pod. And just like Neyetam is gone. Pain explodes in my chest, physical, actual, pain. Like my heart truly is breaking. 

“Dad,” I say, defeated. Neytiri looks at me once, an expression on her face I don’t recognize. She walks out without saying anything. I close my eyes, not wanting to face my parents alone. 

~~~

 I can’t sleep. My mind keeps replaying everything over and over again. Neyetam hitting Rotxo. My parents finding out about the drinking. Them forbidding us from seeing each other. I roll onto my side, facing a cut out in the pod and stare at the night sky. I never even got a chance to truly apologize to him for this morning. 

My parents' steady breathing fills the pod. They’ve been asleep for hours now, after they finished interrogating me and reminding me how disappointed they are. I’ve never let them down before, the feeling hangs over me. It also makes me angry, so unbelievably angry. Who are they to tell me to stay away from Neyetam? I am an adult. I can choose to be with who I want. 

I can’t stop thinking about Neyetam, everytime I close my eyes, I see his face. Aonung starts to snore from the other side of the pod. That’s it. I sit up in my cot and look at my sleeping family. They cannot control me for my whole life. I won’t let them. I slip out of my cot silently and tiptoe to the cut out in the pod. I step over it, careful not to make any noise. Once I step both feet over, I take a few steps backwards before taking off into the night. 

The village is asleep. No one is out on the walkways so I make my way easily to Sully's pod. The ocean glows at me, as if it’s encouraging me forward. I take a deep breath. I want to see Neyetam and nothing is going to stop me. 

I slow down as I reach the side of their pod, unsure how to get his attention without waking anyone. I crouch down and inch my way towards the entrance of their pod. The determination I’d felt a moment ago was fading into nervousness. I haven’t been alone with Neyetam since last night. 

A hand touches my shoulder. I whip around to find Neytiri, an inquisitive look on her face. She smiles, a sad smile. “You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

I open my mouth to make up some excuse but I snap it shut. I’m tired of pretending. “I want to see him.” 

As if my own word had summoned him, Neyetam steps out of the pod. My heart aches at the sight of him. He looks at Neytiri and I in surprise. He steps towards us, being cautious so he won’t wake anyone. He has bags under his eyes like he'd been trying to sleep but couldn’t. 

“Just for a little,” Neytiri whispers to us. She pats Neteyam’s arm and kisses his cheek. “I won’t tell.” She doesn’t look back at us as she walks into the pod. 

It’s just us now, in the silence of the village, illuminated only by the glowing creatures in the sea. He stares at me, a million words are written in his eyes but he says none of them. I grab his hand and he quickly wraps his fingers around mine. 

“Come on,” I say softly before pulling him along. He follows me through the village, the only sound is our steady breathing. The air is sweet tonight, so unlike the events that have occurred. No, I don’t want to think about that now. Neteyam’s hand is intertwined with mine, that’s all that matters. 

We reach the end of the village and sit down, letting our feet dangle off the edge and splash lightly in the water. Our thighs touch as we sit close to each other. The night sky is so beautiful that we both watch it for a moment before returning our gazes to each other. 

“I want to say I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

Neteyam reaches his hand up and cups the side of my face. I lean into his touch, feeling his soft fingers. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was both of us–”

“I’m sorry for what I said this morning,” I interrupt. “Last night meant so much to me.” 

His fingers caress my cheek as he lets out a long breath. “I’m no longer angry. Today, when I saw Tuk’s face. She was so confused. She didn’t understand why I was acting that way.” 

I bring my hand up to his, intertwining our fingers so they both rest against my cheek. 

“I understand why you lied to Aonung. When our siblings expect us to act one way, it’s hard for us to then…” he sighs. “I understand now.” 

“I still shouldn’t have.” 

He shrugs. “I think we have bigger problems to worry about now.” He lets go of my hand and pulls away from me. My heart sinks. Maybe he doesn’t want this the same way I do. I think back to both our parents, staring at us in disbelief. I chew on my bottom lip. 

“So,” he begins, “What are we gonna do?” 

I could ask him to answer first. Or I could do what I would in the past, and say that we should follow our parents orders. But he’s sitting right in front of me. His skin glows in the night, the most beautiful shade of blue. When my heart beats, it sounds like his name. I’ve never felt this way before. He makes me feel safe and free. He makes me want to enjoy life, not just do my duty. His golden gaze watches me steadily as he waits for an answer. 

“I can’t change how I feel about you,” I say, looking directly into his eyes. “I don’t want to change it. And I don’t care what anyone has to say about it.”

His entire face changes: his gaze sharpenes, his shoulders loosen, his ears perk up. And then he smiles, his lips break apart revealing his white teeth as his grin grows. I smile back at him, a weight that I didn’t realize I’d been carrying, lifts off my shoulders. 

He leans slowly forward. I follow suit, breathing in the same air as him. His lips touch mine, softly and lovingly. He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Good because I can’t change how I feel either, not even if I tried.” I giggle at him and he kisses me again, our lips fitting perfectly together. He moves from my mouth to my cheek as he leaves a trail of kisses all the way to my ear. 

He leans back and whispers, “We already broke two rules, what’s a few more?”

Thank you so much for the love and support on Part 1! I appreciate it so much.

Would anyone want a Part 3? Or should I start a new project? Let me know what you would want to read! I also love any kind of feedback so if you don't like something, tell me! Thanks again <3

[rileyslibrary]

thinking about: reader injuring themselves during training (literally the smallest paper cut) and ghost over-dramatically carrying them to the medics because they “can’t walk” <3 <3 <3

Hey anon, I really liked your request, so I decided to spice it up a little (not in a naughty way, but in the “I-too-was-in-the-mood-to-over-exaggerate-the-living-sh!t-out-of-it-just-like-Ghost” way). I hope you don’t mind. Here, *passes you the story the way grandmas give birthday money*

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It was a goddamn obstacle course, and a simple one at that. They called it “routine training,” aimed to remind soldiers like you of your fundamental training principles while keeping you physically fit and mentally sharp. You’ve done it many times before, so it shouldn’t be a problem now, right?

Wrong.

This time, Lt. Riley summoned you to serve as a role model for the recruits. “Show them how it’s done,” Ghost said in his deep voice, to which you agreed with a seemingly disinterested shrug. It was a cocky, arrogant shrug that you later regretted for many reasons—far more than the number of times you had run that obstacle course.

See, you’ve never practised with so many people looking at you. And although you’ve completed the course with your teammates before, you have never been asked to act as a “demonstrator” in front of a crowd of eager eyes. Eyes that stare at you right now, admiring the seasoned soldier standing before them, waiting to see how you’d perform the track. You were an expert in their minds, a higher-up, so you wanted to give it your best and finish it in record time, just like a proper master would—just like Ghost would like you to.

As Lt. Riley finishes briefing the soldiers, he redirects their attention towards you. You, in response, begin to stretch your neck, arms, and legs and nod at Ghost, signalling that you’re ready. He nods back and blows the whistle through his balaclava.

The obstacle course begins with a row of five walls, each more challenging than the last. Despite the increasing difficulty, you summon all your skills and athleticism, and with a combination of agility and strength, you clear each of the five walls. You turn to look at Ghost, who stands proudly with his hands crossed in front of his chest. Good job, you.

The next challenge is a mud pit with barbed wire on top. It’s challenging if you don’t know the technique, but that doesn’t apply to you since you’ve mastered it. You quickly move through the second course, sliding with your back to the ground and carefully avoiding the barbed wire. As you pull yourself out of the pit, you feel a slight scratch on your knee from the barbed wire, but that doesn’t affect your ability to complete the course.

With the second challenge behind you, you reach the final obstacle: a 10-metre rope with a bell at the top. Climbing the rope and ringing the bell marks the end of the track.

As you pull yourself up the rope, you can hear Ghost’s thundering voice in the background, desperate and distressed, as if the world is about to end. You see him waving you down, but you’re determined to reach the top and shake the bell before sliding down, victorious. Your landing may not be as graceful as you imagined it, since you fell on your back, but that doesn’t matter; you did everything perfectly. You shift your attention to the recruits, who are now looking at Ghost, drawn by his frantic sprint towards you, followed by his dramatic slide to the ground.

“MEDIC!” Ghost yells as he grabs your knee and inspects it, “SOLDIER DOWN!”

You look at your knee to discover the source of all this urgency: it’s a scratch, a teeny tiny one, caused by the barbed wire you just passed. There is blood, as you would expect from a fresh wound, but nothing that would require the services of a medical professional or the attention of a hundred recruits.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” he repeats and clasps your head with both hands. “Shhhh,” he murmurs, “it’s okay; everything will be okay.”

“Everything is okay, Lieutenant,” you reassure him with your face squeezed between his hands.

But he hears none of it. He pulls down your lower eyelids, peering into your eyes to inspect God knows what. He then turns to face the crowd. ‘Someone call for the medic!’ he cries, shifting his gaze to you and caressing your hair. ‘The poor thing is talking nonsense.’

He removes his scarf and begins wiping the blood off your knee. He starts giving you an impromptu pep talk, saying things like, ‘I won’t let anything happen to you’ and ‘Remember, pain is just weakness leaving the body.’ Embarrassed by the attention, you lie on the ground and cover your face with your hands. So much for the triumphant finale of completing the task.

The medic rushes over, grasping your leg to examine the wound, but Ghost slaps their hand and warns him not to touch you.

“He can’t provide consultation, Lieutenant,” you explain as you throw your hands in the air. “You called for him; at least let him do his job.”

He considers it, then turns to the medic. “Perhaps it’s better if we take this inside,” he says, sweeping you up in his arms and cradling you as if you’re injured beyond repair.

You put your palm to your temple and hide your face in embarrassment as he carries you bridal-style through the sea of soldiers. He yells for them to let him through, and you apologise to the recruits, explaining that it’s nothing but a scratch.

“I can walk, you know,” you mumble at Ghost as you smile at the soldiers.

“Have you tried?” he asks.

“No, you didn’t let me.”

“Exactly,” he replies, “no need to risk it.”

You reach the medical facility, and he gently places you on the hospital bed.

“They need a tetanus shot,” he orders the medic. “They scratched themselves on the barbed wire.”

The medic carefully listens to Ghost’s instructions and nods. He asks him to step outside so he can proceed with the treatment.

“I’ll be behind that curtain if you need me,” he informs you and walks behind the partition.

As the medic checks your wound, Ghost peers through the curtain, assessing the procedure. He makes unnecessary comments to the medic, asking him if “he’s sure he’s doing it right,” and the doctor reminds him that “he’s been patching up soldiers for years now.”

“It’s okay, Ghost,” you shout, trying to diffuse the situation. “The medic knows what he’s doing; let him work in peace.” You turn to the medic and lower your voice. “I’m really sorry,” you whisper, and he chuckles.

“That’s alright,” he says, putting on his gloves. “That’s how the lieutenant is, you know: he wants to look tough, but when he cares about someone, he goes all out.”

“Is that it?” You ask and look at Ghost’s shadow at the partition, eagerly pacing back and forth.

“Trust me,” the medic whispers, “you’re lucky to have him on your side.”

“Huh. I never thought about it that way.” You contemplate, “If we involve him in the process, do you think it will help him relax and stop biting his nails through his covered mouth?”

The medic lets out another chuckle. “It’ll certainly help,” he admits, “but it’d be best if you did it.”

You nod and straighten up. “Hey, Lt.?” You ask, and he immediately pops out of the curtain.

“The medic is about to apply some alcohol solution on my knee, and he said it might hurt a little,” you explain. “Would you mind sitting next to me for support?” You ask and pat the bed,

Without giving it a second thought, Ghost hurries over and sits beside you. He takes your hand in his and looks you straight in the eyes.

“You’re safe,” he states and turns to the medic, who is trying to suppress a laugh, “let’s do this.”

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