#so his way of comforting would be to describe the situation at hand as one that is more pleasant | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flowersforbucky · 24 days ago

Text

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett one shot #sex pollen #sex pollen trope #days of future past #xmen #xmen days of future past #xmen dofp

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physalian · 6 months ago

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How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 5

Movement

Dredging this back up from way back.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much during heavy dialogue scenes. E.g. two characters sitting and talking—do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them…

Gesture

Wave

Frown

Laugh

Cross their legs/their arms

Shift around to get comfortable

Pound the table

Roll their eyes

Point

Shrug

Touch their face/their hair

Wring their hands

Pick at their nails

Yawn

Stretch

Sniff/sniffle

Tap their fingers/drum

Bounce their feet

Doodle

Fiddle with buttons or jewelry

Scratch an itch

Touch their weapons/gadgets/phones

Check the time

Get up and sit back down

Move from chair to tabletop

The list goes on.

Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t—what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

As in, you could say “he’s nervous” or you could show, “He fidgets, constantly glancing at the clock as sweat beads at his temples.”

This site is full of discourse on telling vs showing so I’ll leave it at that.

Epithets

In the Sci-fi WIP that shall never see the light of day, I had a flashback arc for one male character and his relationship with another male character. On top of that, the flashback character was a nameless narrator for Reasons.

Enter the problem: How would you keep track of two male characters, one who you can't name, and the other who does have a name, but you can’t oversaturate the narrative with it? I did a few things.

Nameless Narrator (written in 3rd person limited POV) was the only narrator for the flashback arc. I never switched to the boyfriend’s POV.

Boyfriend had only a couple epithets that could only apply to him, and halfway through their relationship, NN went from describing him as “the other prisoner” to “his cellmate” to “his partner” (which was also a double entendre). NN also switched from using BF’s full name to a nickname both in narration and dialogue.

BF had a title for NN that he used exclusively in dialogue, since BF couldn’t use his given name and NN hadn’t picked a new one for himself.

Every time the subject of the narrative switched, I started a new paragraph so “he” never described either character ambiguously mid-paragraph.

Is this an extreme example? Absolutely, but I pulled it off according to my betas.

The point of all this is this: Epithets shouldn’t just exist to substitute an overused name. Epithets de-personalize the subject if you use them incorrectly. If your narrator is thinking of their lover and describing that person without their name, then the trait they pick to focus on should be something equally important to them. In contrast, if you want to drive home how little a narrator thinks of somebody, using depersonalizing epithets helps sell that disrespect.

Fanfic tends to be the most egregious with soulless epithets like "the black-haired boy" that tell the reader absolutely nothing about how the narrator feels about that black-haired boy, espeically if they're doing so during a highly-emotional moment.

As in, NN and BF had one implied sex scene. Had I said “the other prisoner” that would have completely ruined the mood. He’s so much more than “the other prisoner” at that point in the story. “His partner,” since they were both a combat team and romantically involved, encompassed their entire relationship.

The epithet also changed depending on what mood or how hopeless NN saw their situation. He’d wax and wane over how close he believed them to be for Reasons. NN was a very reserved character who kept BF at a distance, afraid to go “all in” because he knew there was a high chance of BF not surviving this campaign. So NN never used “his lover”.

All to say, epithets carried the subtext of that flashback arc, when I had a character who would not talk about his feelings. I could show you the progression of their relationship through how the epithets changed.

I could show you whenever NN was being a big fat liar about his feelings when he said he's not in love, but his narration gave him away. I could show you the exact moment their relationship shifted from comrades to something more when NN switched mid-paragraph from "his cellmate" to "his partner" and when he took up BF's nickame exclusively in the same scene.

I do the same thing in Eternal Night when Elias, my protagonist, stops referring to Dorian as "it" and "the vampire" instead of his name the moment they collide with a much more dangerous vampire, so jarringly that Elias notices in his own narration—the point of it being so explicit is that this degredation isn't automatic, it's something he has to conciously do, when everyone else in his clan wouldn't think twice about dehumanizing them.

—

Any literary device should be used with intent if you want those layers in your work. The curtains are rarely just blue. Whether it’s a simile with a deliberate comparison or an epithet with deliberate connotations, your readers will pick up on the subtext, I promise.

#writing #writing advice #writing a book #writing resources #writeblr #writing tips #writing tools #literary devices #character description #character development

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ramonathinks · 7 months ago

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matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.

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miaoua3 · 3 months ago

Text

Seventeen-How Would They Protect You From Creepy Men Hitting On You?

had a very scary situation a few days ago where a man tried to constantly talk to me while i was waiting on my bus, even giving me advice that i could take another bus and still end up on the same station and that “he could show me the way from the station to my dorm”. in that moment i wished that i were a man or that i had a boyfriend, because if i were either of those, none of that would’ve happened. apparently if you are a woman, even when you’re constantly moving away from them, giving them one worded answer, as long as you are alone-they won’t leave you alone. after i lied to him about having a friend pick me up from a different place and walked away while crying, i desperately got the feeling to write this, as i know for sure that none of the boys would’ve let that happen.

Pairing: ot13 x f! reader

Genre: light angst, protective! svt, creepy men, implying of sexual assault

Description: just as the title says

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

scoups: he went away just for a second to buy you a drink and when he turned around, there was a man all in your face, smiling in what he can only describe as unsuccessfully flirty manner. he immediately walks back to you, sliding his arm around your waist. kisses your temple as a cover to whisper in your ear and ask you “are you okay baby?”. by your shaking form he assumes that you aren’t. pulling you behind him, cheol then lets all of his emotions, all the anger and disgust, show on his face and says “leave. now.” in such an intimidating way, it makes your unwanted suitor run away with his tail between his legs. after he’s gone, cheol will give you a tight hug as a way to comfort you, and after a few minutes, will just take you two back home.

jeonghan: the moment he turned around and saw a man playing with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger, your face set in discomfort, he was on the move. in a few seconds he was beside you two. without any warning he grabbed the man’s hand-the very same one that was playing with your hair, and twisting it behind his back in such an uncomfortable angle it had the man screaming in pain. coldly, he asked the man “didn’t your mother ever taught you when to leave a girl alone and how it looks like when a woman is uncomfortable being around you? she’s been moving away from you the entire time you’ve been talking to her and yet you didn’t stop.”, before pushing him away so hard that the man ended up falling down. with cold eyes, jeonghan then finished the conversation with “leave. before i make you permanently banned from this place.”

joshua: unlike the two other men, he wouldn’t go to such extremes when he sees you getting hit on and being uncomfortable because if it. instead, he will quickly approach you and put himself between the two of you, his back to the man. in a soft voice he will ask you “are you alright baby? do you want us to leave?”. or at least, until the man goes to grab his shoulder and to say something stupid like “we were in a middle of a conversation”. joshua will look at him like he’s an idiot before saying “you weren’t in the middle of anything, you were hitting on a taken woman and she tried ignoring you. how delusional do you have to be to confuse that for flirting? she didn’t even say anything yet you thought you were successful in flirting with her?” would snort once before adding “a lot of delusional and pathetic men roaming this earth” before taking your hand in his and walking out of the place.

jun: this scaredy cat would definitely use his height to his advantage in these type of situations. just as he was coming back from the restroom, he saw a man waving a phone in your face, your hands making an ‘x’ as a way to reject him, but to no avail. seeing this, jun will jog a bit to get to you before pulling you behind him. looking the man deadly in the eyes (with all the courage that he can summon in himself) he will ask him “do we have a problem here?”. his cold and calculated look, along with him towering over the guy will result in the guy nervously shaking his head no and quickly leaving. after the guy is gone, you two will end up hugging each other as a way to comfort each other. and yes, you need to comfort him too because standing up to that man was so scary 😖

hoshi: at first i thought that hoshi might cause more of an embarrassing scene rather than defending you in a proper manner. but then i remembered how scary he is when he is angry (the moment that comes to mind is that live where saesangs constantly were calling his phone and he said something among the lines of “do you not have any manners?” and oh god-) and immediately changed my mind. bro was just enjoying his time, you two mingling with different people, no need to be glued to each other the entire time, you two can simply coexist in the same space sometimes. but then he will hear your voice distinctly, repeating the words “stop, i’m not interested, i have a boyfriend”. the moment he finds you in the room, almost trapped against the wall due to a man’s hand blocking your way, the hand resting on the wall beside your head. he will calmly walk towards you. the moment he’s there, he will harshly pull the man’s hand away from the wall, making him stumble a bit. looking at him, hoshi will then darkly say to the man “are you deaf or stupid to not be able to understand such a simple sentence “i have a boyfriend”? or are you just that desperate, thinking that you will successfully get her to comply to your flirting?”. getting all up in the man’s face, he will then add in almost a terrifying whisper “do not ever try to flirt with my girlfriend ever again, or i can promise you-i will end your whole life.” staying for a few seconds to let the man see in his eyes that he meant it, he will then turn towards you before intertwining your hands and leaving the function all together.

wonwoo: he just went up to order coffees for the both of you, when he turned around and saw a man in his chair, sitting across from you, trying to talk to you and touch your hand. seeing the panic and discomfort on your face, he will quickly take the tray with him before quickly moving to your table, trying hard not to spill your coffees. seeing that the man still wasn’t paying attention to him, his slimy smile directed at you, wonwoo will then just raise his foot before harshly kicking the chair that the man was sitting on, making him almost fall out of it. seeing that he finally got his attention, wonwoo will then say in a bored voice “you are in my chair. scram. i want to enjoy my date with my girlfriend.”. the moment the chair is free, he’s sitting down and grabbing your hands in his, asking if you are alright, doing a total 180 on you

woozi: just as he was pulling up the location that you two agreed for him to pick you up from, woozi will start seeing black the moment he registers the scene unfolding in front of him- your form pushed all the way on the wall of the building, shaking in fear as a man is rubbing your arm, all up in your face. the moment he snaps out of his trance, he is quickly getting out of his car, slamming the door so harshly that it catches both your and the man’s attention. without any words, he walks up to you two quickly before punching that man so hard it knocks him out in one. jihoon doesn’t really care about the possible consequences of his actions, all he knows is that he would kill for you, which he felt he was about to do to that man. the moment you see him ready to swing his leg at the man to kick him, you quickly stop him by hugging him. the moment he felt your trembling form against his back, he will quickly snap out of it, turning around and hugging you back just as tightly. the moment he hears you sobbing against his neck, he’s picking up your bag from the floor in one hand and picking you up in the other, carrying you to his car, carefully placing you in the passenger’s seat.

minghao: roaming around the house that you two were in for the afterparty, he’s trying to find you, getting slowly worried because he hasn’t seen you in the last 15 minutes. not that that was long time, but it was just that he had a bad feeling about it in his stomach. rounding up the corner on the second floor, right where the bathroom is, he finds the door of it blocked by a man who is leaning on both sides of the doorway, ultimately blocking your way. with a deep sigh you tell him “for the hundredth time, i am not interested, i don’t want to give you my number because i. have. a. boyfriend.”. he then responds to you “c’mon, he doesn’t have to know”. feeling like he has heard enough, minghao speaks “little too late for that, as the boyfriend in question is right here”. both of you turn towards him, the man’s eyes looking at him nastily. feeling no fucks to give, he takes one of the man’s arms off the doorway and pushes him away before taking your hand in his and pulling you out of the bathroom and behind him. with cold eyes he tells him “maybe next time find a girl who is taken already. and maybe also a girl who is naive enough to be willingly talking to you, because that is not my girl here, she doesn’t like waisting her braincells on assholes like you.” before leading you back downstairs.

mingyu: as the night went on, you naturally drifted apart for a bit. he wanted to talk to some friends of his while you wanted to talk to some other people, resulting in you standing in the different corners of the room. just as you crossed his mind, he hears a loud voice yelling distinctly “i said leave me alone! i don’t want to do anything with you!”. his heart sinks the moment he realises that it’s your voice. sharply turning around he sees your arm being gripped by another man, so tightly he can see on your face that it’s hurting you. wasting no time, he lets all over his anger take over him. speed walking towards you, he yells a loud ‘hey!” before grabbing the man’s arm and pulling him away from you harshly. not realising his strength, he pulls a man so harshly, that he ends up falling over a small table and into the wall. loud gasps erupt in the room, but that doesn’t stop him. crouching down beside the man, he takes his collar in his hand before harshly speaking through his teeth “she said to leave her alone. are you that stupid to understand that or too ignorant to not do as she says?”. not being able to stop, he then grabs the man’s jaw harshly “do that again to her and i will break every bone in your body”. in the end coups and three other members will have to pull him away from the man before he stops and calms down for a bit. seeing your shaking form, he will wrap his jacket around your shoulders before taking you home, apologising profusely for losing his control.

dk: walking into a bar where you two agreed to meet for a little night out, dk’s eyes immediately went to search for you in the crowd of bodies. finally, his smile spread the moment his eyes landed on you, sitting at the bar in your pretty dress. the same smile was wiped off his face the moment he saw a man on your left, trying to get your attention by reaching for your hair. feeling something burning inside of him, he quickly started approaching you, and when he was in your earshot, he loudly exclaimed “baby! i’m here!” before engulfing you in a hug before kissing you passionately, with way too much tongue than is appropriate for a public display. ignoring your surprised yelp, he opened his eyes and purposely look the man behind you directly in his eyes, smirking a bit when he was the man fuming in anger. afterwards, when the man has already long been gone, you will tease him for his actions and he will blush while whining to you “babee stoooop”

seungkwan: oh this little firecracker. he was meeting you for a much needed session of badminton, so excited to finally be able to do it together with you after a long time. as he was walking out of the locker room and into the gym, the smile that was decorating his beautiful face disappeared the moment he saw somebody trying to talk to you, your unsure facial expression, and you taking unsure steps away from the man. with an awkward smile, he heard you say “ah, i’m actually waiting on my-“ before the man rudely cut you off “let’s just play together, why are you being so difficult? i mean seriously why are all women such b*tches nowadays-“ and that did it for seungkwan. all of a sudden, he yells “ya!” before throwing his racket with such a precision it misses the man’s face by a few inches, like he intended it to. shocked, you both turned towards him just to see him quickly walking to you. pushing the man away by his shoulders, seungkwan points at him with his finger “say that shit to my girlfriend again and i swear on everything that is holy, i will push that same racket that just barely missed you so far ip your ass-“. eventually, you will have to call staff to throw that man out because holding seungkwan back seems to be quite pointless.

vernon: actually the only normal one in these types of situations and who won’t actually incriminate himself just because he doesn’t know how to control his emotions and actions. just as he was coming back with the popcorn and your drinks, all prepared for you two to watch that new movie that you wanted to, he sees you smiling awkwardly at the man in front of you, shaking your head ‘no’. awkwardly standing in front of you two, vernon says “babe? are you ready? i’ve got everything for us, let’s go and find our seats.” seeing how thankful you look for the interruption, you happily hurry up to his side, wrapping your arms around his biceps. awkwardly you say to the man “this is my boyfriend that i was talking about, now if you will excuse us”. before turning away from him. but if the man dares to utter something like “stupid b*tch under his breath, you bet your ass vernon will stop in his place before turning to the man “ya. if you call her that one more time, i will have you swallowing all of your teeth. understood?” before continuing his route. just because he doesn’t overreact doesn’t mean be doesn’t threaten or put men in their place who dare speak of you like that. :)

dino: dino felt like picking you up from your work on that day, simply to be a good boyfriend and to see you as soon as possible. knowing both the way around the building you work at and people that you work with, he easily accessed the floor that you were on. rounding up the corner the scene in front of him has him gripping the umbrella in his hand and holding the puke down. leaning as far as possible in your chair, your face was as white as a paper due to nervousness. towering over you was your male colleague, leaning on your desk and leaning in your face. putting two and two together, he quickly approached your desk, exclaiming “babe!” loudly for you both to hear. when he approaches you, he quickly bends down to wrap his arms around your neck from behind nuzzling in your neck as a way to hide his words. “are you okay?” will be whispered against you ear, and upon your slight nod, he will stand up normally again, his hands reassuringly resting on your shoulders. smiling in a really fake manner, he will say to the man “hope you don’t mind but i’ve come to pick up my girlfriend today, we have a very busy night in front of us.” the insinuation of what the ‘very busy night’ is supposed to mean is as clear as ever, making the man look at chan with eyes full of jealousy. quickly helping you pack your things, he will throw a nasty smirk and a wave to the man over your shoulders as you are walking away.

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pinkgy · 3 months ago

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hii! if you’re taking requests may i request the kings reaction (+ bael & bimet if its okay) reaction to mc in her sleep pulling them into her grasp and face planting them in her boobs (i think it would be funny like they were just checking on mc and get pulled in😭)

Hi ! Thank you so much for requesting !!

Ahh I love this scenario! And the character choice is 🤌🤌🤌

I had no idea if this request was meant to be smut, fluff, angst, or crack, so I mixed all of them, I hope it's okay, and soooo sorry for the delay :(

"𝙄 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍"

CW: Reader has boobs but I tried my best to not specify the size, Belphegor's is a bit shorter because let's be real he would fall asleep the moment he touches a bed, Bael's is also shorter because my draft of him got deleted 4 times, somnophilia and by defect Dubcon in Beelzebub's, Satan's got emotional somehow, the only one who actually got a bit smutty was Beel's, the rest (some of them) are just suggestive, kinda OOC Leviathan (?) it's hard to write fluff for someone as dense as him.

𝙎𝘼𝙏𝘼𝙉

Satan loved sleeping with you. Both hands weren't enough to count the reasons why. The main one had to be that when he was lying in your arms (or you were lying on his, depending on his mood), he felt like nothing could go wrong. He felt all his worries disappear, and just that small moment between him and you was simply perfect.

One day, while walking out of a meeting, he felt as if he hadn't seen you for a while, so he made his way to your room. Once there, he found you peacefully sleeping—how cute!

BUT, what if you weren't sleeping? What if you passed out? Maybe an angel attacked you and set up your body so it would seem like you were just asleep, or what if Gabriel kidnapped you and set up a lookalike of you or a doll that looks like you to confuse those who walked into your room.

Overthinking took over Satan so he rushed to your bed to check on you, and once he got in your bed and got close to you he suddenly felt your arms wrapping around his neck and pushing his face.

He just remained there, dumbfounded, still processing what just happened, sure he knew you were quite naughty, but so naughty to a point where your sleeping self yearned for him? That was a surprise, a very satisfactory surprise.

Satan lay down with you and hugged you tightly without caring much if he woke you up or not if you had put him in such a suggestive situation it was because you wanted “Something more” But once he felt both your bodies cuddling, your soft hands tangled in his hair, your arms hugging his face endearingly and the comfortable warmth surrounding his face coming from your soft chest, Satan wanted to stay here forever, fuck the angels and fuck the war, this was all he needed in his life.

He felt Gabriel’s brand on your chest pressing against his forehead, it was mocking him, reminding him that he could take you away from him at any moment if that were to happen, Satan had no idea how could he move on, that’s why he treasured moments like this so much, he’s confident about his power and his abilities at protecting you, but one part of him was genuinely scared about the future.

He just wishes time froze and this moment could last forever.

𝙈𝘼𝙈𝙈𝙊𝙉

Satan arranged a super urgent meeting between the two kings that he described as a “Life or death type of urgency”, but that was the secondary reason he went to Gehenna that day, the main one was to visit you, and since the king of that land refused to let anyone kidnap you, Mammon had to settle for sporadic visits until he had a defined plan to steal you away from Satan.

Once his meeting was over, he went straight to your room, at first he knocked, but once he received no response he just entered, once inside he saw your little body wrapped in the sheets, he began to walk slowly trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake you up, and as soon as he was close to you he brought his face closer to yours to observe you more closely, Mammon thought you couldn't look any cuter until he saw you right now.

He may have let his guard down a little too much, because suddenly one of your hands grabbed his horn and the other grabbed his head, and somehow, you planted his head between your breasts.

He stands proud as an ass guy, but who is he to complain, and if it’s your will to keep him in your arms while you sleep, or more specifically, in your chest, then he must obey his master, so as carefully as possible, he places his heavy body beside yours and places his hands directly on his target, your ass.

He would’ve loved to have let his hands explore your body more, in fact, if he wanted to, he would have done it, but Mammon does not dare to break into his master’s dream, your life in hell is stressful enough, that you deserve to rest, and he’s honored that you’re allowing him to be with you at this time, and as long as he’s here with you, no angel would success in trying to attack you.

Mammon hopes that neither of you wakes up to Satan shouting and attempting to murder him when he sees the scene of both of you sleeping together, however, any punch or kick that he may receive will be worth it as long as he continues to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉

He's not a huge fan of sleeping with you, or anyone, but as long as you weren't sharing a bed with somebody else, it was fine for him.

It was a peaceful noon at Hades, way too peaceful, unusually peaceful if he had to admit, something must be wrong, where are you by the way? Where were his nobles?

Casually, Leviathan happened to pass in front of your room, that moment, he stood there and he felt uneasy, it was too much of a coincidence that neither you nor his nobles were around, he opened your door with a bang and entered your room, he started looking desperately, he searched in every corner, opened every cabinet and even checked if Foras turned invisible and hid somewhere.

Then he noticed your sleeping self that by miracle didn’t wake up by the bang of your door and the amount of noise he made while rummaging around your room, that’s when he remembered, he hadn’t checked your bed to see if there was anyone’s unpleasant presence.

That's when it happened, when Leviathan got close to you to lift the bedsheets off your body, in an instant and taking him off guard, you grabbed his head with your arms and planted his face in your chest.

In the beginning Leviathan got mad, how you dare treat him with such rudeness, what’s wrong with you? But then he smelled you, no disgusting smell of any other nasty devil was on you aside from his, he sighed in relief, well, now that his job is done he must go, he had lots of things to do anyways and cuddle time with you wasn’t one of them.

Without caring much if you woke up or not he tried to pull away from you, tried, for a human you had a pretty strong grip he thought, and it didn’t help that your sleeping self gently kissed the top of his head as you snuggled up in his hair, that little act caused things in him, maybe Leviathan was completely unaccustomed to receiving this kind of gestures, so he felt quite weird, and if he was honest, maybe even a little bit good.

Hesitantly, Leviathan got comfortable in your bed and awkwardly held your body between his arms, if he stayed with you right now none of his nobles would dare to enter your room, yeah, that was the reason why he was in your room right now, with both your bodies curled in the bed, his face buried in the pillowy surface of your chest and your hearts beating in unison.

How long has it been since he’s been so at ease in his life? Probably never, and for the first time in god knows how many years, he fell asleep out of the comfort of his coffin, but in a newfound comfort, you.

𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙇𝙕𝙀𝘽𝙐𝘽

Beelzebub has been away for some weeks now, and the first thing he wanted to do was to spend time with you, in fact, he only returned because of that, but to his surprise, when he broke into your room in Gehenna from the window, you were passed out in your bed, how cute.

He not so carefully sat at the side of the bed you were facing and stared at you for minutes, you really looked cute when you were asleep, he swears he just wanted to get a little sniff of your natural scent, but with a tight grip around his neck that for a second caught him off-guard you pulled him to the bed with you, or more specifically, to his favorite place on hell right after between your legs, your chest.

Could he easily get away from your embrace? Yes. Was he going to try? Nah.

Beelzebub would die a happy man suffocated in your chest, and also, this was a great way to get away from Bael, he wasn’t going to enter your room without your permission, right? And also, a little nap with you doesn’t sound bad, who knows what can happen once you wake up, or when you're still in your sleep.

And that's how he ended up getting comfortable beside you, with his head still face planted between your boobs, his legs tangled with yours and a firm thigh pressing against your crotch.

Bold of you to assume Beelzebub isn’t going to try to get his hands on you, in those weeks without you he couldn’t get you out of his head, so as soon as he gets settled in your bed, he takes a deep sniff of your delicious skin and slips his hands under your shorts and places them on your butt gripping it roughly and almost waking you up, almost.

Because once he saw that you were still asleep, he left his hands to wander under your shorts, and before you could do something about it you woke up to Beelzebub with two fingers buried deep inside you and your whole chest covered in hickeys and bite marks, and most importantly, Beel’s mouth vigorously sucking on your sore nipples.

A long night awaits you because he’s not getting out of your bed until he gets a taste of you, or until Satan realizes that he broke in.

𝙇𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙀𝙍

He would rather die than admit it, but Lucifer had a habit of watching you sleep. He would wait for you to fall asleep every night to sneak into your room just to observe you, sometimes he would bring a chair closer to your bed to be more comfortable, and other times he would cover you more with the sheets when he noticed you’re cold, or he would carefully remove some strands of hair from your face, and in some occasions when you’re in a particularly deep sleep, he would sit on the side of your bed to feel you closer to him, situation in which he was in right now.

You were like a beautiful artwork to him, he could gaze at your human self for hours in pure admiration, it didn’t matter if you were in Paradise Lost or in another kingdom of hell, when he had time, he would indulge in this embarrassing habit of him.

You were in such a deep sleep that he felt that if tried to give you a small kiss you wouldn’t wake up at all, but the moment his face approached yours, an unexpected strength that for a second he doubted was yours grabbed his head tightly and smashed it against your warm chest.

Never in his millions of years of age had he been so caught off guard as he is now.

What was he even supposed to do now? Were you asleep? Did you discover him? Lucifer was blank, after a few seconds he realized that your impulsive action was possibly due to an instinct, surely even in your dreams you can recognize him and that’s why you brought him closer to you, which in short means that you want him close to you.

Once his thoughts were organized, careful not to hurt you with his pointed horn, Lucifer lay down on your bed as close to you as possible, in this position he could feel your heart beating more closely, and the fluffy surface of your chest cushioned his face in a comfortable position.

He had to restrain himself from biting your chest or trying to put his hands on your private areas, eventually when he managed to fall asleep he put those thoughts aside, he preferred to be with you in a more personal moment right now, when you both woke up he would have plenty of time to enjoy you in every possible way.

Extra: Gamigin found you two when he was looking for Lucifer, he took a photo for future blackmail material.

𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙋𝙃𝙀𝙂𝙊𝙍

Well, since he's already here, he might as well just sleep with you, what a hassle would it be to go back to his room.

He loves it when things go in his favor, he came to do his great deed of the day by checking on you since it had been a while since he saw you for the last time, and whoops, he's now sleeping with you, what a casualty.

To his surprise, your sleeping self took the initiative and pulled him to the bed first, to the bed, and to somewhere else too, most specifically the best pillow he could ever wish for, your chest.

Belphegor said to himself that he must have been an amazing devil in his past life, because of how wonderful what was happening to him today.

He hates wasting time, so as soon as you planted his face in your boobs, he snuggled there and got comfortable in your bed hugging your body tightly against his.

He would have loved to savor this moment, but his sleepiness won the battle against his horniness, and he passed out, good luck trying to get out of his embrace.

𝘽𝘼𝙀𝙇

He swears he was just trying to cover your sleeping self with a blanket, you pulling him to the bed with you was most definitely not on his plans, not that he complained.

He tried to softly push himself away from you, not because he didn’t like the current scenario of you tightly hugging him, but because Bael thought that even tho you were the one that put him in this situation, you were asleep and weren’t conscious of your actions.

It was a fool's intent, because the moment Bael tried to take your arms and softly put them away from him, you hugged him from the back of his head and squished his face between your beasts.

He was fucked

He was so fucked

Bael had two options, push himself away from you and wake you up, or stay with you in your embrace, in the soft pillowy surface of your chest, surrounded by the aroma of your delicious smell, with your soft arms wrapped around him.

He concluded that he deserved a little rest, and what better chance than this one, cuddled up with you, snuggled up in your chest, what a great life he has, he just wishes that Beelzebub doesn't find him anytime soon.

𝘽𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙏

It was an easy task, you had a headache so Mammon insisted that you should take a nap, he was just supposed to check on you by orders of his king, the current situation he was in was far from the original plan, and turned his quick task into the worst internal debate he’s ever had.

Bimet couldn't even remember how he ended up with his face buried in your chest, for a second he even doubted if you were human because of how fast everything happened.

Should he separate himself from you? You are his king’s property so he would probably feel jealous about this, wait, didn’t Mammon also own him? Then there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

You felt extremely warm, but it was a comforting warmth and not a fever type of warmth, maybe this wasn’t so bad, and either way, you were the one who faceplanted his face between your boobs, so in case anyone complained he had an excuse, Bimet could say that you suddenly developed super strength one day and he couldn't escape from your grip, yeah, that was an amazing excuse, what a genius he is.

Now that his mental debate is over, he could enjoy this little (And convenient) moment with you, so he got comfortable and held your body in his arms.

Just thinking about how the amount of money other devis and even the kings would pay just to be in his place got Bimet all excited, but to their disappointment, he had you now, or you had him.

Bimet underestimated how comfortable he was because in a matter of minutes, he had fallen completely asleep in your arms.

Extra: Mammon did notice Bimet’s absence, and when he went to your room to check if he was here he saw both of you sleeping in each other's arms, Mammon just smiled and took a photo of you.

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etheries1015 · 9 months ago

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(In Lilias dream) General Lilia X reader : Hidden pregnancy

General warnings: The reader mentioned being pregnant, but no pronouns are used. Situationship described, mention of heat...honestly, just a shitty scenario I half-baked when day-dreaming at work the other day. really self-indulgent and not my best work, but ima share it anyway. Cause'. I like the idea, even if I can't execute it very well. HAHAHA

"You" general Lilia pointed during the dream, startling you as you ate peacefully at the food you 'humans' had so kindly put together for the fae army. You looked up curiously and tilted your head, heart pounding in your chest at the sight of the beautiful man you had known to be important to you.

"You're pregnant. With a fae child, nonetheless." He said bluntly. The suddenness of his comment left your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, and you were immediately alarmed. With a loss of appetite and eyes wavering, you threw a panicked glance at Sebek and Silver; both who were staring at you with wide eyes and spoons halfway out their mouths.

You hadn't a clue that fae were able to tell such things. Questions swirled around your mind all at once: Did Lilia in reality realize this? or perhaps his magic and senses dwindled so much he hadn't taken much notice? What are you to say in response? However, there were more pressing issues to think of at the moment. And that was the way the two boys rushed to your side in shock, Silver grabbing your hands and looking you in the eyes earnestly.

"You...you're what..?" The silver-haired boy peered into your eyes with concern, "You're...pregnant? Is it...is it his?" You pursed your lips and held back tears that threatened to pour out of your melancholy orbs and your hands trembled with fear. You gave a nod in response. You could feel the gaze and judgment of the fae surrounding you, including Sebek, who knew well enough to hold his tongue at this moment where you seemed to be at the edge of a breakdown. Bauer, his grandfather, on the other hand, scoffed in almost disbelief at the mere notion a fae would copulate with a human. Such were the times in the dream that Lilia was having, however, you felt no true judgment wafting off of the long-haired general.

"Yeah. It's his. But...he wanted to leave and I ...need to go home. I can't.. I mean, I want to stay, with him, but I know that he is losing his magic and he wants to go to a faraway land, and I...I don't want to hold him back from doing what he wants. Besides, he believes he's too old to start parenting all over again, I just-"

You started going off on a nervous tangent, vomiting every word and excuse that came to your mind. Bauer made a snide and astonished comment about the situation, Sebek following suit not without a piercing glare from Lilia and a sneer of dissatisfaction. Uncertain how to proceed, Lilia moved past Silver and placed an uncertain and awkward hand on top of your head in an attempt to console you.

"Fae are eternally loyal to one mate. If your fae lover is noble and virtuous, he will not abandon you. Speak to him, perhaps there's a misunderstanding." You almost winced at the word "lover," for could you really classify your relationship with him as such? Of course, there were times of flirtiness, but you two felt comfortable in each other's presence (clearly). Yet...Lilia Vanrouge is a very mysterious man who worked in ways that will forever be unfathomable to you. He kept his relationships at arm's length, and you were not far behind. You just so happen to be there at the time of his heat, the instincts of two bodies craving affection indulging in primitive actions. So...what he felt about your...relationship...was beyond you.

General Lilia averted his rosey gaze from your own trembling orbs, your lips pursed and embarrassingly staring at the ground unable to make eye contact with the others.

He would have insisted you stay behind in your state, however felt compelled to bring you with him under the guise that he would better be able to keep a watchful eye on you in case this was some sort of ploy to induce some sort of surprise attack. However, it was obvious to any onlooker the way he tended to your needs, protect you from harms way, and at random inquired of your state. The rest of the army that followed him was in awe seeing their general practically 'dote' (for lack thereof better terms) on this random human who was impregnated, to their knowledge, by some other fae.

You wanted to hold on to the belief that he subconsciously knew the truth, even in this dream world, the Lilia you had come to love was attentively paying attention to your fragile state at all times.

And...somehow you knew that it would be alright.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcannons #twst fics #Lilia #Lilia x reader #Lilia vanrouge #Lilia vanrouge x reader #Lilia vanrouge headcannons #Lilia vanrouge fanfic

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shakethediseeas · 8 months ago

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A mother-type yn in alien stage who's very gentle with every human even if they're a weird(?) (It's luka) in a scenario where they sacrifice themself for the other (very original in alst i know) would be very !!! If they have some kind of lullaby they used to sings for everyone that they hum a tune of it in their last breath, smiling.

ALST CHARACTERS WITH A PARENT-FRIEND READER

You just always had to put others before yourself, huh?

I mean, knowing you, it shouldn't have been a surprise; they should have seen this coming.

But now seeing it happen, you, lifeless on the floor... It's hard to forget. The caring smile on your face, even though you knew you were going to die, you don't care as long as they're safe.

You were the oldest of them all so naturally without even knowing, you cared for them as if they were your family.

You'd teach Mizi, Till and Sua how to make some arts and crafts while watching over Luka who was running from Hyuna.

"Luka... careful! dont pull her!" you softly scold.

It was easy for you to grow on them because they didn't really have parental figures, you were the best moment of their lives.

It took you a while to grow on Ivan, though. After you did, he would always hold your hand, watching the rest with a blank face while you continued talking to him about anything.

Every night, when one of them struggled to fall asleep, you'd make them all gather around in a circle while you sang to them; this time, it was Till who couldn't sleep, so he got to rest his head on your lap while you caressed his head. It always worked.

You'd do anything for them, that much was obvious. When one of them was in trouble you'd go to hell and back just for their sake. You fought for Till. You almost lost your life helping Ivan with Till so they could escape...

You didn't say a word after they came back.

Hyuna would always try to impress you, give you gifts and try to act cool around you, you'd laugh and go along with it. She admires you a lot, you're so composed in any situation and you rush into danger just for the people you care about. She wants to be like that.

Luka... He was...

There is no real way to describe him. He's very smart, but he's quiet and dissociates a lot. You're always there to comfort him and sing softly to him while he hugs you mindlessly.

You had given him a small puzzle for you and him to solve, you went away for a minute and it was already completed. So , you always made more challenging ones everytime. He really appreciated that.

For till , you got him a guitar made of whatever you could, you'd tune it for him and hed smile with beaming eyes at you and always showed you the songs he'd write.

When you got older, you were forced to participate before them, and in your second tournament, you were forced to go up against...

At first, they almost downright refused to participate in the round. upset but they didn't show it. Hesitation as they sing and angry when they see you don't even bother to try.

their eyes widen when you go to sing the sweet melody you played for them, legs weak and they stutter out the lyrics.

You give them a bright smile before everything goes black.

They promised you that they would survive just for you.

#alien stage x reader #alien stage #alnst

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

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Gojo x wife reader request

Gojo’s wife has always been calm and collected despite any situation. She treats both the first and second years as if they were her own.When the elders call her in for a meeting about the first and second years she gets protective and reminds them why she’s called the White Snake Sorceress.

Hehe this was so fun to write, we love a strong and badass woman who takes no shit! Let me know what you think <3

Gojo's sweet wife showing her maniac side when it comes to protecting her precious students

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader; wife!reader x students

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: Despite Gojo's wife spoke vehemently against sending the first and second years on a way too difficult mission, the elders decided against her suggestion. Her calm and collected self changes drastically when she makes them regret their decicion...

Warnings: Gojo's wife being a menance to Jujutsu High elders lol, langugage, violence, Satoru Gojo enjoying every second of it, reader being like a mum, this is just pure comforting entertainment so enjoy hehe

„Hey darling, what are you up to this morning?”, your beloved husband mutters against your ear.

Shivers of comfort run down your spine immediately, you can’t help but embrace the love of your life with your arms wide open. Words can’t express how much you love Satoru Gojo, the man who stole your heart a long time ago and is now your husband. To this day you can’t put a finger on why he chose you. You, a calm and collected woman. You, who always keeps a cool head in every situation. You, who many people like Nanami describe as the complete opposite of him. But somehow you make it work. And god, how good it feels to wake up in his arms and greet him at Jujutsu High all over again.

“Oh, I was actually looking for my students. I haven’t seen any of them this morning, even though Maki usually goes for a run around this time”, you reply, face scrunched up in confusion.

You always cared for your students as if they were your own kids and Satoru can’t help but love you even more for it. The way you seem to know every minor detail about them, how you treat every single one with so much care while still teaching them hand to hand combat like none other, how they look up to you. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High that your students love you just as much as you love them – even Megumi can’t escape a small smile as soon as you enter the room.

Knowing that, Satoru needs to swallow hard. Oh, you will totally go crazy if you hear where they are…Should he even tell you? Wouldn’t it be fun to let the elders deal with you? He knows how much you can change from your calm and collected self into a maniac if it comes to your precious students.

“Well, about that…”, he mumbles, scratching the back of his head just like Megumi does when he’s uncomfortable.

Your eyes dart towards him immediately, arms crossed in front of your chest. The face your husband makes doesn’t mean anything good, that’s for sure. Just a few days ago you talked for hours with the director and the elders about a potential mission for your first and seconds years. It would have been today if you aren’t mistaken. And all of them aren’t around…Your hands clench into fists, gaze piercing through him without any mercy.

“The elders decided on carrying out the mission despite your disapproval. Out students are on the way to where the special grade was last seen.”

“Is that so, huh.”

Your eyes darken in an instant, your cute and feminine features change so drastically that Satoru himself has to blink a few times. That causes trouble. And he’s totally here for it.

“Thank you for telling me, love. I will go and have a little talk with them.”

With a last soft kiss on his cheek you move towards the main building, towards the disgusting people who risk the lives of their students like there’s no tomorrow. Anger rises up inside your veins and almost takes your sight. You explained them over and over that a special grade curse along with who knows how much other strong curses is too much for only students to handle. Especially after they had to work so much lately, after they’ve been through hell and back, they aren’t capable of doing that alone. But instead of sending your husband and yourself like you suggested, they simply ignored your advice and sent them away without letting you know.

Enough of being kind and collected. You’ll show them a side of you they haven’t seen yet.

“What are you doing here, Gojo?”, Yaga Masamichi questions when catching a glimpse of you.

His heart stops for the split of a second. The way your stone-cold eyes dart towards him, your fists hanging unpromising down your body, your straight and confident walk…

No, he has never seen you like this. What happened that made you this mad?

“Are you responsible for the first and seconds years going on that suicide mission?”

While your voice does sound as collected as usual, the look on your face and how you position yourself in front of him tell otherwise. Of course, he is aware of the fact that you care about your students as if they’re your own children, but still…

“Me along with the elders. And as a teacher of Jujutsu High you are advised to accept that decision”, he replies without thinking twice.

You nod briefly, taking in his disrespectful words. Throughout all this time you taught here at Jujutsu High, you never lost your temper once, not even on the battlefield. You were always able to keep yourself together, no matter how rough the situation was. But this, the fact that they play with the lives of your beloved students like with dolls truly tests your patience to the brink.

“Follow me to meet them.”

You know exactly where does old farts are. Sitting on their asses in the room on the end of the hallway, drinking tea while deciding on the lives of others.

“Wait, you can’t just stomp in there”, the director shouts after you.

But you couldn’t care less. With a swift motion you swing the door open, exposing them sitting down just like you imagined.

“Satoru Gojo’s wife? What are you doing here? We didn’t ask you to come”, one of them barks at you.

“You all are aware of the fact that I could kill every single one of you without even blinking, right?”

Deadly silence hangs in the air, all pairs of eyes set on you in utter disbelief.

“(y/n)”, Yaga Masamichi breathes out behind you, the words that just left your mouth being so unusual for you.

What happened to the sweetheart of woman you are, the gentle smile that’s always plastered on your face, your calm and collected character of gold?

“And still, you foolishly decided on sending my students away. Into their certain death”, you continue.

It takes all of your strength to not lunge yourself at them. Who do they think they are to play with your student’s life like that? Aren’t they aware of the psychical damage that was done to Yuji when he fought against that special grade along with Nanami only a few days ago, when Nobara and Megumi almost lost their lives if it wasn’t for Shoko?

“I know how much you care about your students, but this is-“

“Shut up”, you hiss through gritted teeth at the man standing in the door.

“You will call my husband here and tell him to support my students within this difficult task. You will send both of us after them to make sure that no one gets hurt because all of them have been through enough horror the last weeks.”

“And what if we don’t? You are nothing but a teacher, no matter how strong you are and who your husband is”, the oldest of them interrupts you rudely.

The clicking of your heels against the ground runs shivers down their spine while you elegantly make your way towards the man with long white hair who spoke to you so foolishly. Before anyone in the room is able to react, you grab his throat and yank him upwards, head meeting the cold wall behind him.

“Then you will experience yourself why I’m called the snake sorceress. Do you know about the deadliest snake in the world? The inland taipan can send up to 230 humans 6 feet underground with a single bite. Be aware of the fact that I am able to wipe out this whole room without even blinking. Don’t ignore me when it comes to my students ever again or I’ll show you than I’m capable of more than smiling gently.”

You let go of him roughly, wiping your hands on your uniform.

“I expect your call within the next 5 minutes. And please inform my husband about your decision as well”, you announce into the room with your usual calm voice.

Without sending them a single look, you leave the room and building behind, humming to yourself while holding your face into the sun. Yes, that definitely felt good. Maybe that was enough to make them learn their lesson. You might be gentle, but you aren’t a special grade sorcerer out of nowhere.

“Look who’s there, the woman who just threatened the higher ups of Jujutsu High all on her own. Did you really choke that man?”

Your husband grins at you widely, his blindfold already taken off. You simply shrug your shoulders and smile at him.

“Apparently I was able to convince them somehow. Come on, we should get going. I hope all of them are alright…”

“With a mum like you, they’ll definitely be.”

Your head darts towards your husband warningly, hands holding onto his shoulders.

“Don’t say it like that, I’m their teacher”, you clarify.

“And you care about them as if they were your own kids.”

“Well, someone has to do this, right?”, you reply with a cheeky smile before rushing to aid your students.

Hopefully they’ll never forget the lesson you taught them today.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

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willowsnook · 4 months ago

Note

hello can i can a scotch and coke in a tall class please??

oscar piastri x bsf!reader

just shut up and come here

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

Golden retriever and grumpy cat. That was how you would describe your friendship with Oscar. You saw the world through a golden tint, wearing your emotions on your sleeve and always making the best of things. Oscar on the other hand was different. A man of little words which you didn't mind much because you could talk for hours. He would just sit there nodding and to an outsider it would look like he wasn't paying attention but he often would bring things up that you had said weeks ago so you knew that wasn't the case.

The two of you had met in elementary school, becoming fast friends after you were the only one to beat him in a running race. For him, you made him feel better about things, always knew what to say, and loved him so unconditionally that he could never feel lonely. For you, he was your rock, always dependable and loyal, always ready to defend you against anyone.

Years of friendship had made it easy for you to tell what he was thinking even when others couldn't. The one thing you couldn't nail down though, was if he was interested in being more than friends with you. When you were 10 years old you told your mom that you were going to marry him and that feeling hadn't wavered one bit. But you really couldn't tell if he was planning on marrying you or not. The last girlfriend he had was in high school and you hadn't even seen him flirt with anyone. So you would stay delusional for now.

Right now you were watching him argue with his agent over the phone. You had been scheduled to fly to Miami 5 hours ago but due to weather, you kept getting delayed by his pilot. At this point, it was decided that you would just fly first class on a flight already scheduled to depart.

Oscar joined you back in the waiting area after he got off the phone and you stopped messing around on your phone.

"Everything okay?" You asked and he nodded.

"The hotel was overbooked but they are still giving us one room."

"We've shared a room before Osc, not a big deal," you said and he shot you look.

"King bed," he said simply and your eyes widened.

"Well as long as you don't spread eagle I think we'll be good," you said reassuringly. He nodded looking away. Well gee, don't act like this will kill you Oscar, you thought to yourself.

Boarding the flight, Oscar grabbed your bag from you and you admired the way his biceps bulged as he carried them in front of you. You were happy to see that you had a private cubicle-type thing with two seats that were basically recliners.

After eating the in-flight meal you started to feel the effects of the sleeping pill you had taken earlier. Because of the time zone difference, you needed to sleep the whole flight so that you would be kind of adjusted for Miami.

Oscar had already dozed off and you shifted around for what felt like hours trying to get comfortable. You opened your eyes when you heard Oscar let out a deep exhale and found him looking at you.

"What's wrong?" He asked groggily.

"I can't get comfortable."

He looked at you for a second before lifting the blanket and patting his lap.

"Come here," he said nonchalantly and your face flushed.

"No, that's weird," you whispered and he rolled his eyes.

"I can assure you that it will be way more comfortable," he said. "Your dog sleeps on me all the time."

"That's because he's a dog," you whisper shouted. "Plus the seat belt light is on."

"Just shut up and come here," he said sending you a glare and you sighed. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you climbed into his lap, curling up with your head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around you and he rested his head back, closing his eyes.

"More comfortable?"

"Shut up," you grumbled, drifting off.

You woke up before the plane started to descend and climbed back into your seat. Neither of you said anything about the situation and you decided that you never would.

Landing in Miami it was 8am. Oscar had a bunch of stuff to do with McLaren so you took your luggage to drop off at the hotel before you went sight-seeing. You planned on staying out the whole day in order to not be able to go to bed till later that night.

When you got back to the hotel at 7 you were dead on your feet. Oscar was sitting on the couch eating takeout and he offered you some. He very briefly told you about his day and then let you yap on for a while about yours.

You both got ready for bed and as you were changing a thought occurred to you.

"I think I'm not going to unpack because I'll just ask the front desk if another room is open tomorrow morning," you told Oscar who was already laying in bed. His face scrunched in confusion.

"Why? This is fine," he said.

"Yeah for tonight, but you might want to bring someone back this weekend," you said nonchalantly.

"Who would I bring back?"

"I don't know Oscar, a girl maybe?" You said exhaustedly. He didn't say anything just looked at you for a minute.

"When have you ever seen me bring back a girl?"

"I'm not with you all the time so I don't know," you flushed. "If you want to bring back a guy that's fine too I guess."

He looked at you for another second shocked and then snorted throwing his head back against the pillow.

"This is so fucking stupid," he said and you crossed your arms starting to get annoyed with him.

"Please enlighten me Oscar on why me wanting to get another room is so stupid."

"How many girlfriends have I had since high school?" He asked.

"None," you replied.

"Have you ever seen me flirt back with a girl that has come up to me when we're out?"

You shook your head.

"Have I ever talked about any girl that I would be interested in?"

You shook your head again.

"Why do you think that is?" He questioned. "I mean I'm an F1 driver for god's sake, you'd think I could get anyone I wanted right?"

You didn't say anything, confused at where this was going. He ran a hand through his hand letting out a frustrated groan.

"I have been in love with you since you beat me in that race when we were five years old," he said and your heart stopped. "So no, I'm not too keen on letting you get another room when I finally have you in my bed next to me."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in, disbelief and warmth swirling in your chest. "You... what?" you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

He chuckled softly, "I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Now will you please come to bed."

You slowly climbed into bed next to him, his eyes not leaving yours.

You leaned in, your hand resting on his chest as you pressed your lips to his—this time with no hesitation. His hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. It was soft at first, but then something more surged between you, and the kiss grew hungry, like years of longing finally spilling over.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 6 months ago

Note

hey will you make hsc reader x tmnt 2012 (all of trurtles) in which the reader proposes sexual intercourse or starts to gently initiate, e.g. gently kissing on the neck, how the boys react, do they agree or prefer to wait (you don't have to describe the sex with them if you don't want to, what matters most to me is their reaction, and I would prefer the age to be kept the same as in the series)

Their Reaction To You Wanting Intimacy (18+)

2012!Turtles x reader

A/N: For the sake of my moral conscience, I will have to write that they are aged them up. What you decide to imagine is up to you, but I don’t feel safe writing stuff like this without aging them up. But with that being said, I hope you’ll still enjoy💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Implied sex, mentioning of being caught.

Leonardo:

With Leo, it really depends on the situation at hand. Are they two of you in the dojo, out in the living area, hanging out around friends and family, or doing something important, he would be very apprehensive. Panic in his eyes, unsure of what to do.

That did not mean he didn’t want to have fun with you, nono, it’s because he’s scared of breaking the rules. Fearful of getting caught, or maybe screwing up something that he had the responsibility for.

But did that mean that you didn’t try? Hell no! You would try to push him ever so slightly, seeing if you could get the fearless leader to do something he normally never would.

Not that it was hard for you to make him give in. You have managed to cause a heated make out between the two of you in the dojo, resulting in some dry humping on a mat, before the two of you had a long good night in Leo’s bedroom.

And oh, the joy of sending him risky texts when he would be out on patrol was amazing. His flustered reactions over the phone or text made it all worth it.

But, you and Leo were in the private comfort of either your or his room, Leo would give in to your touch with no fluster and no wide eyes. Heck, he would even start the intimate actions before you could.

If Leo were comfortable, he could easily get freaky. If he felt sure that no one would interrupt you, he would be absolutely okay with fooling around on the couch or somewhere far out in nature.

Pretty much anything would work on Leo - physical touch, certain words or that look that let him know what you were thinking. All of those things did something to him, and any of those could do the trick.

Raphael:

Be careful when you try to initiate intimacy with this guy, because he will not let anything slide. You want to have some fun? He’s ready! Doesn’t matter when or where, he will find a way or a place where the two of you can have your fun.

Raph is very good at picking up on your hints, when it comes to these sorts of things. That little look you would give him, or the way you would sway your hips ever so slightly when you walked past by him. He notices it each and every time, and he will be quick to follow you.

Your hot headed boyfriend isn’t too bothered about who is around. If it stood to him, he would not let you walk to the bedroom, he would be quick to pull you back against him and have you wherever you were, not giving a damn about who was around. And well, though it sounded hot, you both knew that none of his or your family members would be too happy about that, so you kept your activities away from their eyes.

But other than that, there wasn’t much that would hold Raph back. Kiss his neck and he will have you pinned against the wall so he can go on your neck. Touch his thigh and he will spread them wider for you, and it would usually lead into one giving the other head.

If you decided to do these kinds of things in the living area, with no one else in the room, there would be a big chance that you and Raph would get your stuff going in the living area. That was how the two of you ended up having sex in a back alley and on a few roof tops.

If you decide to tease this man, get ready, because he won’t let that go. Raph loved a good brat to break, and he loves when you decide to go into brat mood on him.

So yeah, if you want intimacy with Raph, he is quick to give it to you.

Donatello:

As smart as Donnie is, he tends to be a little bit thick when it comes to reading your signs, especially those of a more intimate and sexual nature. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want sex, because oh bot, does this man like sex. He’s just a little slow to register what it is that you are asking for. It’s especially bad if his working on something.

You could be hugging him from behind while he was hunched over one of his many projects, rubbing your hands up and down his chest, and he still wouldn’t realize what you were doing.

Kiss his neck in this situation, and he will still not realize how slow he is. He might just be thinking that you’re trying to be sweet - like you always are - showing him some innocent love while his working.

But when one of the hands on his chest starts moving lower and lower, getting closer and closer to his cloaca, Donnie seemed to realize what was going on, which usually would result in him turning towards you with a smug smile. He could most definitely help you out with your little wish.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Donnie then to have sex in the garage lab, while no one was around, to hear the many sounds the two of you would make.

But should it be during the day time, you and Donnie would most likely move it to the bedroom, or just somewhere more private. Donnie wasn’t too scared of people knowing that the two of you were having sex, nor that you intended to do so. But Donnie was not too happy about the thought of anybody walking in while he was cloaca deep in you. That would make him lose his mojo and make him feel very embarrassed.

Actually, at times he would even brag to his brothers about it, reminding them that he was the one that had sex on almost a daily basis.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is a funny case. His reactions would vary, depending on the time of day, his mood or whether or not he was expecting it.

If Mikey was in a hyper mood, really hooked on this one thing, he wouldn’t notice anything. Be as flirty as you want to, he wouldn’t notice or think about anything unless you straight up tell him you want him to fuck you stupid.

Should you find you and Mikey in such a situation, where you had just whispered to him, how badly you want him to fuck you into this bean bag, while his family was out the lair, he might turn to you in shock and confusion. Not because he didn’t want to do it, because he will. He was just in processing mode. Did his hyperfixation just turn you on? If that’s the case, he would show you this stuff more often.

Should Mikey be bored, and you suddenly start sliding your hands all over him, he would be on you in no time. No processing needed. He is ready right now!

The danger is ro send Mikey risky texts when he’s bored. Send him a nude and he will be outside your window less than five minutes later, so keep your clothes off.

Now, if you sit with Mikey in the living area, watching a movie and his brothers happen to be nearby, watch out when you start to make moves on your boyfriend. Because if you don’t tell him where you want the two of you to get busy, he would at times forget that there are people around, and get ready to get hands on right then and there. And well, it has happened that you forgot as well. That was kind of embarrassing to be caught on the couch with your boyfriend, tongues down each other's throats, hands already roaming. You never forgot that, but Mikey seemed to have totally let it go.

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depravitycentral · 1 month ago

Text

Yandere! Gyomei Himejima NSFW Profile

Yandere! Gyomei Himejima x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, reader is implied to be smaller than Gyomei but let's be real EVERYONE is smaller than him regardless of your weight or height, anal play/fingering (m receiving), allusions to breeding, sub-ish Gyomei, masturbation, minor objectification, Gyomei is whipped, Stockholm Syndrome, accidental exhibitionism, Gyomei is a stone cold virgin (haha I am very funny), fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 13.6K

HABITS:

Sex is not a priority for Gyomei.

Not only does his lifestyle make having a partner difficult, but even the physical act of sex is something he’s never been particularly interested in. He’s just simply not that physical of a man – affection isn’t something he’s especially comfortable with, and while he wants nothing more than to hold you and keep you in his arms forever (and he really does mean forever, something he doesn’t hesitate in reminding you), touching you isn’t at the forefront of his mind.

And this is especially true in the context of sexual intimacy – it’s one thing to crave holding your hand, but it’s another to crave having your thighs wrapped around his head. It’s one thing to desire you falling asleep with your cheek pressed against his chest, but it’s another to imagine you perched on top of him, your pretty moans of his name making his cheeks feel hot and his pulse rising dramatically.

It feels disrespectful, more than anything, to imagine you in a sexual light; he’s already painfully aware that having any sort of romantic feelings towards you is wrong, but to doom himself even further with explicit, lewd fantasies of you? Just the thought makes him bristle, unease and shame crawling up his spine because only perverted men do that, men with no morals or self-control.

And he’s able to keep this mentality for an impressively long period of time - you’d be hard pressed to catch him having any sort of risqué thoughts regarding you for much of the time his obsession festers, the furthest possible thing being imagining kissing you and gently cupping your cheeks.

(And even then, the idea of slipping his tongue into your mouth makes his cheeks feel hot, his entire body feeling like it’s on fire and making him hurriedly forget the thought, instead busying himself with imagining hugging you or pressing a quick kiss to your temple. But as time passes, if his concentration lessens for even a single moment, then he’s suddenly thinking about you putting your tongue in his mouth, and suddenly he needs to sit down, his head feeling dizzy and light and overwhelmed.)

He manages to stay within the confines of innocent fantasies of you, physically conditioning himself to halt any thoughts further than holding you by pinching himself or biting his tongue, anything at all to deter such thoughts and reprimand himself. But really, while Gyomei may be a very morally guided man with one of the gentlest hearts, he’s still a man.

And like most men, he has needs – even if he himself isn’t truly aware of them.

And so, while he forces himself to stay respectful of you during the day, he’s not so in control of his thoughts at night. It’s not as easy to stop himself from playing out vivid, pleasure-filled scenarios when he’s in the grips of slumber, his subconscious running wild and imagining how you’d feel with your hands on his body, your soft breasts pressed against his own rigid chest, your lips kissing his neck, and the wonderful warmth between your legs that he’s absolutely sure would be such a tight fit, truly stretching you out in every possible way.

(And god, while the size difference intimidates him ever so slightly because he doesn’t want to hurt you, there’s something about the fact that you’re just so damn tiny compared to him that makes something primal and territorial stir in his gut, the sense of protectiveness and ownership he feels over you only amplifying, despite his wishes. And then he’s imagining the way you’d squeal and grasp onto him as he sends rope after rope after rope of thick, white cum as deeply inside of you as he can manage, and it’s only then that Gyomei truly gives up any hope of not viewing you in a sexual light because how can he not fantasize about stuffing you so full that you’re leaking it? Leaking him?)

He’s woken up to messy sheets, a sweaty body and heavy breathing more often than he’d like to admit, the cum smeared across his softening cock and the material of the bed making him feel dirty, ashamed and disgusting.

(And when he sees you later that day, you’ll notice he’s a bit quieter than usual, not standing as close to you as he normally would, but if you bring it up he’ll only tear up a bit, telling you to disregard his strange behavior, but not really giving you a reason for it. He can’t lie to you, it feels wrong, but he can’t tell you, either, so he settles with omission, praying you won’t push the issue further.)

And so, as time passes, slowly he’ll find himself becoming a victim of the lust that begins showing itself, rearing its ugly head when he finds himself wanting you most, the bouts of loneliness he feels late at night making fighting off his desire difficult.

But even then, Gyomei has the patient of a saint and could probably stave off his urges to actually touch himself for the rest of his life. Dirty thoughts, no, but the act of actually stroking himself or acting upon those thoughts? He could, if he really tried – or at least he could without the intervention of something outside of his control, something that pushes him to finally, finally give in.

And that intervention comes one summer evening, when the wind is warm and the night air is full of liveliness. The village he’d been sent to had a night market that was bustling, hence the presence of a demon slowly picking off the shoppers every night. Finding and destroying the demon was quick and easy, and as Gyomei wandered through the market after completing his mission, a wrong turn led to a rather shocking discovery.

The woman’s voice sounds almost exactly like yours, only a bit higher, a bit more slurred, a bit sultrier as she moans presumably the name of the man pinning her against the wall. The alleyway between the two buildings in the downtown segment of the town reverberates her cries strongly, the wet sucking and kissing noises as the man worked at her neck making Gyomei freeze, embarrassment slowly creeping up his spine.

Of course, Gyomei isn’t naïve – he knows about the intimate relations between men and women, and although he has no sexual experience of his own, the heavy breathing, racing hearts and wet plap plap noises echoing down the alleyway towards him tell him more than enough about what exactly is taking place just a few meters away. He knows that this is really quite a private moment, and he knows that he should really, really move.

And yet, the similarities between your voice and the woman’s make him pause, his legs suddenly feeling like lead, even as the man’s grunts and questions of you like that, baby ring in his ears, making Gyomei’s eyebrows shoot up because oh no, what a horribly inappropriate thing to be hearing.

A particularly harsh thrust and a nearly pained groan from the man has Gyomei suddenly moving, sensing that the man is close to his end and the Hashira would prefer to give them privacy during such a moment. He tries to continue on with his evening, focusing entirely on the feeling of the beads between his palms and the bustling sounds of the town’s evening life as he heads back towards the more populated area, but the damage is already done.

The woman sounded so much like you that it haunts Gyomei that night, the sound ringing through his ears on repeat and driving him nearly mad, forcing him to head back home to his estate early. Once he’s smelling the familiar air of his home (tinged ever so slightly by your scent, you having visited earlier that day and leaving a lingering reminder of you that he immediately deeply inhales once he enters), Gyomei relaxes ever so slightly, head dipping down in shame as he notices the way his trousers are still fitting tightly, the woman’s sounds and the small, barely-there thoughts he’s trying to repress about your sounds physically affecting him.

Furrowing his brow, he resigns himself to the knowledge that he’ll likely spend the rest of the evening hard enough to be uncomfortable, instead simply sitting and resting atop his bed. He tries to distract himself as the minutes slowly tick by, thinking of training, praying, and anything else he can conjure up, brain working as frantically as possible because the idea of you moaning his name in that same wanton, needy way just absolutely refuses to leave him.

It’s infuriating, really, and it leaves Gyomei with a heavy sense of shame in his gut because it’s just so, so disrespectful to be thinking of you in such compromising, lewd ways. It’s abhorrent, truly a sign of just how weak he’s become in your hands, all without you even realizing it.

The next few hours are painful, his erection remaining prominent and sweat beading his brow, his concentration waning the longer it drags on. Every time he lets his mind wander, it’s turning back to you – he’s thinking of the delicious smell of curried meat that was coming from a market stand, and suddenly he’s imagining the way you would suck on the meat stick, and it’s not long before he’s thinking of how you’d suck on his lips, his fingers, him –

He sits up abruptly, biting his lip and forcing himself to his feet. And eventually, as Gyomei tasks himself with whatever simple task he can think of as a distraction, the concentration and resolve eventually breaks. The neatly folded pile of his clothing in the corner of the room shouldn’t make him pause as it does, but as his fingers feel over the fabric to identify each piece, he can’t help but notice the presence of something new atop the other items – something lighter and softer, a material completely unlike the rough, thick fabric of his uniform.

Curiously, he brings the material up closer to his face, leaning down slightly and inhaling, only to immediately stop, eyes going wide because fuck, this is your shawl, isn’t it?

You’d accidentally left it in his home and he’d placed it in the corner with the hopes of keeping it out of the way to preserve it and not accidentally ruin it. And yet, as he stands there, muscles tense with each inhale bringing your scent to his nose again and again, Gyomei finds that he simply can’t take it anymore. He’s so hard that it hurts, and with the smell of you filling his lungs, how can he possibly hold himself back any longer?

And so, with a heavy heart and shame creeping up his neck, Gyomei finds himself once again laying on his bed, back flat against the ground and swallowing heavily. He’s never touched himself before – maybe once as a young teenager, but he’s simply not had the time nor desire to, and he’s ashamed to admit that he’s nervous.

But then he’s imagining the way you’d moan again, your pretty voice ringing in his ears, the syllables of his name rolling off your tongue like velvet, G-yo-mei whimpered in his ear as he kneads at your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and kissing along the sensitive skin of your jaw.

And that’s all it takes for him to gently loosen the belt of his uniform trousers, his hand slightly trembling as he shuffles them down a bit, the cold air brushing against his freed cock and making him shiver slightly.

He’s slow and methodical as he very, very slowly relaxes. Guilt still consumes him, but he’s already got his pants off, cock in hand – and soon, he’s throwing caution to the wind and instead focusing on the idea of you.

He starts by imagining a simple part of your body – your hands, the ones whose fingers always brush his own, resting against his clothing as you compliment him, always feeling warm and soft and so, so very foreign. He swallows, his fist moving to grip himself at the base, the dull pleasure making his toes curl a bit.

Then he’s mentally picturing your arms, remembering the way they feel against his palms. He’s sure the skin there is soft, too, and he squeezes tighter as he thinks of the way you’d wrap them around his neck as he thrusts into you, hovering over you and trying to get as deep as he possibly can – he wants to feel every possible inch of you, to leave you stuffed full enough to be a gasping, stuttering mess.

He’s imagining your collarbone, his free hand coming up to trace his own for reference. He decides that your must be more delicate, softer, pretty and mirroring the shape of your jaw. Slowly, his hand begins moving upwards, a low, uneven breath falling from his lips because oh, this is a strange feeling.

He’s not entirely sure what breasts feel or look like, but as he licks his lips, he thinks back to all the (unpleasantly and unwilling) conversations he’s overheard from perverted older men. Soft, he thinks, and surely firm enough to grasp onto – one hand continues the slow, steady strokes as the other reaches up in front of him, shame eating away at him as he spreads his fingers, cupping and squeezing them as if your chest were right in front of him, your pretty tits bouncing, the plap plap noise of skin hitting skin filling the room.

He quietly groans your name as he continues to squeeze, head lolling back slightly against the floor, a strained look crossing his features because no, he knows the feeling that’s coming is an orgasm but dammit, he wants this to continue, even as depraved as it is. Even as disrespectful and rude – even as badly as he hopes and prays that you do this thinking of him, too.

His thumb comes up to quickly swipe at his tip, his abs clenching tightly at the sensation. He’s thinking of your stomach – it’s soft, he just knows it, the perfect thing for him to grab at, imagining the way he’d rest his head against the soft pudge of your lower tummy as he licks and sucks between your legs, feeling your thighs cage around his head, squeezing and crushing and fuck fuck fuck –

He groans your name, hips bucking up and up as he imagines what lays between those pretty thighs of yours, the exact picture a mystery but the idea making every nerve feeling like it’s on fire, white hot pleasure burning its way from the pit of his stomach through to every limb.

He’s sure fucking you would be heavenly – he’s heard women’s genitalia described as warm, wet, and tight, and the mere idea of you being that way is enough to get him gasping, his orgasm hurriedly approaching and his concentration too haphazard to use a technique to slow his breathing and delay the inevitable.

It’s futile, really, because when he imagines the way you’d clutch onto him and tell him such sweet praises, your pretty lips pressing against his desperately, whining that you want him, that you need him, it’s only natural for him to start bucking up into his hand, thrusting against his fist faster and faster and faster, the sound of his ass clapping back down against his bedsheets reverberating through the room, along with the wet slapping noise of his balls clapping against his fist as he imagines fucking into you harder, faster, more more more –

And just the idea of you moaning a breathy, adoring I love you, Gyomei is enough to get his back arching up, every muscle in his body going taut as spurt after spurt of warm, thick cum spurts from his tip, landing in rivulets across his chest, feeling hot and wet even over the fabric.

He’s panting, breathing heavily and bathing in the aftershocks of his orgasm, cock still pulsing and throbbing even as the minutes tick by, still mostly erect even as he grasps at the sheets, a fresh wave of tears beading at his eyes because what has he done?

Clarity rushes back to him and for a moment he’s in shock, the pleasure still numbing his senses. He’d masturbated to the thought of you – imagining your naked body touching his own, fantasizing about the way he’d taste you, how he’d ever so carefully ease inside you, a thumb constantly pressing against your clit to make sure everything feels as good for you as he’s sure it will feel for him.

He’s breathless, disappointed in himself, and as he silently sits up and washes himself up in the bathroom, scrubbing at the drying cum stains on his uniform, Gyomei can only sigh. It’s truly amazing what you’ve done to him – what you’ve reduced him to.

And yet, as Gyomei walks towards your home the next day with the intention of walking you to the market, he can’t help but subtly take wider steps, hoping to adjust himself as he grows hard at the mere thought of being close to you.

What have you done to him?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Voice

Due to his blindness, Gyomei perceives your beauty in more meaningful ways than simply your appearance.

He fell in love first with your voice, the things you say never failing to leave him in awe of your kindness and your humility. He falls in love with your laughter, loving the sound and finding himself speaking more often simply for the chance to say something that would amuse you.

(Something that both you and others will notice, if only because it’s extremely unlike Gyomei to say anything even remotely hinting at humor, and while his comments often don’t land as he intended, you’ll often times end up laughing simply because it’s so out of character and odd of him. And oh, in the moment Gyomei is basking in the sound of your laughter, committing every inhale of breath and slight snort to memory, obsessively replaying the sound over and over and over.)

And so, when he’s falling into the depths of loneliness, arousal and desperation for you becoming too difficult to handle, he’ll think of the lulling sound of your voice, the way you roll your letters and how you enunciate your words. He’s memorized your speech patterns, always trying to engage you in conversation just so that he can listen to you talk, eagerly absorbing everything you say because it all feels important, like he’d be doing you a disservice to not memorize every little quirk, mannerism and opinion you have.

And so while his love for your voice begins platonically and innocently (or at least as innocent as it can be, considering his feelings for you are anything but), Gyomei finds that over time, this sentiment begins changing.

Sure, he’s still in love with your voice, but now he can’t stop thinking about what you’d sound like when you’re out of breath, when you’re moaning, when you’re whining and keening and begging and needing him to please touch me Gyomei, I need it so bad please please please –

He’s fantasizing about what you sound like during sex long before he feels comfortable with it, his mind conjuring up all these questions and hypothetical scenarios without his control. He’s idly wondering if you’re more of a moaner, all high-pitched and girly, plentiful sounds that are expressive enough for him to very easily and quickly be able to read exactly what you’re feeling, exactly what you’re wanting. Or perhaps you’d be a little deeper, more of a groaner, more likely to let out sighs rather than whines. Or perhaps you’re just very quiet - he’d be happy with that, too, finding that the minimal sounds he does manage to get out of you are all the more rewarding, all the more precious and worthy of cherishing.

(He’s even found himself, in a moment of dissociation as he tries to sleep, mimicking what he imagines your noises would be like – he catches himself after the third moan slips out, immediately stopping himself and becoming mortified because oh god, does he now not even have autonomy and control over his own body and actions?)

And once he’s stolen you away, his hand forced by some external event, Gyomei’s love and appreciation for your voice persists. He’s still captivated by it, except now he’s paying even more attention, listening to your heartbeat and the way you breath, finding himself pressing his ear up against walls when he wants to give you space but still needs to hear you.

Once your sexual relationship begins, he’s absolutely addicted to drawing all sorts of sounds out of you – he wants to hear your every moan, your every comment, every everything because he wants to know exactly how you’re feeling and what he can do to make it better for you.

He’s always encouraging you to be louder, to be more expressive, always asking you questions during sex in attempts to get you to be more vocal. It’s selfish, sure, but with the way his cock throbs at the sound of your voice, can be really be blamed?

You just have an effect on him – one he absolutely adores, shivers running up and down his spine merely at the sound of you breathing.

His Fingers

Even outside of the bedroom, Gyomei is reliant on his fingers. It’s a necessary part of his job – wielding his axe and flail, praying, even simple day-to-day activities. They’re thick, and they’re strong – calloused and weathered with the scars of battle and a tough life, and Gyomei has remarkable dexterity and control over them.

And while he may be blind, Gyomei notices almost immediately that you seem to take a liking to them, once your fear and apprehension towards him starts to wear off, once you start to see him as less of a threat and more as a provider, a lover, even.

So while he’s never really given them much thought, there’s just something about how you react to his thick, scarred digits that makes him positively swoon with happiness – it starts off relatively platonic, with you simply touching his fingers. Letting one of his hands rest in your lap, your smaller fingers comparing sizes, tracing scars and callouses, idly toying with them as you talk about something seemingly trivial to you.

(Little to you know that Gyomei is listening with rapt attention, every one of his senses heightened because you’re touching him, and it feels so soft and sweet and adorable that he almost thinks he might combust, his cheeks feeling warm and something fluttering in his stomach.)

It’ll move to you asking him to rub your shoulders, letting out little moans at the feeling of him running thumbs against your back, digging in – carefully, of course – against the tight, sore muscles of your shoulders, all the while Gyomei has to focus on continuing his job and relaxing you, ignoring the rather insistent erection pressing heatedly against his pants as a result of your sounds, the feeling of your skin, and the proximity of your scent.

And of course, you absolutely adore his fingers in the context of sex - one of them is enough to have you pleading with him to wait, please, the stretch is too much, you need a second to adjust, immediately pausing or pulling back, listening to you and asking if you’d like him to try again, if he should go slower, if you’d like to be done and instead do something else, or nothing else at all.

(He hopes, prays, even, that you’ll let him try again, that you’ll let him sink his fingers into you, curling and rubbing and mapping out every inch of you like some sort of sacred knowledge, like knowing you inside and out is his only purpose.)

And while Gyomei has never been an especially prideful guy, he can’t help the surge of satisfaction that rolls through him at the knowledge that he’s enough for you in bed, that he’s able to satisfy you and give you what you want at any time, sometimes even with just his fingers alone.

He had no experience before his infatuation with you began - he’d never even kissed someone, let alone fingered them or been inside them, but once he realizes how badly he wants to make you come, how desperately he needs to hear up-close the way you sound as your orgasm crashes through you, he’s suddenly learning as diligently as he can, taking into consideration your every whimper, moan and gasp.

Soon, he’s able to pinpoint your spot within the first three thrusts, and once he feels the way you tighten around him, almost as if you were sucking his fingers in further, deeper, he gets to work - he’s thrusting, curling, rubbing and stretching you out just how you like it, hearing the symphony of your noises and cries, along with the lewd squelching noises of his fingers pushing and pulling out of you again and again.

And when his calloused fingertips find your already swollen and sensitive clit? Honestly it’s game over – they’re never leaving the spot, quickly learning precisely how you like to be touched, the accuracy and ease of the movements nearly unfair as you squirm and writhe and gasp out his name.

Gyomei is determined, and he will get you to come, if it’s the last thing that he does. After all, how can he call himself good enough of a lover for you if he can’t even manage to do that?

DRIVE:

Before his infatuation with you began, Gyomei’s drive was quite literally nonexistent. The thought of sex hardly ever crossed his mind, and if it did, it was immediately shoved away, pushed aside for more important matters in his everyday life. Survival, hunting demons and saving innocents took all of his free time and energy, and touching himself was both unnecessary and a stark reminder of not having a partner.

(Something that doesn’t bother him up until he meets you – because now he’s suddenly hyper aware of what couples do. He’s constantly thinking of holding your hand, brushing back your hair and cupping your cheek, softly pressing his lips to the corners of your mouth and against your jugular, holding you in his arms at night to keep you protected from both the cold and any wayward demons. And of course, the other things couples do – the things that make him feel like some hormone-driven teenage boy for being so easily flustered, for being so horribly eager to try them out with you.)

His libido was essentially non-existent, and while he’d sometimes overhear Tengen talking in shockingly explicit detail to Rengoku about his latest sexual escapades with his wives, he genuinely never felt the need to even so much as think about intimacy like that, let alone indulge in it.

But once you worm your way into his heart, suddenly the urge to be with you in an intimate manner is just too much to ignore. Of course, it’s still very gradual – it takes years of friendship in order for Gyomei to even form romantic feelings towards you in the first place, much less feelings to this degree. And even once they’re realized, it’ll take a long while before he moves past fantasizing about simply sitting by your side and slowly breathing in the air you’re exhaling and instead towards fantasizing about fucking you until you’re crying.

But as time passes and he slowly gives in more and more to his better judgement, Gyomei finds himself idly toying with the thoughts lingering at the edges of his subconscious – ideas of how you’d feel underneath him, how your lips would curve against his skin, how you’d keen and sigh his name. It becomes too hard not to imagine the way your pretty cunt would suck in his fingers, clenching down and fluttering around him as he curls and thrusts them, listening to the beating of your heart and slowly but surely finding every spot that drives you absolutely crazy.

His drive is still quite low even once he realizes his infatuation with you (simply finding that while he very, very much wants to have sex with you, it’s not something he needs on an hourly or daily basis), but the more lewd, dirty thoughts about you are most certainly still swirling in his mind.

And really, how can he be expected to not fantasize about you?

You’re so beautiful, inside and out, and Gyomei is sure that if you were to allow him to touch you in such an intimate way, he'd be in heaven. The softness of your skin, the tightness of your throat, the warmth of your pussy…

(He’s heard, once again mainly from Tengen but also from others he’s unfortunately overheard, that vaginas tend to be warm, hot even. Initially, he’d just thrown aside this information, having no use for it, but the comments flow back into his head as he tries to picture what your cunt must feel like. Warm makes sense, but then he’s thinking of how it’s supposedly so very wet, assuming the woman is aroused, and Gyomei can only gulp at the thought, imagining the wet schlock noise that would ring in his ears when he’s got you bouncing in his lap. And of course, the tightness – he’s gripping himself harder at the mere thought, gasping sharply as he brings his fist up and down, varying the strength of his grip as he imagines where you’d be tightest, how your walls would squeeze and massage at him just how he’s been told it is.)

And you make it very, very hard to keep the thoughts from entering his head once he's accepted his sexual attraction to you.

When he notices the little sound you make when you throw your arms over your head and stretch, how can he not think of the way you’d squirm and cry out when he gently, sweetly presses a finger inside of you, curling and rubbing at the spot that Tengen promises will make you feel good? And although he knows it’s probably a bit inappropriate to be thinking of you in such ways despite you not being married quite yet, he honestly can’t help it - you’re too attractive to him, you mean to much for him to not want to be with you in every possible way.

After all, Gyomei wants to do everything in his power to make you as happy as possible, and if it means burying his face between your legs for hours on end and bringing you to your high a few times, he’s already plopping down onto his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

(And even if you don’t really want it, Gyomei is still more than happy to taste you, practically begging you without saying the words, reminding you that he can make you relax, please allow me to pleasure you, it should help with your headache. And while it’s mostly for you, genuinely, there’s still a selfish part of him that’s hurriedly settling your pretty cunt over his face because he wants your thighs caging around his head, the taste and smell of you enveloping his senses, to have every ounce of your attention solely on him him him.)

He's not perpetually desperate for you in a sexual sense, but once Gyomei’s infatuation settles in for long enough, he will not turn you down should you offer.

That said, Gyomei will never force anything physical onto you in any capacity.

(And this is true In all senses – obviously he won’t force you into sex if you don’t consent, but he also won’t do things like holding your hand or calling you petnames, wanting everything in your relationship to be as reciprocated as possible. Except, of course, where your safety is concerned – if he looks the villain for kidnapping you, so be it, but at least he isn’t pinning you down and taking what he wants from you. Though with his stature, you’re aware that he could take practically anything he wants and you’d not be able to do a thing about it.)

While he isn’t especially experienced with romantic relationships, he’s more than aware that consent is everything, that each action and step should be accepted by both parties, whether it be a peck on the cheek or bending you over the nearest counter and leaving you sore.

Gyomei hates when you cry, and as the target of his obsession, this works in your favor - while you’re likely to develop sympathy and possibly even some warped sort of love for him, you won’t ever have to worry about being taken advantage of, or being put in a situation in which you’re forced to do something physical that you’re uncomfortable with. His top priority in any situation is you, and how can he justify shoving his tongue down your throat if you’re cringing, pushing at his far too muscular chest, showing obvious signs of fear?

How can he enjoy spreading your legs and running a thick finger up and down your folds when you’re shivering, whimpering with a few tears trailing down your cheeks?

He’d never forgive himself if he touched you without your consent, if he hugged or kissed or - heaven forbid, fucked - you without your explicit agreement, and this honestly ends up advantaging him in a strange way. It’s wrong and you know it, but eventually you’ll begin to grow fond of his gentle touches, his way of treating you as if you were made of glass, far too fragile and breakable for this world.

Perhaps it’s Stockholm Syndrome or the extreme isolation of only seeing one other person on a consistent basis, but eventually you’ll stop caring, justifying your growing yearning for his touch as simply a natural response to your situation. And at some point, you’ll want him to go further - no longer is a soft caress of your cheek enough; no, you want him to press his thumb against your lips, tracing the outline and pushing in just enough to pop it past your lips, settling on your tongue and telling you in that calming, deep voice of his to suck.

At some point you’ll decide that instead of him simply placing the palm of his hand on the top of your head as a sign of subtle, noninvasive affection, you’ll want him to instead have you on your knees before him, that same hand pressing your head down as you choke and gag on what you’re sure is a very, very sizeable cock. And once you voice these needs, gathering the courage and confidence that he won’t reject you (he would never, no matter how compromising or humiliating what you’re requesting of him is), Gyomei will be shocked, flustered, nervous, even.

When you shyly tug at his belt, kissing along the line of his jaw and whispering his name in a way that gets shivers erupting over his whole body, he won’t fight you. And all throughout the process he’s asking for your consent, refusing to move his hands until he gets explicit verbal confirmation that he can touch your back, your waist, your tits, your thighs, your ass, your cunt, your everything.

(Honestly, the question of are you sure, is this okay, does that feel good that constantly falls from his lips is almost too endearing, the ever-so-slight tremor in his voice giving away just how excited and nervous he is to be getting so intimate with you, as if the very, very insistent bulge pressing against your ass isn’t enough to tell by.)

It’s in moments where he’s completely vulnerable with you that the Stockholm Syndrome really accelerates: he’s slowly drawing circles against your clit and listening as if his life depends on it to the changes in your breathing, your moans, feeling the way your hips and thighs twitch at certain stimulation. It’s sweet, really, how attentive Gyomei is and just how anal he is about making sure that you’re comfortable with everything, and with each soft moan of his name and each orgasm he coaxes out of you, Gyomei can only thank whatever is listening, savoring the taste of you like a starving man and trying to memorize every inch of your body.

(It’s in the times of post-orgasmic bliss that he finds himself incredibly grateful for having prioritized your comfort and not pushed you into anything too early – sure, covering his mouth with the section of his happi you’d touched early in the day and absolutely yanking at his cock, his fist moving so quickly it’s nearly a blur wasn’t ideal, but it lead to this. All those evenings spent desperately trying to orgasm to release some of the built up sexual frustration and to minimize your chances of seeing the rather massive tent in his pants were worth it – anything is worth it to have you cuddled up in his arms, cheek smoothed against his bare chest, your soft breaths puffing against his nipple and making him lick his lips. Anything at all.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Oral Fixation

Specifically, Gyomei absolutely adores going down on you.

In general, he’s a giver in bed. He’s not a selfish lover by any means – in fact, he’s almost infuriatingly generous, prioritizing your pleasure over yours no matter the situation to the point that it’s almost irritating. And because he’s so cautious and aware that he’s significantly larger than you and thus has a cock proportionate to his height and stature, he knows that he needs to take things slow and spend a very, very long time preparing your body to take him.

And Gyomei’s personal preference is to use his tongue on you – to spread your legs and leave you squirming against him, the taste of you invading every one of his senses and only driving him to lick with more fervor, to suckle harder, to give you more more more because he needs you to be ready and able to take his cock or he thinks he might go insane.

He likes the intimacy of using his tongue on you – it means you trust him, he thinks, and there’s something so wonderful about the lewdness and vulgarity of it all. Having his mouth on the most sensitive, personal place on your body, all while your thighs cage his head in, your hips twitching and your fingers tunneling through his hair. He loves the way he feels so close to you – like he’s experiencing the most real, raw part of you that he can, the feeling almost as euphoric and intimate as having his cock nestled inside of you, warm and snug and full.

He loves the smell of you – it’s musky and earthy, something that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head and something resembling a groan slip from him at a mere whiff of between your legs, often leading to his hips bucking on their own, unconsciously moving to come closer to the source of your scent, his body physically unable to stop itself from trying to rut and fuck into you.

(Something that embarrasses Gyomei slightly, if only because he finds it rather pathetic just how poor his body-control becomes around you, ashamed at his inability to stop himself from responding so carnally, so perversely.)

He’ll often lean down and press his face against the pretty hair covering your cunt, nose-deep into it as he inhales, pants growing tight embarrassingly fast because oh fuck, he’s practically Pavolv’d himself into orgasming the moment he smells you, arousal blooming through him even though he hasn’t touched himself even the slightest.

And he’s not shy to tell you that you smell good, either – he’s always praising you in bed, but he’ll murmur to you that you smell divine, the compliment sounding throatly and groaned, and he’ll always finish it off by pressing soft, adoring kisses around the junctures of your thighs and pelvis, making sure every inch of space has been touched by his lips.

(And he gets very, very into it, too – he’s groaning lightly against your skin, letting his lips linger, letting his tongue come out to rub at the skin of your inner thigh, sucking slightly and letting go with a wet plop sound that makes your face feel hot and your stomach twist. It’s often at this point that he’ll wind up unconsciously very slowly grinding against whatever object is available, often the blankets you’re resting on and even sometimes your leg when he’s feeling especially needy, often when he’s returned from a prolonged mission. On those rare occasions, you may even feel something wet and very, very warm seep against your leg, hot cum already staining your skin and only serving as an omen for what Gyomei wants to do to you.)

He’ll trail kisses up to your clit, little kitten licks while he listens and gauges your reactions, trying to discover if you’re more in the mood for circles, figure eights, stripes, or – when a strange, unusual bout of possessiveness surges through him – the kanji for his own name.

(He’ll always grip onto you harder when he does this, still trying to be mindful of his strength, but with enough force to leave you completely immobile, utterly subject to whatever he wants to do to your body – a fact that both frightens him and excites some small, carnal part of him.)

He’ll station a thumb to work the pattern against you, rhythmic and steady, while his tongue darts out to dig between your folds, pressing shallowly into you while you twitch and whine, his thumb insistent against you. He’ll take his time to explore you, leaving no area untouched, and he’ll pull back with a few hearty sucks against your labia, licking his lips as he presses kisses against your stomach.

How would you like to come, my love? He’ll ask between kisses, the emphasis on the word ‘my’ subtle but still there. If you want to come solely from his tongue licking and sucking at you, he’ll be more than happy to – he’ll shift his positioning, laying on his back with you perched on his face, keeping his tongue stationary and instead moving you to the rhythm he knows you like, just so that all you have to do is sit there and take it, leaving your body completely in his control.

He’ll bring you to your high solely through sucking at your clit if you’d prefer, puckering his lips and keeping the pressure up, running his tongue over the sensitive skin and keeping them attached even when you buck up, your hips moving uncontrollably as you near your orgasm.

He’ll do both, if you want, able to multi-task and keep everything exactly as you like it, desperation motivating him because he needs to feel you come for him, to feel the way you muscles clench and spasm around him, to hear your pretty cries and feel your fingers dig against his scalp, pulling and yanking and making him groan lowly at the pain-twinged pleasure.

He just loves to please you really, and he can spend hours between your legs – genuinely, and without a single complaint. He’ll bring you a single orgasm or twenty, whatever you want of him, all you have to do is sweetly ask, to say his name and say please Gyomei, need another one, you feel so good and I want to come for you again all the while you grind against his tongue.

(If you really want to get him going, do all that and grab his free hand, slipping a finger or two into your mouth and sucking yourself, making sure it’s wet and sloppy and full of drool. He’ll pause for a mere second, before swallowing hard and immediately diving into your cunt, motivated because oh god, you never use your mouth on him – his own instigated rule, simply because he’s terrified he’ll choke you and kill you should he lose control and thrust down your throat. But this? Oh, perhaps he does have a penchant for your mouth, too, the oral fixation extending both ways and leaving him dizzy and light headed because even your fucking mouth is perfect, all warm and wet and smooth, making his cock leak so much precum that he idly wonders if he’s undergoing a single long, drawn-out orgasm because of the sheer volume.)

And Gyomei will be eager for the entire time he’s between your legs, keen to take you in any position – you laying down, from the back, you sitting on his face, anything that feels right – in any setting. He just loves the way you taste – how it’s so earthy, heavy against his tongue, natural in a way that makes him desperate for more, finding himself craving the taste at the most inopportune of times.

(Thank god for the looseness of the uniform pants – you can notice the tent in them, of course, with just how often he’s sporting an erection in your presence, but this way his fellow slayers won’t notice – which is good, because as your sexual relationship progresses, it’s a near daily basis that a passing thought of your taste hits him, literally making him salivate and having to leave the room briefly.)

He just really, really likes using his mouth on you, and he won’t hesitate to offer himself up at even the slightest change of you wanting it. Even the slightest chance.

Praise

He’s not terribly vocal in bed, but when he speaks he makes it count.

His natural sounds during sex are much more controlled – he’s always letting out these long, shaky exhales, his lips parted slightly and his eyebrows drawing tight because fuck you feel good. He’ll groan your name and often hiss lightly through his teeth, soft little ah-ah sounds falling from his lips when you’re sucking on him just right and riding him with the rhythm and angle he likes best.

And yet, he was very, very quiet at the beginning of your sexual relationship – only breathing heavily and giving you a slurred, rushed I’m coming right before so much cum is stuffed up into your cunt that you’re literally leaking around his still-hard cock inside of you. He was quiet mostly because he didn’t want to turn you off by letting out some of the more intense noises, groans that start low but turn into this higher, whinier sound, or chants and mantras of your name like a prayer when he’s gently rolling his hips into you, every muscle in his body clenching in an effort to restrain himself and not absolutely pound into you like he so desperately wants to.

He didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, but as he grows more familiar with your body and your sexual preferences, Gyomei finds that complimenting you seems to fall naturally off his tongue.

He already thinks of you as perfection in human form, idolizing you to such a degree that he knows it’s unhealthy but he can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s never seen your face, of course, but he’s sure that you’re beautiful, fingers having groped and traced out every feature of your face, every slope and curve of your body (even the inside of your body, too, of course) more times than he can count.

And before he knows it, all sorts of praises are filling the wet, thick air between you as he fucks into you – his voice is still low and timbered, the vibrations making shivers shoot up your spine and your nipples harden up, his strained praise of you take me so well, love only serving to get you going faster, grinding and scooping your hips more aggressively and feeling the way he sucks in a sharp breath and tenses up underneath you.

A lot of his praises focus largely on your performance during sex – always complimenting you for the way you feel, telling you that you feel like heaven and that you’re perfect and that you’re everything I’ve been dreaming of quietly under his breath the first time he carefully, almost fearfully cups your tits in his hands, squeezing gently and waiting pointedly for your response, forcing himself to not cave and squeeze as hard as he can.

He’s complimenting parts of your body, too – telling you that your skin is so soft, that your lips taste so good, that your ass is so warm and perfect to grip onto while you’re riding him. Of course, not in such vulgar terms – he only gets crude when he’s right on the brink of orgasming, some of his more lewd, risque thoughts coming to life because fuck fuck fuck it’s like you’re milking him for everything he’s worth, cunt sucking him in so tightly that he thinks he might die and oh god oh god oh god –

Even then, it’s still nothing terrible, but he’ll switch out some of the sweeter terms for cruder ones, calling it a cunt rather than your warmth or something equally virginal, really.

(Which makes sense, considering that it’s extremely obvious the first time that you touch him that he is in fact a virgin, his startled little gasps at every touch even against his torso leaving some sort of power trip rushing straight to your head because while he’s this hulking, huge, powerful man, you have him crumbling with a simple brush of your index finger, every muscle in his body flexing so hard it nearly hurts when you lick at his tip for the first time.)

Instead of asking you with a rather polite please go faster, angel when he needs you to bounce on him at a quicker pace, he’s throwing his head back a bit, Adam’s apple bobbing as he clutches onto you, losing his composure and telling you that you feel so – so good, oh keep going, don’t stop, you’re making me so close to coming – please tell me I can finish inside of you…

Which brings up another major aspect of his praise kink – Gyomei always seems to be asking for permission, even borderline begging at times. It doesn’t read as begging often, though, simply because he's still the one in control most of the time, even if you’re on top or dictating the pace. But he’ll always slip in a please, or bite his lip and wait for you to give him permission, managing to stave off his orgasm long enough to hear you moan out a yes, please come inside me, and suddenly he’s calling you beautiful and clutching onto you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear, cum spraying into you and leaving you squirming because you can feel just how hot it is and just how much there is.

During his orgasms he’s particularly vocal, not to an exaggerated degree but always babbling in that deep, groaning voice that gets high at the very end about how you’re perfect, how you take him so well, how you’re made for him, how he loves you he loves you he loves you he loves you –

He genuinely finds you to be perfect, and every sexual encounter with him will leave you uncomfortably aware that he feels this way. He’s always complimenting you, and due to his lack of vision, the compliments are often extremely specific and leave you more puzzled than flattered.

He’s telling you that you’re the perfect size for him (this is often size closer to his orgasm, when he’s marveling and unable to fathom just how fucking tight you are around him), that you smell like how he’s always imagined (followed with a loud, audible sniff that’s trailed off with a moan, his voice higher than normal), that you’re so soft and squishy (this is always punctuated by particularly hard thrusts if he’s fucking you, and he’ll bury his face against the warm skin of your neck, hands groping at any fatty, squishy part of your body in a frenzy that’s rather uncharacteristic of him).

He just finds that while he’s normally able to stay composed and can be judicious about just how much he reveals he knows about you when he’s not touching you, the moment your skin comes into contact with his, a bit of his judgements flies out the door, instead focusing on the way you feel, how he’s been dreaming about this moment for months, guiltily wringing his cock dry at the mere prospect of getting to touch your used clothing, of getting to hear you breathing in his ear while he thumbs at his tip and lightly squeezes his balls.

You’re just so, so damn good – and in those moments where his admiration and obsession with become dangerously on display, you’ll feel equal parts disturbed and flattered, because really isn’t it just so damn pathetic that you’re able to turn such a large, important, strong man into a groaning mess that’s holding onto you for dear life with just a grind of your hips and a few well-timed, sultry phrases in his ear? Pathetic, sure, but also erotic, sexy in a way that scares even you for feeling it.

But Gyomei can’t seem to care, unable to stop himself form laying on the praise thick, not even conscious that he’s doing it – you just affect him that much.

Orgasm Control

But specifically, Gyomei wants you to control his orgasms.

Most of the time, Gyomei assumes a more dominant role in bed. He doesn’t really adhere to the dominant and submissive roles per say, but it’s rather because he holds so much power over you outside of the bedroom that it naturally follows between the sheets. You’re his captive, after all, and while you’ve slowly come around to him, perhaps even returning his feelings in some sort of deranged way, Gyomei is still undeniably the one in charge in your relationship.

So while he’s not shoving your face into the mattress and mounting you like some sort of animal staking his claim on you (though if you begged him hard enough, he might consider maybe doing something along the lines, but significantly toned down and with a constant question of is this alright, my love asked before each and every motion), between his size and his aura you’ll often find at the start of your sexual relationship that you’re following his lead, doing what he wants to do.

And this bothers Gyomei – he doesn’t like the fact that you still feel a shadow of fear for him, obvious in the way that you look to him for guidance and approval during sex, even though you have at least as much experience as him if not more. It makes him uncomfortable and reminds him of the reality of your situation, something he wants to escape from when he’s being intimate with you.

He wants to think of you as wanting to be naked in his arms and kissing him rather than you having talked yourself into it simply because he’s the only human being you regularly have contact with now. And to remedy this, Gyomei does his best to let you dictate the timing of his orgasms. He has impeccable self-restraint and control, and while it’s not necessarily easy, he’s pretty adept at holding off his orgasms.

(It’s a lot easier to come on command, of course, simply because all he needs to do is focus on the feel of you under his palms and around his tongue or cock, listening to your heartbeat and the sound of your voice and he’s already halfway there, only needing a single, final push to get him groaning and letting go.)

And while he doesn’t explicitly say it at the start, you’ll notice pretty quickly that he only lets himself go when you beg him to, only warning you with a clipped I’m close to coming as a prompt for you to tell him to either hold it in or release.

You’ll soon figure it out, and Gyomei absolutely loves the power structure that forms when you finally understand what he’s trying to do. There’s something thrilling about letting go of his control and handing it totally over to you. No longer does he have to be the strongest, wisest, or most senior – no, now he can just be Gyomei, just be your lover, the man unequivocally whipped and subject to your beck and call.

It’s freeing, almost, and he looks forward to seeing what mood you’ll be in each time your clothing gets peeled off. He’s not sure which mood he likes most – there’s something arousing about the way that you tease him, denying him his orgasm over and over and over, leaving him pent up but still attentive to your words, following your instructions and holding himself back, even when you’re doing things you know drive him crazy.

(Like bouncing on him just right, the feeling of your ass clapping against his thighs making his mouth feel dry. Or when he’s hovering over you, fucking into you slowly and deeply, and you go and wrap a leg around him, drawing him closer, begging him to finish inside but stopping him just moments before his release, telling him nuh-uh, not yet, you only get to come inside me when you’ve earned it. Or one of the rare times you’ve convinced him to let you take him in your mouth, teasing him with tracing his tip over your lips and collarbone, alternating between suckling at his tip and pushing your breasts together to rub up and down his length, narrating to him the whole time exactly what you’re doing. They all make his face go slightly red, his fists clenching up and the muscles in his arms bulging, veins standing out and leaving you to drool slightly, entranced that this behemoth of a man is listening to your words like gospel, forcing himself to be good and do exactly as you say. Even if you’re not an especially dominant person, there’s still something that’ll get you going about that, some sort of power trip that leaves you feeling light headed in the best possible way.)

The edging only serves to make his orgasm stronger, to make everything feel more intense, his eventual orgasm ending up being way more powerful, arcs of cum shooting from his swollen, red tip with such intensity that it feels almost painful against your skin.

(And he’ll finish wherever you tell him to, too – his preference is always inside of you simply because it feels the most intimate and it satisfies some small possessive side of him, but Gyomei will do whatever you want – you want him to finish on your chest? He’s painting your tits in white, droplets dripping from your nipples and drying in thick smears against your skin. Grab his hand and let his fingers feel over the mess he's made and he’ll lowly gasp, a smaller, less impressive spurt landing freshly on your chest, the feeling of his cum on you enough to get the last, sad little bit out. He’ll finish on your back, your ass, your stomach, your thighs, anything you want – just say the word and he’ll do it, eager to please you and make you enjoy your time with him, even if it means leaving his seed somewhere other than where it really belongs – inside you.)

But of course, Gyomei also loves the other side of you dictating his orgasms – that is, similarly to his ability to hold himself off, his refractory period is short. If you were to take advantage of that, you'll see him at the closest to pussydrunk you’ll ever get – make him come in quick succession, your hand steady and quick as you jerk him off, and you’ll see how the first orgasm is the familiar heavy load, the second is slightly reduced, the third even more so, and by the fifth orgasm he’s shooting blanks, abs clenching and unclenching so quickly that you almost feel bad for him, but the sounds he’s letting out are filthy. His normally low and masculine voice rises with each one, until he’s letting out something that isn’t quite a whimper but isn’t not one, either.

He loves the way you bleed him dry, your voice soothing and alluring even as you push him to the edge of his comfort zone, tears pooling in his eyes as you tell him to keep going Gyomei, I know you can give me another one, please give me another one paired with a wet, needy kiss to his lips.

You unlock all sorts of kinks and sides to him that he wasn’t aware even existed, and he’ll let you play with him as much as you please, eagerly setting down onto your shared bed, spreading his legs and helping guide you to your place in his lap, already rock hard below you.

He’s too big and powerful to be called pathetic, but he sure toes the line when you’re touching him, when you’re driving him absolutely insane.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Size Kink

Though, only in very specific circumstances. By and large, Gyomei is painfully aware of just how extreme the size difference between the two of you is – and regardless of your height or weight, you are smaller than him. Small enough to make him worry constantly about accidentally hurting you, terrified that he’ll somehow crush you or bruise you or simply be too much for you. It’s his number one concern when doing anything sexual with you, worrying that even a single finger slipping into your cunt will make you squirm with more than just pleasure.

But by the same token, there’s something so inexplicably right about just how much bigger he is than you. It’s shameful, he thinks, and it makes him feel like some sort of freak for being attracted to the size difference, but it makes him feel stronger, more masculine, feeling like a true protector and provider for you because he can encompass your whole body simply by hovering over you.

And he’s reminded of it at every turn – his hand against your waist covers half the area, the skin soft and plush and warm underneath him, but he can feel the curve of your hip, the expanse of his hand just that much on your body. He can feel the way your fingers struggle to fully grab around his cock, fingertips barely touching even as you squeeze him tightly, and while it seems to frustrate you, Gyomei can only headily swallow, cock twitching in your hands because god, there’s no way that will fit inside of you, will it?

And yet as he swallows, oh so slowly eases you down as you straddle him, going slow and giving you ample breaks to adjust to his size, there’s something about the way he can feel you tremble, your cunt stretching to accommodate him that makes him fist at the sheets, struggling to maintain his composure.

(The warmth and wetness of your walls certainly don’t help his predicament, absolutely soaked and sensitive from the some three orgasms he’d already pulled from you in preparation.)

He’s cautious and terrified that he’ll hurt you, of course, and his concern for you weighs out over any sort of sexual pleasure he gets from the size difference, but it’s still present at the back of his mind, toying with him and begging him to just shove himself inside of you, to take a quick, harsh pace like his body is dying to, to use you as some sort of living cocksleeve for him to fuck into and fill up. He won’t ever do that, of course, but it’s one of the main motivations behind his deep, far-reaching thrusts, enjoying the way you gasp and claw at him when he’s nudged up right against your cervix, pressing and filling you to the point of you almost feeling that you’re being split in half.

He preps you well enough that you’re always able to just barely take him, too worried that he’ll hurt you otherwise, but he still can’t deny the allure of just how different your bodies are.

(And this extends beyond the bedroom, too – he loves the way you fit against his side when you cuddle against him, or how he has to lean down for you to press kisses against his face - something he absolutely adores and very does not mind leaning over for.)

It’s just sweet in his opinion, and while it gets blood rushing south more easily than he’d care to imagine, it ultimately only serves as another reminder that he needs to keep you safe and protected, that you’re too weak to survive in the real world without his aid.

(And, of course, some selfish part of him is satisfied with the knowledge that now that you’ve had him, you’d never be satisfied with another man’s cock, never able to feel the level of stretch and fullness that he can give you. Not that he’d allow you the opportunity to try with another man – he’s not terribly possessive, but the thought of someone else touching you, fucking you, is enough to get his nostrils flaring, rage simmering through him because he absolutely does not want anyone else getting even remotely close to you in that capacity.)

Thigh Riding

Gyomei lives to please you in bed. Every sexual encounter with him sees your pleasure as the absolute priority – he’ll have pulled some three orgasms from you before he even thinks about reaching one himself, before he even really pays attention to the fact that he’s so hard he’s soaked the front of his pants through.

And he’s not picky about how to get you there – namely, Gyomei doesn’t mind being quite literally used for your pleasure, his every limb and feature available for your use. He’ll let you do whatever you want to him; bending him into all sorts of positions, giving him directions for how to finger your pretty cunt, laying down and letting you grind and hump at his face like he’s a mere pillow.

He loves to be of service to you, and he finds that the best sex is where he’s nothing more than a toy for you, at least at the beginning – hence, Gyomei grows to absolutely love having you ride his thigh. He’s huge, a hulking man with muscles so thick and defined that you’ll quite literally be drooling the first time you see them, sucking in a sharp breath when you touch him for the first time.

(And he’ll feel a mixture of pride and bashfulness grow inside him when he hears your little gasp – he’s overjoyed that you seem to like what you’re seeing and feeling, some small, anxious part of him having been terrified that you’d be repulsed by his size and the scars littering his body, that you’d find him to be too muscular, too intimidating. And you can tell, too, because the way that he visibly becomes harder afterward the gasp is a clear indication that you’re doing something to him, your mere presence and breathing getting him hard as a rock.)

He likes the physicality of the act – he keeps you steady on his thigh, the muscle large enough for you to straddle, and the feeling of your hands gripping onto his chest for support makes him oddly giddy.

The first time it happens, Gyomei honestly isn’t sure what you’re trying to do - when you straddle his thigh rather than his waist, his lips part slightly, confusion evident across his features. But as your hips start moving, your exposed, wet cunt sliding against the toned, broad expanse of his thigh again and again, he’s suddenly grasping onto our hips, helping guide you up and down the length of his thigh, occasionally tensing his muscles in order to hear you gasp and cry out his name.

He wants to do everything he can to service you, to help you reach that wonderful high, and the only thing that’s rolling through his mind at that moment is how perfect you feel, the way his name slips from your lips as your body shakes in pleasure, how he can feel the pulses and clenches of your cunt even as you pick up the pace.

And when he snakes a hand down to thumb against your clit, he nearly comes from the sound that escapes you - it’s so wanton, so lewd and dirty but so fucking hot, and suddenly all he can think of is the repeated phrase of make her come, make her come, a mixture of desperation and determination leaving him frantically rubbing at your clit.

Gyomei will offer his thigh to you whenever you feel like riding it, and once you’ve finished, your body exhausted and laying down next to him, he’ll sneakily rub along the area where your slick has rubbed off onto his thigh, bringing his fingers up for a taste and groaning as your flavor coats his tongue, free hand reaching down to palm at himself, squeezing at his balls and shuddering. Gyomei can and will do anything to make you feel good in the bedroom, and he’ll never turn down the opportunity to see you fall apart on his thighs.

(And if he’s feeling particularly needy or knows he’s leaving for a long mission away from you, he won’t bother to wash off his legs afterwards – he'll let your slick dry against his skin, wearing it like a sort of badge of honor, feeling connected to you as he slaughters demons even while you’re miles and miles away from him. It’s dirty, sinful, even, but it’s enough to keep him satisfied, to let him bear to be away from you while he does his duty. And yes, he’s running his fingers along the area occasionally and sniffing, his knees getting ever so slightly weak because the smell has the taste of you flooding his mouth, the sound of your moans ringing in his ears, even phantom touches of yours erupting all over his body.)

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Gyomei prioritizes your pleasure in the bedroom. He’s not a particularly sexual man, and so he views intimacy as being all about making sure that you enjoy it to the fullest extent possible – in many ways, he sees himself as merely a tool for you to use to reach your high.

(And if he happens to orgasm – which he always does when it’s you touching him – then great, but it’s not a necessity.)

And this is largely true – he really does want you to enjoy fucking him, and he’ll go to extremes just to make sure everything is as perfect as possible.

But Gyomei is only human, and as such he harbors a few fantasies that are entirely selfish, entirely about him – one of which develops by complete accident. He’s so terrified to hurt you that he’s constantly looking for ways to satisfy you without using his cock, because although he loves the feeling of your lips, fingers, or cunt wrapped around him (to the point that just thinking about it makes his composure falter ever so slightly, his jaw going a bit slack and his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly), he’s always concerned that it’ll be too big and you could hurt yourself if he fucks you with it.

And so, during the rare times he’d get off before he begins any semblance of a sexual relationship with you, Gyomei’s exploring alternative options.

And while it isn’t necessarily a way to help you get off, per se, he’d been idly gripping himself while thinking one evening, biting his lip and feeling awfully shameful of his actions but unable to bring himself to stop. He’d reached down further, sucking in a sharp breath as he carefully and delicately cupped his balls, idly squeezing and rolling them between his fingers.

But he must’ve been too deeply in thought, distracted by the idea of you, that his hand continued down, reaching and pressing against his skin, until a sudden, odd sensation made him pause, eyes going wide. He’s never even considered anything involving either your ass or his own, but at the single press of his fingers against his hole, the strange, fluttery feeling in his chest makes him feel a bit light-headed.

It’s dirty, taboo, and he hadn’t explored the thought any further that night simply because he was too embarrassed to have found it pleasurable, but it sticks around in the peripheral of his mind. There’s this ever-present question of what if, a sort of far-off fantasy that he toys with every once in a while, when he’s particularly needy and missing the feeling of your skin on his or your attention on him.

And the idea of you taking your time, worshipping his body and guiding him through a new, pleasurable experience makes more than just his cock swell, because there’s something so loving and calming about it, and letting himself be vulnerable in that way is something he hasn’t done for years – something he can’t afford to do, no matter how wonderful it sounds.

Of course he’d never, ever bring up the idea to you for two reasons – it bothers him a bit that you wouldn’t be getting any direct pleasure or stimulation out of it, and he’s too embarrassed to admit that he wants you to touch his ass, afraid that you’ll find him disgusting or flatly reject the idea. He'll keep quiet about it, and if you were to bring it up, you’ll see the way he subtly perks up, body tensing as he swallows, telling you that you don’t have to, I understand that you may not wish to.

But if you’re insistent, and you see the way it affects him, Gyomei will be putty in your hands – you can do anything to his ass, and he’ll take it so well, the only sign that you’re affecting him being the small, barely-there moans leaving his lips, a slight flush across his cheeks, and the copious, copious amounts of precum oozing from his swollen tip.

So really, play around – he’ll never request it, but it’ll only make his feelings for you grow stronger, his desperation and dependence on you growing because only you can make him feel this way.

“Gyomei, I want to try something new tonight.” You start, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. He’s got you straddled in his lap, large hands resting on your hips and his back leaning against the near wall. At your words, he nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Anything you wish, angel.” His voice is low, deep, excited in a way that you can ever so slightly pick up on.

You take a deep breath, leaning up to whisper into his ear as you brace yourself on his chest. “Gyomei, I want to touch you. All of you.”

His hands lightly squeeze at your sides. “You have all of me, you know this. I am all yours, and you can do whatever you please with me.”

You laugh slightly and it makes Gyomei shiver, his grip tightening just enough to make you uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything. “No, I want to touch you where I haven’t before – somewhere new.”

You reach back and grab one of his hands, guiding it to press against your clothed ass, his index fingers landing on the indent between your cheeks.

Gyomei gulps. He’s silent for a moment, mind racing, but the semi-hardness underneath you throbs at your words, and you only smile as he shakily exhales, murmuring an “Are you sure?”

Carefully taking his earlobe between your teeth, you grind down onto him, your thumb finding his nipple over the fabric of his top. Humming, you let go of his skin with a kiss, telling him, “Yes, please… lay on your front for me, please Gyomei.”

Which leads to where you are now, with your big, strong captor laying on his front, arms kept tucked at his sides. This angle makes his muscles stand out, his sculpted back and the definition of his thighs nearly making you drool. And of course, the tan skin of his ass, muscular enough to make you grab handfuls of each cheek and spread them apart to get a good look at him. Coarse black hairs dabble over his skin, and Gyomei finds himself oddly self-conscious as he feels you staring. He’s laying with his head to the side, his breathing still a little quick, and he waits with baited breath for you to do something, to say something, anything.

What he isn’t prepared for, though, is to feel your soft lips press against the sensitive skin of his cheeks, making him jerk ever so slightly and stiffen up under your touch. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against his skin as you kiss a trail down from his tailbone to his thigh, the hardness of his muscles never ceasing as you continue.

“Gyomei,” you whisper against his skin, “relax for me, please. I want to take care of you.”

He hesitates, but forces himself to be less tense, only slightly shifting under the weight of your lips. You smile at that, planting another kiss. “So good f’me.”

That gets something small and uncharacteristically high sounding from low in his throat, but you don’t comment on it.

Your thumb comes down to press softly against his puckered hole, and Gyomei sharply inhales at the sensation, immediately clenching and shaking slightly at the feeling of you increasing the pressure, just idly rubbing circles over it.

The way you retract your hand without warning almost makes Gyomei grunt, confusion and disappointement contorting his face, but then your thumb is returning, something warm and sticky coating your thumn, and suddenly you’re pushing in, further and further until you break past the tight ring of muscle, Gyomei’s breath goes ragged because it feels strange –

It feels good, though, and as you settle in to your first knuckle, his toes curl slightly, the sensation odd but not unpleasant.

“How does it feel, Gyo?” You ask, pressing more kisses along his back and squeezing at his ass. He can’t quite answer, too overwhelmed by the feeling of your thumb inside him. Smiling, you lightly nibble at the skin of his lower back. “Know what I’m using for lube?”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to get used to the feeling.

Pressing your thumb just a hair further, you smile at the way he jolts, thigh muscles tensing hard enough to see visible definition. “It’s me, seeing you like this is making me wet enough that I’m using my own slick to prep you…”

That gets Gyomei groaning, the sound muffled by the pillow underneath him, but audible nonetheless. His cock’s painfully hard, pressed up against his stomach, and he can feel the wet pool of precum already staining his skin and the fabric of the sheets below him.

Humming, you press another inch or so in, curling your finger slightly and listening the way his breathing changes, trying to identify what he likes most.

“So pretty, Gyomei,” you start, and his eyes snap open when he hears the familiar sound of your fingers sinking into yourself, the small sigh you make only making him clench around your thumb and his cock throb underneath him.

Your thumb’s all the way in now, and as you slowly, shallowly begin thrusting it, you time it with your own pumps inside. “I’m fucking myself at the same pace as you, that way it’s like we’re together.”

Your voice makes him melt, and as you angle your thumb just right, a gasp tunnels its way through him, ripping him apart and making his hips jerk forward, humping at the sheets below him.

You smile. “There, huh?”

And immediately you’re abusing the spot, pressing tightly against it and rubbing it in a hithering motion, Gyomei’s hips twitching wildly at the feeling. He’s chanting your name under his breath as the pleasure begins mounting, eyes shut again and eyebrows drawn tight.

He’s embarrassed, truly, because even something as small as your thumb has him falling apart like this, desperation lacing his movements because this is building up to be a different feeling from his normal orgasms, something entirely different that makes his whole body tense up and stutter, a muffled groan sound, “It-It’s coming – “

And suddenly cum is caked along his front, your eyes watching transfixed as the visible portion of his balls clench and spasm wildly, his ass flexing and the tightness nearly forcing your thumb out. Instead, you keep pressing against his prostate, watching the way he clutches onto the fabric below him, grip so strong that the fabric rips under him, his strength uncontrollable as his orgasm rocks him.

It’s easily a twenty second affair, cum pouring out of him and visibly seeping into the fabric surrounding him, making you lick your lips because oh, isn’t this precious? Your big, sweet, strong Gyomei falling apart with your thumb up his ass, something like whimpers falling from his lips because you’re still rubbing inside him, reaching deeper with every curl and leaving his back to tense up, shoulder blades visible as he fights off the acute feeling overstimulation.

You only press a kiss to the back of his head, pausing your movements for a single moment as you murmur his name in his ear, telling him with a near purr, “You’ll give me another one, right? I know you can do it, my pretty boy.”

And the way he shudders, hand snapping out to grab onto your thigh as he nods tells you enough, as does his muffled, choked “y-yes”.

#yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere ds #yandere demon slayer #yandere gyomei #yandere gyomei himejima #_lee's profiles #_kny #_gyomei himejima #yandere smut #kny smut #kny x reader #gyomei himejima x reader

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admirationandromantics · 1 month ago

Text

Reading Material

This was not a request, sorry, but I have been a bit overwhelmed lately, so will not post as much as usual. Anyways, this story is based on the thought of Josh finding out about the sexy smutty book you're reading, and basically how he would react. Hope you like it!

Word count: 1,1k (unedited)

I open the book, resuming on the page I left off. Luckily for me, the cover of it is quite discrete. At the same time, the sex-scenes weren’t many. The book overall is interesting, and has a good plot, but those types of scenes last for at least two chapters in one sitting, so I have to be careful when I read them. Who knows who might be peeking. The only person who usually does is Ashley, but she’s in another room with Chris and Matt, talking about some series or movie she recently watched.

I make myself comfortable on the sofa, knees coming up, tightly pressed together. The page turns, tension building up as the main characters get into it once again. My eyes are glued to the ink, failing to see the shadow behind me. I take it all in, imagining it in my head as they do their thing. What kind of position is that? I turn a page back, trying to make sense of it. One leg there, arms around his torso. Before I can understand it all, a hand comes down, taking a firm grip on the top of the book, snatching it out of my fingers. I yelp at the suddenness, turning quickly while trying to grab it back.

“Hey!”

“What do we have here?”

Josh takes a few steps back as I stand up and walk around the furniture. He smiles, turning back a few pages to see the start. I run at him, but he easily dodges my attempt, using one of his hands to push me away.

“I swear to God, Josh, give it back!”

“Never knew you had such porn-fantasies”

“You looked when there was that type of chapter, it’s a good book”

“Hold up, things just got interesting” he continues, a smirk plastered on his lips as his eyes roll over the lines. I try one more time to snatch it back, but fail again. He starts running to the hallway, and I sigh loudly as I follow. This man will not go tell the others, I’ll make sure of that.

“Don’t you dare!” I yell, turning the corner in the dark room. As I do, an arm captures me. He slams me against the wall, grabbing both of my wrists in one hand, holding them over my head.

“I’m not done reading” he teases, eyes capturing mine before going back to the open book. I wiggle, hoping to get out of his grasp. Just as I’m about to make it, his fingers tightens, body pushing mine into the wall, using his legs and upper body strength.

“Josh, I will literally kill you!” He laughs, gaze going over my form beneath him.

“Sure you will, oh and look at that” he continues, tongue going over his lips.

“What?”

“We’re in the exact same position as those in your little fantasy”

I can help the blush that spreads on my cheeks, face heating up as he draws himself closer. The other guys are two rooms away, talking loudly and unaware of the situation I’ve put myself in. I feel my breathing get uneven and heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly in response to him. He does the same, the smirk gone and replaced by a small surprised expression. Mouth slightly open, hot air being blown onto my face. I gaze into his eyes, lids low as he shifts his stare from my eyes to my lips, and then up to my eyes again. I can only describe it as a silent request, a question about the next part. I give a small nod, and he comes closer, noses brushing against each other.

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he changes positions. He turns us around, making him go against the wall with my back against his chest. I gasp, feeling the pressure on my wrists as he holds them tightly to my side, his muscular arm trapping me on him. Face buries itself in my hair, mouth making its way to my ear. He lifts the book in front of me, forcing my face forward to look at the page.

“Read this passage out loud” he whispers, lips touching my ear. His fingers graze over the text, guiding me to the relevant sentences. I take a breath, sinking into him, head leaning back on his shoulder. He smells like oranges and bark, a comforting combination.

“Come on, do it” he teases, using his head to move mine to the side. He starts kissing down my neck, small kisses and bites, not hurting. I look down on the text again, reading every word out loud between gasps of air from how he’s working on me.

“I crave your tender touches, I want to feel all of you on top of me as I explore every part of your body with my mouth” I whisper. He lets go of my wrists, letting both my arms fall to the side. I don’t move away from him, but instead let his hand wander up my stomach, settling on one of my breasts.

“Now read the next line”

I look down again, his thumb caressing the paper, still holding the book firm.

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it”

He groans in my ear, chest heaving against my back, moving my body as well.

“What the hell is going on here?” Matt asks, and we both jump away from one another. I look up embarrassingly, while Josh just stares with his mouth wide open.

“What are you doing?”

I’m about to stutter a reply, but Josh beats me to it, putting on his jokester-face and waving the book.

“Just some light reading”

“Really?”

Matt comes closer, snatching the book from his hands. My instincts get the better of me and I yell out a loud “no” while trying to get it back. He holds the book high while reading, one hand holding me back.

“Damn, this is some nasty stuff y'all”

Josh looks down, tomato-red blush covering his cheeks. I keep persisting, wanting to get the book back. Bad enough that two of my friends saw this today.

“Guys! You’ll not believe what I found these two horny fuckers reading together!” he yells to the other room, starting to make his way there. Josh and I give each other a look. This cannot be happening. We scream out protests, and Matt turns around in shock, starting to run when he sees us coming. This is not just a game anymore, we need to get that book back.

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uvobreakmylegs · 8 months ago

Text

Frustration

Franklin x female!reader

Warnings: smut, dubcon, mentions of noncon, captivity, aphrodisiacs, drugging, spanking, manipulation, gaslighting

Word count: 7.5k

Your attitude towards Franklin could be best described as that of a tide moving to and from a beach.

You went to him when you needed the social interaction, when the loneliness of your new life hit you too hard and you needed to talk to someone just to keep yourself from losing it. You spoke to him civilly, starting with topics as basic as what the weather was like until you were willing to have more in-depth conversations regarding genuine interests. Eventually you would let him touch you without much fuss, not shying away whenever he would place a hand on your shoulder or lower back. Those moments you allowed were brief, and would end once he sensed that you were becoming uncomfortable.

With enough time, the short moments of physical touch turned into longer ones. You allowed him to keep his hand on your thigh when you were sitting close to him and let him to hold your hand in his. And it would soon get to the point where you would have no issue with him pulling you onto his lap and holding you; sometimes you held him back.

When you were at your most comfortable with him, there was no protest from you when his hands would begin to wander.

His touch would be tame at first as he continued the process of easing you in. When you would sit in his lap, he would take the opportunity to caress you, stroking your hair or massaging your shoulders you would relax further. Then his hands would wander further, caressing your inner thighs before he slipped one of his hands beneath your shirt so he could grope your breasts while he began to mark up your neck with his mouth. At that point it would culminate in sex. Unlike times in the past where you would cry, during these times you would reciprocate. You held him, kissed him and didn't hide how much you were enjoying yourself when he fucked you, your moans and squeaks of pleasure echoing through the room while he had you writhing on his cock.

Afterwards, late into the night when you were both exhausted, you always fell asleep before he did, not complaining when he held you and instead being content in his arms, resting your cheek against his chest while you slept peacefully.

Franklin always felt that he was at his happiest in those moments, when you were able to let go of the resentment you held towards him and allow yourself to feel good with him. When you freely gave him your love and affection. Less like his captive and more like his lover. The way he wanted it.

But those moments of bliss would only last for so long.

After that point, like a tide pulling out, you would begin to pull away from him. Days later you would go back to shying away from his touch, sleeping at the very edge of the bed so as to create a physical distance between you two and only giving him one word answers at best whenever he spoke to you. You retreated from him in all aspects that you were able to within the space the two of you shared and only interacted with him when you had no other choice.

It would stay that way until you couldn't stand being alone anymore and you would go to him, at which the cycle would start over again.

Franklin was used to it, and while the situation wasn't something he liked, he could live with it for the time being. Until you were able to better accept your new life and those instances of you shutting him out ceased, he would take what you would give him only when you were comfortable enough to do so. Until that time came, he'd be fine.

Or so he thought.

This latest instance of your refusal of him was lasting longer than normal, and the longer you went rejecting him, the more frustrated he became.

Maybe it wouldn't have been as bad if it weren't for the fact that the last time the two of you had been intimate, you had been the one to initiate.

He hadn't been expecting it as he didn't think he had worked you up to that point yet. But one night you surprised him when you climbed on top of him in bed, silencing his questions by pressing your lips against his. Your intent became clear when you slipped your hand into his sleep pants and began to stroke his cock.

That night was the first time you went down on him. The sight of you sitting between his knees, your tongue sticking out to lap at the metal piercings at the tip of his cock before you opened your mouth wide and took in as much of him as you could while you stroked at what wouldn't fit – those were images he was certain would be forever engraved in his mind. At that point, he didn't care what had brought this on. When you pulled your mouth off of him, he grabbed you by your hair and brought you up to his level so he could kiss you. He'd been rougher with you than he intended, but you didn't complain. If anything, you seemed to like it, and you kissed him back with just as much fervor.

You were desperate for him that night, placing kisses on his jaw, neck and along his chest, guiding his hands to where you wanted him to touch you and staying on top of him, riding him while you pressed your hands against his chest, your nails digging in and leaving small crescent shaped marks in his skin while his cock repeatedly disappeared into your cunt, engulfing him with your wet warmth. You shuddered and cried out when you came, and the way your walls squeezed him so tightly brought him to his own climax. When Franklin grabbed you by your hips and pushed you down all the way as he came inside of you, you cried out once again and reached out to wrap your arms around him as his cum began to dribble out of you.

You were completely spent after, falling onto his chest while you tried to catch your breath. A soft but appreciative moan left your lips when he ran a hand over your back to sooth your sweaty skin. He'd wanted more from you and part of him felt as though he was ready to go again, but at the sight of your exhausted form laying on top of him, Franklin told himself not to. There was no sense in ruining things by asking too much of you.

You placed a few more kisses on his skin before you fell asleep, and he felt content with the progress you had made.

The day after had been a different story.

Like someone had flipped a switch within you, you walked around like a zombie that morning, your gaze looking distant at times. Whatever thoughts had plagued your mind, you seemed to be struggling with them. That afternoon you had taken a long shower, and when you had gotten out, it was clear that you'd spent a long time scrubbing at your skin to the point that it had become irritated, and he saw that the damage was worst in the places you had guided his hands to the night prior.

When he tried to ask what was wrong, you only shook your head before you walked away.

At the time, he had told himself to think nothing of it. You were pulling away again only because you were still struggling to adjust. You would come back to him once you were desperate enough, and he would get to feel your loving touch once again. It wouldn't be long until you reached that point again.

Only the days had turned to weeks, and you were still avoiding him.

As a result, his frustration was mounting.

Before all of this Franklin never would've thought the lack of physical contact would bother him so much; with everything he'd gone through in life, he should've been able to deal with such a thing easily. Maybe before he could've, but it was different now. After the taste he had gotten of you freely giving into him and going to him on your own, it angered him that you would insist on pulling away.

But he wasn't sure what he could do about it.

His gaze returned to where you were sitting at the table with a book in hand, reading quietly with your back turned to him. Originally you'd been sitting on the couch, but when he sat down to join you, you got up and moved. You weren't even trying to be subtle about avoiding him.

Did you want him to get angry?

Franklin chose not to say anything. Lashing out wouldn't help the situation.

Even if it would be incredibly easy to do something to you.

No doubt because of what had happened the last time you went to him and how those images of you were still fresh in his mind, intrusive thoughts came to the forefront as he looked at you. They plagued his mind as he looked you over, running wild and distracting him. Thoughts of what he could do if he decided that he really didn't give a shit about what your reaction would be to any of it.

If Franklin really wanted to fulfill those urges right at that moment, all he would need to do was bend you over, kick the chair away and remove the clothes that covered you. Then he could do what he wanted. Take care of the frustration you had caused while he got to experience your warm pussy walls again. With how weak you were compared to him, he wouldn't even need to use much of his strength, and while the lack of recent intimacy would make it uncomfortable when he initially shoved his cock into you, the resistance on your part would die out soon enough. You would probably start to enjoy it after a time, and with some encouragement and a few orgasms of your own, he could get you to hold and kiss him again.

But that was a horrible idea.

He'd be taking several steps back if he went about it that way. When the next morning would come, you would go back to ignoring him – or worse, you might go back to the way you'd been when Franklin had first brought you here, where you would alternate between crying and raging in between pleas for him to let you go.

Forcing you into it would just make you resent him more.

Make you fear him more.

So he kept his distance, keeping the fantasies of forcing you into positions he liked in his head while you continued to read in peace. Franklin tried to do the same, though after a few futile minutes, he found he wasn't able to focus well on the book he'd selected. He closed it while his free hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Ah, right. He remembered what he needed to mention to you.

“I'm going to be leaving tomorrow,” he said.

You didn't say anything, but you glanced back at him.

“I'll be in Meteor City,” he explained, “if all goes well, I'll only be gone for a week. But it could be longer than that.”

A beat of silence passed, with you still looking back at him, as though you were waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, you finally responded.

“Okay.”

The reply you gave was barely audible and you immediately returned your attention to your book.

Franklin frowned.

That was all you had to say, apparently. Though with the way you'd been acting, he wasn't sure why he'd been expecting anything different.

Despite knowing how useless it was, he kept trying to engage with you.

“Will you be alright being on your own that long?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You didn't even look away from the book that time.

“Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“No.”

He stared at the back of your head while you turned the page. But even with your dedication to the book you had in hand, he saw the way you tensed when you heard him lean forward in his seat, as if you were expecting something bad to come after.

If you were that nervous then why the hell were you acting like this?

Franklin ignored it again as he spoke once more, saying “I'll be passing through Olsoria to get to Meteor City. The place with that bakery with those macaroons you liked. If you wanted, I could get some for you on my way back.”

“No thank you,” was your curt response.

I don't want anything from you

That felt like what you were really trying to say with that, and Franklin felt himself becoming irritated. You clearly sensed that fact as he saw your figure become even more rigid where you sat.

The question came again: why were you insisting on acting like this if you were really that scared of him?

His mind started to go wild with fantasies of taking you again. Of storming up behind you and forcing you against the wall, lifting up one of your legs and fucking you open after tearing away your pants and underwear, taking any and all fight out of you with every thrust of his hips.

He wanted you. And at one point, you had wanted him as well.

Since you seemed desperate to pretend it never happened, he could easily remind you of that fact.

…..

If he went through with that, all of that work he'd done in warming you up to him would be for nothing, he reminded himself.

With that, Franklin's self-control won out yet again, and he stood up as he decided to give you some space for now. He didn't miss the way you flinched when you heard him stand, nor did he miss the way your shoulders sagged in relief as he left the room.

You were having trouble adjusting, he told himself. You would come around eventually. You needed to.

Franklin's business in Meteor City had taken less time than he initially anticipated, so it was only just over the week mark when he had returned. While the more practical side of him anticipated that your attitude would be the same as before, another part of Franklin was hopeful that things would be different once he came back. That maybe you wouldn't push him away anymore, and that perhaps the week away was what you needed in order to warm up to him again.

Why he had such a hope, he had no idea.

The practical part of him turned out to be correct, as you had the nerve to look disappointed when he walked through the door, only offering a small nod in response to his greeting to you before you quickly disappeared.

Nothing had changed since he had gone: once again he would try to talk with you, and once again you never engaged in any meaningful way. If anything, things had escalated. You now made a point to move to another room whenever he walked into the one you were occupying, and that first night back ended with you laying at the very edge of the bed again, almost teetering on falling off the mattress completely in your refusal to be close to him. The day that followed was the exact same as you treated him with apprehension and barely hidden disgust. You said maybe five words to him that day, and the distance between the two of you in the bed stayed.

He truly wondered what exactly your endgame was in all of this – you needed to know that he wouldn't put up with this forever. The way you looked nervous whenever he came close was clear indication that you anticipated he would snap at some point.

But instead of again questioning why you would continue when you feared him in that way, Franklin didn't comment on any of it. While he still felt some irritation at how you rejected him, he was now having an easier time dealing with it. Because, unbeknownst to you, he'd returned from his childhood home with a backup plan that he'd tucked away among his things.

A chance sighting while he'd been back in his roots of Meteor City had brought forth an idea, and within the hour Franklin found himself in possession of what could possibly be the answer to the problems he'd been experiencing with you: a pricey bottle of pills that had made the seller snicker when he had asked for them.

Franklin wasn't a stranger to illicit substances. Just about everyone in the troupe had tried something at one point or another, and he wasn't any exception, trying various things alongside some of the others when they all were younger. Maybe it was because he was getting older, but such things didn't interest him anymore. Do too much, be it D² or some other drug that was popular, and you ended up enslaved to it. A fair amount of the residents in Meteor City fell into that hole, rotting their bodies and minds with drugs all so they could have some relief from the harsh life they lived in the junkyard they called home.

These pills were different. He didn't need to add to your erratic behavior by getting you addicted. All he needed was for you to let go of your fear for just a little bit.

Initially after buying them he'd found himself struck by a case of buyer's remorse, uncertain if it had been a stroke of genius or a horrible waste of jenny. There was also a great risk involved: if you managed to find out what he intended, you would never warm up to him again.

But if the aphrodisiacs worked in the way they were supposed to, you would go back to wanting his touch. Maybe even begging for it.

And with every instance of you pulling away from him, you made his decision to use them on you that much easier.

All he had to do was wait for the right time.

It was close to a week after Franklin returned that you needed to go grocery shopping, and you didn't say much to him beyond the fact that you needed to get more food. You walked away without any response when Franklin said that he would be going with you.

Franklin didn't comment on it.

Not much was said between the two of you after you left, though you managed to get out a half-hearted “thanks” when he complimented you on the skirt you were wearing. The only bit of conversation you initiated after that was to quietly mentioned at that he didn't need to come with you. Franklin's reply was that he wanted to spend time with you. You nodded, though based on your expression it was clear you would have preferred to have been alone.

Franklin again said nothing about it.

When the two of you made your way around the store, you were guarded around him. Not as bad as you had been in the past, admittedly, but every now and then you would look back at him nervously. Did you think he would try to do something? What exactly did you think he would do in a place as public as this one?

Only once did he step closer to you, intending to place his hand on your lower back when you were reaching up for something and it looked as though you were becoming unsteady. You saw it coming and darted away from him, throwing the item from the shelf into the basket as you mumbled some excuse about why you needed to be away from his proximity right at that moment.

That irritation in him wanted to bubble up to the surface, but Franklin once more remained silent.

By the time you had made it to the checkout lane, he had made his decision:

Franklin would use the pills on you tonight.

That was how he got to where he was now: standing close by with a single pill in hand as you began to separate the meal you had prepared into two different portions, all the while he waited for a moment when you wouldn't notice him slip it into the food. A bit difficult to do when you were currently standing over it, looking over to him every once in a while. It didn't seem likely that you suspected he planned to do anything – you were probably just unhappy that this was a situation where you couldn't get out of being in his presence.

He waited until after you had turned away before he made his move, telling you “I'll take the plates out if you want to set out the drinks.”

“Why?” you asked.

“You've done all the work; I'd like to help out a little,” he answered.

“… Fine.”

There was a slight frown on your face, but you didn't stop him as you grabbed two drinking glasses from one of the cabinets. With your approval, he collected the plates and set them on the table in the other room. And in the time it took for you to reach your seat, he had mixed the pill in with your food.

You didn't say anything when you sat down. Nor when you began to eat. With the rest of the ingredients you'd used, you didn't notice the pill at all. Once he was certain that you had taken it, Franklin told himself to wait as he kept an eye on you. The seller's words came back to mind as he routinely glanced over at you through the silent meal. The aphrodisiacs were fast acting, they had said. Guaranteed to get whoever had taken it desperate and needy enough to throw away whatever reservations they might have.

The moment of truth didn't take long to come.

In the middle of the meal, he noticed when you paused between bites as you suddenly tensed up. You stayed frozen like that for a moment, and while your face was blank, he saw a growing panic in your eyes. It only lasted for a moment before you ultimately continued eating your meal as though everything was normal.

Only it clearly wasn't. Your growing uneasiness was plain to see as your movements became more stiff and robotic, and he saw the way you glanced up at him as you though you hoped he hadn't noticed your change in demeanor.

Franklin chose then to speak as he said “it tastes good.”

The compliment caught you off-guard, and you blinked at him for a few moments before you replied with a small “thanks.”

Your voice was hushed when you answered him, and you quickly averted your gaze as you took a long sip from your glass of water. You were doing your best to act as though everything was normal as you continued with the meal, forcing yourself to take bite after bite in between nervous looks over towards Franklin when you thought he wasn't paying attention. An uncomfortable huff of breath left your lips as you shifted in your seat, causing a twitch ran up your spine. The softest noise escaped you, one that was stifled when you bit down on your bottom lip to silence it.

Even if Franklin hadn't been watching your every move, he would've noticed that.

“Are you alright?” he asked you.

There was a guilty look on your face the second he asked that, horror overtaking your features before you hurriedly shook your head in response.

“I'm fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I…. I think I might be a bit lightheaded, but it's not a big deal,” you said.

There was a breathlessness in your tone, and that caused a heat to stir within Franklin as well.

“Are you sure that's all it is?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You tried to continue as though nothing was wrong. No doubt you were confused by your body's sudden reaction and horrified at the thought of Franklin finding out what was happening. No doubt that horror drove you to try and prove to him that you were okay with every bite you took. But eventually, you gave up.

You set your fork down as you said “I don't think I can finish this. I'm gonna lie down for a bit.”

You didn't wait for him to respond before you got up and left, heading back to the bedroom.

He waited a few moments before he began to gather everything up, taking the plates and bagging up whatever was left of the meal for leftovers. But once that was finished, he found that he couldn't be bothered to do a thorough job with the rest of the cleanup. Franklin threw the dishes and cutlery into the sink and rinsed them for a moment before shutting the water off as he decided that was good enough. He was more interested in seeing how you were doing, and how much of a mess you were by now.

If you were desperate enough to beg him to fuck you.

He again thought of that last time together, of how bold you had been and how you had grabbed at him. How you had directed him to touch you as you placed kisses all over.

He wanted that again.

He wanted you.

And tonight you weren't going to deny him.

You were curled up into a ball on the bed when he entered the room, facing away from the doorway with your legs pulled in and your arms wrapped around yourself. When he looked closer, he saw that you were trembling. The shaky breaths that escaped your throat were easily audible within the space of the bedroom, and Franklin watched you rub your thighs together in subtle movements as though you were trying to find some relief that way.

Desperation was beginning to take hold, but you were clearly trying to keep it under control.

He spoke your name softly, and you stopped, freezing in place on the bed. Had you not realized he was in there with you?

Franklin said your name again as he asked “are you sure you're alright?”

“…. Y-yeah,” you said, keeping yourself turned away from him as you added “just n-need to rest.”

“Hm.”

The sound of his footsteps coming closer to the bed had you curling in on yourself further, and you bit your lip again in an attempt to keep in any noises. Sitting down behind you, he watched as you tried to bury your face in the sheets to keep him from seeing what you looked like in that moment.

“It's really nothing,” you managed to get out.

You really thought he would believe that this was just some lightheadedness?

“It doesn't seem like nothing,” he said to you, reaching towards you.

“It's noth-”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and flipped you onto your back.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, your mouth gaping open as you stared up at him. When it looked as though you were about to say something in response to him grabbing you, his hand traveled up to cup your cheek. Once again you were cut off as you whined at the skin on skin contact, your legs falling open as you leaned into his touch. Your whole body was running hot as Franklin glided his free hand on top of your clothes, and more gasps left your lips in the wake of his touch.

Just hearing you make those noises was having an effect on him, and the sight of you so vulnerable, so needy, had his dick hardening.

Having reached the hem of your skirt, he pulled it up to reveal the state of your underwear.

There was a wet patch on the fabric of your panties. And it was only getting bigger.

You squealed when he pressed his thumb against the spot, rubbing the folds of your pussy through the fabric. That action had you moaning and you began to buck your hips to the sensation.

Despite how this current sight of you was starting to affect him, Franklin kept his voice level as he spoke to you.

“You should've told me that you were lonely,” he said softly, thumb still pressing against your burning pussy.

Hearing his voice had snapped you out of your state somewhat, as you now pulled away from the hand he had kept on your cheek, though the way you bucked your hips against his hand didn't stop even when worry took over your features.

“I-I… I'm not…..”

Whatever sentence you were trying to form died when he rubbed your clit, a loud moan coming from you. You slapped your hand over your mouth, looking away from him.

“Leave it to me, I'll take care of you,” Franklin muttered.

For a brief moment, you took back the control of your mind that the aphrodisiac had taken from you, a look of horror returning to your face.

“No…. I can't…..”

You actually tried to move away.

Franklin snapped. That rejection was the last one that he could take and he ripped away your panties, shoving a finger into you before you could say anything else.

The sensation of that single thick digit being forced into your pussy had you cumming instantly.

You cried out, arching your back while your pussy clenched around his finger, milking the digit as your release came leaking out after. Your gaze was unfocused and you struggled to control your breathing while your legs continued to tremble. The hand of yours that had tried to push his away was now gripping him tightly.

Franklin was only vaguely aware of your reactions as he was far more concerned about the way you clenched around his finger. How your muscles felt as they pressed down on him. How your release dripped out onto the sheets beneath you. How with every mindless movement of your hips, you encouraged him to fill up that emptiness inside of you.

All of those sensations would feel better once it was his cock inside of you, and with the way his erection that was starting to get painful for him as it pressed against it's confines, he was more than eager to get to that part. Though a voice at the back of his mind told him to open you up a bit more – with how much time had passed since you had last let him fuck you, the stretch would be more than a little uncomfortable without a bit of prep.

He moved within you to press against your walls, and then he heard the way you moaned and felt how you moved your hips to full on grind against him. Just like that, he removed his finger as he chose not to bother with preparing you any further.

You could deal with it.

Your whine of disappointment was cut short as Franklin grabbed you by your hips to pull you so you were facing him, resulting in your skirt pulled up further around your waist while your legs hung off the edge of the bed.

The sound of a zipper opening and his pants falling to the floor brought your attention back to him, and when you looked back to find his cock rubbing against your slick folds, you bit your lip in anticipation. Now, instead of fighting him, you tried to move your hips so he could slip into you, an effort that was thwarted when he grabbed you by your waist and held you there. You looked up at him with dilated pupils and tears forming in your eyes, your hands going down to grasp his in an effort to encourage him to enter you.

The expression you wore was one of pure desperation.

Franklin shoved himself inside of you. Despite how wet you were from your previous orgasm, he only managed to go in about halfway, your walls having tightened up since the last time he had fucked you, and from the way your face scrunched up, he saw that you were in pain, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

Seeing the way you had cried in the past had killed his mood on more than one occasion, but all the sight did this time was spur him forward.

With a slow drag of his hips, Franklin pulled out until only the tip remained in you before he pushed in again, his large hands tight around your comparatively tiny waist as he bullied his way in further, intent on burying into you to the hilt. All resistance on your part was gone; unable to move your hips as he kept you in place, your hands reached out for Franklin, desperately grabbing at the sleeves of his shirt in an effort to pull him in closer. You wanted the closeness. You wanted to hold him and for him to hold you back.

Using those sleeves that you had gotten a death-grip on, you pulled yourself into a sitting position as you attempted to wrap your arms around his neck.

With one hand he shoved you back down onto the bed.

And after he readjusted his grip on your hips, Franklin picked up his pace as he began to fuck you faster.

Your cries of pain quickly filled the room, accompanied by a lewd squelching sound as Franklin thrust into you again and again. Every time the metal piercings that lined his cock scraped along your walls, it caused you to jolt, your voice going up a few octaves as you still tried to move your hips out of the iron hold of his hands. But even though you were full-on crying now, you weren't doing anything to stop him. The affects of the drug in action: keeping your mind focused on the burning feeling inside of you that needed to be satiated and disregarding everything else. Whatever worries you had about the whole situation would come later; right now, all you could do was take the harsh treatment he was giving you.

Franklin stared down at you, watching your pained expression slowly fade as you got used to the feeling of his length being inside of you again, though every now and then you would still tense up, a soft, short whimper interrupting your frequent moans.

It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd given in on your own earlier

With that thought in mind, Franklin kept up the harsh pace, his cock battering open your pussy until he was able to sheath himself in all the way. Your tears that fell as a result of that were numerous, but never once did you tell him to stop.

Eventually Franklin flipped you over onto your front, forcing you onto your hands and knees to fuck you from behind. He changed up where he held you, now keeping one hand securely in your hair while the other slapped your ass. Once again your shrieks and squeals echoed in the room, and Franklin alternated which hand was holding you, delighting in seeing the way your skin became marked up from the force of his hits.

The way he hit you combined with his dick hitting a particular spot inside of you had you cumming again, and the feeling of your heat pressing down around his cock was what pushed him over the edge. With one hand still in your hair, Franklin pressed you down into the mattress while he kept your hips raised, leaving you to squirm as you felt his cum spilling out and dripping down your thighs.

A satisfied moan left his lips as Franklin loosened his grip on you, keeping his cock inside of you as he began to stroke your hair softly as he looked you over. Your skin was still hot to the touch, a layer of sweat covering you as you trembled beneath him. A quick glance towards the quickly bruising skin of your ass and there was no doubt that the next day would be uncomfortable for you whenever you would need to sit down. With how hard he'd hit you, maybe it would last longer than that.

Good.

Franklin leaned over you, the brief reprieve all he needed before he felt he could go again as he moved you over onto your side. He began fucking you from a new angle, and with how sensitive your previous orgasms had left you, your throat was quickly turning raw from how often he had you moaning.

When you pushed yourself up by your arms and once again reached for him, he chose to indulge you. With a shaky hand, you reached out to cup his cheek and pull him forward, and the action ended with you placing a soft kiss on his lips.

He kissed you back, at first matching your softness, then he pulled away to bury his face in your neck, covering it in lovebites and resuming the harshness of his thrusting.

He took you several times that night, and it was long overdue for both of you. Franklin painted your hot little walls white several times that night as he claimed you, and any and all fight had completely vanished from your system. Even in your exhausted state, you still tried to meet his thrusts, the drug having you far gone enough that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

By the end of it, you were fully naked and slumped over on the bed, your body still twitching as you tried to recover while Franklin's breathing was still calming down as he sat next to you. He reached out to you again, once more to pet your head after he brushed the hair out of your face. The noise you made upon feeling his touch sounded as though you were satisfied.

Not long after, the toll of the long night finally forced you into sleep.

Despite being early in the morning, it was still dark out when you got up from the bed, Franklin waking up shortly before you left the room due to the loud way in which you had stumbled about on your way out the door. A light on the other side of the hallway shone into the bedroom afterwards.

When he heard no further activity, Franklin got up to follow after you.

He found you standing at the sink, your hands gripping the edge of the surface to hold yourself up while you stared at the mirror before you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were frowning as you looked at the figure that stared back at you, taking in the sight of the bruises that had been left upon your skin. Your gaze went to him when you realized he was standing in the doorway, and it then seemed as though you were filled with a vague sense of distress just at the sight of him.

Franklin pretended not to notice that as he asked “everything alright?”

“….. I don't know,” you answered.

You looked back to the mirror as your hand left its place on the sink to trail over a mark that had been left on your collarbone, though you almost immediately placed your hand back on the sink when you unintentionally began to lean forward. Franklin was quick to steady you as he held you by your shoulders.

“You should come back to bed and lay down,” he told you, “I don't want you falling over.”

You didn't reply, instead looking down at the bruises that were scattered across your body.

“What happened earlier?” you asked suddenly.

Franklin blinked.

“What do you mean? We had sex.”

“Yeah, but….”

You trailed off as you looked away from him, your hands gripping the sides of the sink hard while your mind going over the events from only a few hours earlier. Then you opened your mouth as if you were going to speak, and after struggling to come up with the words, you spoke again.

“Did you…?”

Once more you left your sentence unfinished, and this time it seemed as though you were too scared to complete it.

“Did I what?” Franklin asked, making a point to raise his brow in question as though he had no idea what you were getting at.

“…. Did…. Did you drug me?”

Your question hung in the air while the seconds passed by in silence. Franklin didn't reply and you didn't look at him.

Then Franklin's hands fell from your shoulders. You looked back to him then, only to find an irritated expression on his face.

“Really?”

That one word that was dripping with disgust was all he said to you before he turned away, heading back towards the bedroom and making it a few steps into the hallway, intent on leaving you where you were.

Franklin was stopped when you grabbed him by the arm.

“I'm sorry!”

You were crying – sobbing, as you held onto him, both of your arms wrapped around his.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” you repeated, “I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, please-!”

Apologies continued to spill from your mouth as your knees sank down onto the floor, still keeping your grip on his arm as your hands slid down to hold onto his wrist. He looked down at you, watching the way your tears flowed while you sat on the cold floor of the hallway, your weak hold on him likely the only reason as to why you were staying upright.

If Franklin wanted to be cruel, he would've wrenched his wrist away from you and gone back to bed, leaving you a sobbing mess in the hallway. Maybe he would give you the same treatment you'd been giving him for the past few weeks. How devastating would it be if you could only get one word answers from him? To have your only source of company not want anything to do with you? How well would you handle any of that now that you'd been forced into this state?

As interesting as it might be to find that out, he didn't want that right now.

While he did pull out of your grip, he did so gently and scooped you into his arms after, holding you while you cried. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, as though you were scared he would vanish right then and there.

“It's alright. Don't cry,” he began, petting your hair again as he added “you haven't gotten a lot of sleep. That's probably making you say things that you don't mean.”

You nodded.

“The only reason you're feeling strange is because you've been feeling alone and stir crazy for a while now, right?” he asked.

You nodded again, eagerly accepting the explanation Franklin had provided for you without an ounce of hesitation. He wondered if you were actually listening to him or if you were just so desperate for him to not reject you that the words were going right over your head.

Regardless of what it was, at least it had you holding him again.

Franklin placed a kiss on your forehead, and that seemed to calm you down some, though your grip around his neck didn't loosen much.

“It's okay. So let's just forget about this and get some sleep,” he mumbled against your skin.

You nodded in agreement for a third time.

You clung to him even after he had placed you back in the bed, one of your hands on his chest while you cuddled up against his side. Franklin wrapped an arm around you to hold you close, and that further helped in calming your mood as your tears finally stopped, though you continued to sniffle for a few moments longer. He continued to give you reassuring touches as he caressed your skin, something you appreciated as you nuzzled your face against his chest.

Not long after the sad noises coming from you stopped as you finally fell back asleep. Your arms were still around him, and his body felt warmer in the areas where he felt your touch.

Franklin felt content as he continued to caress your skin.

This was the way it was supposed to be, he thought to himself.

You by his side, readily accepting his touch and offering your own affection in return. That was how things should be between the two of you.

And things would be like that from this point onward; Franklin would make sure of it. No more of the constant back and forth of ignoring his presence and then being all over him. No more of your barely hidden contempt as you went out of your way to avoid him. You were his, and just as much as you were meant to love him back, you were meant to give yourself to him so that the both of you could feel pleasure.

Franklin hoped you would remember that from now on.

And if not….

Well, he had plenty of pills left.

#yandere x reader #reader insert #yandere franklin #franklin x reader #hxh franklin #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #franklin bordeau

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