#so he tightens his grip on what he can control to feel safe. which leads him to making. not so great decisions

[babyblue711]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Alys Rivers - Part 1 Summary: Alys reflects on her time at Harrenhal under the reign of the Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen. Words: 2.6K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Dubcon, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, War Things, Typical Westeros Misogyny A/N: I fully realize not everyone is an Alys fan and that is perfectly fine. Perhaps once the show airs, I'll change my opinion too. But, as of right now, this is fanfiction and, therefore, my fantasy. I personally tried to humanize Alys, which I hope you all will see. As always, I love reading your thoughts, comments, and reblogs! 😘 And - No tag list since I don't know who will be in to Alysmond. 💙 Beta read by the Queen herself: @arcielee 💙 Beautiful banner gif by the one and only: @myfandomprompts

The prince was insatiable at times.

Sometimes he was gentle, sometimes rough. Though she never knew what she was going to get, the news from the battlefront and the state of affairs of the kingdom often foretold the sort of night she could expect from the Prince Regent.

With the weight of the green faction firmly resting on his shoulders, periodically he would be consumed by raw desire; he was fueled by passion, fueled by rage, fueled by an innate need to dominate and control, as certainty was a rare commodity given the unpredictable nature of war. On those nights, his touch was borderline cruel, harsh and demanding, and she would brace herself, anticipating the forcefulness with which he would claim her, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain as their bodies collided. She didn’t know how to tell him ‘no’. She didn’t think she could. She needed him just as much as he needed her… or so she was leading him to believe. 

But at other times, he would approach her with a soft touch, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along her skin, his words filled with warmth, just like the first night they spent together. Those were the nights when she had felt cherished and safe, enveloped in his affection and care. She couldn’t ever remember a time where any man of higher standing had ever worshiped her in such a tender way. 

Presently confined within the ominous black walls of Harrenhal, tonight she is suffering the prince’s wrath. The recent tidings are dire: Kings Landing has fallen into the hands of the enemy, igniting the red hot rage of the dragon. She knows Aemond feels solely responsible for this significant blow to their cause, for leaving his family unprotected as he seeks out his greatest foe, terrified of what is happening to those he has left behind. Tonight, he uses their intimacy as a conduit for his pent-up emotions, unleashing his fury upon her in a desperate attempt to find temporary respite from the anarchy gripping the Seven Kingdoms and the chaos of his own soul.

In the dimly lit chamber, the air is heavy with tension and the scent of burning candles. Pinned to the bed underneath him, his long fingered hand is wrapped firmly around her throat as he thrusts powerfully, hips snapping into her with a brutal force, a look of utter madness in his lone purple eye. His grip tightens on her throat as his unhinged gaze flicks from her bouncing breasts up to her face. 

“Why couldn’t you have told me about this before?” he demands with a harsh growl that echoes off the stone walls, his fingers digging into the delicate skin of her throat so that she can barely breathe, let alone articulate an answer. She chokes slightly, wrapping a dainty hand around his wrist, begging with her eyes for him to soften his grip, which mercifully he does so she can speak.

“My prince,” she gasps as he continues to rut into her, “My visions do not work on command…” She attempts to explain but anger clouds his face and his grip tightens once more on her throat, cutting off any further speech. The Prince Regent does not want to hear her excuses. His desperation and anger is evident in every movement, in every harsh word, in every mark he leaves upon her body. She clenches her jaw and tries not to whimper as his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her neck and breasts, afraid weakness will spur him on further; mentally, she tries to disassociate from what is currently happening to her. She is fully aware that he sees her as a means to an end, a tool to gain an advantage in the chaos of war; she purposefully has supplanted herself in this position, just as he is her mechanism for survival in return.

She knows deep down that she cannot fulfill his demands; her gifted visions do not bend to her whim or will, and she cannot control what they show her. To admit this to him would mean certain death, and so she bears the pain of his grip, the forcefulness of his thrusts, and the weight of his expectations, all while concealing the truth that she cannot deliver what he seeks.

With a guttural groan, his hips stutter as he spills deep inside of her, his fearsome eye closed in some semblance of bliss as he reaches his peak. Without acknowledging any need for her pleasure, he tucks himself back in his pants and departs the room in silence, his rage barely satiated. 

Alys lays upon the bed, her chest rising and falling to catch the breath withheld from her while caught in Aemond’s iron grip. She shifts slightly into a more comfortable position, feeling the slickness between her thighs and, despite his brutality, she quietly hopes for a silver-haired babe, further securing her own position and a testament to her worth.

She wonders if Aemond does not think she is capable of having children and, therefore, is much less cautious where he spills his seed. Her moon’s blood is late, but that is not unusual for her, though she still thinks it is too early to tell if they have been successful yet. She rests a hand on her lower belly, willing her womb to quicken, something that hasn’t happened in years. 

Exhaustion tugs at the corners of her eyes as she rests, waiting for her soreness and aches to lessen so she may get a few hours sleep. Sighing deeply, she stares into the dying flames of the fire in the hearth and reflects on the last few months of being caught up in this accursed Targaryen civil war. Life with Aemond is, at least, a little better than when Daemon ruled these halls. The Rogue Prince had been a formidable presence, his sharp eyes saw through her facade of obedience from the moment he landed astride his fiery red dragon. She had never underestimated him, knowing that he would not be easy prey to be fooled by her own ambitions.  

But when Aemond descended from the heavens upon his colossal, ancient dragon, Alys suspected the young Prince Regent to be a lot more volatile, and thus, a little more vulnerable than his formidable uncle. Aemond was desperate to prove himself in the ongoing war, his ego inflated by the fact that he commanded the largest dragon in existence. His mere presence struck fear into the hearts of warriors, who readily bowed before him as he issued commands with an air of undeniable authority. Yet, beneath his bravado, Alys discerned a deep-seated fear—that of failing his family and being perceived as a disappointment.

Recognizing these traits, she decided to try to leverage this to her advantage. She harbored no ill will toward the prince; in fact, she had developed a fondness for the young man during his stay at the fortress. But she knew that sentimentality had no place in the games of power and politics that defined their lives; the world was cruel, especially to lowborn women, and no one in her position would turn down such an opportunity to wield the influence that came with being entwined with a Targaryen Prince. 

It still took considerable effort to gain Aemond's trust, considering his sharp intellect and initial tendency to see her as nothing more than a lowborn woman with limited utility. However, upon learning that she had some experience with the healing arts, he tasked her with tending to the injuries of his soldiers, which she executed without fail. 

It was one fateful night that the prince called upon her for help with his own affliction - the vicious scar that marred the left side of his beautiful face. She concocted a poultice aimed at soothing the damaged nerves around his missing eye that was causing him some discomfort that particular night. Witnessing the visible relief on his face once she had applied it, and taking advantage of being alone with the prince for the first time, she seized the opportunity to subtly offer strategic information, mainly concerning Daemon's previous tenure at Harrenhal. Aware of Aemond's desperation for any advantage in the ongoing war, especially for any knowledge that had to do with his uncle, Aemond clung to anything she could tell him about Daemon and his war strategy. She was aware of just enough information to be deemed useful and what she wasn’t aware of, she may have elaborated just a bit, as the prince would never know. This gesture swiftly elevated her status in his eyes, securing her a place in his inner circle sooner than she had even anticipated. 

But it wasn’t only Aemond she had to charm; she also understood the importance of gaining favor with Ser Criston Cole, the Hand of the King and Aemond's second in command. Although she suspected that Ser Criston could occasionally see through her intentions, she had a knack for manipulating him too.

Late one evening, after he had a few too many cups of wine, she prophesied his future, whispering words that she knew would resonate with him as they gazed into the flames of the fire. Men in positions of power and influence loved to be told exactly what they wanted to hear and Ser Criston was no exception. Soon, both he and Aemond would come to depend on her clairvoyance much more than either should, but war often strove men to desperate measures and she delicately played this hand when she had no other choice.

Another aspect she did not expect to contest came a few weeks after Aemond and his army came to stay at Harrenhal. It was Aemond who turned their relationship into something more physical; whether it was brought on by boredom or loneliness, she’ll likely never know, but she certainly had not anticipated becoming the Prince Regent’s bedmate. She remembered the night well, the way his fingertips grazed her wrist lightly as she poured him more wine. The intense look of his eye was…different that night, a primal look of longing coupled with a smoldering desire. The bulge in his pants was obvious and it was clear what was intended from her that night.

Worried to displease the prince by refusing him, she settled on her knees in front of him as he sat by the fire. She held his gaze as she slowly unlaced his breeches, pulling his thick, veiny cock from the confines of his trousers, and began pleasuring him with her mouth. Wetness had formed between her own thighs as she sucked him with abandon, enjoying the way his sharp face contorted with the gratification she was giving him. When he shot his seed down her throat, she expected that to be the end of it… until he asked her to show him how to pleasure her in return.

She could perfectly recall the earnest look in his eye as she stared at him with bewilderment; it was highly unusual for a man to be concerned with a woman’s pleasure, let alone a high-born royal like himself. After a moment’s hesitation, she willingly agreed to his request and they spent the night exploring each other’s bodies; she taught the prince about the bundle of nerves located above her entrance and the special spot buried deep inside her cunt. He was an excellent student, mastering her body quicker than she thought possible. His expression was hungry with intensity when he watched her unravel underneath him as she succumbed to his touch, and she knew this gave him a different sense of power over her body. She encouraged this, fully committing to being the prince’s loyal servant in all things, further gaining his trust and, in return, his protection. 

She lost count how many times she came that night during their passionate lovemaking, and her hopes ignited further when he shot his seed deep into her cunt. Since then, he had called upon her almost every night to visit his bed, torturing her deliciously as her velvet walls clenched around him repeatedly, milking him dry as her cries of ecstasy filled his room. Afterwards, she would pray to the gods to bless her with his child.

However, she was beginning to wonder if she had played her part just a little too well. Unfortunately, the prince, gaining confidence in their arrangement, had started to abuse his position of power, more often than not just using her body as a vessel for only his pleasure. Her disappointment was palpable; he had shown so much promise and she thought she could teach him to be different, that he would continue to treat her with respect.

But such wishes were not to be, as dark thoughts of the first time she had suffered the prince’s wrath resurfaced. On that fateful night, after a particularly fearsome thunderstorm culminating with bad news of the war beyond Harrenhal, Aemond and Vhagar had descended from the storm-stricken sky in a fury, his dragon’s wings clapping louder than the thunder itself. As was customary, she was summoned to his chambers. Lightning flashed as she entered his dimly lit room, illuminating his countenance —a hauntingly beautiful sight. But as she caught sight of his murderous expression, dread filled her gut and she knew she was about to face the consequences for whatever misfortune had transpired.

Afterwards, he seemed to emerge from a trance, apologizing to her as he gazed upon the red marks from his fingers on her neck, the bite marks on her breasts, the bruises that littered her body. She was dumbstruck once more, never had a man shown remorse for hurting her before. As their tryst continued, their passionate lovemaking became rougher and more animalistic, her own pleasure forgotten at times as he used her body as a means to his own end, but she made the best of it, knowing that to bear his child would outweigh her suffering and reward her tenfold. 

Back in the room, these memories of Aemond lulled her to sleep as she curled in his bed, warm and comfortable from the smolder in the hearth. The reprieve was short lived as she was roughly shaken awake, startling at his harsh touch.

“Wake up,” Aemond says gruffly. “We’re leaving.” He refuses to answer any of her questions, throwing clothes at her and telling her to get dressed in a hurry. She has no choice but to obey, noticing he has given her breeches to pull on as well as several warm layers, including riding boots and soft leather gloves. 

The moon shines brightly in the nighttime sky as Aemond takes her by the hand, leading her outside the gates of Harrenhal where the immense form of Vhagar looms in the distance. Alys pulls back on Aemond’s arm, terrified, slowing her pace, her unusual attire dawning on her as it is obvious that the prince means for her to fly on Vhagar. The energy that emanates from the massive dragon is unlike anything she has ever felt before. This was an intelligent being that could not be tricked by pretty words or prophetic visions that danced in the flames, for she was fire incarnate herself.

Feeling her tug on his arm, Aemond whirls to face her, impatient, furious. Vhagar rumbles like thunder from behind him, disturbed by her rider’s erratic energy, but makes no effort to move as she waits for him to mount her. 

“Aemond…” Alys starts to sputter, “I - I don���t think she’ll let me ride...?” Terror clutches at her throat as she tries to stress to him the dire warning in the pit of her stomach, but he only smirks, taking hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his breath fanning her face. 

“Vhagar does as I command,” he says confidently as if this could assuage her fear, “but I am going to need your help with something else.”

>>>> Part 2

[adoriels-tears-if]

How would Ashlyen and Elianna's react would react if they encounter a person who said they predicted the future yelling in the streets saying that

‘ in the future their will be will a hybrid revolution born of fear and hatred and they will bring death and destruction and they will not stop until we all feel their pain’

and as they describe the leader of this revolution they all perfectly describe the MC and they also said

‘ wait I can sense one of the parents who is responsible for spawning this devil if you can hear us I hope you realise that your forbidden love had doomed us all’

Five meters is all that separates Elianna from Ashlyen as they both walk the cobblestone streets of the city overlooked by the Academy.

Five meters only. But it is much more than all the distances which could separate them these last two months. The subtle glances, and the hidden smiles became more and more insufficient to stifle the feelings of the young woman.

As she turned left onto a narrower street, Ashlyen was pulled close to her by the influx of a group of dwarves. The two lovers' fingers touch and a voice call them to order indirectly.

"A rebellion and death to us all! Can't you see that? That is what awaits us all if you continue with your idea of upsetting the natural order!" The man’s voice was a thunderclap in the serene afternoon, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot.

Elianna's blood ran cold through her veins. They'd have to turn back, she knew, but her feet refused to move.

She watched almost as if in a trance as the figure climbed the low wall and spouted what seemed to her to be nonsense. So concentrated that she almost doesn't feel Ash's presence beside her.

The man, disheveled and wild-eyed, stood atop a low wall, his arms flailing as he addressed the gathering crowd. "Hear me, citizens! The path you tread leads only to ruin! The stars themselves have whispered of the darkness to come. A rebellion will rise, and with it, the shadow of death will fall upon us all!"

"His gaze swept over the onlookers, eyes blazing with a fervor that sent shivers down Elianna’s spine. "The natural order is delicate! It is the balance that keeps our world from collapsing into chaos! Those who seek to change it, to twist it to their own desires, will bring nothing but despair and destruction! Betrayal lurks in the heart of our city, and blood will spill if we do not heed the warnings!"

The words echoed in her mind, mingling with her own fears and doubts. Ashlyen's touch grounded her, but her thoughts were still a whirlwind. A shiver ran down her spine.

Ashlyen tugged at Elianna’s hand, trying to pull her away. "We need to go," he whispered, his voice urgent. "He’s just a madman, but we don’t need to be here when things get worse." Elianna turned to him, eyes wide with fear. "Do you think he knows? About us, I mean?"

Ashlyen shook his head, his grip tightening on Elianna's hand. "No. He’s just spouting nonsense. But we can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves." Reluctantly, Elianna nodded. They began to move away, their steps quickening as the man’s shouts grew more frenzied. The crowd around them buzzed with anxious energy, people whispering and glancing nervously at each other.

"Hey," Ashlyen said softly, pulling her into a side alley away from the commotion. "Look at me. Don’t let him get to you. We’ve been through worse, and we’ll get through this too."

Elianna took a deep breath, nodding. "You're right. Let’s focus on what we can control." Ashlyen smiled, leaning in to kiss her gently. "Exactly. Now, let's get somewhere safe and figure out our next move."

With a final glance back at the chaos in the street, they hurried away.

[honorhearted]

Short and delicate?

Ben's first instinct was to argue -- to insist her hypothetical was wrong, because he would never be asked to "just polish weapons" -- but instead, he tamped his lips together and listened, fiddling with the saber on his hip with a hint of agitation. But the more he listened, the more he realized that this was Emma's point; that there was a feeling of exasperation, of hopelessness that came from being denied one's greatest desire.

“How’d you feel? And I’m sure you didn’t talk to her exactly like that, but are you sure that’s not what she heard?”

"I'm not sure of anything," Ben softly said. "Anna isn't exactly shy in her frustrations, so I feel she would have let me know, but...you could be right. Especially since I, myself, have not been awarded everything I wish for in this fight. I have been ignored and undermined by my superiors, and in some instances my dearest friends, so I know the frustrations of which you speak. Perhaps not as greatly as a woman, but I am not immune to that helpless feeling." He shrugged. "I don't like being out of control, and yet the outcome of this very war is something I cannot guarantee. I suppose I just enjoy the feeling of control in what I can change...and that's my friends. I can keep Anna safe when she follows my rules."

But could he truly? There was never a guarantee of anything in life...

As if proving this thought correct, Emma went on to explain the horrors of her mother's kingdom. Despite it not being his own land, a spark of resentment swelled between his ribs, and lifting his chin, Ben's jaw tightened at the idea of such innocence being snuffed based upon one single grudge.

"A monster," he softly gritted. Shaking his head, Ben asked, "And this Regina...she is still alive? She still terrorizes your kingdom?" Gripping more tightly at the saber on his hip, he said, "If the war concludes before your return, then perhaps we can help you...or I can help you, if Washington refuses. Such evil is unacceptable. We are fighting to make the world better, and that should extend to our allies."

“Don’t… Please, don’t ever tell anyone I said I needed rest if I ever come up in a conversation."

Perplexed, he raised a brow. "Why would you needing rest be a source of contention?" he asked. "You are human, Swan, and humans need sleep and recuperation in order to thrive." Even as the words left his lips, Ben knew how hypocritical they were. He, himself, opted to push himself to the limit without rest, because if he paused for even a moment, he feared the brief respite would lead to irreparable damage.

Still, Ben chose not to admit as such as he passed Emma the chocolate. "You say that now," he wryly muttered, "and yet I have never once heard you 'shut up.' I think you're merely giving me false hope."

"Ah, there, you try to be accomodating,” Emma smiled, thinking that she would have been a proper demon to a man who attempted that with her. “Perhaps I can help you see things from the perspective of the fairer sex, then, or at least what it can feel like to be accomodated from a woman’s point of view. Let’s see… you are… tall. Yes, if I weren’t wearing these boots I’d barely reach your chin. Tall and strong, I’m sure, so the example I’m about to make is hopefully not going to offend you because it’s clearly not bringing up any real flaw you may have. Now imagine that you are you. Same body, same personality, same… wishes to fights and protect, to do something for your people, same idea of what’s wrong and what’s right. But not a Major, still just Benjamin Tallmadge from Sataukett. Now take this seriously, I think you are the only man in this camp who will ever hear it,” she warned him, “You go enlist and I, someone taller and stronger than you, say:… sorry Tallmadge, but I can’t imagine you actually helping here, regretfully you are too… short and delicate, have you considered supporting our troops by polishing their weapons? Other people of your size are happy to do so, and it’s important, it keeps people able to fight. If they, rightfully, happy to do their part that way, why can’t you? You can cook, you told me so, you could do that too. I understand you want to do more anyway but… oh, alright, look, if you really must, then I think I have another little job for you, something that even someone like you can do, and then you go right back to safety. Trust me, you may think you can do more, but I know you’d just get hurt, and I do know better than you, usually. Leave the real fight to us bigger folks. Now here, go do your task, little champion, you’ll be great!” she gave him a little encouraging pat to the shoulder, then dropped the condescending tone. “How’d you feel? And I’m sure you didn’t talk to her exactly like that, but are you sure that’s not what she heard?”

Of course the way his war went was the way wars were supposed to be, there were unacceptable targets and it was just common sense to see them as such. She wouldn’t put herself in that category, she fought, but she couldn’t imagine wanting to harm townspeople. Yet their enemies had always been all too comfortable doing so. “My mother was a very young woman when her step-mother Regina seized the throne and sent her out with a mercenary who was meant to kill her. He took pity and let my mother run, and… my mother didn’t want to go back and fight her, she was a lady after all, and she wanted to believe that Regina could still be saved with love, so she hid… and then, one day, she walked into a mass grave. An entire village… elders, women, children, just… there, not even buried, a punishment for refusing to give my mother’s location up. That was… already unforgivable. But Regina just got worse. She took hearts from people. My mother was living in a camp like this when she commandereed the very small group of people and then the army that took the castle back. But Regina fled because my mother didn’t have it in her to execute the woman who had raised her for years. I’ve got a scar to prove she’s still out there,” she placed a hand over her chest, “She still tries. And the men loyal to her have not changed. So there is no honor in our battles… and my paternal grandfather had a similar history and is also trying to destroy my father by hurting me. Honestly I believe that if you throw away your honor and can’t look at yourself in the mirror anymore there is no point in having survived a fight, but it’s hard to remember the lines not to cross when the enemy has none. I never thought that a warzone like this could be a place where I could have some needed rest, but… it’s admirable that both sides are trying to do right.”

“Don’t… Please, don’t ever tell anyone I said I needed rest if I ever come up in a conversation. Not that many but your general are ever likely to speak to someone who knows me, but it’s better if people don’t know.” It had slipped out, and it was the first time Emma was relieved that in at most two days time she’d leave. As much as she was enjoying her time with this man, it made her too comfortable.

And the one time she had meant to hold back on the inappropriateness, meaning merely kisses when she spoke of experience, it was obvious that Benjamin had taken it the exact wrong way. Except that the wrong way was also correct and she couldn’t very well pretend to be chaste and pure to fix the assumption. At least she could skip it entirely by addressing the last bit of his response, raising her eyebrows in skeptical disapproval. “If a man has a sweetheart waiting for him and tries to be less lonely with me, I promise you that he’ll very quickly learn how much I value loyalty. But I understand.”

So adorable. She couldn’t help the appreciative and amused smile at his request, finding it so endearing, “As you wish,” she conceded softly, and offered her hand with her palm up, “You know how else to shut me up.”

[braintapes]

Genuinely though say what you will about Odo, he has many problems, but I will never be able to understand why the writers had him reconcile with Dr. Mora like that. IN THE EPISODE WHERE THE GUY PROVES HES NOT SORRY, DOESNT REGRET WHAT HE DID AT ALL, AND HAS NOT CHANGED. They tried to play it like, 'oooohhh well you can criticize all you want Odo but you'll see youuur approach isn't perfect either! Cut the guy some slaaaack Odo he didn't know what he was doing cmooonn.' Fucking. aaaAAAAGH!

That episode WOULD have been one of my favorites if its conclusion hadn't boiled down to, "Well you see a little bit of abuse is actually necessary, you just can't raise a child successfully WITHOUT purposefully harming them. Also you really should cut your shitty awful parent some slack for hurting you and doing nothing to even try to make up for it because they were right, actually." like. Hello???????

and obviously Odo is far from the only character in all of Trek who gets this problem, this is just...a Thing that keeps happening across Treks but since he's a favorite of mine it sticks out in my mind. :-(

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: Disclaimer- I don't know French; I took Mandarin in high school instead lmao. I asked my sister who took it (she failed but google wasn't helping😂) and she said to default to the male version of ma chère/mon cher if the gender isn't stated, so blame her if it's wrong lol)

Word Count: 1,724

Summary- Everyone knows that some actions are just objectively more attractive than others. But which of these actions represent the brothers?

Warnings: Allusions to spicy moments in Mammon's, Asmo's and Belphegor's

Age Rating: Pg 13

Obey Me Brothers x Things That Are Attractive

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

Lucifer as- Pulling you in by the waist:

"There you go. Just like that." Lucifer guides.

"I feel ridiculous," you say as you step to the side with your right foot and slide the left back into position.

He had taken it upon himself to teach you how to dance. Which, on the surface isn't bad in itself, but when you dig a little deeper and find the two left feet you were 'blessed' with, it becomes slightly more daunting.

"You don't look it," He assures you as he leads you through an improvised spin.

Coming back in, your hands find their place on his shoulders as you waltz around the empty ballroom. He dips you low, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you upright once more. Though, instead of resuming the steps, Lucifer keeps you in place; his arm tightening around you until what little space between you is gone.

Your hands are pinned against his chest as you look up to him. There's a look in his eyes that you can't quite decipher, and you don't know if you should try to.

"Despite your self-acclaimed 'two left feet', I think it's safe to say you have successfully learned the waltz." You can feel his minty breath fan your face with how close his is.

"What a shame," you tease. "Looks like you won't be needing to teach me anymore."

You earn a soft 'hah' as he leans impossibly closer with a smirk that shouldn't have you feeling the way you do. "On the contrary. You'll be learning the Salsa next."

-

Mammon as- Pinning your hands above your head:

"No!" You yell as you're knocked down.

"Gotcha!" Mammon cheers as he reaches for your phone.

He has you on the bed, legs on either side of you as he attempts to get rid of the picture of him sleeping.

"C'mon! You look so cute in it!" Your attempt to reason falls on deaf ears as he fails to snatch your phone again.

"I'm literally droolin' ya dummy!"

In a last-ditch attempt to preserve the photo, you stretch your arm above your head as his grapples you for it.

The end result is both your wrists in one of Mammon's hands as his other works on deleting the picture. He tosses the phone to the side once he's done.

"You learn your lesson yet? Don't mess with The Great Mammon!" He smirks down at you, chest heaving from exertion.

The sight of you pinned under him, hands held above your head as you look up at him has him gulping. His free hand comes up to grip the side of your jaw, tilting your head up just the slightest.

"I think I should make sure ya learned yer lesson~"

-

Leviathan as- Spinning hugs:

"Yes!" Leviathan cheers from beside you as the monster finally falls after what seems like hours.

He had called you to his room to help with a level of a new game he got. What he didn't tell you was that it was the final boss, and it was only a P1 game.

So, without any introduction or in-depth explanation you were thrust into an insanely difficult level. If you're being honest, you were kind of just spamming the controller and hoping for the best. What you didn't expect was actually making progress and killing the damned thing.

Levi jumps up as he celebrates. You can't help but laugh at his antics as you're pulled to join him. Deciding there's no harm -you're in his room with the door shut, who's gonna see?- you play along. Cheering and jumping alongside him.

You let out a yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. Your yelp turns to laughter when he twirls you around before nuzzling into your neck.

"I can't believe you actually did it! I've been trying to beat that thing for days!" He's quick to pull you into a kiss, face bright red when you separate. Your foreheads rest together as any residual laughter fades.

-

Satan as- Lifting you to reach something:

"Satannnnnn!" You whine. "I need helppppp!"

You can hear his unamused sigh from a couple sections down.

"What could you possibly need help with? We're in the library for hell's sake..." His voice gets steadily closer as he makes his way to the bookshelf you're in front of.

He rounds the corner to see you on your tiptoes as you try to reach a book. You look to him for help but only receive a deadpan.

"Really?" He crosses his arms. "There is literally a step ladder 10 feet from you."

"Yeah, but now you're only 4 feet from me."

Satan turns to walk away but you're quick to grab his arm.

"Please? You and I both know that with my luck, I'll probably fall off the thing." You both know the only reason is because you want to annoy him.

"Not my problem." He starts to walk again, only this time you rush in front of him.

"But books read better when they're from you." You got a small huff of amusement so that's something.

"Do they now?" Wow, he's actually playing along.

"Yup," you nod as believable as you can.

There's a second of silence before he breaks. "Fine. Which one do you want?"

Dragging him over, you expect him to reach up and snag the title off of the shelf. What actually happens is that he places both hands on either side of your waist and lifts you until you're eye level with the book.

Shaking off the shock, you quickly grab it before he decides to drop you.

"Thanks," You mutter when he sets you down, face hot both with embarrassment and at the display of strength.

Satan simply hums in acknowledgment as he walks away, leaving you standing clutch your book to your chest.

-

Asmodeus as- Neck/jaw kisses:

"Darling~" Asmo drawls from his bed, head hanging off the side to look at you.

"Yes?" You sigh as he drones for your attention for the nth time.

You need to get this essay done before tomorrow, but the Avatar of lust doesn't want to make it that easy for you. When he had invited you to his room to 'study' you should have seen through the fib but you hadn't. So here you are, stuck trying to get work done with a perpetually horny demon vying for your attention.

"I'm bored, mon cher." He rolls off the bed and hangs himself on you, arms over your shoulders, chest against your back and chin resting on your shoulder.

"And I'm trying to finish this."

"C'mon..." His head lifts from its position to nuzzle into your neck. "You're not the least bit tempted to take even the smallest of breaks?"

His soft lips graze your skin with each syllable. A feather light, kiss presses itself against the column of your neck.

"Asmo, I really need to work on this..." Despite your words, your head still lilts to the side allowing him to trail his kisses up to your jaw.

"You know you want to~" Asmodeus chimes, voice sending vibrations through you. "Take a break." He presses another kiss to your jaw.

"Just for a few minutes..." Another kiss.

"Ugh." You move to save your progress. "Fine. 15 minutes and then I get back to work."

"That's all I need, my dear." You can hear the smirk.

-

Beelzebub as- Licking something off their finger:

"You can't eat that, yet!" You cackle as Beelzebub sticks his finger in the cake batter.

"But it looks good..." He's looking at you, finger still in the mixing bowl. You can't help the face you make when he says that. The sugar hasn't even been added yet, there's no way it would taste good.

You tell him so, only to receive silence as he takes his finger out and slowly moves it to his mouth.

"That's just going to taste like flour and eggs, Beel." You try to reason.

He looks you right in the eye as his lips close around his batter-covered digit. Beelzebub keeps looking at youas he sucks the liquid off his finger. With a *pop*, his finger comes out clean and it's all you can do to not grimace at what the taste must be.

"It's good." He says.

Beel dips his finger in the batter once more, only to hold it out to you. "Taste it."

The corners of your mouth pull down as you lean away. "I think I'm good, actually."

"Humor me?"

He's holding your gaze as he continues to offer the batter to you. Looking between his finger and face, you concede. He'll just keep trying until you taste it, so you say:

"Fine, but I'm not swallowing it."

With that you grab his wrist to stabilize as you tentatively lick at the batter. Surprisingly, it's not bad -Beel must have added the sugar when you weren't looking. Upon seeing your reaction, Beelzebub pushes his finger to your lips.

Deciding it's easier to just play along, you let the digit enter, maintaining eye contact. Your tongue swirls around the digit, getting all of the batter off.

With one final suck, he slides his finger out of your mouth, fingertip resting against your lip before dropping and pulling your bottom lip with it a bit as it goes.

The kitchen is silent as you hold his heavy gaze.

-

Belphegor as- Lazy morning make outs:

Your lips slot together slow and steady in the bath of golden light that is Belphegor's bed.

Both of you had just woken and, in an attempt to neither wake up or slip back into the sweet embrace of sleep (damned RAD classes...), you'd somehow found yourselves lip locked.

Your legs are tangled under the blankets as the two of you move in sync. Nothing else important enough to draw your attention away from the other.

His hand is in your hair, keeping you close as he bites on your bottom lip. The noise you let loose enough for him to make it his mission to drag more sweet sounds from you. Your own hands come up to push on Belphegor's chest to until he's lying on his back with you laying on top of him. His other arm slides up your back, a grunt leaving his lips when you roll your hips down.

"Fuck-"

A knock interrupts your moment.

"Get up. You're not going to be late again." Lucifer's voice is muffled by the door, but it doesn't lessen just how over everything he sounds.

[cloudyyangel]

Nanami Kento thinks you look best in his blue button up. He enjoys seeing the stretch and pull of the fabric against your plump body. He also enjoys the events leading up to you tugging on his shirt.

3.3k

nsfw, cw: lack of prep, dry humping, body inclusive reader, afab reader, slight praise kink, one ass smack

△ △ △

Nanami watches as you gather your underwear from the foot of his bed and slip back into them, a small smile playing at your lips. Your wiggles to get them just right over your thighs and ass has Nanami sighing softly as he leans against the headboard- eyeing every piece of plush flesh that bounces with your movements.

He had tried to coax you to stay in bed, dinner can wait sweetheart, but you had been adamant about feeding the over worked and stressed sorcerer (No Kento, I am not a suitable meal! You told him for the fifth time). He had came straight home from work and gotten you into bed before any greetings of hellos or how are yous.

You glance around for your shirt, the one he won’t mention is on the opposite side of the bed by the wall. It’s a game for him; getting you to throw your shirt off in a lust fueled haze and losing it. You always try to find it afterwards, sometimes even nudging him to roll over so you can search under him. Nanami was patient as his gaze followed you around the room- he knew the ultimate victory of the night was close. It sent a pleasant warmth through his chest as you finally give up and pull on the only shirt on the floor.

Nanami is built different, as you’ve jokingly told him many times. He’s tall with broad shoulders and a toned physique from fighting curses over the years. You, in a great difference, are soft with rounded edges that contrast with his sharp angles. You love to watch him flex as he chops vegetables for dinner, or see the taut skin of his stomach as he stretches before bed- it’s everything you’re not and it use to sting a bit, cut into your heart that maybe you weren’t good enough.

Nanami Kento, on the other hand, loves the opposition of your bodies. He loves the soft skin of your shoulders under his hands, to feel fat squeezing between his fingers as he grips your thighs, loves to watch your belly match the pumps of his hips as he drives his cock into you. He loves you, truly and wholeheartedly, and everything about you. Over time his sweet words, sinful praises, and all consuming actions have nestled their way into your body to take home in your skin.

They settle in your heart- the logic conscious man had no time to string someone along or for empty compliments. Fine, Nanami had relented one night after you explain why you’re not enough for him, you are big. You’re also beautiful, smart, amazing, talented. It’s just another word that describes why I love you. You start to believe it after that.

The blue button up you pull on after a session of love making is what he loves the most. Out of all the looks you had, it was his favorite. The fabric clings to the fat of your arms while the wrists are loose. It stretches across your full chest with only three buttons fastened in an attempt to hold you even as they pull taut (you know they’re reliable, just like the man who wears it). It couldn’t cover your tummy, even with how broad he is, but the material covers enough for you to trot around the room in.

It’s ill fitting- not necessarily too small, but made for a slimmer and taller build. Tailor made for Nanami Kento. On you, it’s a frumpy mess- the blue material wrinkling at odd places, bunching up around your arms but god if he doesn’t melt at the sight of you. His blue button up, stretched safely around your bigger form- it reminds him that you are his, that you love him, that he can protect and cherish you. He tries to keep it out as often as he can, fighting his urge to keep everything smartly in its place, just in hopes of you tugging it on. He soon found out that you were more willing to pull it on when you were in a dazed state, wanting to put on some semblance of clothes after an extended period of being exposed. Nanami was more than happy to provide that mindset for you.

This evening, his shirt had been tossed to the floor as soon as he entered the bedroom. His tie was somewhere in the living room, his glasses by the front door, shoes strewn across the entrance. Nanami is a smart man, however, and was careful with this shirt- he let that drop right in the middle of the room, to be sure it was the only thing you saw after he had satisfied both of your needs.

△ △ △

“Impatient, hmm Kento?” You teased as his hands groped at the fat on your hips to pull you even closer to him. He was home exactly on time despite the complaint of overtime and caught you by surprise. Nanami had strode into the bedroom with no words as he let his shirt drop to the floor and immediately captured your lips in a kiss.

The normally composed sorcerer had called on his break to rant about useless colleagues and a curse getting too close for comfort and that he just wanted to hear your voice. He promised to try not to work too late, I miss you darling, but you knew he put everything he had into work and told him you would be waiting for him with a smile.

Nanami hummed as he bruised your lips in a needy kiss. “I just need you.” He had muttered with a rut of his hips against yours. His length was already pronounced and it made you pull back with a slight gasp- light glistened off the string of spit that connected you two.

The situation at work must have gotten to him, his controlled façade had slipped completely off as he attacked you with an usual fervor. His hands squeezed your hips before they roamed over your tummy- it was one of his favorite places to touch and kiss and squeeze and worship.

He never faltered on his slow, methodical, rut against you, not slowing down to even remove both of your bottoms. “K-kento, we can-“ Your suggestion to continue in bed was cut off when his hands wrapped around your back to grope at your ass.

He always did go straight for what he wanted. Which explained why he was rutting you into the wall with spit spread around your lips.

His hips sped up and harsh pants met your face as he pressed forward. Nanami’s brow was furrowed, fingers griped tight on your ass as he slotted between your legs. His composure, his calmness, had been tossed to the side along with his shirt the second he saw you. Now, his cock was leaking into his slacks and he was just so desperate to feel you against him that the wall would do for now.

The new closeness brought his hard cock right against your cunt, still both clothed but the friction was enough to make you grow wet and grind back against him. The angle pushed you up on your toes, desperate to feel even more of him and if you angled your hips just right, you could feel Nanami’s length slide right over your clothed slit.

You had refused on multiple times to be picked up, even when he insisted on multiple times that he could. Instead, he accommodated your needs and wants, simply finding a way to be able to grind against you while he pressed your back against the wall. He bent down to suck the smooth skin of your neck into his mouth, only to increase the speed of his ministrations on your now dripping cunt.

His hips rubbed harder against you, effectively pining you to the wall and it started to burn against your skin. The sting only amplified the feeling every time it rubbed against your pussy lips and you couldn’t help but whimper with every thrust.

Deep in your stomach, something tightened and grew into a comfortable pressure, your orgasm growing with every thrust of Nanami’s hips. One hand left your ass to roughly paw at your chest, his fingers easily found the pebbled nipple and rolled it a few times before he gave a light tug. As you gasped he took the opportunity to shove his mouth over yours, to lavish his tongue against yours. It wasn’t enough for you, or him, but you were the first to break.

You needed more, needed him and needed something physical to touch you. "Kento, please” you whined into his mouth as you felt the soaked fabric of your underwear stick and cling to you.

The broken cry brought Nanami back as he pulled away from your hips, not able to control his harsh pants. The sudden stop made you jerk against him, desperate for any relief against your clit that throbbed under your pants. Nanami stared down at you, blond hair stuck to his sweaty forehead with darkened eyes, and heaved a few deep breaths. His expression cleared as he took in your state- the caretaker role slid back on as he saw how wrecked you were from just a few minutes of dry humping. Your eyes were half lidded and cloudy with tears from the friction, hips still stuttered from the loss of contact, and your chest heaved. When he didn’t move, you reach forward with a grabby hand to tug his belt towards you. He easily caught your hand and slightly ‘tsk’ed when you voiced your displeasure with a frown.

“Look what you do to me.” He sighed and brought both of your hands to his cock that strained against the fabric of his slacks. You desperately gripped at the hardness which earned you a sharp hiss from his kiss bruised lips. You mewled at the sound but Nanami was never one to be outdone.

He eyed your own sex and let out a small chuckle. “Look what I do to you.” He said amused as he rubbed your hands over the wet spot of your pants. The pressure made the fabric catch against your slick lips, swollen from the rough friction and you arched into it before he pulled the hands away. He chuckled at your pout and wiggle to find friction again.

“I can’t believe how needy you are,” you bit out in frustration at his tease, “dry humping me like a virg-.” He swallowed the rest of your retort with a heavy kiss and quick swat to your ass. The small spank had you flatten yourself against the wall with a surprised gasp.

“You’re the one soaked through two layers of clothes. I think you’re the needy one, sweetheart.” He commented with a harsh tug on your ass which slammed your hips against his. It pressed your lips against your clit and sent a jolt through your body and the loud whine that left your lips already proved his point as he dragged you towards the bed. He brought his hands back to himself and left you to stand in front of him.

Nanami didn’t break your gaze as he went to unbuckle his pants and flung them off somewhere (you would tease him later how messy that was, throwing his clothes around like a teenager). You shifted as you watched his thick cock spring free of his slacks. The pretty red head slapped against his flushed stomach and you swallowed a whine as your cunt continued to throb. You would drop to your knees if he asked, pull your knees as wide as they would go, press your face into the mattress- anything to get his perfectly thick pretty cock inside of you. Nanami was observant as ever and smirked as he sat down on the bed.

“Like I said, needy.” His voice was a rumble and the comment sent a flutter through you. Nanami eyed you up and down, still fully clothed even as he sat naked on the bed, and gave a solid pat to his thigh.

“Take off your pants.”

Nerves shot through you- even after being with Nanami for so long. It was a force of habit to hide your body, to not show off and it made your movements lag as you unbuttoned and pulled off your pants. Despite his preference to see you naked- he rarely undressed you himself. He allowed you to take off whatever clothes you felt comfortable enough to remove, and at your own pace.

He was patient, as he always was, while you worked to obey him and not listen to the doubts that swirled in your head. His command, soft as it was, fought against those doubts you had. You wanted to please him, feel the praise run through your body, and that beat out whatever words had been thrown at your body in the past. His pale eyes watched as your thighs were freed and jiggled as you lifted you feet to kick them away.

His legs parted slowly (god what a sight to see Nanami Kento spread his legs wide for your body) and you slotted yourself in between his strong legs. “Look at you,” it came out breathless as he softly slid his hands under your shirt and you took the silent command to throw it off along with your bra, “sweetheart you’re gorgeous.” He pressed a few kisses to your stomach, his lips sinking into your skin. Your hands threaded through his blonde locks to let your nails scrape against his skull.

That was the praise that made every piece of exposed skin worth it- his gentle tone and sweet words sunk into the fat on your body and sent a shiver through you. He responded with soft bites into your even softer skin; his lips sucked a few red marks next to your navel to prove his point.

“Come join me, please Angel. Let me feel you.” He spoke quietly as he lead you onto his lap. You obeyed wordlessly- his words, his voice washed over you and made you compliant. Your weight pressed against his strong thighs, the bed dipped beneath your combined weight, and your stomach trapped his cock between the two of you as you settled down on his lap.

Nanami’s lips instantly latched onto your nipple, sucking and licking the hard bud. His hands roamed across your back, dipped to your love handles to pull you against him and you pressed up closer to his cock. His hips thrusted up on instinct to fuck his cock against your soft stomach, and drew a small moan from your lips. You rolled your hips against him which left behind a nice slick of your juices on his lap. His cock twitched against your stomach just as your clit pulsed from lack of stimulation.

Nanami was more than happy to lazily roll hips against hips until someone gave in. Once again, you broke first. “Wanna feel you Kento, please.” You muttered as your hips sped up on his lap. Your clit throbbed with every light push and you could feel the quiver travel through your thighs.

“You will, sweet girl. I’ll fill you up, give you what you need.” He promised as his hand travelled down to finally touch your wet pussy. His long fingers teased your slit and one easily slid between the folds. He had been the one to storm into the room and dry hump you to a wreck, but now wanted to properly get you ready.

You tried not to pout at him being a gentlemen to prep you but at this point he had teased you too long. You whined and weaved your fingers through his light hair to tug his gaze up to your own. Your empty cunt was painful as it pulsed around nothing. “No, please Kento, I need you now. I promise I can take it I promise just- I need you right now please please-“ he kissed your babbles away and moved his hands to grip the back of your thighs. He was patient, but even he had a limit.

Nanami pulled back to lock his pale gaze onto your teary eyes. “Can you handle that sweetheart?” He asked firmly, any tease gone.

You nodded quickly, blinking away tears at the need of his fat cock inside of you. “Promise Ken! I promise!” You whined and he shushed you again.

“That’s enough baby, lift up for me.” You pushed up on your knees and pawed at his chest as he lined up at your entrance. Your little whines of ‘please’ were silenced as the tip of his cock slipped through your slick hole.

As Nanami helped you lower yourself, he let out a string of encouragements, “You can take it, I know you can good girl, just go slow, don’t rush yourse-“ his words were cut off with a broken moan as you spread your knees and sank further down on his cock. “F-fuck baby.” His head dropped against your shoulder and he fully moaned.

Nanami was vocal in the aspect that he would praise you, give you commands, but those moans were special and sent an electrical shock right to your core. You griped at his hair and wrapped your arms around his neck with your own whine as his thick cock stretched you out.

It burned. As wet as you were, it practically dripped down your legs, his fat cock still stretched and squeezed itself inside of it. You slowly sank down until you met his lap once more, thick cock buried in your fat pussy. Neither of you moved for a moment, enjoying the fill and stretch of each other. His hands clawed into the extra fat on your thighs, sure to leave pinpoint bruises in the morning, and gave a small bounce.

“Ah! Not yet, wait,” you stammered out with a whimper to his hair, your pussy throbbed around the intrusion.

“You can do it for me sweetheart, move and bounce on my cock, yeah? You’ll be a good girl.” He coaxed into your neck with a few swipes of his tongue.

You nodded instantly, his words wiped out any doubts or pain you had. “Ye-yeah. I can.” You confirmed and raised up on your knees slightly before you dropped your weight back down.

He let you set the pace, happy to feel the rise and fall of your thighs on his, watch your tits bounce, feel the tight squeeze of your cunt on his cock, hear the pants right by his ear. “Kento, Kento,” you chanted as your rises got higher and quicker.

His own pants and moans were almost lost in the mix of your vocalizations and the squelch of your pussy around his cock. The tightness that formed deep in your belly came back, egged on by the sounds and feel of Nanami. “More! Ken, I need more, please, just, just a lil’ more.”

You leaned back from him to grind your hips down just as he moved to thrust up to hit right there oh god that was the spot. Your moan was loud and delicious to him as the head of his cock brushed the spongy spot inside of you that left you slack jawed. He took advantage of your leaned back form and laid back on the bed before he bucked his hips. You fell forward, catching yourself on his chest. “More, sweet girl?” He questioned with a smile of adoration and lust.

Nanami was nothing short of a giving and loving partner, always happy to give you exactly what you asked for. In this new position, he was quick to thrust up so hard that it jerked you forward. That warmth in your belly grew sharper, brighter, as it weaved through your body with every hit of his cock inside of you. He continued his thrusts as you threw yourself back to meet his hips. Wet slaps of his cock being driven into you mingled with your loud moans and his quieter grunts.

He never could keep his hands still at this point. His hands groped at your jiggly ass, moved to cup your belly that hung over him, pinched at your nipples on your tits that swung right in his face, and pulled your thighs apart to watch his cock piston in and out of you. It was too much for him, just to watch you and everything about you as you bounced on top of him with such lewd sounds and faces. He loved you. “My good girl, you’re taking me so well, bouncing on my cock so nicely. How does it feel princess?”

Your arms threatened to give out as your hands clenched into fist on top of his chest. “Good! ‘S good Kento! Your- ah! your cock ‘s hitting so good!” You managed to respond as he continued to jack hammer into your soppy cunt. Nanami deepened his thrusts at your words, pleased that you always listened to him even with his cock that wiped most thoughts out of your mind. “Close, gonna...wanna cum with you.” You whined over his quiet grunts.

One hand left your ass and settled on the fat of your pussy right above the sensitive little bud that begged for touch. Your clit throbbed with the closeness and you leaned closer to him. He responded by snapping his cock deeper into you, a wet smack echoing with every thrust. “ ‘m close too princess, your so tight around me. ‘M gonna fill you up nice and full, okay? Make you bigger with all my cum.” His thumb found your clit and gave it a soft rub.

A jolt of sensation travelled through your body. “So deep, cum so deep inside me, puh-, puhlease!” Your begs and pleads became a mess as Nanami sped up the circles on your clit. Only utters of “Ken!”, “puhlease!” “Cum ‘n me!” fell from your mouth as your orgasm grew. You slunk down on his chest, almost laid out flat on him as his hips kept up their relentless pace. The circling of your clit, your cunt leaking around his fat cock, the warmth in your belly, Nanami’s praises of good girl my good girl- everything snapped.

You came loudly with stars behind your eyes, called out his name with a quiver that ran through your thighs and a gush of your juices that coated his lap beneath you as you full collapsed against his chest. He fucked you through your orgasm as he gave you one, two, three deep pumps- his hips only stilled with his cock buried balls deep as he emptied his cum inside your pulsing cunt and his lips praised your name. It took a moment to feel your thighs stop their shake, feel his cum settle into you, as you both recovered from your orgasms.

His chest heaved under you, arms wrapped around your waist to drag you up off his softening cock. You whined at the drag, positive both his lap and the sheets would be a mess of your combined cum. These moments, basked in the afterglow, neither of you could care about stained sheets and leaking cum.

Nanami settled you against his side and his lips dropped a slow and deep kiss against your own. “Love you, love you Kento.” You mumbled. “I love you, my darling.”

△ △ △

So yes, seeing his shirt on you- face still flushed, hair a mess, red bite marks decorating your plush stomach- it was his favorite look.

[cruelprincae]

Following her gaze ― or rather where her gaze lingers ― Cardan catches sight of the Grand General of Elfhame whose green fingers, adorned in all kinds of big, golden rings, curl in his direction, likely signalling for Jude to come to him so he can whisk her away from the Palace and into his stronghold where he can keep a watchful eye on her and any possible threats she might still endure from the Undersea's forces. When his golden, cat eyes ― oh so very identical Vivienne's ― meet the High King's dark gaze, they narrow dangerously upon him and, even though there is a fair amount of distance between them, he can make out the slight grit of his jaw as well as a single muscle of a green cheek that clenches in profound rage. However, whereas Madoc's face promises a violent delight should he dare take her anywhere but to him, his own remain indifferent, as though the threat itself came from a stubborn and arrogant child rather than the master of war and strategies and murder of all three Faerie isles.

He does not fault the Redcap for blaming the entire ordeal of Jude's abduction on him, for he does the same thing. Fresh is still the memory of when word arrived from the Undersea, claiming they have hold of the mortal Seneschal; He recalls how the huge, green fists of the green-skinned Faerie gripped the council table so tightly that when he let go, there were obvious cracks and wood broken in splinters to mark were his hold used to be; He recalls how Madoc ― after the initial shock faded ― in a fit of rage violently sent the acorn-shaped tea cups crashing against the stone wall where they shattered into a thousand, tiny pieces. He recalls how he screamed into his face how this was all his fault ― what else did he ought to expect when he appointed a mortal girl, fragile by nature in such a position far too dangerous for even the Fae to hold ―, how he called him a boyking, and claimed that if it was Balekin in his place as a High King, he would have known how to hold the reigns of the territories he was appointed to control; He recalls how himself strained to keep his face calm and impassive, even though his tail tightened underneath his shirt and his hand trembled from where they were fast together upon his lap. He recalls Madoc threatening that should he fail to return his daughter by his side, should any harm befall upon her, he would take his head himself, consequences be damned before storming out of the room and thundering the wooden door closed in his wake with such a force it was nearly knocked it off its hinges.

Madoc was right, of course; It was his fault. Were his brother wearing the crown, he would have kept the Courts under tight reigns, with promises of war and slaughter should any of them disobey. His Seneschal would not have been stolen anyway for he would not have allowed such impertinence to take place to begin with, and he certainly would not have caved under the Undersea's outrageous directives to have a mortal girl returned to him because he could no longer sleep at nights when she was away. He undoubtedly would not have endangered his biggest and most impactful Court ― the Court of Termites ― for her safe return either.

Alas, he has little care about what his brother would have done because, with Jude wrapped around his arm, the events of this past month ― the sleepless days and the empty screams in the hidden passage leading to the Court of Shadows ― all feel like a distant memory. The only thing he cares about right in this instance, is Jude and how warm the smooth surface of her exposed skin feels against his side.

Upon hearing her request, a curt, silent nod is offered and with a gentle and reassuring squeeze of his free hand upon her forearm, Cardan leads her towards the great doors leading away from the brugh and into the wide hallway which connects the upper placements of the Palace with the throne room. Dozens upon dozens of questions roam within his mind like wild, enranged sprites as the Fae marches upon the wooden flooring, searching for a room private enough so they can indeed talk ― of what he ought to ask, and what he wishes to tell her after the time they spent apart. Spotting the secret door leading to the room behind the throne room hidden beneath a patch of vividly green ivy ― a room the two of them have spent a good while in sometimes arguing and scheming and others pleasuring each other ―, Cardan opens the door and guides the brunette past it but before he can speak his mind, she is quick to hush him with the urgency of her command. It is such a Jude-like gesture that it has the Fae's chest swelling with a wistful longing, similar to the feeling of one returning home after a good while spent apart from it.

Mab, how he misses her. He even misses her awful commands which he is bidden by oath to never disobey.

❛ Okay, ❜ The High King manages to speak at last with yet another nod, after having swallowed the lump that weighted down upon his throat. His arm does not dislodge itself from around her middle; rather, it remains coiled around her waist as he guides her into the soft, velvet and gold embroidered couch lying just a tad further into the room, for he recognises both the exhaustion and the slight slay of her feet, as though merely standing before her requires a tremendous amount of effort. As though, should he let go, she will vanish into a fit of smoke and he will be left alone, for yet again.

There were a thousand things he meant to tell her, however, having the brunette sat before him, Cardan can recall none of them ― none, except from one. ❛ I missed you, ❜ He says, and even though his voice is little more than a mere whisper, the room is quiet enough for it to carry as though it was the loudest of screams. ❛ And when you were gone, truly gone under the waves of the sea, I hated myself as I never have before. ❜

Madoc had always taught her growing up that eyes were the window to the soul that in battle, if you knew how to read another's eyes, you would forever be able to anticipate their next move. Now, she didn't quite believe that, the in battle part, being able to read ones eyes would suggest an intimacy that you'd rather hope that you wouldn't be fighting with this person in the first place. Because meeting someone's eyes was intimate and soe Jude at least sometimes uncomfortable, okay, most of the time uncomfortable. Yet she could tell you the exact colour of Cardan's onyx eyes, right down to the gold that encircled them. Her favourite shade of gold coincidentally, but that would be something she would happily fall on her own sword rather than admit.

It seemed that her and Cardan held that intimacy with their eyes however. That intimacy where they could read one another with just a look and she would delve to think on that more another time of the why, but in the meantime he understood she wasn't some mindless toy of Balekin's glamour. She could see it in his eyes while he raised her hand to his lips. She couldn't stood the shudder down her spine. It was the first positive touch and contact she'd had since her sisters wedding, and gods, it took everything in her to stand there with a bright smile and not burst into tears and throw herself into Cardan's arms for just the sweet touch alone.

Her jaw tensed with unflexed emotion that she couldn't shed, having to use all her years of mistreatment at the hands of the fae folk to keep her emotions in check. She had been humiliated, mutilated and manipulated ever since Madoc brought the burden of his ex wife's children home after slaughtering their parents. She had her fingertip bitten off. She could handle this without shedding a tear. She hoped at least, but when Cardan moved to address the crown she was afforded a moment to compose herself. To have a minute to push down the well of emotions and plaster back the faux mask of glamour to ensure Queen Orlaugh and Prince Balekin firmly believed she was firmly under their control.

When she would finally be afforded a moment of privacy in her own room, she could allow the emotions to flow free then. Get herself in a bath and scrub the Undersea form her body and Balekin from her lips until she was red raw. She felt disgusting, though that wasn't really form the Undersea, but from Balekin's glamoured order to kiss him like she would kiss Cardan, and to survive the Undersea, she'd had to comply or risk being killed when they realised they couldn't glamour her to take orders. It was just mere luck that Balekin hadn't asked for more. She might have actually broke her cover had that been the case, but even a mere kiss made her feel dirty and gross.

Her eyes close for a moment as Cardan enforced the rules of hospitality. The fae were big on rules of conduct. It wasn't binding of course, things could still happen, but it was a way of warning them to behave without outright threatening them to do so. By the time the music began, Jude felt like she was swaying on her feet a little, the adrenaline of finally being home beginning to wane on her as the crowds began to from and Balekin was gone from her line of sight and she finally took a deep breath of relief. Though she did starle for a second as an arm wrapped around her, thinking Balekin had found her through the crowd before she heard Cardan's voice and a second sigh of relief formed.

She nodded her head at his words, more than happy to get out of here with him. She did notice Madoc's eyes watching them worriedly. Had Madoc been worried about her? That was, unexpected. He was motioning for her to come to him, but she subtly shook her head, she needed to speak with Cardan first. "I need you to keep your arm around me." she whispered to him, because she wasn't sure her feet would be enough to keep her standing as they moved down the corridor.

"We need to be quick." she muttered, her voice still hoarse from the pain in her throat, but filled with a rasp that gave note to her struggle to catch her breath in her exhaustion. "Madoc's going to come looking for me any second. He motioned for me to come to him instead of going with you."

[cazzyvintage]

A Freudian slip

Synopsis: While at Madripoor you have to pretend to be Zemo’s latest date for the undercover mission which leads to you having to play your part out well, if it is really you just acting or perhaps it’s a bit more than that

Warnings/Tags: Sexual innuendos, make out scenes, refrences to sex, use of the word daddy, spicy moments but nothing 18+

Word Count: 2.3k

Author note: I wrote and edited this all in a day to avoid revising for my exams so hopefully the quality is good. I have more Zemo one shots planned but if you have any requests please suggest :)

This fic is also being published to my ao3 account under the same username

Masterlist

Sequel

You rolled your eyes looking over yourself as you stood within the bathroom in Zemo’s private jet. Because of the mission, Zemo had told you that you needed to dress up to the part and had supplied you with a tight-fitting black dress which only came down to mid-thigh length and had a slit on either side of it showing even more of your legs. You didn’t even know why he had a dress on hand in the first place but you weren’t going to question it. You already felt uncomfortable enough having to carry out this mission however it wasn’t like you had much of a choice either. Quickly checking to make sure your hair was good once again in the mirror you finally pulled yourself together and left the bathroom and headed outside the jet where Zemo, Sam, and Bucky were waiting.

As you left the jet all their eyes turned on you. Both Sam and Bucky had the decency to look embarrassed and glance away from you whereas Zemo didn’t hide the fact that his eyes were running up and down your body.

“The dress fits you well y/n, you look ravishing,” Zemo tells you holding his hand out for you to take as you reach the end of the stairs.

“Do I have to” You question looking from his hand to him annoyed

“You have to play the part y/n” he replies but Sam cuts forward placing his hand on your shoulder and leading you down and away from Zemo, “She doesn’t have to yet”

After leading you a few steps away from Zemo he places his other hand on your other shoulder and looks you in the eyes, “Are you sure you are okay with this y/n?”

“I’ve done missions similar before, this is no different. Plus I don’t have it as bad as Bucky” You say glancing over at Bucky sympathetically

“We’re both having to do things we don’t want because of him” Bucky states glaring at Zemo then looking back to you, “We’ll both pull through it”

“Hey, you better be including me in that as well. I would much rather be anywhere than here right now” Sam says letting go of your shoulders and pointing at Bucky

“You should be more thankful that I agreed to help you and kindly let you ride in my plane, but no matter now our ride is here. You might not want to play your part now but when we get out of this car your acting needs to be very realistic” Zemo says motioning to the car beside him.

He opens the door to let you in and places his arm on your lower back as you climb into the car. His gentle touch on your back makes you feel just that bit more intimate with him but as quickly as his hand was placed it was removed with Sam pushing past Zemo to get into the car beside you.

The car ride there was awkward, to say the least. You all sat in silence as the car slowly approached the city. Though Zemo sat in the front you felt his gaze on you when he glanced into the inside mirror. Your eyes meet at one point through the mirror and you quickly glance away not wanting him to delve into your eyes. Eye contact had always felt like something so intimate to you.

Eventually, the car pulled up and you arrived at your destination. The car door opened and Zemo’s hand was once again offered to you to help you get out. This time you accepted. He helped you out of the car but once you were out he didn’t let go of your hand, instead holding it more firmly as he started to guide you along with Sam and Bucky trailing behind you.

You two didn’t speak much as you arrived at the bar. Instead of taking a seat next to Zemo, you waited for him to sit down and then placed yourself in his lap, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and resting your head on the fur part of his coat. Zemo chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist so you didn’t fall off, and rubbed his hand slightly up and down your hip.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your mind wander as you rest your head against his shoulder. The smell of rich cologne and what you think were fir needles. You wouldn’t lie and say that you didn’t like the smell. The truth was you liked it a lot. It made you feel comfortable which was saying a lot as you were currently in the lap of a murderer but it was like you could fall asleep now and you knew you would be safe.

“Two glasses please, one for me and my lady here”

You open your eyes again, reminding yourself you are currently on a mission. You glanced as Zemo and though he wasn’t looking at you the side of his mouth curved up into a smile like he could read your thoughts.

The man places the drinks down and you reach forward to grab yours and hand Zemo his which he smiles in thanks to you.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the man says to you, narrowing his eyes.

“I found her on my travels, showing her the world” Zemo quickly replies, and to make your relationship seem more realistic he places a kiss on your temple briefly. Even though it wasn’t anything that intimate it still made your cheeks blush.

The man chuckles observing you, “She seems quite innocent”

This time it was you narrowing your eyes at him angrily, “What did you say” you spat. You felt Zemo’s grasp on your hip tighten in warning as he chuckles, “Oh I can assure you she isn’t”

You breathed in trying to control your anger. You’d like nothing more to slap Zemo but instead, you force a smile at him then downed the drink in your hand. You needed it.

When a man came up to Zemo he quickly lifted you off his lap and stood putting himself in front of you and the man as he dealt with him. You watched in anger as he made Bucky fight while all you could do was stand beside Zemo and bite your tongue. You felt Zemo’s hand brush up beside yours again, not quite grasping it yet reminding you he was there. You take his hand in yours, wrapping your fingers against his gloved ones. The interaction makes Zemo glance down for a moment but quickly focuses back on Bucky.

When they finally let you go in to visit Selby, Zemo leads you once again not letting go of your hand. When you entered the room you just wanted to stand by the side with Sam but Zemo dragged you over to his seat making sure you sat on his lap, your arm going back around his shoulders, and this time his hand rested on your exposed thigh.

Zemo started talking to Selby about Bucky, acting like he was trying to sell off an animal. You weren’t sure exactly what Zemo’s plan was but you felt uneasy being in Selby’s presence. And dread-filled you more when she finally acknowledged your existence.

“So who’s this bird you have resting on your knee?”

“This is y/n, quite the treasure isn’t she?” Zemo replied looking at you smirking

“That’s for certain.” She turned to Bucky, “What do you think soldier”

There were a few moments of silence till Zemo said “answer” and Bucky replied, “She’s very beautiful” while still keeping a straight face and looking forward. Selby chuckles seeming satisfied and her eyes turn back to you, her eyes trailing up and down yours.

“She doesn’t talk much”

“I can talk plenty when I want to” You quickly reply, moving to adjust yourself in Zemo’s lap to appear more comfortable. In moving in his lap you can hear Zemo’s breath hitch briefly.

“Is she only yours Zemo?” Selby asks

Before Zemo got a chance to answer you were determined to make it clear she wasn’t going to get anywhere near you. You moved your hands up, running them through his soft hair and turning to stare at him.

“Oh yes I only belong to daddy”

You feel your stomach drop as soon as the words leave your mouth. You hadn’t meant to refer to Zemo like that it had just suddenly slipped out. Sam’s eyes instantly widened as he looked at you and Zemo however if Bucky had heard he made no indication, keeping the same stoic expression and staring forward.

Zemo instantly responded after you said that patting your thigh and looking you in the eyes and saying, “Yes I’m afraid this good little girl is mine and mine only”

You could tell from the way his lips curled up into a smile and his eye sparkling that he enjoyed what you had just said and now how embarrassed you were like he was teasing you for admitting something.

Yet his eyes also seemed kind, soft in a way. You were so close you could feel his breath on your lips and it made you want to explore his lips. It was just a mission after all. It was an act. You had to do this to prove to Selby that you were his ‘bird’

Raising your other hand you cup the side of his face, resting it on his jaw. His eyebrow quirks up in surprise at you initiating this contact but you don’t give him time to consider much else.

You press forward pushing your lips onto his. His arm leaves your thigh instead wrapping them around your body somehow pulling you even more physically closer. His hand grip on you tightens, surely leaving a bruise. You could feel his lips open slightly trying to press further into you like he had forgotten where you were but you hadn’t. After a moment you place a hand on his chest and push yourself away from him, breathing heavily.

You two stare at each other for a moment, speaking words of desire through your lustful eyes till the sound of a slow clapping breaks you both from your trance.

“My my wasn’t that a show,” Selby says smirking at them, “I didn’t know you still had that in you Zemo”

“Well…” Zemo trails off, finally looking away from you and shrugging his shoulders as he smirks at Selby.

They get back to business while you try to recover from everything that has happened. You could feel Sam’s eyes burning into you but you were avoiding him. How could you face Bucky and Sam after that!

Everything was going well till a phone ringtone interrupted them. Your eyes widen in shock, finally glancing over to Sam whose eyes are filled with worry.

The colour drained from Zemo’s face as they all watched Sam answer the call.

The rest of it felt like a blur. Sam’s cover got blown and that means so was the rest of theirs but before they could even do anything Selby got shot in front of them. Zemo wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you out of the building quickly. However, it wasn’t long outside before you were being shot at. Sam and Bucky ran forward whereas Zemo pulled you right and led you down an alley till the gunfire stopped.

“We need to catch up with Sam and Buc-” you started to say but Zemo pushed you into a wall, his body caging you in.

“What-What the hell?” You asked looking up at him, feeling once again a blush creep up on your face at how close you two were.

“Daddy huh?” he asked, smirking down at you.

“Are you seriously going to do this here!? Right now”

“I don’t believe we will get another chance of a private conversation without Sam and James” he mutters, still staring down at you, his eyes refusing to move away from yours.

You can feel your cheeks burning bright red and look to the side avoiding his gaze, “There’s nothing about it, I was just playing my role”

Zemo takes his hand, placing it under your chin and turning your face towards his. He leans in, his lips almost touching his, “You were very convincing”

You don’t reply, instead, your eyes are focusing on his lips, he slowly grazes them against yours then pulls back looking you in the eyes as if asking millions of questions. His hand reaches up to push part of your hair that was covering your eyes behind your ear, as you feel his hand by the side of your face you feel the desire to lean into it.

“I…” You start but trial off, “Perhaps…” you try again, “Perhaps it wasn’t all acting” you mutter

A cocky smile creeps onto Zemo’s mouth as he looks at you, “I thought not”

“Oh shut up and kiss me” you angrily reply and Zemo doesn’t hesitate to give you what you ask. His lips crash onto yours as his hands wrap around your legs, lifting them making you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer to you. You grab the fur parts of his coat but he grasps your wrists in one hand and raises them above you. His lips move all over you hungrily before leaving and trailing down your jawline and onto your neck. He tugs on a bit of your skin and sucks on it causing you to mewl in pleasure.

“Y/N!? ZEMO!?” you hear Sam shouting in the distance

Zemo sighs pulling away from your neck, “It seems our private time together is over little one”

Gently he places you back on the ground, taking your hand rubbing his thumb over the back of it, and guides you over to where Sam and Bucky were trying to find you two.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Camlann, except no one is being held back by stupid destinies;

Merlin manages to keep Morgana and Mordred on the side of the light, which has a few rather influential knock-on effects.

Morgause leads her army onto the barren fields of Camlann, her hair and eyes wild, but her sword and focus sharp. Opposite stands her traitor sister’s half brother, the Boy-King of Camelot, surrounded by his precious knights. Today, they would all die, she would make certain of that.

Arthur struggles to keep his hands from trembling, he’s well aware that this battle will likely be his, and subsequently Camelot’s, downfall, but his nerves are settled slightly by Merlin’s comforting presence at his side. Which he feels immensely guilty at. 

He’d done his best to urge Merlin to run, to take Gwen and Gaius and maybe even Morgana, to go to Ealdor to pick up his mother and run even further, just in case. Merlin had refused of course; Gwen and Morgana had squawked at Arthur’s stupid chivalry and planted their feet firmly in the throne room, a symbolic last line of defence, and Gaius rolled his eyes and reaffirmed that he would be in the infirmary tent, as planned. 

He’d given his men his speech and they all seemed content to die for the cause, for one last desperate attempt to keep their home safe, but that didn’t stop the freezing claw of guilt from shredding Arthur’s lungs every time he took a breath. They were just waiting now. For someone to make the first move, for Morgause to get a little closer, for someone to send a messenger. 

Arthur’s broken from his stare when a warm, soft, steady hand takes his gently. His head whips to the side to see Merlin, stood without armour (oh, how The King despaired) staring at him with a slight frown. A frown, Arthur thinks, that should be much deeper, and much more afraid. He’s grateful it isn’t. He’s not sure he could cope with seeing Merlin scared:

“Arthur, if... if I knew a way to win this, once and for all, with not a drop of Camelot blood spilt... would you let me?”

It takes Arthur a few moments to process what Merlin had said, on account of his brain focusing on how grateful he is to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his hand instead of actually listening to him speak, but when he does, he copies his servant’s frown, though his is slightly more confused. He doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand as he responds, instead tightening his grip:

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin gulps and looks away briefly, a look of guilt if Arthur ever saw one, but he finds he doesn’t really care. They’re all about to die, he’d forgive Merlin anything:

“If I could win this battle, and the war, right here, right now. Would you let me?-”

At Arthur’s continued perplexed look, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, smirking slightly as he adds on:

“-Just humour me.”

Arthur gulps, glancing towards the slowly advancing army before once again squeezing Merlin’s hand and looking back at him:

“It would... depend on the consequences, I suppose. Would you get hurt?”

Merlin shakes his head, then stops, and tilts it sideways as though he’s considering something he’d really rather not think about. He can’t meet Arthur’s gaze as he responds:

“I... might need a few hours to rest, afterwards, but any... long term consequences would depend on your reaction.”

Arthur recoils slightly at that, frown deepening as he shakes his head, completely oblivious to the keen listening ears of his six most loyal knights, and another, hidden towards the back of the group. If he’d turned to see them, Arthur would’ve noticed the blank looks of steely determination on Lancelot and Mordred’s faces:

“Well we would never have to worry about that. I... I could never see you hurt, Merlin.”

The King’s voice cracks as he mentions Merlin getting hurt, and the servant’s gaze softens, knowing that Arthur was thinking of their inevitable demise, creeping closer and closer. He squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile as his other hand lifts up to rest on his shoulder; his question comes out soft and pleading:

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur has to use all of his self control not to yell his answer across Camlann:

“More than anyone.”

Merlin smiles sadly and steps back, dropping both of his still-steady hands to his sides; Arthur feels the gap between them more heavily than he feels the armour on his back. Merlin goes to turn away without another word, but before he can take even one step, a figure is pushing through to the front, gripping his wrist and pulling him back:

“I’m coming too.”

Arthur’s eyes go comically large as he hears Morgana’s voice come from under the hood. He steps forward to rip it down, and she only spares him an annoyed glance before she’s back to staring purposefully at Merlin. A gasp goes up around the group from all bar two, and Mordred dismounts his horse, walking forward to be in line with Morgana. The three of them entirely ignore Arthur’s outraged words:

“Morgana, what the hell are you doing here? You need to be safe at the castle, you’re meant to take the crown what the hell are you doing here?!”

Merlin meets Morgana’s determined glare with a resigned one of his own:

“No, this is my-”

Mordred interrupts him, his voice strong in a way that Arthur had never heard from the youngest knight before:

“No. No, it’s not. You’re not just fighting for Camelot, Merlin, you’re fighting or us, for our people.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Morgana crosses her arms and holds her head high as she speaks:

“You’re making a stand and you have no right to stop us from doing the same. This is bigger than you, bigger than all three of us, this is our fight just as much as it is yours.”

Merlin can only hold their stare for so long before he sighs and looks to the floor, entirely oblivious to the knights panicking (bar Lancelot, of course). He looks up with a small, relaxed smile on his face, and if Arthur weren’t so preoccupied with the fact that Morgana was definitely not supposed to be here, he would’ve found Merlin’s almost-nonchalance calming. The servant holds both his hands out:

“Together?”

Mordred grins widely, taking one of Merlin’s wrists as he responds confidently:

“For Camelot.”

Morgana does the same, a sudden wind whipping her hair behind her wildly:

“For our people.”

Without another moment’s of hesitation, Merlin turns and marches towards Morgause and her army. His steps are purposeful and strong, and Arthur can’t bring himself to stop him, no matter how desperately his brain is screaming at him. Morgana turns to him with a not-quite-cruel smirk:

“This has been a long time coming, brother. Enjoy the show.”

Arthur can only blink in surprise as she turns and walks towards Merlin. Mordred looks to him next, though the young knight’s smile is a lot softer, a lot more pitying:

“You should consider yourself lucky, Arthur,-”

Arthur barely registers the use of his first name:

“-my Lord gave up his throne in favour of serving you, buried his crown in favour of polishing yours.”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, his voice quiet and confused and strained as he asks:

“Your Lord?”

Mordred looks to Merlin, still marching across the seemingly never-ending field, with an awed smile; his voice is quiet and holds notes of what almost sound like worship:

“He’s more than you know.”

Before Arthur can respond, Merlin and Morgana stop, turning to look at Mordred expectantly. Merlin stares blankly, his brows slightly furrowed, but Morgana sports a wild grin as she yells back:

“I though you wanted to join in on the fun, Mordred?”

The young knight grins in response, turning to Arthur and giving him one last short bow as he cheerfully says, not a trace of worry in his voice:

“Lady Morgana is right My Lord, enjoy the show.”

He turns away quickly, jogging to catch up with the other two before anyone can say anything. Gwaine is the first to react, jumping off his horse and starting forward, to catch up with them, to pull them back, to ask them what the fuck was going on, but Lance quickly lands behind him, grabbing his shoulder:

“Wait, don’t. You trust them right?-”

He casts his gaze around the others, all looking slightly confused but mostly panicked as they dismount their horses. Mordred, Merlin, and Morgana make their journey to the centre of the field, but Lancelot’s eyes focuses on Arthur:

“-You said you trusted him, so just... this is what he does, Arthur. Please, just trust him, everything’s going to be ok.”

Arthur is desperate to question his knight, to demand that he explain what’s going on and give up anything, everything he knows, but before he can say anything, Elyan gasps and points somewhere beyond their friends. The whole army seems to resume their earlier jitters as Morgause differentiates herself from her soldiers.

~

The three magic users spread out slightly as they come to a stop, Mordred on the left, Morgana on the right, and Merlin, of course, in the middle.

A storm seems to be fast approaching and the loud wind makes hearing each other difficult, but they don’t need words to speak, and Mordred’s question echoes in Merlin’s head as all of their gazes focus on Morgause stepping forward:

“Are the other two coming?”

The Warlock nods, tapping his finger to his temple briefly as he replies:

“I called for them hours ago, they’re almost-”

~

Arthur is distracted from all that’s in front of him when a desperate and terrified voice screeches out from the back of his army:

“DRAGONS!!”

He, and all the other knights, whip their heads around in panic, only to see exactly what had been yelled about. The Dragon that Arthur had supposedly killed years ago is flying towards them like a hurricane, golden scales shining bright even in the shadows of the approaching storm. Next to him flies a much smaller dragon, pure white and clearly young, unstable in the air but still graceful, still terrifying.

Arthur’s heart sinks even impossibly further as they both fly straight over them, aiming for the other side of the field. If Morgause had two Dragons at her beck and call somehow, there was no hope, no matter what ridiculous plan Merlin had. Arthur felt the tears fill his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. If this was to end in fire, then he’d sprint to Merlin, just so he could see him, hold his hands, beg him for a smile, one last time.

Lancelot holds him back with a hand on his shoulder and a soft smile:

“I know this doesn’t make sense, but just... trust him.”

He turns back to Merlin just to see the great beasts land in front of them, almost acting as a barrier between the three of them and the opposing army.

~

“-Took you long enough.”

Kilgharrah does his best imitation of rolled eyes before dipping his head in a bow:

“Where would you like us, young Warlock?”

Merlin grins, allowing Aithusa to push her head into his hands as he answers:

“I want you somewhere off to the side looking vaguely threatening. Only intervene if you have to, I don’t want the Camelot knights getting twitchy and skewering you, you’re an old man after all, I’m not sure you could take it.-”

Morgana laughs aloud and Mordred snorts behind his hand, but Kilgharrah just rolls his eyes again, giving another bow that this time somehow seems sarcastic before clomping off to the side, prowling up and down the edge of the field and huffing the occasional puffs of smoke in the opposition’s direction. Merlin looks down to Aithusa next, scratching her chin and using a much softer voice:

“Go watch over Arthur, keep him safe but don’t let him or any of the others hurt you, I’m sure Lance will explain. Try to stay out of the fighting and don’t let Morgause get anywhere near Arthur or the knights, you understand?”

The creature purrs and nods, stepping around her master and beginning an impossibly fast sprint towards Arthur.

~

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the gathering in the middle of the field, letting out a deep breath when the Great Dragon bows down to Merlin’s confident stance. The smaller creature bounds to him as he... exchanges words with the beasts, and all Arthur can do is stare as his brain argues over which emotion should be at the forefront. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Some kind of guilt? Pride, maybe?

Lancelot definitely looks proud, worried, but proud, and Arthur spares him a questioning glance; before he can say anything, Leon lets out a quiet yelp, pointing across the field and drawing his sword on instinct. Arthur whips his head around to see the white Dragon speeding towards them, eyes bright, teeth bared, and sharp claws ripping up the ground with every step.

He draws his own sword, panic clawing at his gut, but before he can step forward in some pointless attempt to protect his men, Lancelot pulls him back again, stepping in between Arthur and the approaching Dragon with a placating hand held out to each of them; his voice comes out quickly and desperate:

“No, no, she’s on our side, don’t hurt her. Merlin sent her here to protect us, don’t hurt her.”

Arthur stares between them with a mix of blood-curdling fear and endless confusion. But he trusts Merlin, and he trusts Lancelot, so much to Leon’s displeasure he lowers his sword, though he doesn’t sheath it, not yet.

The Dragon finally reaches them, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arthur’s fear is overpowered by confusion, and an odd fondness in the back of his mind, when the creature almost topples over in it’s haste. She purrs loudly, and even Leon appears to relax slightly, even more so when she dips her head in what appears to be a bow to Arthur, before turning her attention to Lancelot and pushing her face into his hands.

The other knights all start forward on instinct, but when Lance lets out a low chuckle and begins... scratching the creature’s chin?? They step back again, watching as the Dragon begins purring even louder, almost bowling Lancelot over as it rubs it’s scaled body across his legs. It’s... acting like a cat...

Gwaine coughs very deliberately and Lancelot looks up with a blush, biting his lip before saying, his words awkward and stilted:

“Uh... guys, this is Aithusa, she’s... a Dragon. She can’t speak yet, but-”

Percival makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head with wide eyes as he asks incredulously:

“Dragons are meant to be able to speak??”

Lancelot grimaces, but nods, but before he can say anything, Morgause’s crazed voice echoes over the field, and their attention is drawn back to the face off between Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and the enemy.

~

“You can not beat me, not even with your precious pets!!”

The gang can hear Kilgharrah’s low growl at the insult and the sound vibrates across the ground and up into their very bones, even with the distance between them. Aithusa tenses in response, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as she detects the anger and insult swarming in her Kin, but Merlin holds a hand out to the Great Dragon, and both creatures relax as he monotonously responds:

“I’m giving you one chance, Morgause, do not send your followers to a pointless death.”

His tone is even and confident, his back straight, his head held high, and Arthur wonders how he’d never noticed Merlin’s obvious power before. Despite speaking normally, his voice is heard by everyone, even over the howling wind.

The knights can see Morgause’s hands shaking in her rage, her eyes wide and bright golden as she screeches her response, her anger showing through clearly:

“I am no coward!! You are nothing but a servant, a child soldier, and a pampered princess! What hope do you have against me?! I am a High Priestess, you are nothing!!!”

Merlin lowers his head, nodding slightly in resigned sadness. His muttered words, once again, somehow seem to echo across the field, and Arthur recoils at the grief in his tone:

“So be it.”

He slowly lifts his arm, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, his fingers splayed wide, and Elyan gasps, pointing wordlessly to the lightening dancing between his fingertips. Gwaine lets out a boisterous laugh, grinning as he realises with sudden clarity that Merlin is about to kick ass in a major way.

Arthur just gapes, struggling to process what was happening even as Gwaine whoops and Lancelot smiles proudly. The other knights are also staring, varying levels of confusion, awe, and happiness on their faces. 

From where they’re standing, they can see Mordred and Morgana get into a fighting stance, though neither of them draw the swords they have hanging from their hips. Morgause lets out an ear piercing screech, this one wordless, giving the distinct impression that her mind had snapped under the weight of her fury. Her army begins their march forwards as she hurls a fireball the size of a horse straight for Merlin, but he simply twists his wrist sharply forwards. A bolt of lightening rips down from the sky, intercepting the fireball and forcing it to the ground where it explodes in a miniature storm of silver sparks and golden flames.

Morgause screams again, her and her army speeding up in their approach as Merlin gives some sort of unseen command. All of a sudden, Mordred gives a small leap forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrusts his hands towards the ground before ripping them up again; with the movement, the ground at his feet explodes, vines and rocks and roots bursting from the field in a sharp line heading straight for the army. Morgana, at the same time, swirls her arms gracefully around her head, a few sparks of fire lighting up in the darkness as if from the friction between her hands and the air. She brings her arms down again, completing the elegant flow, stepping forward as she blows harshly into her cupped hands. A great, hot fire bursts forth, huge and angry and writhing as it shoots towards the enemy.

A few feeble counter attacks are thrown from Morgause and the sorcerers she has in her ranks, but ultimately, the army can only look on in horror at their approaching deaths. After a few moments of Merlin staring proudly at Mordred and Morgana’s handy work as it rips apart the first few hundred soldiers, he takes his own step forward, raising his arm to the sky. Lightening dances between just his fingertips at first, then down his arm, then all over his body; he connects to the flashes in the sky, and he glows brighter and brighter until he thrusts both arms forward. A tornado of flashing, crackling light shoots out from his hands, striking down thousands of soldiers. Shards of lightening jump from enemy to enemy, leaving none untouched by magic, each being struck down by Mordred’s earth, Morgana’s fire, or Merlin’s sky.

The Camelot army can only stare on in shock and horror as the enemy is wiped out in minutes, screams of those being buried alive, burned as if on pyres, or fried from the inside out reverberating across the field. Arthur’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and frozen on Merlin as he conducts lightening as if it were what he was born to do. Something deep in Arthur’s soul tells him that this is what he was born to do.

Aithusa’s protection isn’t required; none of the enemy soldiers get within ten metres of Merlin and his pupils, let alone Arthur and the other knights, but she patrols the front edge of Camelot’s army regardless, nudging back those that step too far forward (everyone was too focused on The King’s manservant, knight, and half sister being... well... Godlike, to care about the fact that a Dragon was using her snout to gently push people around), always with one eye on Arthur, just like her master had asked.

Within minutes, the field goes almost silent; the only sounds to be heard are the gentle crackling of still-smouldering bodies, and the deep breaths of Morgause, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur. Merlin seems entirely unbothered, his stance still strong and powerful where Mordred and Morgana sag slightly from the exertion.

Morgause falls to her knees, tears on her cheeks as she finally realises the power that she’s up against; Merlin tilts his head slightly before clicking his fingers. The four of them disappear in clouds of deep black smoke and Arthur struggles to stop himself from yelping and falling back when they reappear in front of him.

Morgause is still kneeling, Merlin in front of her with a blank expression on his face. Morgana stands to the side, her face an odd mix of sorrowfully defeated—Morgause was her sister after all—and vindictively victorious. Mordred stands at her shoulder, looking a lot more tired but still managing to stay upright as he gazes upon the scene with well put together indifference. Aithusa bounds over to be stood at her master’s side, and even Kilgharrah joins them, standing behind Aithusa a way’s off.

Morgause finally speaks through her deep breathing, staring up at Merlin in desperation:

“Who are you?”

Merlin just tilts his head and frowns slightly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder:

“Who do you think?”

Morgause sags even further, her tears streaming down her face as she almost whispers, her voice cracking:

“Emrys.”

Merlin nods slowly, looking to Arthur for the first time since the whole ordeal started. Arthur is taken aback at the shining gold of his eyes, but holds his gaze, gulping and waiting for his servant (?) to make the first move:

“Your orders, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking first down at Morgause, who is staring at the floor blankly, then to Mordred and Morgana, who raise eyebrows at him, then Lancelot, who shrugs, and finally the other knights, who stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer just as Merlin is. His hands clench at his side, but he looks back to the dark-haired man, his face determined and his voice strong:

“Your suggestion?”

Lancelot nods approvingly at Arthur’s obvious show of trust; the question is more than just a question, it’s a display that The King is treating Merlin like an advisor, asking for his counsel and trusting his allegiance in front of a crowd. Merlin smiles slightly, tightening his grip on Morgause’s shoulder, not that she notices:

“I’m not overly fond of execution, but we don’t have dungeons strong enough to hold her long term, and too many have suffered at her hand.”

Arthur nods, though he sheathes his sword. He takes a deep breath before his next instruction, knowing that this is... delicate, and important; a turning point in his Kingdom’s history:

“Make it merciful.”

Merlin holds in his proud smile and Morgause only has time to gasp quietly as his hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Her eyes roll back and she collapses to the floor, dead before she even hits the ground. 

The Warlock spares the dead witch a quick, pitying glance, and the grief in his eyes, even after all she had done, is endearing, reminding everyone around them of the compassion Merlin is capable of. He stands quickly, but is careful not to make any of his moves too sudden, stepping away from the body and towards Arthur. His stance is strong once again, allowing some before unseen authority, confidence, power to shine through; Mordred and Morgana take their places either side of them, and even Aithusa sits up, tall and proud, as Kilgharrah edges forward slightly.

This is Merlin, showing off his army, presenting it to his King, offering it up for judgment. An army consisting of himself, his two apprentices, and two Dragons; not large, but likely the most powerful the land has ever known, and ever will know.

Arthur gulps, but meets Merlin’s golden gaze. The atmosphere is thick and charged and The King couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from the residual lightening still jumping between Merlin’s fingers, or the sheer power that was just displayed, seemingly effortlessly. He glances over the Warlock’s shoulder at the carnage behind him and can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath. Merlin tilts his head, glancing at the massacre for just a moment before looking back with an almost repentant smile:

“I apologise for the theatrics,-”

He’s interrupted by Morgana’s whispered murmur of “I don’t, that was brilliant.” but ignores her:

“-but I can... fix that. If you like?”

Arthur frowns slightly, confused and so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what Merlin might be implying. He feels a mould grow spontaneously in his gut, a horror with spores that spread throughout his bloodstream as he realises that... he doesn’t really know anything about magic, about how it works, about how Merlin is offering to use it. It had yet to occur to him to be afraid of Merlin, but the sudden realisation that he’d been persecuting his servant’s people with no real understanding of his own former hatred was... jarring.

The Warlock sees Arthur’s hesitation, widening his reassuring smile slightly as he repeats an earlier question, from a time that felt as though it had come years before, but was really only minutes. The discrepancy in timelines between Arthur’s head and the real world does not alter the King’s answer

“Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone.”

Merlin closes his eyes, holding his hands out to the side slightly as he lets out a deep breath. The storm, which Arthur and the knights had become entirely oblivious of despite it’s ruinous thunder and blinding flashes of lightening, quickly dissipates; blue sky and bright sun peek through the fading clouds. A gold shimmer ripples out across the ground from Merlin’s feet, spreading backwards like a wave over sand, turning pebbles and leaving the beach clean and fresh in it’s wake. The ground clears, bodies sinking into nothingness and fires being smothered by magic, even Morgause disappears into the dirt. 

Arthur absentmindedly thinks that that could be seen as honorary or disgracing; he supposes it depends on what type of person you were before the end of your life. Merlin would see being entombed within the Earth itself as a blessing, he somehow thinks that Morgause, with her God complex and inflated feelings of infallibility, would find it... demeaning.

Merlin sags his head slightly, and when Arthur’s brain comes back into focus, mostly prompted by the gasping and widespread whispers of the uneasy army behind him, he sees that the barren fields of Camlann, soaked with blood and scorched by lightening, no longer exist. In their place was a vast meadow, bright with the colours of spring and summer; untameable wildflowers stood tall and crimson butterflies were the only reminders of the bloodshed that had watered this paradise before them.

Arthur feels the smile on his face before he had even made the conscious decision to smile, but he decides that today, of all days, he doesn’t mind accidentally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Trust Merlin to do something as unspeakable as rip an army to shreds with lightening, and then apologise for his dramatics by creating heaven on earth.

The King sighs before shaking his head slightly, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. He can feel the sun on his skin, and his smile grows with the knowledge that the heat warming his cheeks was entirely unnatural for this time of year; Merlin really was pulling out all of the stops.

“You’re a gift to this world, Merlin.”

His voice comes out softly, as if he were afraid of ruining the peace, though he only adds to it; The King finally turns to his Warlock again and almost stumbles back at the immeasurable devotion shining from his now-blue-again eyes. His whispered response carries on the wind as if he were a part of it, and Arthur wonders just how much of this world Merlin has touched, just how much of this universe Merlin has created, extended himself to. Did the wind exist before Merlin? Did the sun? Did butterflies, or lightening, or the colour gold have any space in this universe before Merlin willed it? Gaius’ thick books say they have an answer, but Arthur thinks they might be lying:

“A gift to you, Arthur, only to you.”

~

THE END!

I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, so I hope y’all liked it!! I LOVE writing BAMF!Merlin, (and BAMF!Mordred/Morgana as well so) :D

Same as always, you wanna extend it/write it properly/remix it, then that’s fine, but drop me message before hand and credit/tag me!! :)

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || WASN’T SO BAD

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, swearing and mention of death, sort of spoils parts of the manga up to chapter 30 (so beware)

| form : imagine

| word count : 1553

| published : 20 november

| request : Hiiii again!! 😚 I hope your doing well :3 may I please request another sukuna/itadori x fem reader imagine where mc is dating yuuji and after getting acquainted with sukuna - they ended up bonding too?? Sukuna kinda develops a protective instinct over her and whenever he switches with yuuji - he keeps a protective hold on the back of her neck?? I see guys doing that and I want sukuna to do the same to me lol (*≧∀≦*) thank you!!

| barista’s notes : let me admit this, i’m not confident that i answered this request properly at all, and lowkey ashamed by that ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ also i’m not really confident with the battle scene i did here but when am i every confident...hahaha ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black cofee (jujutsu kaisen request) and please come again and order when i reopen the cafe!

“Damn, I’m really screwed now,” you muttered to yourself once you saw your whole new surroundings. Pure darkness enveloped you as multiple figures on what seemed to be arms surrounding you like a cage were present within your view as your enemy unleashed their domain expansion on you.

At this current moment in time, you were fighting an unregistered special grade curse that had managed to get inside a school called Satozakuro High. From what you gathered from your boyfriend Yuji and Nanami, this whole situation had started since the investigation of the murders back in Kinema Cinema,  where the sole witness - Junpei Yoshino, a classmate of the three murder victims  - managed to somehow converse with the same special grade curse that you were facing right now.

“Let me admit, the name of your domain expansion is sort of narcissistic, humble yourself would you?” you sarcastically asked, trying to figure out a way to get around this situation as you knew your soul was dangerously the line - there was no way you let something so disgusting try to transfigure it.

“For someone that’s going to die, you seem calm,” the curse stated to which before this happened, you learnt that it was named Mahito.

You had to keep calm. Ever since you became a jujutsu sorcerer, you hated when enemies would comment on your fears during battle, you hated when they would mock you for being fearful for even a second, you hated when they told you that they could hear your heart pounding in anticipation. You just purely hated that.

“Well, what do you want me to be? Fearful?” you then asked, tilting your head to the side as you rested your katana over your shoulders - only to let the tip touch the wall of the domain leaving you to realise that the wall was quite thin.

‘Maybe there is a way I can get out of this? Is my domain expansion more polished enough to overcome this one?’ you thought to yourself, before wondering about what could be happening on the outside of the same wall right now. 

                                          ꕥ

Outside the domain, Itadori was helplessly on the other side punching the wall with all of his might as he was worried about what was happening to his girlfriend on the inside.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Itadori screamed as he continued to punch the wall with his cursed energy-infused fists, desperately trying to gain some damage to the wall to no avail.

‘Why was Y/N the only one imprisoned?’ he asked himself as if he was going to get an answer back - that was if Sukuna was willing to answer his question. However, the King of Curses didn’t have a single answer himself. To say he was worried about you was an underplaying statement yet so out of character for him.

Ever since the Sukuna was introduced to you by his vessel himself, he couldn’t help but become intrigued with you like he was with Fushiguro. He wanted to know more, more and more. From all his knowledge about past sorcerers and clans, you were an exception to his vast understanding of the jujutsu world. An exception that he wanted to protect. 

You weren’t from a clan or related to one in the slightest, yet you had the capability to have inherited a technique that any powerful family would desire to have for themselves or for their offspring. You were a master weapons specialist - just like 2nd year Maki Zenin - only the major difference between both of you was the fact that you could manifest and construct those cursed weapons from only using your curse energy. 

This fact surprised Sukuna himself when he was fighting you and Fushiguro back at the Eishu Juvenile Detention Centre. Vividly he remembers holding you up by the throat against a wall, only for you suddenly swiftly swing your arm with a small but sharp military knife in hand surprising him completely on how you were able to gain another weapon without him knowing, only to find out seconds later that you had constructed the weapon with nothing but your curse energy once he moved out the way, escaping with a just small graze on his cheek.

“So you’re able to create cursed weapons ha?” Sukuna asked as he placed his hand on his chin like he was thinking before staring at the blade that was in your hand. Continuing to stare that the weapon, the King of curses slowly began to realise that the weapon you had created was classed as a special grade tool, causing him to wonder what power you possessed to even have the ability to create something so small yet so powerful.

“How in the world did you do that?” Sukuna muttered to himself, before quickly dodging your attack as you tried to assault him with another blade that you quickly manifested in your other hand, surprising the special grade curse even more on how quickly you were able to create more weapons even after just constructing the miniature knife seconds before.

“Sorry Sukuna, but I don’t like talking during battle and I also need to get my boyfriend back real quick,” you commented before you used your cursed energy to cause your military knife to disappear, only to quickly construct your classic black katana to try to close the distance between the both of you only to fail once again.

‘I can see why the brat likes you Y/N, I’m also liking where this is going’

                                        ꕥ

Still looking at your surroundings, you were worried about the amount of time you had left until you were finished. The mental confrontation that was going on in your head was straining as you weren’t sure if your only plan was the best for the situation that you were in. There was a high chance that it could fail but the small percent of success was what was bother you to the max

‘It’s my only way to get out of this situation right now, if it doesn’t work then at least I tried’ you thought, before stabbing your black katana on the ground in front of you to which then you slowly started to pour your curse energy into the blade

“Ha? What are you planning to do? You’re already dead, so might as well accept your fate,” Mahito playful teased you, as he tried to break your stern composure.

“Domain Expansi-”

However, before you could even complete your words, you unexpectedly heard a sound of a loud crack emitting behind you causing you to completely snap out of your concentration leading to the blue aura around your sword to slowly disappear. 

Before you could even turn a single inch of your head around, you suddenly felt something brush your hair aside before a warm compress was placed on the back of your neck leading you to let out a shaky breath out of fear until you felt a sense of safety enclosing around you. The feeling of his nails gently grazing your skin caused you to shiver before he lightly squeezed your neck in reassurance, trying to convey to you that he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I had it under control, Sukuna,” you muttered quietly before he tenderly pulled you back and had you turned around to face over his shoulder leading you to see the large crack that was created behind you that allowed Sukuna to enter into the domain. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to see you hurt,” Sukuna replied to which then your suddenly heard what seemed to be something being slashed, prompting you the want to turn over only for Sukuna to tighten his hold on your neck - but not to the point where you were in pain but rather him not wanting you to see what he had done.

As if he was trying to calm you down, you felt his thumb beginning to slide up and down, sometimes brushing against the bottom of your scalp leaving you to slowly begin to melt in his hold. “There was no way I was going to allow something like him to touch you,” the King of Curses said to you, leading you to feel nothing but a sense of security as you started to let your guard down causing you to lay your head on his shoulder.

Gripping onto his - well Itadori’s - school jacket, you took a deep breath in before letting a deep breath out as you calmed down your heart, not realising your heart was pounding in fear until now. You hated the fact that he could now feel the fear radiating from your body. You hated how he now knew how fearful you were for your life. You hated how it knew all of it.

“It’s okay,” Sukuna calmly stated, causing you to lift your head to face him only to see him stare at you back intensely with his glowing beautiful red eyes. “Nothing is going to hurt you, not in my sight,” he proudly said to you as if he was making a promise to you before giving your neck one last little squeeze to tell you that you were safe in his embrace.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to let him know.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to fear.

[mandos-sluts]

The Apology

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dubious consent, degradation, daddy kink, dirty talk, alcohol consumption

Summary: You cause Mando’s negotiation to break down seek a way to make it up to him

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!!

You and Mando have been working as partner bounty hunters for about six months. The two of you just apprehended and turned in a bounty that was incredibly difficult to catch. But Mando was especially driven to catch her not because the price on her head was super high (though it was), but because there was a possibility the two of you would be able to collect the payout in beskar. The agency that put the bounty on her has a considerable reserve of beskar, and Mando has heard that they have paid out in beskar before.

The two of you arrive at the cantina where you’ve arranged to meet with a representative from the firm to negotiate your payment. You are exhausted and extra irritable— that bounty put up a grueling fight. You and Mando slide into a booth as a waiter approaches your table.

“Your strongest spotchka please.” You tell the waiter.

Mando turns his head and looks at you. “Y/n.” He says in a low, warning tone.

“What, Mando? We just turned in a bounty which we spent over a week hunting. I’m allowed to have a drink.”

The waiter returns with your drink and it’s gone within the minute. You set your empty glass on the table as a frail middle-aged man walks up to your booth.

Mando rises eagerly to his feet. “Hello sir, thank you for coming.” He says, shaking his hand. You don’t bother to stand, instead offering him a silent smile. You and Mando are partners, but this whole beskar exchange is his forte, and you’re fine with letting him take the lead.

“I understand that you would like to negotiate for your payment to be in beskar.” The man says sitting across from you and Mando.

“That’s correct sir. Thank you for meeting with us.” Mando returns. You’ve never seen him be so polite and formal with someone before.

“My consortium pays out in beskar very rarely. And that is typically only when the value of the Imperial Credit or the Calamari Flan are especially volatile. But both currencies are stable right now, why should we pay you with our limited beskar reserves?”

Mando begins his argument. *see gif* You pretty much zone out, slouched beside him. You know he’s saying something about how beskar is sacred to Mandalorians and how the amount you’re willing to accept in beskar is much less than they would pay you guys in a different form.

“Well, we would like to be in good standing with you.” You hear the man say as you zone back in. “And you must be one hell of a bounty hunter if you’re able to afford escorts as young and pretty as her.” The man says pointing at you. “Maybe I'll use the credits we don’t pay you to pick one of them young things up for myself.”

You lift your head and sit up straight. Being a woman bounty hunter, you get sexist comments like this all of the time. You usually ignore them, especially in high-pressure situations like this. However, you downed that spotchka you ordered and the alcohol is overriding the voice in your head that tells you to keep your mouth shut.

“I’m not a sex worker, I’m his hunting partner.” You assert, completely unamused.

“Hahahaha oh that’s cute. Sure you are, sweetheart.” The man cackles.

“And ya know….you probably wouldn’t need to pay women to be around you if you weren’t such a creepy pervert.” You say harshly.

Instant regret.

The tone in the booth immediately shifts. Shock and offense cover the man’s face.

“...Excuse me?” He says slowly rising from his seat with his palms on the table.

Mando quickly stands. “Sir, I’m sorry, she didn’t mean that. Please we–”

“Who the hell do you think you are?! You come in here asking for a favor and then disrespect me!?” The man yells down at you. “Here!” He tosses a bag of coins on the table. “Enjoy your Imperial credits!” He spits before turning and storming away.

“Wait sir, the beskar–” Mando pleads, but the man is already out the door.

You feel the guilt rise in your stomach. “Fuck! Mando I’m so sor–”

“Shut up. Let’s go.”

“Mando wait let me go talk to hi–”

“Let’s go!” He barks at you, making you jump.

You spend the walk back to the Crest profusely apologizing to Mando. He stays silent and doesn’t even acknowledge you. He’s walking so fast you’re running to keep up with him.

You desperately seek a response from him, but Mando enters the ship without saying a word. He makes his way up the ladder and you follow.

“Mando! I fucked up, I’m really sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I know how important recovering beskar is to you, and I’m so sorry. I was drunk and….and I’m so so sorry!” You plead as your eyes fill with tears.

“Mando.” You beg, voice cracking as tears begin rolling down your face, “Please, please say something.” You cry as you pull on his arm. He yanks away from you and walks silently into the cockpit.

Mando has been livid with you before. You guys have engaged in plenty of screaming matches throughout your six months working together. They typically stem from you doing things he doesn’t think are safe, or the two of you disagreeing on what strategy you should employ to catch a bounty. But you’ve never seen him like this before. He’s more upset than angry; he’s disappointed. So much so that he doesn’t even want to yell at you. This is his creed, his religion, his people’s stolen commodity, and you just fucked up a chance for him to get some of it back.

Mando sits down in the pilot’s chair. You’re standing in the door to the cockpit behind him.

You take a deep breath. Your eyes are glossy and streaks of tears stain your cheeks. “Is–is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Mando spins around in his chair so that he is facing you. “Yeah.” He says shortly.

Your eyes widened. “W-what is it?”

“Get on your knees.” Mando says in a low, rough voice.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get on your knees.”

Your knees shake as you slowly lower yourself to the floor. You sit on your knees and stare up at Mando with wide eyes and a confused desperate look.

“Take your hair down and take your dress off.” He commands flatly.

“Um, wh–”

“Are you gonna make me tell you again?” He interrupts you.

You pull your hair tie out of your hair, letting it fall down past your shoulders. You look up at Mando sitting in the chair, and see that he’s rubbing an unmistakable bulge over his pants.

Arousal shoots through your core and you can feel your panties become damp. He takes off his gloves and drops them to the floor. You begin slowly unbuttoning your dress, and Mando unbuttons his pants, removing his hard thick cock as he stares at you. He starts slowly stroking his length with his hand, sitting there, unapologetically watching you undress on your knees in front of him.

You can’t believe what’s happening. You’ve fantasized about Mando almost every night since you became a team, but you never envisioned something like this.

You pull your dress over your head and set it down on the cold metal floor next to you. You weren’t wearing a bra, so you’re completely naked except for a thong. Mando stands up and starts slowly creeping toward you, his cock in hand. Your head tilts higher and higher as he nears you with your gaze on his visor.

He stops when he’s standing directly above you, pumping his cock just inches away from your face which is still fresh with tears.

“M-Mando, I–”

“Shut up.” He snaps, grabbing your chin with his other hand. He runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “I only want your mouth open if my cock is in it.” He pulls your face toward his member and you instinctively part your lips as Mando pushes it into your mouth.

You’re in shock by what’s happening, but you manage to gather your composure and you begin sucking his dick. In any other situation, you would tease him by licking his length or starting only with the tip, but you figure it’s best to jump right in.

“Fuck.” Mando says under his breath, surprised at how readily you started bobbing your head.

You take a deep breath through your nose and move one of your hands to his thigh to steady yourself and the other to the bottom of his shaft and move it up and down along with your head.

Mando’s breathing picks up. “You’re such a fuckin brat.” He spits, weaving his hand into your hair on the back of your head.

You swirl your tongue around his tip and begin to take more of his length. “F-fuck your mouth feels so good.” Mando breaths out.

You let out a whimper and look up into his visor. His words encourage you to bob your head faster.

“Shit, y/n. You’re sucking my cock better than I thought you could. You do this a lot before, little slut?”

You feel arousal shoot to your pussy at the vulgar things that he— your hunting partner, your colleague— is saying to you. You can feel that your panties are soaked.

Mando’s grip on your hair tightens and he begins thrusting his hips. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about shoving you to your knees and forcing my cock into that annoying mouth of yours?”

Breathing through your nose, you try your best not to gag as you let him take control. You want to show Mando how good you are at this— how much you can satisfy him.You bring your hand up and start kneading his balls, and Mando grunts. He can’t believe how submissive you’re being.

“Pfft, you’re a– a desperate little whore, letting– letting me fuck this delicate little throat of yours.” Mando says between thrusts. “You know you could tell me to stop, but you like this don’t you? You like being treated like a slut.”

You let out a pathetic whimper, signalling how right he was. You love that Mando is using you and fucking out his frustrations on you.

“Bet your panties are soaking wet.” Mando says. He takes his cock out of your mouth and grabs your upper arms. “In fact, let's see.” He says as he pulls you up off your feet. Mando sits down in the pilot’s chair and throws you over his lap.

Your head is near the ground and your ass is perched up on his lap. Mando spreads your ass cheeks apart and peers down at the drenched thin fabric covering your pussy. He grabs the top of your thong and wraps it around his hand. He pulls it up, making the fabric pull against your clit. You let out a yelp but he doesn’t relent, pulling it so hard until it snaps. He tosses the stretched broken panties to the ground and gazes down at your glistening, soaking wet cunt.

“Ha. I knew it. Fuck. Look at this desperate pussy.” Mando runs his middle finger through your folds. “Poor little girl. That why you’re being such a brat? Huh? You needed someone to fill your neglected little hole?”

Without warning, Mando plunges his middle finger into your hole and starts pumping it fast. Your mouth opens and whines begin to fall from your lips. Mando’s other hand slaps your ass. And you scream out. He spanks you a few more times, each harder than the one before.

The sounds of your whimpers, the sounds of his hand striking your soft skin, and the sounds of your obscenely wet pussy gushing as his fingers pump it fill the otherwise silent cockpit.

“Fuck your pussy is tight, y/n.” Mando spits. “You did such a good job with my cock in your mouth, let’s see how your pussy takes it.” He says flipping you around so that you are straddling him.

“Mando, I-I don’t know if it’s gonna fit!” You cry as you bring your hand down to cover your hole.

“I’m gonna make it fit.” Mando growls back, shoving your hand away and lining his member up with your entrance. But then, noticing the genuine worry in your eyes, he changes his tone.

“Come on, baby girl, open up for me.” Mando purrs softly. With his hands on your hips, he slowly guides your hips down so that just his tip enters you. He can feel your body relax.

You let out a breath and stare deeply into his visor, your hands are wrapped around his neck. You begin moving up and down his length, each time taking more of it into you as your moans become louder and your mouth falls open.

Mando lets out a grunt once his cock is fully engulfed by your walls. He can’t help but thrust his hips up as you begin to pick up your pace. Your moans become screams as his harsh thrusts upward coincide perfectly with the drop of your hips.

Mando is driving deep into your cunt as fast as he can. He moves one of his hands to your throat and squeezes it. “You– you gonna behave now, you little brat?”

“Y-yes, daddy.” You whimper back.

“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl for me?” Mando says as he aggressively spanks your ass.

All you can do at this point is nod in response. Your mouth agape and uncontrollable wails fall from your lips.

“You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? Letting me fuck the shit out of this prestine cunt of yours. Calling your partner daddy. Do it again.” He commands. “Call me daddy.”

“Daddy! D-daddy please– please don’t stop.” You cry out, gripping his shoulders and neck for dear life.

“Fuck, this pussy is– is so good. I might just have you sit on my cock while I– while I pilot the fucking ship.” Mando says.

He moves his hand back down to your waist and pushes your back so that he’s holding you up against him. His cold beskar feels so good against your nipples. Mando starts thrusting even faster and his grip on you tightens as he feels his orgasm approaching. Then Mando abruptly lifts you off his lap and drops you onto your knees in front of him. He stands up, pumping his member with his hand.

He’s panting. “I’m gonna cum on that pretty face of yours.”

You close your eyes and stick out your tongue, just as you feel Mando’s warm juices rain onto your face. “Ahhhhhhhhhh fuckkkkk.” He moans, looking down at your docile expression as he paints your skin with his cum.

“You look good like this.” Mando says with a slight chuckle as he bends down. He runs his thumb across your chin and then puts it in your mouth. You obediently suck his finger before he pops it out and grabs you a rag.

You wipe your face off. “Mando, I’m sorry.” You say flatly.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry too.” He says sincerely. “That guy was an asshole.”

**********************************

Masterlist

**********************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @smutslutz

[inkykeiji]

do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He’s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”  

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.  

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.  

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

[dreamkidddream]

Hiya~ Can I request quote 9) "Are you jealous?" for Lucifer in Obey Me! pretty please😊

This was so much fun to write! Luci know that he gets jealous but never wants to admit (his jealousy is worse than Mammon but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭) and sorry this got kinda long! Reader is gender neutral!

TW: suggestive/spicy themes, but nothing extremely graphic is mentioned

Prompt: “Are you jealous?” with Lucifer!

Lucifer is pissed.

He’s tapping his foot, and constantly checking his phone, waiting in his study for you to either walk in or call him. It’s late, and you’re still not home yet. He asked his brothers where exactly you are, and when Asmo told him that you’re out with the same “friend” you seem to blow all of them off for some time now, it just makes his mood turn even more sour, the scowl on his face deepening.

Now, Lucifer is not opposed to you making friends, as long as they aren’t a threat to you, his family, Lord Diavolo and the other exchange students. He understands that it’s very easy for you to connect with others, intentional or not, and he encourages it to a certain extent. However, this same “friend” that you’ve been increasingly been hanging out with for the past couple of weeks is starting to rub him the wrong way. Of course he’s met this “friend”, a classmate from your Seductive Speechcraft class (which just made him feel more unease with you being with them), and they seemed harmless enough (for a demon at least). Annoying, but harmless, at first.

Then began the constant need for your attention.

It started with the messages and calls under the guise of studying, the “innocent” demon begging you for help so that they can pass the class, and you being the naive nice human that you are of course obliged their request. Then it escalated from once a week, to three times a week, to almost staying after school every day just to “help”. He didn’t like that, as it’s him or his brothers that always walk you home every time, and this demon (who he found is Yuki, a demon who feeds off of sexual energy nonetheless), is messing with the routine, but he kept his cool and forced his brothers to do the same. He- They weren’t happy about this, but at the end of the day, you’re still coming home to him- them, and nothing is changing that. Not to mention how he made sure that someone had their eyes on you, whether it’s Mammon, Beel, or even himself (which he preferred).

Until Yuki decided that you need to hang out more, without him or his brothers.

That’s when he made it known of his dislike towards them, and dislike is putting it lightly.

You started to come home right at dinner, right before Beel devoured your plate. Mammon obviously voiced his displeasure aloud, with the others silently agreeing or making passing comments, but Lucifer would just shut the conversation down before anyone gets too upset, mainly for himself. He doesn’t want to lose control over something trivial like this, he can’t, he won’t- he’s well above some minuscule pest like them, and it would be a waste of time and energy to be worried about someone who is clearly below him!

He’s already irritated with Yuki integrating themselves into your everyday life, but he’s also trying to fight the increasing sinking feeling in his stomach the more you both bond.

The more you two become more than acquainted with one another, the more Lucifer tries to fight and hide this feeling. He buries himself in more paperwork, practically locks himself in his study, avoids anyone’s questions or concerns, and has become overall snappier than usual. He’s even snapped on Lord Diavolo, Lord Diavolo of all people!

(Granted Diavolo just thought it was overall stress, so he just simply laughed it off, but it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone, including you).

Now Lucifer is not stupid, he’s a very intelligent and powerful demon, and he doesn’t have to say it to be known. He made sure to do some research himself on Yuki, and didn’t put anything past them. You’re still surrounded by demons who wouldn’t hesitate to swallow you whole if allowed, and some are still desperate enough to try anything, so he’s very cautious with others being around you.

Which leads to now, you being out again with that demon at The Fall. Ever since, Lucifer retired to his study, constantly checking his phone for any updates. He refused to look distressed in front of everyone, and he knows that you’re smart and not so gullible, you’ll be okay, you had to be.

It’s well going on 1 in the morning, and you still haven’t answered any of his calls and texts? You swore that you would always answer him, so something had to happen. What exactly were you doing? What exactly were you two doing? We’re you okay? Are you safe? Has that Yuki tried anything with you?

Were you two doing anything now?

All of these questions swirling around in his head, his worry only adding on to his frustrations and building tension going through his body.

He already marched down to the door, coat forgotten and tie undone, flinging it open and scowl so deep that his fangs were bared. That Yuki better hope that you come home in one piece and spotless, or else he will make sure that they regret being alive-

He couldn’t wipe the surprised look on his face when he made eye contact with you, who was matching his own expression, hand frozen in the air mid knock.

“Lucifer? What are you still doing up? Are you about to go somewhere?” His expression quickly morphed to one of high distaste, the irritation displaying clearly on his face and his grip tightening on the door.

“I was still awake waiting for you. Have you forgotten how to use a phone, or are you too good for one now that you’re with your ‘friend’. And I remember specifically telling you to let me know when you leave, did I not?”

“Oh. Well...my phone kinda died, but I was already on the way home and-”

“By yourself?! Do you know how irresponsible that is? Do you forget that you’re a mere human?”

His irritation is rising to pure anger at this revelation. So that demon didn’t even have the decency to walk you home? To make sure that you arrive safe? And yet you still have the nerve to spend time with them and practically ignore him?!-

“Well- um, Lucifer? Lucifer!”

He snapped out of his murderous thoughts, and stepped aside to let you in.

“Come inside now, it’s late, and we have much to discuss.”

Your face scrunched up, showing confusion in how he’s acting. You know that’s he mad about your phone being dead, but he’s mad enough to leave the door barely hanging on its hinges? But you knew that arguing or pointing it out would just make things escalate, so you just stepped past and began to make your way up the stairs.

You can feel his eyes bore into the back of your head, but you just didn’t understand why. It’s about more than just your phone, it seemed like he’s been on edge for awhile now. You want to approach him, to ask him what’s wrong, to have him open up, but of course Lucifer being Lucifer, it was to no avail.

You racked your brain as he lead you to his room and began the “conversation” about how irresponsible you were being (really it’s just him getting whatever he needed off his chest and not you giving any input). Was it because of you going out so late? No, you didn’t drink, you and Yuki stayed together the whole night, and you let him know hours before. Was it Yuki? Now that you’re think about it, he has been frowning more it seemed like every time you brought up their name-

The pieces are starting to fit together now.

Oh my Diavolo.

You couldn’t stop the words escaping from your mouth before you could realize it.

“Lucifer, are you jealous?”

He choked in the middle of his sentence, and the room went quiet. You’re pretty sure that you can’t even hear him breathing, and his face just went entirely blank, no expression whatsoever.

Oh no, you broke him-

A gust of wind erupted, so strong that you had to shield your eyes for a second, and when you removed your arm, you were met with massive black wings and a very enraged demon.

“Excuse me?”

You stepped back until you stumbled onto the bed, as he stalks closer and closer to you.

“Care to repeat yourself?”

You knew better than to respond, and you felt frozen on the bed. You also know that Lucifer won’t attack or try to kill you, but it didn’t take away from the fact that he has moments where he’s very intimidating, one of those moments being now.

He’s looking down at you like a predator would to its captured prey, his ruby eyes glowing deviously in the dim room. He didn’t stop moving until he was on top of you, caging you in.

“Me? Jealous?” He scoffed. “I am the Avatar of Pride, the most powerful being in this house, yet you assume that I’m jealous of a demon that’s beneath me? You insult me, MC.”

He took hold of your chin, “Do you not remember what I said when we made the pact? You are mine and mine alone. Not anyone else’s, but mine.”

You felt like your nerves were getting the best of you, but you couldn’t force yourself to tear away as he leaned closer. He sealed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, one that you gladly accepted, not before uttering the words that made your heart race even faster.

“Maybe I should remind you of who you belong to, hm?”

—-

“Had a fun night, MC?”

“Yeah, it was”, you coughed in your hand. “Very nice, very fun. We had a great time.”

“Hmmmmm...you and Yuki or you and Lucifer?”

“Asmo!”

He giggled, “I’m just saying dear. I don’t sense the pent-up sexual frustration from Lucifer anymore, and he seems back to normal and even relaxed. Though I must say MC, I wish that you had spent the night in my bed instead.”

“Of course you do Asmo.”

“Besides, I would have covered your hickeys much better-”

“ASMO-”

“MC, are you ready?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear has never been more true than now, as Lucifer appeared behind you both, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yes, sorry.”

“Eh? Where are you two going?”

“Out.”

“And without me?!”

“Yes. Now, leave us be”. Lucifer moved his hand from your shoulder to your own hand, leading you both out the door. You two had plans for the day after the...eye-opening talk from last night, and he didn’t want to waste anymore time than he already had.

Bonus:

Asmo waited until he heard the door click, and then quickly whipped out his D.D.D. to text Yuki. He knew that the plan was going to be a success! A tense Lucifer made things more difficult for everyone, and he has too much pride to open his mouth so he decided to step in and team up with Yuki, who already knew about the whole ordeal.

Lucifer was already on the edge of snapping and letting his primal instincts take over anyway, so Asmo just gave him a little push in the right direction.

Thank Diavolo the plan worked, or else it would be hell for them both. He did owe Yuki some exposure on his socials in exchange for this and backing off of you now, but it was well worth the trouble.

[3rdgymbros]

— title; it’s nice to have a friend.

— pairing; zhongli x reader  

— summary; in which a lonely archon seeks out rex lapis to make a contract with him

— notes; this is my first time writing for genshin (i don’t play the game) so i hope it’s not too ooc !! special thanks to @degenerate-yandere and @hanniejji​ for their support !!

You've heard stories of Rex Lapis, of course. The parcel of land you rule over is tiny, but stories of his prowess in battle have reached even you and your people. Rex Lapis, the God of War, who understands battle and weaponry, strategy and bloodshed far more than you ever will, whose hands and weapons have drawn more than their fair share of blood.

And yet, your first impression of him is that his eyes are beautiful.

They're the first things that you're drawn to; those intense amber eyes, the deep gold reminding you of honey. Then, later, when you manage to tear your gaze away from his, you stare at the dark chocolate hair framing a breathtaking face. His eyes narrow slightly, but his features are otherwise schooled into impassivity as he takes you in, your body language stiff and prim, betraying the tension your body feels.

"The God of Flowers, I presume." His voice is cultured and smooth, with a rasp that makes your stomach flutter. A frown line mars the space between arrogantly slashed brows. "You wished to meet with me?"

You hide your hands in the folds of your robes, embroidered with thousands of handstitched pearls meant to resemble the flowers you so dearly love. You have to struggle to keep your scrambled, panicked thoughts from showing on your face, but still, real fear seeps into your voice when you say, "Yes."

You have to pause to take a breath, to steady yourself. "I'm – They call me the God of Flowers. And I want to make a contract with you. Please."

"Oh?" The intense magnetism he exudes grows in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power. His white cloak ripples and lifts in the breeze to show the hard muscles of his stomach. Very studiously, you keep your eyes trained on his face. "And what would you ask of me?"

Your cheeks warm. This is a conversation you've played over in your head before coming to seek out Rex Lapis, but that doesn't make it any less daunting. Especially since your reasons for seeking him out aren't particularly profound. In fact, it's almost something that a child might ask. You have no desire for money, or gold, or precious gems. You have enough of those in your temple, with its maze of lavishly furnished hallways. His liquid topaz eyes are penetrating – trying futilely, you assume, to lift the truth straight from your mind. But now you can't look at him. You keep your gaze trained on the gold silk tablecloth, and it takes all your self-control to keep your hands motionless in your lap, not to smooth it down, to tug at the corners so that it lies flat.

Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, you sigh, and your exhale of air brings with it the heavy scent of roses, mingling with a strange briny scent: waves crashing on rocky shores, dolphins diving. "Pinky promise you won't laugh?"

Your cheeks feel hotter than ever as you press your lips together, now all too aware of how naïve and child-like you must seem to him. Rex Lapis watches you closely, and you think that he might almost be on the verge of smiling. Almost. The ghost of a smile on his lips heightens your awareness of him to a physically painful degree. His earthy amusement makes him less of a god and more human. Flesh and blood. Real.

Your embarrassment eases briefly, but still, you hasten to explain, almost tripping over your words in the process. "Oh – It's what the children in my village do when they make promises, it just slipped out –"

"Ah. Another contract." Rex Lapis nods, sounding almost intrigued. When you dare to peek at him through your lashes, he's watching you with a peculiar expression that sets your stomach fluttering. "How is it done?"

"It's simple. You just link your pinky fingers together, and make a promise. And that's that."

"And that's that." Rex Lapis echoes. "Very well. Give me your hand."

Still uncomprehending, you do as he asks. You watch, entranced, as he twines his pinky with yours. Your pulse leaps when his grip tightens. His touch is electric, sending a shock up your arm that raises the hairs on your nape. "On this pinky promise, I give you my word. I will not laugh."

You soften, a small smile tugging at your lips, though your next words are anything but happy. "I'm lonely."

You can't remember who you were before the world made a ruin out of you. So many people you've loved have been wrenched from your grasp, your fingers still scouring claw marks into their skin as you'd clung to them with all your might. You have watched as the life has left their eyes. You have mourned them and you have envied them and you have missed them at every moment.

"I'm lonely." You say again, the words colored purple with your anguish. You open the palm of your hand, watching as an iris blossoms to life upon your palm. It seems to you ironic that while plants flourish to life around you, the same can't be said for the humans in your care, who are fragile and loveable, and rife with the stink of mortality. "I thought – It would be nice to have a friend. That's why I sought you out."

I'm weak. I'm scared of being alone.

Silence falls like a foot of fresh snow. Then something shifts in the air. As he stares at you, it's as if a shield slides away from his eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucks the air from your lungs.

And then Rex Lapis nods. "I accept."

"Oh." You say, all your breath leaving you. You smile, big and bright as relief spreads through you. As if conjured by your smile, the temperature rises, warmth raining over the space, as if sunbeams are falling from the force of your smile alone, like warm honey slowly pouring. "Oh – Yes. Um, how does a contract with you work? Do I need to sign anything?"

Again, there's that almost ghost of a smile on his lips, but the intensity of his gaze is searing. It feels as if his entire focus is on you. "Another pinky promise would suffice."

"Oh –" Why is that the only word in your vocabulary at this very moment? "Alright."

"In exchange for my friendship, I ask that you loan me your power whenever I have need of it."

"I accept the terms of your contract." Your throat is tight when you speak again, but you manage to get the words out. "Stay with me. Until the end – whenever that may be."

"I give you my word."

And again, you link your pinky with his, and as you do, power burns in the air, binding the two of you to what you've agreed.

It seems to you a funny thing, that right at the end of your life, you should remember your first meeting with Rex Lapis like this.

With much effort, you finally manage to open your eyes. It's excruciating. Your eyelids feel as though they're made of lead. At first, you can only perceive one thing: light. And with this slight stirring of consciousness, your body erupts into joint-wrenching pain. Nothing exists outside of your body, outside of all this pain that you know will consume you.

"It isn't his fault." You say on a choked whisper, feeling tears well in your eyes. You aren't sure if it's a plea or a prayer – the latter of which is ironic. An Archon praying? You'll do it a thousand times over, as long as life still burns in your body, if it only means that Rex Lapis will escape punishment for breaking his end of the deal. "Don't –"

Stay with me, until the very end, you'd told him.

Rex Lapis isn't here, but still you cling to him, holding him close in your final moments; the intensity of his burning gold eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips, how his presence had made you feel safe for the first time in a century, the way he'd looked at you, as if he'd understood you.

You smile. And it is a fragile, broken thing. "It was a good life. Thank you."

And it's with a last exhale that your body melts into the dirt beneath it, covering the land in summer roses, the afternoon bringing their fragrance to full bloom.

It's the first and the last time that Rex Lapis ever breaks a contract.

[enjennie]

Stay [ Lee Jeno x Reader ]

Summary: You find yourself in a dark room at a party underneath the basketball captain Lee Jeno. And he might just have a thing for you.

genre: Smut! (minors begone!) Fluff. 

warnings: contains smut and profanity. losing virginity + unprotected sexc time (pls practice safe segz)

a/n: my second smut ... i’m still testing the waters and this isn’t proofread but i just wanted to write smth to destress. also yes there is lack of foreplay bc im not too familiar with writing that yet but i hope it's not too bad !! enjoy ♡

The room was both dark and unfamiliar, but you push yourself into it without a second thought. Jeno’s arms are wrapped around your waist securely, lips molded together in an electrifying kiss that sent waves of euphoria all over your body. Jeno wasn’t any more familiar than the room. Not to you, of course. You knew all about him, but not the other way around. You were a stranger to him. Or so you believed. But none of that mattered to you in the moment. It should have. Yes. You kissed him. Yes. You initiated it. So why were you so confused on why it was leading to a very heated make out and possibly into… sex?

The music from the party you’d both left downstairs is muffled by the shutting of the door but what was really drowning it out was Jeno taking you into another world of your own as his lips drift from yours down to your neck while his hands touch you in places you’ve never been touched before. It all felt like a dream. But his voice brings you back to reality, proving that this all was in fact real.

“Are you okay with this?” he breathlessly asks. You’d both gone from the door and were now on the bed, with him towering over you looking mighty as ever. Godlike. Jeno the basketball team captain, whom you’ve crushed on for years was in front of you, had just kissed you back. You gave him a nod, not having it in you to construct a sentence by how baffled you were. “You’re not…drunk, are you?” he tilts his head to the side, inspecting your face in the dim light the moon provided.

“I barely had anything to drink,” you shyly confessed. You’d been throwing out your drink in bushes and every shot you took were mostly infused with soda. But Jeno knew. Jeno noticed it all. He chuckled, dipping his head closer to yours. Close enough that he caught a whiff of your perfume, close enough to hear how your breath hitched in your throat with the sudden proximity between you two. “Me too,” he quietly whispers into your ear.

So why was this happening right now? If it isn’t because of the heavy alcohol intoxicating you both to make unsure decisions, why were you in a room with Jeno when you were both very much sober and aware of what was going to happen? It wasn’t like you were the only girl at this party. Why was basketball captain Lee Jeno in the room with you, student council secretary Y/N, right now? Isn’t it an odd pairing?

You couldn’t think about any of that. Not when his lips are on yours again and they’re all you could think about. It didn’t take long before his shirt was on a pile on the floor along with yours. Jeno drew circles on your waist with his thumb as he grinded against your needy area. Your fingers laced through his while the other found itself entangled in his hair. Jeno let out a low growl when you pulled on his roots, and you can’t keep the smug smile from appearing on your face at the thought of him reacting this way because of your doing.

He didn’t waste a second more, he lined his tip against your entrance after pushing your skirt up and panties aside and thrusted himself inside you, making you yelp louder than you’d intended. You forgot to mention the fact that you were a virgin. Never have gone past the third base. Jeno drew in a sharp breath at your tightness and seemed to notice that the sound you’d made was more pain than it was pleasure. The boy propped himself up to peer at you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone so rough,” he apologized, concern flooding his face.

“I’m… I’m a virgin,” you let the cat out of the bag. It settled in the air for a while, hovering above the both of you in the dead silent room. You couldn’t look at his face. Out of embarrassment and shame. But Jeno placed a hand against your face, framing it and letting you look into his honey brown eyes in the darkness. “You’ve never done it before?” he whispers.

I ruined it. You thought. Maybe I should’ve told him I’ve already done it…

“C’mon,” he snaps you back into reality by pulling away and you see him holding his hand out to you. You stare at it, not knowing what to do in this situation. “Give me your hand,” Jeno smiled softly at you, his face completely changed as if he isn’t balls deep inside you right now.

You take his hand and he threads your fingers together, gripping yours firmly in his and pushing it down on the mattress. “Hold onto me, tell me how you like it,” Jeno shifts his body, pulling himself out of you, leaving you empty. Hollow. The friction made you gasp for air, which melted into a moan. You let your nails prick him on the hand from how hard you were holding his as he entered once again, slower this time. The stretch was painful, but so good. Jeno watched your face change from depicting pain to a mixture of pleasure. Such a sinful expression on an angelic face. You could feel him get harder inside you as he continued to thrust in a controlled pace.

“You okay” he asked softly. His mouth is by your ear and you can hear his soft panting. You let out a hum, too overwhelmed by what you were feeling to make up a reply. “Use your words, baby,” he urged.

“I feel great,” you breathlessly sighed back, just as his tip hit a new spot that felt otherworldly. “Fuck-,” you moaned. Jeno paused, biting on your neck, trying to restrain himself from going fucking you senseless.

“Keep going,” you directed. Jeno’s eyes grew dark from hearing your sultry voice telling him what to do. He pushed himself deeper, earning a delicious moan from you. Jeno bucked his hips and continuously rammed himself into you, filling you up with each thrust. He was pushing you into the soft mattress and had your thighs spread apart to give him space between them.

The sensation you felt gradually built up in your stomach as you cried out his name, your moans filling the empty room. Shutting your eyes and letting yourself indulge in the feeling Jeno gave you, the knot in your stomach tightened. He peppered your chest with kisses before his thrusts began to get sloppier, you noticed he was close. You let yourself look up at him and the sight of you was enough to send him to the edge as a string of curses along with your name escaped his mouth as he came. You clenched your walls around Jeno as you felt your orgasm hit moments after. Jeno slowed his pace down before pulling out completely and collapsed beside you, falling on the mattress of the poor stranger’s bed where you’d just lost your virginity in.

Your head was spinning and your hearts hammering as you came down from your highs. You turn to him, pushing your skirt down to cover your thighs.

“Did you enjoy th-,”

“That was amazi-,”

You both interrupt each other as you spoke, and you chuckle as he let you go first.

“That was amazing,” you finished your sentence. Jeno looked at you, his smile prominent on his face and his eyes displaying crescents. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself, made me forget that this is Hyucks’ parents bed,”  

That was enough to get you to spring off of the bed, looking back at it in horror. Jeno cracks up laughing, sitting up and reaching for your shirt before handing it over to you and pulling his own over his head. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he says, his tone suggestive. You knew it was to ask for a greenlight. It was surprising he even wanted to spend more time with you after the sex. The question brought a smile to your face as you put your shirt back on.

“Let’s get out of here,” you tell him. Jeno smiled at you, pushing the hair that covered his view behind your ears.

 That night, as you and Jeno sped away in his convertible with the top down, you let the cool wind run through your hair and engulfed the summer breeze. Jeno watched in awe, while he drove you to the hill with the best view of the city. He didn’t know how this was happening, when you both had never spoken before. It was always him and his little crush on you, going unnoticed. Shy glances from across the room at the girl who thought she was invisible when in fact you brought light into every room you walked into, almost like the sun followed you around.

But it was senior year. Fuck it, he thought. He’d heard you got into the college of your choice and it wasn’t in town. Jeno had decided on a whim that night, as he watched you bob your head to the song playing while mouthing the words along, that he was gonna tell you how crazy in love he was for you. When you disappeared into the hallway looking for the toilet, Jeno had followed you in a rush. To profess his adoration for you, tell you how you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. However, before he could spit it out, you’d kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you, in the moment it just felt right. It turns out to be the best decision you’ve ever made.

He pulled over, and you admired the view upon you. Twinkling lights from the bustling city of traffic and skyscrapers. Jeno turned the engine off, leaving you both in the sounds of nature around you. Crickets and the distant sign of life in the city. Cars beeping and music playing from different homes as seniors were having their party to celebrate the end of examinations. You looked at Jeno and he cupped your cheeks with his hand before pulling you in for another sweet kiss.

Unreal.

He pulled you easily onto his lap. How could you be so comfortable with a man you’ve technically just met? You felt like you could trust him with your life.

“We skipped all the formalities,” you murmured as you dipped your head close to his. Jeno lowered his gaze to your lips which made you subconsciously wet them with your tongue. He smiled sheepishly, leaning in and giving you a peck. “Then let’s start from the beginning,” He plants a kiss on your lips before pulling away after each one. “Hi-,”

Kiss.

“My name is-,”

Kiss.

“Lee Jeno,”

Kiss.

“Will you go out with me?”

[gojoslutoru]

Too close.

Geto Suguru x fem!reader

I’m having the absolute worst writers block so I’m trying to overcome it by forcing myself to write.

Warnings: Smut, bit of angst, a mess honestly, established relationship, quite literally i don’t know what the fuck this is, enjoy.

Wc: 1727

He promised he’d stop, but I guess a promise is just that in the end, a promise. The rain patters on the window as you turn in your bed again, the street light illuminating the wooden floor. You sigh while turning to sit up on the side of the bed, the fur carpet under your feet somewhat soothing the ache in your chest. You grab your phone before sliding off he bed onto the carpet, the soft material easing your slight thud to the ground.

You tap your phone, the time reads 3:41am with your eyes still scanning the screen, searching for Suguru’s name, but to no luck. You unlock your phone going straight to messages and scrolling to Suguru, typing a quick “where are you?” before you lock your phone and place it back to it’s place. Your heart jumps at the ping immediately, your phone lights up the space around it as you strain your neck to read the message: “kitchen”. He’s home. You shift a little as you push yourself up on your legs, your feet patting on the wooden floor as you make your way towards the bedroom door.

You push it open, the faint warm white light slowly flooding into the bedroom. You make your way down the corridor then the stairs as your eyes scan for the source, you open the door to the kitchen hearing a faint creek and immediately smelling the smoke from Sugurus cigarette. It’s placed in the glass ashtray near him as he leans on the kitchen island that centres the space. The plants around the kitchen have grown over time, now almost giving the corner a green backdrop, it’s beautiful, but it’s now just a reminder of all the times you’ve taken care of them, watering them everyday while they grew, while Suguru wasn’t there.

He looks up at you with a faint smile but the same glint of adoration in his eyes as always, he extends his arm offering you his cigarette which you happily take. Your hands brush as you take it from him, pulling a barstool next to his so you can lean over the island. You take a drag while looking at him, your eyes never leaving each other “i didn’t expect you to be home” you blow out the smoke as Suguru does the same “I got home early, but you were already asleep, then the rain woke me up” he explained “you not being there woke me up” the response was too quick for the both of you as you kept looking at each other, all that could be heard was the rain and a faint ‘i’m sorry’ from Suguru.

The sky was clouded, the city lights reflecting off them creating the effect that the world is in a bubble. You looked at Suguru, cautiously reaching your hand out to touch the side of his face his skin was heated as he leaned into your palm while closing his eyes, so ethereal you thought as you looked at him. Slowly you moved your hand up, combing your fingers through his long hair as you caressed his head. It would be a lie to say he didn’t miss you and you knew that. “I love you” he murmurs, his voice vibrating around you. You set your cigarette down into the ashtray before you move your other hand to his head as well, slowly bringing his face close to you “i love you too” a whisper, as if it’s a dirty secret that you love him too. Suguru keeps his hands down as he lets you lead into the kiss, his lips soft against yours, the kiss is slow no desire to rush now that he’s finally here again.

Suguru’s hand reaches up moving the hair away from your face, his hand sliding to the back of your head to push you closer, the movement and placement all too familiar to you and him, evident in the soft sigh you both let out. There’s no going back from here, your body instantly moving closer to him while his other hand pulls you closer by your waist. The kitchen is too open for your liking the panorama windows in the living room exposing the entire main area, luckily up on the 10th floor not a lot of people pass by the window you think to yourself as Suguru’s hands wander under your ass to lift you up onto the counter, your arms immediately dropping around his neck to keep him close despite the kiss being broken.

He looks at you in silence and you know what he’s trying to say, you’ve known it for a while, so before he can say anything you wrap your legs around him, pulling him impossibly close. The kiss is much more demanding this time, the both of you trying to desperately get the words out of your head that are weighing down the space around you, his hand wraps around your neck, his pointer finger pressing just under your jaw and you sigh into him letting his tongue push at yours. Your hand reaches down tucking itself in the band of his sweats as you pull him closer while grinding your hip softly against him “you’re gonna be the death of me” he moans slowly reaching his hand under your shirt to caress your waist “we both know that’s not true” you breathe back as he growls, obviously not pleased with your response.

His head dips to your neck marking it gently, little purple and red bruises appearing under his lips. His hand on your neck now slowly sliding down your torso, getting caught on your erect nipple but not stopping until it’s under your navel, you feel yourself contract at his hand being so close to where you need him. “Su- please” your head falling forward against the back of his as his hand travels further down stopping just above your clit. His other hand possessively grabbing your waist, purposely making you roll your hips so that his hand brushes your clit. Your hand travels lower in his sweats, starting to slowly caress his length as he breathes a little louder than expected “you’re really impatient today” he whispers in your ear sending a shiver down your spine “it doesn’t seem to me like you’ll be able to wait much longer either” evidence to your response clear in the way his hips are now grinding into your hand with his head bowed to your chest.

He gives in, hand moving over your clit to draw small circles on it making you let out soft sighs, your hand falters at the feeling slightly shaking as you move your delicate fingers towards the head of his erection he lets out a grunt “don’t do that or this really will be quick” you chuckle, continuing your movements as he groans into your chest. His hand on your waist finds it’s way between your thighs, prying them apart before dipping his hand in. His fingers brushing your entrance “need you inside” you whisper, your hand stopping as he finally begins to push a finger inside you, making you drop your head and moan next to his ear, your other hand grabbing onto his back. “You’re right i can’t wait” he says as he stands up tall pulling his finger out of you, your hands tremble as you pull his sweats down.

You shift towards the edge of the marble island giving him an easier access, his hand hooks around your back grabbing your hair as you do the same, an action that was now engraved into the both of you. Your other hand is on his waist as you pull him close, chest to chest. His hand positions his length at your entrance before slowly pushing in and he notices the way your body trembles at the contact, slowly grinding into him as he bottoms out now flush against you. You let out the breath you were holding, feeling impossibly full. Adjusting the grip on his hair as he slowly starts to move out of you then slam back in making you moan out against his ear, he does that a couple times, each time a faint slapping noise echoes through the kitchen along with his groans and your muffled moans against his neck. He finds a rhythm after, his length dragging in and out of your walls as your legs shake while closing tighter around him. His hand in your hair tightens as his other hand grabs your waist to steady your hips, the newly gained control making him hit your g-spot repeatedly and your hips twitch each time, your moans getting louder until they’re uncontrollable “fuck su- righ-right there” you moan breathless.

His speed increases but his head always brushes against your sweet spot, you’re shaking against him, body going limp over his shoulder as you feel him shake underneath you. His hand moves down to rub your clit, your stomach tightens at the act making you clench around him which earns you a sweet moan from his lips “i’m cumming” is all you can manage to say before you clench even more around him, the sensation making your legs shake uncontrollably around his waist then going limp, your head is thrown back as high pitched sighs leave your lips. Too busy basking in your orgasm to notice Suguru twitching inside you, you’re pulled out of your trance feeling the overstimulation by Suguru speaking “baby where?” his hand desperately grabbing onto you “inside” you whisper in his ear. All that can be heard is Sugurus desperate grunts as you feel him cumming inside you, his pace speeding up making you whine before slowing down his pace as he stays inside you.

The silence is deafening as you both think of what to say, Suguru is first to break the silence “i never wanted it to be like this, to build a home and then destroy it” his warmth around you keeping you safe from the words he speaks, you know what you’re about to say will change everything, but it’s too late, you love him “i said i’ll stay by your side and that’s what im going to do” Suguru pulls away to look at you, his eyes thankful but deep down he knows, you both know.

This will only end in death.