#they prefer talking over combat

[sarcasticsra]

I’m obsessed with this game a normal amount

[rwby-confess]

Confession #157

[toastthewolfie]

help someone I know said that they think Kuro is copying hoyoverse when I showed her some screenshots from the live and I was just internally screaminf:

HOYOVERSE DOES NOT OWN CHIBI VOICE ACTED CHARACTERS. HOYOVERSE DOES NOT OWN OPEN WORLD GACHA GAMES. HOYOVERSE DOES NOT OWN GAMES THAT ARE STORY > COMBAT > STORY.

HOYOVERSE MIGTH HAVE BEEN AN EARLY DEVELOPER FOR IT, BUT THAT DIESNT MEAN NO OTHER GAME CAN AND THE ONLY REASON I DIDNT IS BECAUSE IM TORED AND THIS WOULD HAVE STARTED AN ARGUMENT THAT I WOULD HAVE LOSG NI MATTER WHAT

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet @bethanysnow

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Pomni, the Last Harlequin!

Pomni's character description:

I actually finished this about three days ago, but I didn't wanna post it because I haven't started on the others yet. I eventually decided that fuck it, we ball.

Pomni is the most recent and last model of a Combat Harlequin; P-1210. She doesn't have any remembrance of her life before becoming a Puppet, only the fact that she has an itch in her head that tells her to keep fighting.

After hunting down The Puppetmaster and a duel ensues between the two, it ends with the Harlequin and The Puppetmaster forming an alliance in order to fix the destroyed City.

Now, Pomni spends her time sparring, sharpening her sword, bantering with the Puppetmaster, hunting down bosses and eliminating manic Marionettes.

Fun facts about Pomni:

She likes sandwiches. Specifically, salmon.

She REALLY hates it when someone eats it. (It's Bubble)

She finds some things annoying in other Puppets, and will be blunt about it.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't care. In fact, far from it.

Pomni may come off as cold and jerkish due to her hot-temper, but in reality, her emotions simply have ahold on her more than anyone would ever really think.

Caine thinks that a therapist would benefit her. (honestly though)

She hasn't explored any hobbies outside from anything involving combat.

Pomni occasionally gets glimpses of visions when she dies; she is unaware of what they mean.

Pomni rarely gets drunk; she'll only indulge in alcohol when there's an occasion. Aside from that, she tends to limit Caine's alcohol intake (reasoning that he smells like booze), much to the Puppetmaster's dismay.

She shuts down any form of philosophical advices, thinking they're "typical" and "unnecessary".

She tends to be careless and rude in battle.

When push comes to shove, Pomni can and WILL use her sharp teeth to her advantage.

Pomni initially disliked Ragatha. She found the doll's positive demeanor eerie, and even uncanny, borderline inhuman. Thankfully, a few interactions and heart-heart conversations later, she's changed her mind since.

Bubble usually accompanies her when she's out on missions, a condition she had to agree on just so Caine would let her fight overburdened Puppets. Even though she hates the blimp's nonsense, she knows that his presence is out of necessity, since Bubble is the only way keeping in touch can be possible.

She rarely ever apologizes.

She once stole Caine's cane to try and figure out how his attacks work. She immediately lost interest once she found out it's just a plain, and boring metal cane.

She unlocks the first stage of enlightenment after the first boss.

Battle quotes:

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"I didn't come here just for you to act like a wuss!"

"You. Me. This sword. In your head."

"That was pretty stupid of you to do."

"Between you and me, I prefer still having my head on my shoulders."

"This is getting annoying!"

"I've had it with you idiots!"

"I'm gonna celebrate with a Puppet head kebab once I'm done."

"I like the sounds of a sword slashing, and heads bashed in."

"Keep (talking/screaming), and I'll crack your skull open."

Hurt in battle:

"Ah! What the fuck!"

"You're gonna pay for that!"

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker!"

"I normally wouldn't mind... Actually, I always mind."

"When I'm done, you're gonna be unrecognizable."

"Fucking marionettes!"

"Useless scrap!"

"I really, really, REALLY wanna hurt you right about now."

"Ohohoho, you're picking the WRONG fight, BUDDY."

"Asshat!"

"Who do you think you are!?"

Dying:

"This... wasn't supposed to go this way..."

"God.... dammit."

"Agh... fuck."

"That... fucking... hurt."

"I still...! Got fight...! Left in me..."

"This... isn't... over..."

"I'm... not... done..."

[tonixe]

hii i love ur writing and the k you for the noir fic!! there’s not enough content for the boys and i appreciate it so much!! can i request jealous homelander x reader? tyia!

♱ — rapacious — ♱

A/N: I was itching, with no craving to make a homelander fic, and ideas just ran through me, but thank you anon for requesting this, and letting my devious idea run free. P.S. Im not sure bout that black noir fic, this was asked in July, but yk thank you for still requesting <3. Btw H/N is hero name.

WARNING: oral sex, p in the v, no condom we fuck raw, creampies, non-con, tw: homelander, gagging, cursing, non-con, threats, forced breeding and nudity.

PAIRING: jealous! homelander x reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

Life with Homelander was great, something so great that it makes you go insane, crazy...good crazy may be bad for some, but you could take it, right?

Vought, was another thing, watching over your shoulder and making sure everything went well, I mean with you there were a lot fewer casualties than usual. Soon things got less complicated with Edgar and Madelyn being gone from Vought, basically Homelander leading the company with Ashley as a puppet.

It was chaotic per se, where Homelander's watching eye was everywhere in the building. His leadership didn't make anything better but worse. With the seven keeping on being replaced and disappearing mysteriously, surprisingly you were still there with the same everything, no new rebrand, no nothing just staying in place.

You didn't mind it at all, I mean you still had a job and were still getting paid. Even with the weird shift of Black noir, instead of his quiet demeanor, he was talkative which was a change. It was evident it wasn't noir and everyone in the seven knew it, but nobody questioned it. You didn't mind but preferred the change, and even started talking to him.

He was a little better than old noir, not in combat but in being amusing, even spending time with outside meetings and regular superhero activities.

"So how the fuck did you manage to even fly like that?" You asked while you walked with him down the hallway,

"I have no idea, it just happened?" Black Noir II shrugged, you nodded at his words as you took a sip of the peanut butter frappuccino from Vought's cafe, it was a plus that he wasn't allergic to peanuts like the old noir. It wasn't a glow-up from the old noir but a plus. You two chatted as you got into the elevator, it was abruptly stopped by a red, white, and blue cape fluttering into wedging between you both, making you step back, it was Homelander.

The atmosphere immediately got tense than it was once a carefree mood, it was quiet.

"Good morning Homelander," you said, it was met with a nod from him, "Morning Sir," Black Noir said to him, only for him to glare at him, "Don't fucking talk" Homelander ordered, clearly annoyed that he was talking.

It was suffocating being in the elevator, you just took a sip of your frappuccino, praying for the elevator to open up quickly.

Guess your answers were answered rather quickly, as the doors of the huge elevator opened to the meeting room, the giant seven table in front of you.

The Deep, Sage, Firecracker, and A-train were already in their seats. "Good morning sir" The deep stood up, saluting him which made you laugh a little. You immediately took your seat next to Firecracker, and the meeting started. It was a blur to you, something like finding the leak in Vought, which you had many questions about.

The whole meeting was led by a different Sage, your eyes flicked towards Homelander, he was staring at Black Noir. You averted your eyes away,

God, you have to pay attention more often.

You couldn't help but take a sip of peanut butter frappuccino, "Would you fucking stop" Homelander's voice interrupted Sage's presentation, all attention was at him and he was staring directly at you.

"Um...Sorry" You hesitating looked back at him, and you felt eyes on you. You couldn't help but your heart to beat faster,

You watched Homelander rubbed his head in annoyance, closing his eyes before staring to you, "Could you slurp any louder?" He said, his voice dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

"Sorry" You muttered, putting it back where it was,

"No..nope" Homelander repeated, he pointed at you again, "Be a good girl and put it in the garbage" He snapped. You looked around, with everyone staring at you, "Okay" you responded, slowly getting up from your chair, taking the cup in your hand, and throwing it in the garbage before sitting down.

"Good"

With that statement, the meeting continued on, with your face heating up in embarrassment, as you sank further into the chair.

Sage's voice engulfing your thoughts,

You got interrupted by a note being thrown at you, it was obvious it was from Noir that somehow got to you without Homelander looking, you grinned a little bit, secretly opening up the crumbled piece of paper.

[I'll buy you a new drink after the meeting] - Noir

You read the note, before turning your attention to him and smiling, quickly putting the note in the pocket of your suit before Homelander can see it. Combing your hair back and leaning back into your chair.

Soon the meeting ended, getting up from your seat, and everyone else was doing the same, yours scanned and the room soon landing on Firecracker still in her seat. But you didn't care much to ask why, but more excited to hang out with Noir after this awkward meeting.

"Everyone can go expect H/N" You heard Homelander's voice mentioning your name made you freeze. You stopped where you were, "You can go Firecracker" Homelander turned to her,

"But..um Homelander sir—"

"You can go," Homelander said again but in a more threatening tone, "Now" After he said she scrambled out of the meeting room.

Soon it was only you two left in the room, you watched hesitantly as Homelander turned to you. "Y/N, we need to talk," Homelander states, you could hear his voice straining, with concealed anger.

You looked up at him confused, "About..what?" You asked.

You watched as he walked around you, his pace was slow, you listened to his footsteps echoing around the empty meeting room, before he stopped suddenly, " Do you think I'm just stupid?" Homelander said, his tone catching you off guard.

It wasn't confusing that Homelander was speaking to you in anger, you rarely got him angry knowing you both were together and your relationship wasn't publicized due to his status.

"No, definitely not John," You replied, using his name instead of his hero alias, made him freeze before he stared at you.

Jealously was gnawing inside of him when he looked at you, "Tell me...are you fucking him" Homelander snapped at you, your brows knitted together in confusion at his words. "No, we're just hanging out—why would you ever think that?" You stuttered over your words, as Homelander walked closer to you.

He reached out for your face, harshly grabbing your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his eyes. You felt his glove hand digging into your face, his eyes closely turning red, you just felt fear, you were terrified. You knew he could smell your fear, and hear your rising heartbeat. "John...I would never cheat on you, I'm yours" You entreated, trembling under his grip.

Finally, his grip got looser and then he dropped your face, making you stumble a bit.

"Then show me," Homelander said,

You were confused about his words, "What?"

"If you love me..show me" Homelander sat down in the seat in front of you. It took you some time to process his words, confused at what he was saying, "Come on, strip for me" signaling towards your chest.

Your brows furrowing, "Come on, if you don't do it" Homelander leaned in his seat, "You won't like it if I do it" He finished,

"Now strip" He repeated, his tone more irritated.

You took a breath in and started undressing. Unzipping your suit, feeling the cool air on your bare skin. Your suit falling on the marble floor echoed through the room, leaving you in your bra and panties.

"Bra and panties too" Homelander eyed your chest.

You comply, putting your hand behind you and clipping your bra off, discarding it on the floor, and stepping out of your panties, leaving you fully naked in front of him.

"Come here" He patted his lap, "Crawl" he pointed at you. You sank down to your knees and crawled towards him and stopped in front of him. "Come on, you know what to do" You felt his hand on your cheek, stroking it.

You looked down at his growing member in his pants. Hesitatingly looking up at him through your lashes, as you started to undo the bottom of his suit revealing his cock, you looked up at him, "Use your mouth" You leaned in and inched his cock into your mouth, before taking him whole. Homelander moans out feeling your warm mouth enveloping his cock, feeling his hand gripping your hair making you wince.

You slowly bob your head down on his length, his grip on you getting tighter. Your ears perched up at his straining voice barely containing his whimpers as he watched you intently, taking him whole. "Fuck, your good at this" Homelander groaned, jerking you away, taking his cock out from your mouth. Staring at your disheveling appearance, spit dribbling on your chin.

His hand still fisting your hair, "Your pretty when your like this" Homelander chuckled, before forcing you down his cock, making you gagged. Tears prick on your waterline, saliva staining your chin, his grip never loosening as he abused your throat,  thrusting into your mouth, the sound of slick, the sounds of wet suction filling up the room.

His pace turning frantic, fucking your mouth.

Homelander threw his head back as waves of ecstasy washed over him. His hips buckled uncontrollably as he lets out a guttural groan, filling your mouth with his cum. "Fuck, ..." He pants, chest heaving, before he gripped your face, "Be a good girl and swallow it" He threatens, feeling the hot liquid going down your throat, swallowing it.

His grip loosening and releasing you. You panted for air, feeling his gloved-hand stroking your cheek. "Now, stand and lean over at table" Homelander ordered, as you got up from the floor and obeyed his order, propping yourself on the table, and bending yourself over the glass. You couldn't help but to feel excited for the pain, the slick dripping down your legs. You waited in anticipation,

Before feeling his cock stretching you out, biting down at your lip at the simmering pain, arching your back. His hands on back of your waist, "Fuck" you mumbled, gripping the end of the glass. Before he thrusting into you, "You think Noir would please you like I do" Homelander growled into your ear, his breath warm on your skin "N...no" you mumbled, feeling his cock tearing you open, feeling himself stretching your cervix.

His ministration was more painful next than the next, feeling his cock stabbing you over and over again. The sounds of flesh slapping filled the room, letting out a gasp, your voice wavering in pain. His thrust driving deeper into you, clenching down on his cock, feeling his grip digging into your skin.

You hated how you were slowly enjoying this, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. Your body tensing up as you feel your skin warming up,

His hips stuttering against yours, "Fuck, I'm close" You felt his hands stroking your hips, "What if I just cummed inside you, breed you myself, have my kids, and have a family...then ill have you to myself" He whispered,

You felt your heart in your throat, "Pull out" You tried to get away from stone grip, "Homelander, please" You begged, only for your face to be shove down on the glass table. Scrambling underneath his grip, just to get him off you. "please" you cried.

His pace getting frantic until he thrust into you for the last time, feeling on cue your body shuddering as he came into you. Feeling himself spilling inside you, making you freeze on the spot.

Feeling him finally pulling out of you, leaving you there stunned. He kissed your shoulder, the kiss feeling lingering on you.

You heard the sound of him putting his pants back on. He stared at you before walking towards you, before sighing, you turned your head to him, "I forgive you, you know" He said, his hand behind his back watching your pitiful form,

"Just don't do it again" he pats your head,

"Now get dressed, we have a date" He smiles, listening to his footsteps descending from you.

[pin-k-ink]

insubordination // narumi gen

tw ⇢ dub-con, lieutenant!reader, strong sexual tension, degradation/name calling, dirty talk, dry humping, nipple play, making out, power imbalance, pet names, groping, blowjob, breeding kink, creampie, squirting, slight exhibitionism but nobody actually sees anything, fingering, face fucking

wc ⇢ 4.3k

"Staring a little hard there, aren't we Captain?"

Gen's lips curved in a predatory smirk at your taunting lilt. His smoldering gaze didn't waver an inch from where it locked onto the swell of your breasts straining against the top half of your combat suit.

"Well, can you blame a guy for admiring the view?" he rumbled without a shred of shame, lazily prowling a circle around you. "Especially when my insolent little underling insists on parading those around so shamelessly..."

You bristled at his blatant insinuation, crossing your arms over your chest reflexively despite the way it accentuated your cleavage even more obscenely. Gen's blown pupils tracked the motion with raptor-like focus, tongue darting out to wet his full lips slowly.

"I'll thank you to stop eyeing me like a piece of meat, Captain Narumi," you bit out, even as heat flooded your cheeks.

Rather than looking chastised, your captain let loose a dark chuckle that seemed to reverberate against your skin in wicked promise. He came to a stop directly in your line of sight again, hips canting just enough for the material of his suit to stretch taut over the impressive bulge swiftly tenting there.

"And just how would you prefer me to look at you, sweetheart?" Gen purred, voice dripping simmering sin as he palmed himself openly. "Like someone who's been tormenting over the thought of you unwinding that stick up your ass for years? Desperate to finally get my mouth and hands all over those perfect fucking tits until you're completely ruined?"

An involuntary whimper rattled up from your constricted throat at his filthy confession. Despite yourself, you found your gaze zeroing in on the lewd glide of his palm dragging up the rigid shape of his concealed cock as if mesmerized.

Before you could summon any shred of wherewithal to protest, Gen rolled his hips upwards to meet his stroking hand in one salacious grind that utterly robbed you of breath. His blown pupils tracked your reaction with laser focus, that same arrogant smirk only widening across his handsome features.

"See something you like, babe?" he taunted in a velvety rumble. "Because I can promise the reality is even better than whatever dirty little fantasies you've been entertaining alone at night..."

With a sinuous roll of his shoulders, Gen shucked his jacket off in one smooth motion - every honey-toned ridge of chiseled muscle flexing in visceral definition. You couldn't tear your traitorous stare away even if ordered to at gunpoint. Not when it felt like he was searing every lush, feminine curve and dip with that piercing scarlet glower alone.

"It must get so hard having to sit through those meetings all wound up like this," he growled gutturally, running that greedy, assessing gaze over your rigid posture in dark approval. "Struggling to keep it together while imagining how my thick cock might feel stuffing that sweet little mouth of yours to the hilt..."

Your mewl of protest only seemed to embolden him further. Zipper pulled down to better display the taut, sculpted planes of his abdomen as he stalked in a prowling circle. Gen came up behind you like a panther finally closing in for the kill, plastering his scorching frame all along your backside with insistent pressure.

"Or maybe wondering how easily those pretty tits would spill over my palms," he husked directly into your ear, nosing aside the disheveled curtain of your hair. "So heavy and ripe for sucking while I split you apart on this thick dick...?"

His rough palm found the generous swell of one breast without preamble, squeezing and palming the ample weight with carnal appreciation as you jolted in his confining clutches. Gen wasted no time rolling your hardened nipple between calloused fingers in tight, pinching spirals that had you hastening to stifle a throaty wail of rapture.

"Is this how you want me admiring the view, lieutenant?" he growled against your nape, dragging a searing path of bruising suction down the column of your straining throat. "Or should we take this back to your quarters so I can give you the long, hard look over you've been aching for..."

With a merciless yank, he spun you around to face him fully - chest heaving and lips parted around shuddering pants. Gen made no effort to conceal the way his searing gaze dropped directly to your chest again, or how his wicked tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip as if chasing your sweet, musky essence already.

"Your move, pretty girl," he purred in rich provocation. "Just know that once I get those luscious tits in my mouth...I won't be stopping until you're an utterly broken, soaking mess beneath me. And you'll thank me for every second of it."

The naked promise driving his every smoldering word resonated straight down to the throbbing, slick heat blazing between your thighs with dizzying ardor. Narumi Gen was no mere arrogant blowhard in this moment...but instead an apex predator radiating undeniable, primordial intent to stake his full, merciless claim upon you at last.

And every fiber of your being positively burned to surrender yourself over to the ruinous inferno raging within those blown crimson depths utterly and without a shred of resistance left to muster.

Gen's palms bracketed your jaw with scorching insistence, forcing your widened gaze to remain locked on his as he drank in the flush staining your cheeks. You trembled violently under that crimson scrutiny, each ragged exhale fanning across his parted lips in tantalizing wisps.

"Look at you..." he rasped out in a tone all gravel and sin. "So perfectly primed just from a little harmless groping, sweetheart? Fuck, you must be feeling so achingly empty inside without my thick cock stretching you open properly..."

A strangled whine rattled up your constricted throat, fingers knotting in the front of his rumpled uniform as if to ground yourself against the rising tide of delirious need. Gen simply drank in the sight of you rapidly unraveling with dark, glittering approval - shifting his hips forward to prod the heavy ridge of his cock straining against his pants between your splayed thighs brazenly.

"I can feel how soaked you already are through these fucking pants," he snarled in evident rapture. "That gorgeous little cunt of yours dripping everywhere just craving to be stuffed full and pumped with my cum over and over..."

You keened brokenly at the vulgar promise underlying his words, nails scoring down the sleek musculature of his chest as he rolled his hips in a teasing grind. He hissed out a breath at the rake of blunt trails, only to latch back onto you with twice the bruising intensity.

"Yes...let me see just how deliciously ruined you can get before submitting fully."

With a leonine growl of possession, Gen crashed his mouth over yours in a searing, punishing slide of silken heat and tangling velvet. You melted helplessly against the unforgiving brand of his chest, whimpering as his questing tongue speared past your slick seam to lash against yours with blistering dominance.

His hands roamed in greedy, urgent paths along your trembling form - groping and palming every lush curve as if mapping the exquisite terrain by touch alone. You writhed wantonly into each rough caress, chasing that merciless friction as he ground his fat cock against your swiftly drenching pussy.

Something rapturous kindled behind your fluttering lids, burning molten and blinding in its intensity as Gen's artful plundering quickly unraveled your every remaining thread of propriety. Each swipe of his velvet muscle against yours, every rake of calluses over swollen flesh dragged you spiraling deeper into an abyss of utter carnal rapture with him as both plunderer and anchor.

White nova bursts exploded in your darkening periphery as Gen dragged his mouth from yours in a smoldering, filthy glide. Both of you were left gasping in harsh tandem, hearts thundering and musk swirling together in a heady, intoxicating swirl.

"Fuck..." He grated out with palpable relish, piercing rubies raking over your ravaged state hungrily. "You like getting devoured like the greedy little slut you are for me, don't you baby? Want nothing more than to get used as my personal cumdump so I can breed you thoroughly full and sloppy..."

A fractured moan punched free of your chest entirely beyond conscious control at his visceral words. Gen chuckled darkly in response, dragging your quivering form even more flush against the thrumming heat of his body with clear intent.

"Since you're being so openly desperate for this cock," he husked against the lush curves of your breasts peeping from your unzipped suit, "why don't you help me get nice and ready to slide right into that drenched little hole of yours, lieutenant? Show me how much you want my cum painting your insides in thick ropes..."

With a feral rumble that stole your breath entirely, Gen seized both your hands and guided them down to the prominent bulge tenting his fatigues shamelessly. Your fingertips danced over the searing brand of his cock, marveling at the sheer unyielding steel packed into those snug confines against your splayed palms.

"Go ahead," he cajoled in a heady rasp. "Grip me properly, just like you've been fantasizing about all those nights alone...show your Captain how good you are at servicing exactly what he needs..."

The last vestiges of your self-restraint burned away into smoldering embers at his commanding tone. Your grip tightened around the hefty swell of his dick, kneading and massaging the engorged length through his pants with unrestrained desire. Gen groaned low and guttural, thrusting up into your ministrations in a pornographic grind.

"Fuuuck yes, sweetheart. Just like that," he grunted as his broad palm clamped over the top of your head to drag you closer for a filthy, slanting kiss. "God, I bet you’re so fucking wet just from playing with my cock. My naughty little slut is going to have such a perfect, sopping cunt for me to sink right into, isn't she?"

His tongue curled along the seam of your lips, urging them apart to allow him full, ravenous plunder. Gen ravished the depths of your mouth with single-minded, devouring intensity, leaving no space for air to circulate around the smoldering sparks crackling between you both.

When he pulled back once more, your vision swam - dazed and unfocused - in his darkening crimson glare. He smirked in blatant satisfaction, licking the traces of you off his lips in a lingering, lewd swipe.

"Mmm...perfect," he murmured in rich approval. "Now why don't you put those pretty lips of yours to better use, hm? It's only fitting that my insubordinate officer should show proper deference to her captain..."

Before you could even summon a shred of wherewithal, Gen had shoved you down onto your knees with an iron grip. The sudden impact reverberated through your bones, only to be immediately eclipsed by the way his engorged cockhead pressed against your lips with blatant, unyielding command.

"C'mon," he growled impatiently, smearing a pearlescent streak of his precum across the seam of your mouth in a blatant, carnal marking. "I know you've been dying to have your captain's cock stuffing your face until you can't even breathe. Don't disappoint me now, lieutenant..."

With a ragged breath, you gave in to his dark demand. Your lips parted on a shuddering exhale, allowing Gen to glide his thick shaft past your puffy lips and straight to the back of your throat in a single, forceful plunge.

"Yesss," he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers clenching in the crown of your head as you began suckling around his girth eagerly. "That's it...just like that. God, I knew that smart mouth of yours would be so good for something other than being a royal pain in my ass..."

The velvety glide of his rigid cock sliding along your tongue had a mewl bubbling up your throat, only for Gen to choke it off entirely. He thrust in a shallow, experimental glide - watching with unbridled avarice as his shaft disappeared completely inside your mouth.

"Mmm...look at that. So fucking filthy," he groaned in obvious appreciation. "How much of me can you fit in there, hm?"

Without further preamble, he rutted forward in a sudden, forceful jerk. Your breath stuttered as the flared crown of his cockhead punched deep down your convulsing throat, choking off any protest. Gen stilled completely at the tight clench of your esophagus, savoring the way your walls milked him with desperation.

"Fuck," he grunted in evident rapture, eyes screwing shut at the overwhelming sensation. "Yeah, that's a good little slut. You want this, don't you? My filthy, insubordinate bitch of a lieutenant is gonna choke herself to death on her captain's cock and love every second of it. Isn't that right, baby?"

Your nails dug into the sculpted muscle of his thighs as if to anchor yourself against the dizzying tide of delirium, whimpering brokenly around his searing intrusion. The sheer filth spilling from his lips coupled with the molten steel stretching your mouth wide had you teetering dangerously close to a shattering precipice you had no hope of holding back.

"Ohhh, God, you really fucking do," he rasped out in a gravelly, carnal groan. "I can feel how much your cunt is weeping just from this, sweetheart. Go ahead, be a good girl and touch yourself for me...show me just how fucking desperate you are to have your Captain's load pumping straight into your womb..."

You shuddered at the lurid command, but were helpless to deny him. One hand snaked its way up your body to tug at the zipper of your combat suit, dragging it down all the way to your navel and allowing the generous swells of your breasts to spill out fully.

"Yessss," Gen hissed out in obvious delight, hips bucking forward into your mouth with a low, guttural rumble. "Touch yourself, lieutenant. Fuck, I want to see those perfect tits bouncing while you finger that soaking pussy."

You mewled brokenly at his dark demand, arching back to shove the suit further down your thighs. With your chest bared to the cool, recycled air, you dragged your trembling fingers down the plane of your abdomen to cup your soaked mound.

Gen's crimson gaze followed the motion with laser focus, pupils blowing so wide that only a thin ring of scarlet remained. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, teeth worrying at the lower one in an open display of his raw, animalistic desire.

"Good girl," he husked as you sank two digits deep into your sopping core, clenching and rolling them into the molten depths. "Fucking hell, look at you. Such a beautiful little cumslut for me, aren't you?"

A garbled wail rattled around his throbbing length as you drove your fingers harder and faster, curling and twisting them to graze along that sweet, electric spot that had pleasure spiraling ever tighter through your belly. Your vision blurred and swam, only to snap back into razor-sharp focus as Gen yanked his shaft from your mouth with a lewd, wet pop.

"Not yet," he snarled in obvious warning. "You come on this cock and only this cock, is that understood? I'm not even close to done with you yet, baby..."

Gen's hands wrapped around your biceps, hauling you upright and crushing you flush against his broad chest. With a rough grunt, he bent down and scooped you up over his shoulder - arm locking around your thighs as he began striding towards the door with single-minded purpose.

"C-Captain Narumi," you stuttered out in protest, struggling weakly against his iron grip. "W-wait, where are we going? You can't just carry me through the damn halls like this!"

A wicked chuckle vibrated through his chest as he paused mid-stride. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the scorching brand of his hand cupping your slickened, puffy mound.

"My quarters are closer," he rumbled directly into your ear, the velvety promise behind his words sending a shiver skittering down your spine. "And if anyone has an issue with me carrying my filthy lieutenant around, well...they can take it up with me and my gun."

Before you could even attempt to summon a protest, his fingers sank into your drenched folds with a lewd, vulgar squelch. You cried out in mingled shock and rapture, writhing against his grip as he began grinding those calloused pads in slow, taunting circles against your swollen clit.

"That's it, baby," Gen crooned with obvious relish, his other arm securing your thighs tighter around his broad shoulders. "You just keep riding my fingers like the good girl you are...I'm gonna have you nice and creamy for me by the time we get there."

True to his word, his pace didn't falter the entire trek to his quarters. Not even when you sobbed and whimpered as each step jostled his fingers deeper into your fluttering heat. Each brush and glide had your senses spiraling higher and higher, chasing the impending peak you'd been denied for so long now.

By the time Gen finally dumped you on his bed, you were a panting, shivering wreck - eyes blown and cheeks flushed in utter abandon. His answering smirk was nothing short of sin incarnate as he slowly began to unzip his anti-kaiju suit, the flexing muscles of his chest rippling with each torturous pull.

"You look so fucking perfect sprawled out for me like that," he growled, letting the garment fall to the floor with a dull thud. "So ready to be stuffed and used, hmm?"

A sharp squeal ripped from your throat as he fell upon you, tearing at the remaining fabric of your combat suit. He stripped it off your quivering frame with an ease borne of ruthless efficiency, leaving you bared to his molten, crimson glare in a heartbeat.

"Look at these," Gen snarled, burying his face between the plush mounds of your breasts. "Fuck, they're perfect. So fucking juicy and soft and all mine to play with however I want..."

He sealed his sinful mouth around the peak of one swollen nipple, sucking and biting hard enough to send a bolt of sizzling lightning shooting straight to your drenched folds. Your fingers knotted in his silky locks, nails scoring his scalp as you arched into his ravenous devouring.

He pulled back to lave a slow, tantalizing stripe over the puffy, reddened tip, only to fix his smoldering scarlet gaze directly on yours. Gen rolled his hips into the cradle of your splayed thighs, prodding his engorged shaft directly against your slick, pulsating heat.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited to fuck you into oblivion?" he rasped out, punctuating his dark oath with a shallow grind. "Every single day since we met, I've been imagining bending you over every surface and pumping my cum into that greedy little cunt of yours. And now I'm finally going to give us both exactly what we need..."

With a savage snarl, he seized both your wrists and pinned them above your head. His crimson glare never wavered from the way your breasts heaved and bounced in the wake of his rutting, the tip of his cock catching on your drenched slit with each lewd slide.

"Gen," you keened out in a shattered plea. "Please..."

He groaned gutturally, burying his face against the flushed valley between your breasts. Your hips bucked up against him, craving more than just the teasing friction he was allowing.

"What was that, lieutenant?" he purred in a rasp. "You're going to have to be clearer than that."

"For the love of-!" You broke off on a frustrated moan as he continued rocking his cockhead in torturously slow circles. "Fuck, stop playing and fuck me already, you arrogant jackass!"

Gen lifted his head just enough to flash a sinful, smug smirk at your wrecked state. Your heart stuttered wildly in its cage at the clear evidence of his control, coupled with the fact that he was finally about to fulfill the promise blazing in his crimson glare.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

A guttural groan spilled from his parted lips as he thrust his full, throbbing length inside you with a single, brutal shove. You arched beneath him in utter rapture, keening and clawing at his shoulders for purchase.

"That's it," he grated out through clenched teeth, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief. "Fuck, I knew that greedy cunt of yours would be tight and hot as hell, but fuck...!"

Each thick inch of his shaft dragged along your pulsating walls as he set a harsh, unforgiving pace - spearing and filling you in every possible way as if claiming the most sacred part of your body as his own. You couldn't do much beyond hanging on and mewling, fingers scrabbling desperately along the flexing muscle of his back as you were utterly consumed by the punishing glide.

"You like this, sweetheart? Being stretched wide open on my fat dick?" Gen snarled into your ear, hips snapping forward to drill the flared crown of his cockhead directly into your cervix. "Because I can tell you fucking love it. That perfect little cunt is dripping everywhere just from having me split you apart, baby..."

The searing coil wound tighter and tighter inside your belly, each pistoning plunge driving you closer to that shattering crescendo. Your breath came in ragged, broken pants, the room seeming to blur and spin around you as the inferno raging between you both only grew brighter and brighter.

Gen shifted, propping himself on one forearm as he hooked his free hand around the bend of one knee and forced it higher. Your eyes flew wide at the new angle, a wail spilling from your lips at the way his cock seemed to swell impossibly more - filling every possible inch of your fluttering depths until there was no room left for anything except him.

"God, that's the spot," he rasped, eyes screwing shut as he redoubled his efforts. "Take every inch of me, just like that...you're almost there, I can feel it."

"Gen, I'm-"

You choked off on a cry as his mouth latched back onto your nipple, tongue swirling and flicking as he suckled hungrily. Every nerve ending blazed with electricity, the molten heat building between your thighs rapidly threatening to burn you alive from within.

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna feel that perfect pussy gushing all over my cock while I pump you full of my load. C'mon, sweetheart...give it all to me..."

The final thread snapped, sending you careening over the edge in a blinding, white-hot flash. Your spine arched off the mattress, mouth falling open around a silent scream of bliss as you squirted in messy, torrential waves all over his shaft.

"That's it, ohhh, fuuuck," Gen snarled against your breast, teeth scraping the sensitive, puckered tip as he fucked you through the aftershocks. "Such a good little slut, squirting so pretty for her captain like that."

"G-gen, please!" you wailed, the overstimulation nearly driving you mad. "Please, I need-"

He pulled out entirely with a lewd, wet pop, flipping you onto your stomach and hauling you up onto your knees. With an iron grip, he jerked you back against him, lining the blunt head of his cock up with your weeping hole once more to plunge back inside with one harsh shove.

"This what you need, sweetheart?" he hissed in your ear, grinding the rigid planes of his abdomen directly into your ass as his balls slapped your clit with each rut. "Don’t worry, baby. Gonna give it to you. Gonna give you all the cum you can take and then some..."

His hands clamped down around your waist with bruising force, dragging you back to meet every merciless thrust. Gen pounded into you from behind without restraint, the lewd slap of skin on skin echoing throughout his quarters alongside your fractured cries and his low, animalistic grunts.

"Ah-! Fuuuuck," he groaned, burying his face against your nape and wrapping his arms around your midsection possessively. "Mm-yesss, gonna cum, baby. Where- tell me where you want it-!"

"Inside, please, oh God, don't stop-!"

His guttural roar rattled in your ears as his entire body went rigid behind you, the searing heat of his release spurting directly against your cervix and painting your womb in thick, ropy ribbons. You whimpered and squirmed at the sensation, his iron grip still holding you firmly in place until his cock had milked itself dry.

For several moments, neither of you moved or spoke, chests heaving in sync. Gradually, his hold loosened and allowed you to collapse face-first onto the mattress, completely drained and sated in the aftermath. Gen followed you down, covering the line of your spine with the solid plane of his chest as he buried his nose in your tangled hair.

"Baby," he rasped into your ear. "If I'd known just how fucking perfect you were going to be, I would've done this a lot sooner..."

A weak laugh bubbled up from your chest at his husked confession, reaching back blindly to card through his damp locks. He sighed contentedly, shifting to roll the two of you onto your sides and tucking you flush against his front.

"Mmm...you know," he murmured, trailing his fingers up and down the plane of your abdomen lazily, slipping right between your puffy folds to swipe over the sensitive pearl of your clit, "I’m still not quite done with you, sweetheart..."

"Gen, wait-!"

But before you could finish your protest, he was already bucking his hips into you again - this time from behind as his cock slipped into your thoroughly fucked cunt with a sinful, wet squelch.

"No more waiting," he growled into your ear, rolling the pad of his calloused finger around your clit with increasing pressure. "We have years to make up for, after all. And I'm going to use every single second of that time fucking the absolute hell out of this gorgeous little cunt."

[cobrakaisb]

"is that my shirt?"

summary: a collection of the various times you and luke get caught wearing each other’s clothes OR three times you denied wearing luke’s clothes and the one time he completely owned it.

word count: 1.6k

featuring: 3+1, aphrodite!reader, crop top luke & the headcanon that each cabin has cutsey chb themed shirts

one: luke’s gray zip-up

the dining pavilion is always the quietest in the morning. at least it normally is, but you overslept today. somehow you missed all your alarms, the ruckus of all your siblings waking up, and silena and drew’s fight over whether or not the other stole their makeup. so no one really blames you for walking into the pavilion well after the start of breakfast. 

“could you at least look a little more put together?” carmen, your sister who values tidiness in all aspects of her life, asks as you take one of the only open seats at the table. 

you look down at your outfit: high-top converse, denim shorts, a camp half-blood shirt, your camp necklace, and a gray zip-up to combat the unexpected chill of the morning. not too shabby, you thought, especially considering the fact that you even managed to tame your bedhead and put on some basic makeup. 

“i am put together. aren’t i?” you respond, reaching for the mug of hot coffee damien slides your way. 

“you look fine,” he assures, but his eyebrows furrow as he focuses on your sweatshirt. “is that new?” he continues.   

“what this?” you ask, pointing at the material. 

“yeah. i’ve never seen it on you before,” he continues. 

“don’t you know, damien, that it’s luke’s. he’s like always wearing it,” drew butts in. “they’re like a thing now, or whatever,” she continues, waving her hand as if swatting a fly. 

you huff at her annoyed tone, and the fact that you’ve been called out by your younger siblings. in an attempt to defend yourself you say, “it’s not luke’s. it’s mine.”

drew, damien, and carmen all open their mouths to object, but they don’t have the chance too because luke leans over from the end of the hermes table: “i’ve been looking for that sweatshirt everywhere, but you can keep it. it looks better on you anyways.”   

you feel your cheeks heat up, and luke has the audacity to send you a wink before turning back to his breakfast.

two: luke’s blue flannel pajama pants

friday night sleepovers were basically an aphrodite tradition at this point. what started out as a self-care night full of facemasks, manicures, and gossip sessions for the older campers quickly turned into an all-cabin sleepover complete with a movie, pillow fight, and fort. 

you’re sitting between peter and rosie, the ten-year-old twins from fairfield, connecticut. the two of them were polar opposites; rosie was talkative and outgoing, while peter preferred the quiet and keeping to himself. it was surprising to everyone when he sat next to you and watched intently as you painted his sister’s nails. 

rosie was yapping away, telling you all the details of her day. you were humming along, occasionally adding in an “oh yeah” or “really?” when needed, but for the most part, you were focused on not smudging her nails. peter was leaning against your side, fighting sleep as he listened to his sister. 

“i remember these pants,” he interrupted, fingers tracing the blue, white, and black pattern on your thigh. “luke was wearing them when i had that nightmare about fractions,” he finishes softly, a small bluish coating his pale cheeks. 

“was this the time one third was crushing you?” rosie asks, leaning forward to be closer to her brother. 

peter nods timidly and rosie springs into action, mumbling words of comfort. you, on the other hand, are completely rigid. your back is as stiff and as straight as a board as you look straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact with any of the siblings your age seated around you. carmen opens her mouth, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, but you snap your head in her direction. 

“don’t say a word,” you threaten. 

one look of your vicious glare has her miming zipping her lips. 

three: luke’s ac/dc shirt

this is the third time luke’s sifted through the stack of shirts in his dresser. it’s also the third time he’s come up empty handed. he huffs in frustration, running a tired hand down his face in annoyance. between the overflow of campers, keeping connor and travis in line, and now losing his favorite shirt, luke castellan is at his wit’s end. 

“has anyone seen my ac/dc shirt? y’know the one with the tour dates on the back?” he asks, looking around the cramped cabin. 

several people shrug. some of the younger kids start asking what ac/dc even is, and he does not have time to go into that right now. a few people offer to look through their stuff, saying maybe someone mixed up the wash, but the general consensus is that no one has seen the shirt. 

luke groans in annoyance. he’s starting his fourth attempt at finding the shirt when penelope, one of the younger unclaimed campers, tugs on his cargo pants. luke crouches down to her level, placing a comforting hand on her back while prompting her to talk to him. 

“i think i saw someone else wearing it,” she whispers, shyly twirling around the hem of her cotton dress with a butterfly pattern. 

“who?” luke asks, a little too loudly and abruptly. he clears his throat, taking a deep breath, before repeating much calmer, “who was wearing it, penelope?”

“that girl you like,” she answers, gently kicking the toe of his red converse with her bright pink twinkle toes. 

luke smiles softly at her, rubbing her back. “thanks pen. i knew i could count on you,” he answers. 

penelope giggles at his words, “but you didn’t even tell me to look for it!” 

“but you’re so smart you knew i’d need it,” he praises, ruffling her hair good-naturedly. 

once she runs off, luke leaves the cabin. he’s on a mission to find you, but most importantly, he’s on a mission to find his ac/dc shirt. after a series of questions, and some misguided directions, he finds you standing on the shore of the lake, surrounded by a variety of nymphs, demigods, and satyrs. 

you meet his gaze once he calls out to you, and watches as the color leaves your face. 

“how did you even get this?” he asks, taking some of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger once he’s within reach of you. 

you scoff at his words, “this is mine.” 

luke huffs, crossing his arms in annoyance. he watches as your eyes briefly flicker to his biceps before meeting his brown ones. 

“really? and since when do you buy your t-shirts two sizes too big?” he asks, smirking confidently. he’s got you now. 

“um since i wanted this as a beach coverup. it’s not rocket science, luke,” you answer. 

luke licks his lip, annoyance flickering across his eyes. “name five songs then,” he demands. 

your mouth falls open. “why are you such a guy?” you ask, frustrated.

“if you love ac/dc so much that you’d buy one of their shirts, name some songs,” he continues, but his voice has turned teasing. 

he watches as your nostrils flare and you ball your hands into fists at your sides. it’s cute.

“fine!” you agree. “there’s thunderstruck, and highway to hell, and that one about sex.”

“which one about sex?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “there’s multiple.” 

“all of them!” you shout. “there! that’s five.” 

luke rolls his eyes, but still wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “if you want my clothes, all you have to do is ask,” he whispers into your hairline before placing a soft kiss on your skin. 

one: your pink camp half-blood crop-top

“have you seen luke today?” silena asks, catching up with you as you walk from the strawberry fields towards the archery range. 

“no why?” you ask curiously. 

her smile tells you everything you need to know; it’s wide and luminous, but her pearly white teeth seem to twinkle with the knowledge she’s withholding from you. 

“oh. no reason,” she says, before trying to skip away from you. 

you grab her shoulder, pulling her back towards you. “silena, what did he do?” you ask. 

silena giggles this time. “it’s nothing really, just. gosh, your boyfriend is so handsome, did you know that?”

“yes i did,” you start, “but why are you smiling and giggling like that?” 

she laughs again, “i think you should check the volleyball courts.” 

you hate athletics, but you’ve never sprinted to the volleyball courts so godsdamn fast in your life. when you arrive, you’re not surprised to see the hermes boys and apollo boys playing a beach volleyball match. most of them are shirtless and sweaty (and the entertainment for about twenty other campers) but luke is on the only one with his shirt on. you don’t think much of it, until he jumps for the ball and you get a good look at the color; his shirt is light pink. it’s also very tight around his broad arms and shoulders, hugging the muscles nicely while also showing off his toned abdomen. 

you watch as he turns to high five some of his teammates after scoring a point. his brown eyes meet your intense gaze, and he smiles widely at you. he has the audacity to flex and shout, “like what you see, babe? i figured this color suited me.” 

you roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head side to side as you walk over to him. your fingers trace the collar of your his shirt, gently nudging against the clay beads of his camp half-blood necklace. luke visibly gulps, and you smirk as your gazes connect.

“i think you should keep this,” you whisper, trailing your finger down his chest. “it looks better on you than me,” you finish, stepping away from him.

[pigfacedbitch]

Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

somebody to hold

pairing: könig x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4,884

summary:

König discovers cuddle therapy.

You discover König.

author’s note: i don’t play COD, i just have a mask kink. all translations are from google, so feel free to send me corrections if they are needed! translations available at the end of the fic

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), potentially bad German translations, mentions of König’s social anxiety, descriptions of scars, touch starved könig, oral sex (m receiving), size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, mild breeding kink, choking, fingering, ab riding. Let me know if any are missing!

“Hey, your next appointment is here,” the voice of the practice secretary, Amy, says from the doorway of your office.

You look up from your computer, brow furrowed as you click around your calendar. “I didn’t think I had a late appointment?”

“Last minute add. And just…prepare yourself,” she says, eyes comically wide before she disappears.

You shut your laptop and head for the waiting room, curious about what’s got Amy acting so funny.

You stop short in the doorway. Perhaps it’s the veritable mountain of a man sitting in the tiny plastic waiting room chair fully kitted in military combat gear, including a sniper hood that only reveals two pale blue eyes that scan the room. His hands rest on his large thighs, fingers curling against the fabric of his tac pants.

You’re not unfamiliar with military clients. Your office is near a base, after all. You’ve had a few wander in before. But you’ve never had one quite like him.

“Uh, hi? Hi,” you say, clearing your throat. His eyes shoot to you and you swallow nervously. You give him your name, followed with, “I’m going to be your cuddler this evening. Do you want to follow me back to the session room?”

The man gives a single nod before unfolding from his seat. He absolutely towers over you, his build just as broad as it is tall, and he has to tilt his head down to look at you. He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to lead the way.

You lead him to the back session room, a space curated for comfort. It’s painted a deep blue and lit only with dimmable lamp lighting and string lights that can be turned on or off, depending on the client’s preference. There’s a large couch pressed to one wall, a sectional that has a hidden portion that pulls out to fill in the middle, essentially turning it into a bed. It’s perfect for both seated snugglers and the prone cuddlers.

There’s a snack and water station set up on a wood console table near the door, and beside it are cubbies for storing belongings. A large basket of soft blankets sits near the couch, along with an array of pillows.

You look back at the man that has followed you through the door. Those blue eyes take in every detail of the room before they land back on you. You toe off your sneakers, leaving you in your frog patterned socks. You wiggle your toes.

“Did Amy explain the rules to you and brief you on the terms and conditions?” Another silent nod. “Okay, well, everything we do is completely up to you, within those parameters. We can talk or touch as much or as little as you’d like for the length of your appointment. I can make some suggestions for positions, if you’d like?”

His hands fidget at his sides, fingers flexing and curling into fists like he’s not sure what to do with them. He stares down at the shoes that you’ve left by the door.

“You don’t have to take anything off, if you don’t want to,” you reassure him. “Why don’t you take a seat on the couch?”

The man takes two broad steps before taking a seat, as instructed. You feel a weird sort of giddiness that a man clearly as powerful as him listened to your orders.

He sits with his back straight as a bar of steel, eyes trained on you for the next step in the process, hands placed on his thighs once more. You take a tentative step closer.

“I’m going to sit right here, okay?” You narrate as you sit down near him, a cushion of distance between your bodies. “Is this alright?”

He nods.

“Would you like me to be closer? Or farther?”

“Closer,” a deep accented voice says. It makes your breath catch, the quiet gentleness of it and the way it sounds rough from disuse. “Please.”

You scooch closer, the distance between your bodies shrinking but not yet removed. “Okay?”

“Ja. Yes,” he says. A pause. “Could you…closer?”

“Of course. Is it okay if our bodies touch?”

He nods. You close the gap between your bodies, your thigh pressed along his and your arms brushing with each breath. He’s tense, shoulders tight and fists clenched as he breathes rhythmically through his nose and out his mouth. You let him take a moment to adjust.

“What’s your name?” You ask quietly.

“König.”

________

You are very warm. König can feel the heat of you even through his gear.

He feels a bit ridiculous, sitting here on a couch beside a stranger who he has paid to cuddle him. And he can’t even reach that point yet. Even just having you sit beside him has him trying to calm his breathing.

In…2…3…4….Out.

“Would you like to talk about anything?” You ask. He glances down at you. Scheiße, you’re pretty. That fact certainly isn’t helping him keep calm.

He shakes his head, not trusting his voice to reply. You give him a small smile.

“Well, do you mind if I talk?”

No, he doesn’t mind at all. He’d listen to your voice for hours if he could, the way it's so soft to his ear compared to the shouts and commands he’s used to hearing day in and out. He shakes his head.

Your small smile grows, a bright grin across your face that makes your nose crinkle adorably. König finds his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit.

You tell him about your day and how you were looking forward to the weekend because there is a show that you wish to catch up on. You talk about your cat, a little orange tabby that you adopted three years ago named Toast and how he likes to perch inside the window and watch the birds outside of your apartment. You also mention that Toast has an entire wardrobe of sweaters for the winter that he hates, but you love putting him in them anyways.

Slowly, the tension leaves König’s body. He relaxes against the back of the couch and adjusts his legs, stretching them out in front of him. His hands, which once fidgeted in his lap, are now folded on his chest as he tilts his head back and listens to your stories.

“König?” You place a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Our time is up.”

He blinks. Oh. He must have fallen asleep. He looks over to find you smirking at him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bore you to sleep,” you say, voice self-deprecating.

“It was not boring, liebling,” he replies quietly.

______

The following week, you notice a calendar event labeled [CLASSIFIED]. You ask Amy about it.

“It’s the big guy from last week. He made a standing appointment,” she tells you. “But he’s all big, scary military so he didn’t give me a name to put down.”

You smile to yourself. You know his name.

It feels like a fun secret between the two of you.

You’re thrilled that he wants to come back. You hadn’t stopped thinking about his voice and those bright blue eyes all weekend.

When it's time for his appointment, you smile brightly at him in the waiting room. He follows you back to the session room, just as silent as the last time he visited.

You remove your shoes, just as before. He sits on the couch without being prompted.

“Would you like me to sit beside you? Like last time?” You ask. He nods.

You sit down, close enough that your limbs brush, just as you had the week prior. He seems a bit more at ease this time.

“How is Toast?” He asks. You beam at him, thrilled that he remembered you told him about your cat. You tell him about your weekend spent on the couch with your furry friend.

“Can I--,” he begins to ask, pausing uncertainly. He lifts his arm slightly.

You wiggle against him, settling against his side as his arm drops across your shoulders.

“Danke,” the man says. “Thank you.”

“Of course, König.”

______

It goes like that for four weeks. Konig sits on the couch and allows you to settle in beside him, your sides pressed together on the couch. You talk to him about anything and everything that comes to mind, and he listens intently.

He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you cling to his words. Especially when he slips into speaking in German.

And if you have to press your thighs together for relief during those moments? Well, you hope the man doesn’t notice.

On the fifth week of his appointments, König surprises you.

When you remove your shoes, König begins to unclasp the buckles holding his tac vest to his chest. You grin at him in encouragement as he sets it to the side.

“I feel…naked,” he comments with a small huff of laughter.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the cheeky reply that ran through your head. He is a client, after all.

He sits beside you on the couch, just as all the other sessions started, but he fidgets with the strap of his leg holster. “Could—,” he starts, pausing for breath. “Could we….lie down?”

“Of course,” you murmur. “Do you have a preference for position?”

“You can…lay your head on my chest?” He says. You give him an encouraging nod, standing up so that he can rearrange his large body so that he’s laying on his back. You reach for the pull tabs of the middle section, sliding it into place. He looks at you in surprise. “That was neat.”

You giggle. “Yeah, this couch is the best,” you comment as you crawl onto the cushion and settle your body along his, your head pillowed on his hard chest.

“This is…nice,” he says.

“Yeah, big guy. It is.”

______

Two weeks into sessions where you lay beside König, he begins talking.

In a quiet, albeit deep, voice he tells you about how he struggles with social anxiety. Being as big as he is was never useful for him until joining the military. He was mercilessly bullied in school as a young boy. He wanted to be a sniper, but his size was a burden to the position. Not to mention, he can’t sit still. He fidgets constantly, and his mind tends to wander if his body is not in motion.

His heart beats quickly beneath your ear as he tells you all the things about himself that he’d been keeping close to his chest for the last two months. He doesn’t stick to just the serious things. He tells you that his favorite color is blue. He has a massive sweet tooth and would kill a man for some traditional Sacher torte.

The laugh that accompanies that particular bit of information might just be your favorite sound in the world.

You don’t mention when your time with him has come to an end. You let him keep talking, afraid to break the spell and return König to his more stoic state.

König ends up noticing that the time has gone past his scheduled appointment. His blue eyes go wide and he sits up abruptly, knocking you off his chest as he begins to apologize profusely in a mix of German and English.

You place a hand on his chest. “It’s okay, König. Really. I just…I like spending time with you,” you admit quietly.

He rests a large gloved hand over yours.

“I enjoy our time as well, mein herz.”

______

König doesn’t show for his next scheduled appointment.

Or the one after that.

Or the one after that.

By the fourth missed appointment, you start to lose hope that you’d ever see him again.

You just hope he’s okay.

______

A sharp knocking noise breaks through your heavy sleep. You roll from the bed, landing gracelessly to the ground and startling Toast, the tabby darting beneath the bed for cover. Another knock sounds through the apartment as you stumble towards the door.

You stand on the tips of your toes to peer through the peephole with bleary eyes. Fumbling with the locks, you pull the door open as quickly as you can.

“König?” You ask breathlessly.

______

The adrenaline from the mission still courses in König’s veins as he tries to wait patiently for you to answer the door to your apartment, but he’s about one minute from either kicking down the door or picking the locks.

He imagines you would likely not appreciate either effort.

But finally, finally, he can hear your soft steps on the other side of the door before the locks disengage and the door is pulled open.

“König?” You ask. You’re wearing a large t-shirt that hits the middle of your thighs, more skin on display for his greedy eyes than he’s ever gotten the chance to see before.

“Liebling,” Konig replies. He steps forward, tentatively crossing the threshold to your home. When you don’t stop him, he takes another step. You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Where…what—,” you stutter, moving aside so that he can fully enter the apartment. He shuts the door behind him.

“Please, liebling, I–,” he starts, words catching in his throat as he looks down at you, the emotions bubbling up his throat. “I need you.”

______

König keeps his eyes trained on you as he unbuckles his helmet, lifting it from his head and dropping it to the floor. Next are the protective braces on his arms and legs, followed by the heavy tac vest and thigh holster.

He lifts the sniper hood, revealing the black balaclava beneath. His chest heaves with harsh breaths as his wide eyes scan your face.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing tightly, your head pressed to his chest as you close your eyes and inhale the scent of him.

“Missed you, König,” you murmur. His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you impossibly tight to his body.

Suddenly you’re lifted from the ground and you squeak with surprise, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms circling the back of his neck, holding onto him like a koala. The position puts you face to face with the man. His eyes search yours.

“Is this okay?” He asks. All you can do is nod. “Where is your bedroom?”

“Down the hall, last door on the right,” you instruct. König abandons his gear by the door, taking broad steps down the hall in the direction you gave. He gives the door a gentle kick, opening it wide enough to enter.

Toast darts out from beneath the bed, sliding past König’s legs and out to the living area.

He sets you gently on the bed, standing between your spread legs. His eyes remain fixed on yours as he kneels, deft fingers tugging at the laces of his boots.

You could get used to a view like this.

König stands to his full height once he’s removed his boots. A broad, scarred hand cups your cheek tenderly, calloused thumb moving across your cheekbone.

“Mein Liebling," he murmurs. His hand leaves your face and works the fly of his pants open, tugging the rough fabric down over his thighs.

You try very hard not to look but when he curls his fingers into the hem of his combat shirt, you can’t help the greedy way your eyes rove the miles of pale skin.

You take in the muscular thighs that give way to a defined Adonis belt, the cut so severe beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs that you long to trace your tongue along the valley. His abs flex, guiding your exploration up towards his thick chest.

There’s a litany of scars across his body, from smaller bullet wounds to deep slashes covered in thick scar tissue. You reach a hand out, lightly trailing your fingers across one that spans from his collarbone to the middle of his chest.

His hand curls over yours, holding it still against his warm skin. You can feel the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palm.

König’s free hand grasps the top of the balaclava and pulls, finally revealing the face of the man that’s occupied your every free thought over the almost two months you’ve known him.

Shaggy dark blonde hair falls across his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. Thick straight brows over the ice blue eyes framed with long blonde lashes you’ve become so familiar with. A slightly crooked nose and high cheekbones that lead into a strong, stubbled jaw.

There are scars on his face, too. A long silver scar slashes through this eyebrow and across his nose. Another cuts across the high point of his cheek.

He is so beautiful.

You watch as his cheeks turn pink and you belatedly realize you’d said that out loud. You shift to your knees on the mattress, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward you. He plants a knee on the soft surface and you guide him up until you’ve reached the pillows.

Stiffly, he lays beside you, head turned to watch you with those familiar blue eyes. You lay your head on his chest, sighing at the heat of his skin beneath your cheek. You wrap your arm around his waist and throw a leg over his hips, squeezing him tightly.

König doesn’t speak. He has an arm around your body, fingers pressing into the grooves of your ribs to hold you close. You breathe in tandem and his tense muscles begin to relax in your hold.

You shift your leg slightly, eyes going wide as you feel his cock against your knee. Feeling brave, you shift again, dragging your knee along the side of him.

His breathing stutters and you can feel his abs tense beneath you. You slide your hand across his chest, skimming your fingertips across the tight muscles.

“What are you doing, Kleine?” he asks. You lift your head from his chest to look at him.

“I want…can I—,” you stutter, losing your words at the dark look in the man’s eyes.

“I would let you do anything you wanted to me,” König says. “All you have to do is ask.”

You swallow nervously. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” he replies, a little smirk tilting his lips.

You ghost your hand across his straining length in retaliation. The smirk drops so fast you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

“What happened to all that cockiness, hm?”

“Do not tease.” His hips flex beneath your palm, grinding his cock against your hand. “I have very little patience for it.”

You sit up on your knees beside him, moving one of his thick thighs to the side with a press of your hand so that you can crawl between his legs. He looks down at you with half lidded eyes, an arm thrown behind his head to prop him up to see better. You curl your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Is this okay?” You ask. He nods.

Permission granted, you slowly work the elastic down until his cock bobs free, slapping obscenely against his abs. Your mouth waters at the sight of the thick, uncut length of him.

“Jesus Christ, König,” you mutter. “Where do you think this thing is going to fit?”

“Ideally? Down your throat and then your cunt,” he replies easily. When you look up at him with wide eyes, he grins so brightly you feel like you’re looking into the sun.

And you’d gladly go blind for it.

You lean forward, giving into the urge to dip your tongue against the divot of his hip, running it along the cut of his abs reverently. His hips jolt at the contact, a whine spilling from his plush pink lips.

“Scheiß,” the man growls. “Bitte, baby, please,” he begs.

You let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing the prominent vein there to the flared head. You swirl your tongue along the tip, gathering the bead of precum and swallowing it greedily.

König’s chest rises and falls rapidly with his heavy breathing, his large hands fisting your blankets so tightly you briefly worry his bones may crack. He watches you intensely, almost like he’s worried you may disappear if he so much as blinks.

“Relax, König,” you coo, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. “Let me take care of you.”

______

König has to think about the steps for disassembling a rifle to prevent himself from coming down your throat too quickly. The tight wet heat of your mouth feels so heavenly that for a moment, he worries that he may have actually taken a bullet to the chest on this last mission and he is actually in heaven.

But then you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock when you draw up his length and he realizes there would be no sin as glorious as this in heaven.

You eyes catch his as you slide him to the back of your throat, your lips straining around him as you try valiantly to take more of him than your limit allows. You gag around him, throating tightening exquisitely before you withdraw for a gasp of air.

You return to your task with admirable determination, eyebrows pinched together in concentration as you work to relax your throat and draw him in deeper.

“Just a little more, liebling, you can do it,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek, feeling the bulge of him in your mouth as his thumb traces the stretch of your lips around his cock. “Nimm das alles für mich.”

Your lips meet your small hand that is still wrapped around the base of him and you breathe deeply through your nose as you hold yourself there for a moment, throat fluttering around him. He groans, fighting the urge to flex his hips and drive himself even deeper.

“That’s it,” he whispers. Your eyelashes glisten with little tears, tiny pearls of wetness that speak to your efforts to please him. “That’s my baby.”

You moan around him as you pull back, his cock dropping from your mouth with an obscene pop. Your breathing is labored as you scramble up his body. König’s hands steady you with a grip around your waist as you reach for his face, tugging him into a messy kiss.

It’s a desperate clashing of lips and teeth and tongues that has König groaning, little whimpers slipping past your lips as he explores your mouth. Your teeth nip into his lower lip before trailing down his jaw and neck.

“Let me see you, Schatz,” he asks, a hand sliding up the back of your thigh to grip your ass and grind your body against his.

You flip beside him hastily, tearing your panties down your thighs and pulling your shirt over your head. Gloriously naked, you straddle his waist.

You’ve positioned yourself just out of reach of where he wants to feel you the most. His hands circle your waist, sliding up until his thumbs caress the underside of your breasts.

“So schön, meine liebe,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across one tight nipple. Your hips flex and roll across his stomach and he can feel the slick wetness drenching his abs.

“König,” you moan, blunt little nails curling into the hard muscle of his pecs. Your head drops back, the long line of your throat calling to his hand.

He gives into the impulse, wrapping his fingers around your delicate neck, not constricting but merely holding. Your eyes go wide, hands gripping his wrist as you lean into the hold, your hips still grinding against him.

“You are making quite the mess,” König comments with a grin. You shudder in his hold. “Do not worry, liebling, I have never been afraid to get dirty.”

You moan, the sound vibrating deliciously against the hand he still holds around your neck. Your hips still over him as your release courses through you, your eyes fluttering shut.

König releases your throat and you sag against him. He runs a hand down your sweat slick back, over the curve of your ass until he can slip a single finger into your still fluttering hole. You gasp against his neck and he smiles.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, working his hand against you. You make little whimpering noises, lips working against his neck as you rock back against him. He eases a second finger into your dripping pussy, which earns him the sting of your teeth against his skin. “Scheiß!”

_______

You push yourself up on shaky arms, staring down into König’s dark eyes. His fingers slip from your pussy and you whine quietly at the loss.

“Wanna fuck you, König, please?” You murmur.

“I would love nothing more,” he says. He takes his cock in hand. “Take it, liebling.”

You lift your hips to position yourself over him, the fat tip of him notched at your entrance as you start your slow descent. The stretch of him is almost too much to bear, and it must show in your face because he drags a soothing hand across your thigh.

“That’s it,” he coos.

You slide another inch further with a whimper. “You’re so fucking big,” you tell him breathlessly. He chuckles, his cock pulsing inside of you and making you moan.

“Just think about how good it will feel when it is all inside of you, mein süße,” he says. “Filling every inch of you.”

You moan, your body accepting another inch. Your thighs shake with your efforts.

König’s hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave fingertip shaped bruises that you’ll discover in the morning. On a deep breath, you lower yourself until you’re fully seated and stretched to your limit.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls. You meet his eyes, the blue nothing more than a thin ring around his blown pupils. His chest heaves as he breathes that same controlled rhythm you’ve watched him use before.

In…two…three…four…out.

You shift your hips experimentally, gasping at the overwhelming feeling of fullness. He wasn’t kidding about filling every last inch of you.

Pressing your hands to his chest, you lift your hips just barely off of him before dropping yourself back down. He moans, your name a curse and a prayer on his lips as you continue to build up a rhythm for yourself until you’re lifting almost fully off of him and slamming back down.

“Scheiß! Fuck!” König shouts as your pace picks up. “Mein perfekter kleiner Schatz.”

You lean forward to meet his lips, more of a sharing of breath than a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you still as he thrusts up into you.

“König!” You cry, the slide and stretch and dull ache of him too much and yet not enough. His powerful thrusts are so deep at this angle that your eyes well with tears. Each drag of his cock from your pussy hits a spot that makes you see stars. “I’m gonna cum, please, König, please make me cum.”

“Anything for you,” he promises through gritted teeth, his hips picking up speed as he uses a hand on your ass to help slam you down on his cock. He turns his head, his nose brushing against yours tenderly in direct contrast to the way his hips pound against you. “Cum for me, engel. Let me see you.”

With a cry, you do just as he commands, your whole body going taught before sparking like a live wire, your release rolling over you so strongly it's more like a tsunami than a wave. He moans against your lips, hips pounding in an erratic speed as he works you through your orgasm and into his own.

“Fill me up, König,” you slur. “Wanna feel you. Bet you’ll get it so deep with your huge fucking cock.”

He comes with a deep groan, pressing up so deep as he spills inside of you that you gasp at the sensation, the warm heat of him filling you to the brim.

You collapse against him, the sweat on your bodies cooling in the chill of your apartment. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I missed you,” you murmur, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I will always come back,” he whispers, smoothing the sweat damp hair from your forehead. “So long as you are here for me.”

You tug the blanket from the foot of the bed over your bodies, snuggling into his side. You enjoy the quiet together, his fingers drifting up and down your back. The rapid patter of paws on the wood floor announces the approach of your cat.

The orange tabby hops on the bed, walking on light feet until he reaches the pillow König rests his head on. He curls up along the top of the man’s head, purring contentedly.

“Hello, Toast,” he says. His eyes flick to you. “This is a good sign, yes?”

“I’d say it was an excellent sign,” you reply, kissing the man’s cheek. He smiles.

“Good. Because I think I will be here a while.”

Translations:

Scheiße - fuck

Danke - thank you

mein herz - my heart

Mein Liebling - my darling

Kleine - little one

Bitte - please

Nimm das alles für mich - take it all for me

Schatz - treasure

So schön, meine liebe - so beautiful, my love

mein süße- my sweet

Mein perfekter kleiner Schatz - my perfect little darling

engel - angel

[highdefhoetry]

the strawhat pirates when they realize they love you.

summary: gender neutral reader. something wholesome for a change. this can be interpreted as platonic, romantic, or whatever other kind of relationship you want!

luffy knows you’re going to be one of his best friends as soon as he meets you. the two of you hit it off right away, spending almost every waking minute together laughing, eating, or doing some stupid shit like pulling rubber stunts on the deck after seeing who could chug the most juice. he wins at almost every game you play, but he never makes you feel like a sore loser. when you’re not around, he’s bored out of his mind waiting for you to get back. and when you’re together again, all hell breaks loose. the two of you get into a lot of trouble, but it’s worth getting a scolding from the rest of the crew. being with him is just so fun! 

usopp realizes what’s going on while he’s building a trinket for you. he stares at the empty space beside him at his work desk, suddenly missing your presence and feeling the weight of your absence. he got so used to you barging into his workshop, asking about every little piece and part strewn about and how everything fits together, that now it feels almost empty without you. you're the only one that shows an interest in his engineering. you're the only one that listens to his tall tales and actually believes in him. you're the only one that looks up to him as a hero. and when he does realize why he's got this fluttery feeling in his chest, all he can do is smile. he’ll make sure to build you the best weapon a warrior can wield!

it takes time for zoro to make sense of his feelings. he’s not a mushy guy, and he’s good at keeping his emotions in check. but that changes when you come along. he’s always been a loner, preferring time away from others to focus on training and growing even stronger, so it was difficult for him to adjust when you suddenly started hanging around him. but in time, he realizes that he doesn’t mind your company. he’s not much of a talker, but he finds himself blabbering on and on when you ask him about swordsmanship and combat. it’s the only chance he gets to talk about his life’s work. he even offers to train you, if you’re willing to go through his bootcamp of hell. that’s when it hits him; you’re something special. no one else gets to be this close to him. no one else gets him talking like this. no one else makes his heart soar, except for you.

sanji knows he loves you as soon as he starts memorizing all your favorite dishes. after his initial infatuation with you wears off, something deeper takes its place. a rich, decadent feeling of care that tastes oh so sweet. he hates when people come in the kitchen while he’s cooking and always kicks them out no matter who they are, but for some reason he can’t say no when he sees your face pop in. his heart melts when you offer to help him prep, and he swoons when he watches you chop vegetables or stir the simmering sauce for him on the stovetop. he doesn’t mind if the ingredients are misshapen, or if the minced veggies aren’t exactly minced. the food you make together always tastes amazing.

nami knows you’ve got her wrapped around your finger when you ask her for money and she doesn't say no. she always keeps a tight fist when it comes to finances, but for some reason she just doesn't have the heart to refuse. she’ll still make a fuss and complain; she worked hard to steal that cash, damn it! why would she just hand it over?! but one look into those eyes of yours and she’s done for. she’ll grumble about a 300% interest rate as you grab the cash from her hand, but she’ll forget all about it when you come back with that new thing you’d been eyeing in town for weeks. she’ll sigh, ask you to show it to her, and decide to waive the fees for now when she sees that wide smile on your face. seeing you happy is priceless.

robin knows she’s got it bad when she finds herself smiling for no reason every time you come around. you show great interest in her archeology studies, listening intently as she rambles about ancient polyglyphs and civilizations lost to time. with you, she feels like she can finally pass down her extensive knowledge to someone who is just as passionate about history as she is. the two of you often sit together in comfortable silence reading books about bones and artifacts, and while your face is buried between the pages, she’ll glance over and watch you with a small smile. her heart warms when she sees the focus and passion on your face. finally, she has a friend that will never leave her side.

[flawseer]

On Mudwing Culture

My last deliberation on Seawings and their eccentric insult vocabulary seemed to be well-received, so here is another one of my headcanons:

Mudwings are seriously into food.

I know, pretty revolutionary take when there is only a handful of named Mudwing characters, and two of them love eating so much that it either almost or entirely eclipses their personality.

But Clay and Ochre are not what I am talking about. This isn’t about a love of eating (though many Mudwings admittedly do have that). I’m suggesting that, out of all the tribes from Pyrrhia, Mudwings are at the forefront of food preparation and culinary innovation, to the point where a large part of their culture revolves around it.

The State of Food Preparation on the Continent

Pyrrhia as a conglomerate of different cultures largely sustains its populations through hunting and gathering. The average dragon, when the hunger pangs set in, will make a hasty trip into the nearest forest, cave, or scavenger den and round up some prey animals. In most cases, this prey will go straight from the talons to the mouth, or, if the hunter is a bit more forward-thinking, into the pantry, and then from talons to the mouth.

There are a few variations of this practice; Skywings may give the carcass a quick roast on an open flame before eating it, Sandwings may dry the meat out so the excess moisture does not upset their internal water balance, Rainwings will prefer fruit over meat. Icewings will nearly always consume their prey raw and unseasoned, as their extremely delicate palate is easily overwhelmed by intense flavors that may be released through cooking.

More complex forms of food preparation seem to exist mostly outside the scope of the general populace. The practice of “cooking” appears to be limited to the ranks of aristocracy, with dedicated cooks only found within the court of a queen or in private households of other high-born individuals. It creates a sharp divide between commoners and social elites, between the wealthy and (as Sea Queen Coral once put it so succinctly) the “eel-eating masses”. All exemplified through the differing standards of food.

And yet somehow, standing in stark contrast to everywhere else on the continent, nearly every Mudwing-- from the most low-born runts of the Diamond Spray Delta to the most decorated head advisors in the Queen’s palace --knows how to cook, and will do so regularly.

Why is that, and how did it happen?

Historical Benefits of Cooking

Most things that form the backbone of a culture usually start with some ancient practice that was useful at some point in time and then, as people kept doing it, eventually got absorbed into public awareness and became “the way things are done”.

Mudwings face a unique challenge compared to anyone else, as they are the only tribe whose combat prowess is significantly affected by their environment, specifically climate, weather, and temperature. Sure, you can take any dragon, drop them into an unfavorable climate, and they will generally perform worse than under normal circumstances. But the unique weakness of Mudwings is that they lose their breath weapon when they get too cold. Place an Icewing into a burning room and they will still be able to use their frost breath. Pluck a Sandwing from their dry environment and drop them into the humid, sweltering hell of the jungle, their natural weapons will still function. But make a Mudwing cower between two piles of snow for a while, and their internal fire will go out quickly.

As you might imagine, this is a bit of a liability when you have to defend your territory from Skywings hiding and scheming among the frozen peaks bordering your country.

So the ancient Mudwings had to figure out a solution to their conundrum, and what they came up with was this: They got a large pot and filled it with water, threw in all manner of meats, plants, and herbs, whatever they could find where they were holed up, then boiled it until it was good and filling. The hot food in their bellies helped them stay warm even at high altitudes and allowed them to stand their ground against the northwestern invaders.

Soon it became tradition for troops to share a hotpot the night before battle, and a rich variety of hearty broths and stews developed from there, as these were simple to make from scraps and could be reheated easily. The practice became so popular, the Mudwings kept doing it even during peacetime. Soon, in addition to the hunting of prey animals that was commonplace, Mudwings began to cultivate vegetable gardens to have access to a more stable supply of ingredients. Eventually, their growing understanding of agriculture allowed them to grow rice, which was especially well-suited to the abundance of wetlands found in their territory. Everyone was cooking now.

The Role of Food in Mudwing Society

If you ask several Mudwings which core values represent their tribe best, many would likely put forward some variation of “camaraderie”, “family”, or “loyalty to your sibs”. They are a very social people who form deep bonds with those whom they grew up with, and one of the most direct ways to grow close to someone is to share your meals with them every day. As such, the preparation and consumption of food is a vital part in maintaining cohesion between members of a Mudwing sibling group.

Every one of these groups will have a “Bigwings”, which is understood to be a combination of a leader and caretaker role. The Bigwings is aware of all of their sibs’ culinary preferences and needs and has all of the troop’s recipes memorized. When mealtime approaches, he or she makes the call on what kind of dish will be prepared and delegates roles and tasks to the troop. This is a daily exercise that builds the Bigwings’ authority and communication skills, and reinforces trust and familiarity between all siblings.

Next to the Bigwings is the Gatherer, which historically was a role assigned to one or more troop members who foraged for wild vegetables or hunted more prey if the previous communal hunt did not yield enough. While this is still true today, many Gatherers also maintain a garden or wet patch to source fresh vegetables or grain for meals.

And lastly there is the Communicator, which is a role usually assigned to the most social and charismatic sibling. The Communicator is vital for coordinating battle strategies with other troops, which, while very important, is not really all that relevant for this deliberation. What is relevant however, is the role they fulfill during peacetime, which is to set up joint meals between two or more sibling groups. This practice is critical for maintaining morale, as doing this regularly helps expand the troop’s palette and keep their Bigwings inspired. That way the troop’s collection of recipes stays fresh and innovative instead of turning stale and rigid.

Of course how much each troop values culinary exploits varies between individuals. Some Mudwing groups are outspokenly passionate about cooking and advancing their craft. They might view their work as an expression of art and get very upset or offended if you indicate that thinking about food is unimportant or a waste of time. Some extreme cases may even get angry at you if you waste ingredients or refuse to elevate a dish to its fullest potential by not seasoning it well or doing something else to ruin it. Other groups may be more relaxed and casual about food preparation, and a few might even not think about it much at all.

If a Mudwing invites you to dinner, it is paramount to figure out which of these groups they belong to beforehand, so you may get an understanding of how much of a threat this outing may pose to your health, especially if you are an Icewing or Seawing with a limited palate.

Is there any evidence for this in the books?

To my knowledge, there isn't much. Mostly because there isn't much about Mudwings and their culture in general. Across all the books, only one of them has a Mudwing protagonist, and the vast majority of it is spent in the Sky Kingdom, so his roots don't get a lot of exposure. Then whenever another Mudwing comes into the story, they tend to exit it very quickly after, without being able to share more.

I made this theory for myself largely in response to Mudwing culture being such a big question mark. I initially came up with it when I saw a Mudwing gardener in Escaping Peril and thought "That could be a cool direction for the tribe." The guidebook that released recently gave me some additional pointers with regards to a few of the looser points of this theory.

I'm hoping it is interesting, or at the very least entertaining in some way.

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat 7

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: Mentions of war

Summary: The magician and the Traveler exchange information

Note: Psst… guys… it’s here!!

Part One -> Part Six

-

Focalors and the Iudex has concluded their affairs in poor taste. They had left the meeting with more questions rather than answers, and their suspicions only increased a tenfold. Not a word Arlecchino said during that meeting could be taken blindly, she was a harbinger and everyone knew how they operated. To think the Fatui would put the creators safety at risk was a line that should never be crossed.

Only the Knave leaves the Palais Mermonia with a calm air around her. The large group of Fontainians who stood outside the building watched her leave, hoping to get slivers of information from the woman. She walks right through the group, heading towards her decoy ship. She wasn’t dumb enough to bring the ship that had you on it back to the harbor. Someone might be skilled enough to sneak aboard, or worse, you might get off.

Despite the time of day, the streets of Fontaine were quiet. The soft drizzle of rain over the nation seemed to be never ending and the Knave was the only person who was out for a careless stroll that late afternoon.

Once the harbinger rounded the corner, getting closer to the harbor she noticed a small shoppe selling sweets. The Knave didn’t necessarily have a sweet tooth but perhaps you did?

She walks towards the shoppe, staring intently at the goods while the shopkeeper had an uneasy look on his face.

“Was there something you’d like?” the shopkeeper asks, trying his best to swallow his nervousness.

Her eyes flicker to the confectioneries again. She hasn’t had much time to study you, so she wasn’t sure what your taste was. Did you prefer chocolates? Sour candy? Nougat? Arlecchino clicks her tongue. She wants to win your favor, especially before she docks in Snezhnaya.

“I’ll take one of everything you have.” She states.

The shopkeeper stammers. “O-One of everything?”

“Is that not possible?” She questions. “If it’s the mora you worry about, I assure you I have it.”

The shopkeeper hesitates for a moment longer before he quickly begin to pack all of the sweets and candy into two boxes tied perfectly with a red bow. Arlecchino drops a pouch filled with mora onto the counter.

“T—thank you for your patronage!” He says happily as she leaves with the two boxes in her hand.

———

Once the Knave left, you never exited your room. Although you could hear the soft whispers of Fatui agents who debated entering the room. Most of them saying they just want to see you themselves or wanting to check if you needed anything.

You roll your eyes, ever since you woke up in that bed in Fontaine’s hospital you haven’t had time to yourself. Sure you could scream for them to get out and leave you alone, but they would never go too far. Just staying out of sight to avoid invoking your wrath again.

“Your Grace.”

A voice breaks you out of your irritation. It was the Knave. She had returned already… or maybe hours have already passed? You couldn’t tell.

Her gaze flicks down at the plate in front of you. “I see you’ve ate all of your meal. Good.”

Your eyes drift over to the boxes in her hands and she quickly notices your gaze.

“Do you have a sweet tooth, Your Grace?” she asks.

Arlecchino opens one of the boxes presenting the inside to you, it was filled with many candies and baked goods all placed in an orderly fashion.

“I happened to pass a shoppe on my way back to the ship,” she explains. “You haven’t had the time to try any of Fontaine’s desserts so I bought you a few things.”

You raise a brow, looking at both boxes. A few things?!

“Thank you.” You finally say after a moment of silence, you reach into the box bringing one of the treats to your lips and taking a bite.

The Knave smiles in approval, closing the box but placing it close enough for you to reach.

“There’s actually a few things I wanted to talk about.” You say after swallowing.

Arlecchino nods, “Of course. Whatever you wish.” Her eyes focus on you, waiting patiently for you to begin speaking again.

“Oh! Um… I’d like to know more about the Fatui and its harbingers.” you say.

Her eyes narrow slightly, as she taps her chin. “Where should to begin….” Arlecchino states.

-

It’s was lights out in the Fortress of Meropide. Guards patrolled the area making sure all of the inmates were in their designated dorms. While the Duke sat in his office with a cup of tea in his hand. The champion duelist, Clorinde sat across from him, a calm expression on her face.

“You arrived late,” Wriothesley comments, “did you come here to enjoy a cup of tea with me?”

Clorinde huffs, “Certainly not. I came here to inform you about the situation.”

Wriothesley sets down his teacup, “have you been able to locate Their Grace yet?”

“No…” Clorinde sighs, looking down at her lap. “Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina had a meeting with the Knave. It didn’t leave much to be desired… we still cannot confirm if the Knave is responsible for their disappearance.”

Wriothesley leans back in his seat, resting his chin in his palm.

“What are you thinking about?” Clorinde questions.

“Have you heard of those children from the House of the Hearth?” Wriothesley asks.

Clorinde’s eyebrows furrow, “Lyney and Lynette? I have, they were on trial not long ago but were proven innocent.”

Wriothesley nods, “They’re currently in the Fortress for stealing… but i’m sure it was the Knave who sent them here to look into her colleagues whereabouts. I even noticed them asking about the forbidden zone.”

Wriothesley picks up his teacup, “I haven’t taken any action against them yet, since i’m curious where Tartaglia went myself.”

“Do you think it’s possible he escaped?” Clorinde asks crossing her arms.

Wriothesley shrugs, “I’m not sure, but I am sure that we could use those children as a bargaining chip against the Knave.”

“It’s clear those three care deeply about each other…” Wriothesley says. “I’m sure with enough… motivation we can get the evidence we need and get the Knave to return to Fontaine.”

“And what about the forbidden zone?” Clorinde asks changing the subject.

He sighs, “It’s not doing any better. It’s getting closer to the red zone, and if it reaches that, that primordial sea water will overflow inside the Fortress and soon all of Fontaine.”

Clorinde nods, “I’m not even sure Lady Furina or Monsieur Neuvillette have even thought about the prophecy since—“

“I’m aware.” Wriothesley interrupts, “but if we don’t act now, Their Grace won’t have a Fontaine to return to.”

It falls silent in the room for a moment.

Clorinde lets out a sigh as she stand up from her seat. “Well, I have other duties to attend to, if anything else of importance comes up, i’ll be sure to inform you.”

“You’re sure on’t want to stay for a cup of tea first?”

———

———

Unlike most of the inmates, Paimon and the traveler weren’t asleep. They sneak past the guards investigating the Fortress under the cover of darkness until a certain voice quiet calls out to them.

“Hey! Over here!”

Behind a large pillar stood Lyney his head poking out as he waved at the duo.

Aether and Paimon exchange glances.

“You scared Paimon! How did you just appear out of nowhere?”

“Oh? You scare so easily now? Is there something worrying you these days?” Lyney teases with a grin.

Paimon crosses her arms, eyes narrowing, “You little...”

Lyney laughs, “Sorry, sorry. Get over here! and keep it down.”

The two approach the magician and notice his twin sister standing behind him.

“Oh Lynette! You’re here too!”

Lynette nods, “that’s right. My brother just cannot stand to be away from me.”

Lyney rolls his eyes then clears his throat, “Freminet is here too. Do you remember him?”

“Oh that one diver from the House of the Hearth? We’ve seen him around the Court of Fontaine before.” Paimon says.

“Now spill!” She adds, “We worked so hard to get you two off the hook and you still ended up here.”

Lyney lets put a dramatic sigh, taking his hat off his head. “Sadly, even the tiniest things can get you arrested these days. It was a small performance with a large crowd, the opera house incident left us pretty famous.”

“And then?”

“Well then guests wallets suddenly disappeared!”

“My brother was charged with theft and I was charged as his accomplice.” Lynette explains.

“The missing wallets are all in the leftmost drawer of the Maison Gardiennage's big filing cabinet. We just need to see how long it takes to discover them.” Lyney says. “In my opinion, the trick itself was preformed perfectly.”

Aether raises a brow, “So you got sent here on purpose. Why are you really here?”

Lynette glances at her brother and he nods.

“The last time I hid my identity from you. I promised not to keep secrets from then on. We are are friends so…” He places his hat back on his head. “We were instructed by “Father” to conduct an investigation.”

“I knew it! Paimon guessed right.”

“If you don’t know my dear friends, the Fortress hides a large secret. Many even believe the Fortress was built to keep this secret hidden.”

“The House of the Hearth have been investigating this secret for a while now, wanting to uncover the mystery. But then all of our informants, including the ones within the guards suddenly disappeared.” Lyney tells the two.

“We believe it’s a direct provocation. Suddenly all of our informants disappear in a matter of days.” Lynette says.

Aether brings a hand to his chin, ‘a few days? is it somehow related to the Creator’s disappearance?’

“Why is the House so interested in this secret?” Aether asked.

“Somehow, “Father” managed to confirm the Focalors does not have the Gnosis. She believes the secret of the Fortress must be related to that.”

Paimon groans, “so it’s all about the Gnosis again.”

“Well that’s about it from our end.” Lyney says. “What about you two? Did Monsieur Neuvillette send you here?”

“Bingo!” Paimon points, “Neuvillette wants us to investigate. The Knave has been putting a lot of pressure on him about Childe so we came here. We’re also hoping to find out more information about Their—“

“The prophecy.” Aether interjected shooting his travel guide a look. “He’s also concerned about the prophecy.”

“Ah yes, the prophecy!” Lyney says, “Father is worried about it too… hey I have an idea, why don’t we team up? The House of the Hearth has many reasons to seek the Gnosis, but our highest priority remains resolving the prophesized crisis. You can trust us on that.”

Aether sighs shaking his head, “Sorry, I must refuse.”

The twins had a look of disappointment on their faces.

“See? I told you…” Lynette grumbled.

“I see… it might be pretty difficult to get you two to cooperate with us.”

“Lyney has been looking forward to reaching an understanding with you since we’ve met.” Lynette admits.

“Just tell them everything why don’t you Lynette…” Lyney says his face growing red.

His sister places a hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay to open up a little…”

Aether sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. We can work together, but only exchanging important information. Nothing more.”

The magicians smile, “Wonderful! I was prepared for the worse but your prudent attitude is just as consistent from the first time we met. But since we’re exchanging information now, here’s something you might like.”

“During our investigation, we discovered a place called the forbidden zone.” Lyney begins, “most people wouldn’t talk about it at first but we soon learned from the guards that this place does exist.”

“A forbidden zone…? Could that be where Childe disappeared to?” Paimon questions.

“We’re not entirely sure yet. Although we confirmed its existence, we still haven’t found it ourselves.” Lyney replies.

“Anyways that the most useful information we have as of now, we’re still doing some more investigating but hopefully it can prove most useful to you.”

Aether nods, “We should return to our dormitories, the guards shift change will be happening soon.”

Lyney and Lynette nod. “Very well. I’ll use my cards to get in touch with you in the future, but until then—“

Lyney pulls one of his signature cards from behind his ear, before him and his sister disappear from sight.

-

-

“So Lyney and Lynette are here for the gnosis.” Paimon says, once they return back to their dorms.

“Let’s not forget what Neuvillette told us. The vial found in Their Graces hospital room, whatever was in it originated from Snezhnaya. The House of the Hearth are used to sneak missions so maybe it was them who brought the vial to the Creator.” Aether explains and Paimon nods.

“That makes Paimon think, is Childe even missing? Or was this a ploy from the beginning and now Childe and the Knave are returning to Snezhnaya with them?”

“There is definitely more information to be discovered” Aether adds, “But for now we should focus on getting some rest and continue our investigation tomorrow.”

Paimon yawns, “You’re right. All this thinking is making Paimon sleepy.”

Aether lays down on his back, his gaze focused on the ceiling until his eyes grow heavy and he falls asleep.

JADE CHAMBER , LIYUE

Ningguang and the rest of the Qixing sat at the large table in the Jade Chamber. There were papers piled up on the table, old scriptures related to the Creator and of Fontaine’s history. Including the Steambird post that was posted after their conviction.

The head of the Qixing was growing increasingly frustrated despite her neutral tone. Ever since it arrived in Liyue from Captain Beidou, she had reread the document every hour. She could recall all the punctuation used in the newspaper.

“I’ve sent many letters to the Hydro Archon.” Keqing says her hands laced in front of her. “It’s been close to a week and still no response.”

Ningguang sighs, “I see. It seems like they do not have any intentions of discussing this. We might have to send a diplomat, perhaps they’d be more willing for a peaceful discussion in person.”

“I agree.” Ganyu says, “but the Adepti are growing restless… they want to make the trip themselves to save Their Grace.”

“Have the Adepti even left Liyue before?” Yelan questioned from her spot in the corner.

“Not for a long time, they are still fulfilling their contract… but there is a stipulation in the contract that Their Grace comes above all else.”

Keqing sighs, “this is a mortal matter, we don’t need their involvement.”

Ningguang looks back down at the paper, “Considering the fact that it was a mortal who struck down Their Grace, they might not see it that way. But we can’t afford to expend our resources to keep the Adepti in check.”

“Leave them to me,” Ganyu reassures, “If the Adepti truly do get involved, I fear it might start another war…”

A chill fills the room and Ningguang stand up brushing her hair away. “That’s a worse case scenario… let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

“There are other matters as well,” Yelan suddenly says, her fingers brushing against the jacket on her shoulders.

“I saw one of the harbingers… the Regrator here in Liyue yesterday. At first, I was watched his movements and all he did was pull all the money out of the Northland bank and closed it until further notice.”

Ningguang raises a brow, “Is he still in Liyue?”

“No.” Yelan shakes her head. “He took the first ship back to his homeland early this morning… but it feels suspicious to suddenly close the most profitable bank the Fatui has.”

“I can go to Fontaine, I’ll be the diplomat and confirm Their Grace’s status.” Keqing says while standing up.

“I’m going to return to Jueyun Karst,” Ganyu states. “I’ll try my best to keep the Adepti in check. If anything problems arise, I’ll send word as soon as possible.”

“Thank you all of you,” Ningguang says, “Our main priority should be confirming the safety of Their Grace and hopefully bringing them here to Liyue.”

-

“…r Grace…”

“Your… G”

“Your Grace…”

Your eyes open. When did you fall asleep?

You sit up rubbing your eyes noticing an unusual chill in the air, all of a sudden it felt like winter. Yet at the same time, you noticed you had on a black and white coat, it had the same insignia that was on the side of the boat.

“Your Grace…”

You look over, it was Arlecchino calling for you again and again. She was also in a similar coat.

“Are you cold?” She asks.

“A little bit.” You admit, even with the coat on you still felt a chill on your bones but you weren’t sure if it was due to the weather or the extremely dangerous individual next to you.

“Don’t worry there are a lot of fireplaces inside.” She says.

She grasps your hand gently leading you up the stairs to the top of the ship.

It was extremely bright, practically blinding as the sun shined down on the thick layer of snow that went on as far as you could see. Even with the sun shining, none of the snow and ice seemed to melting. Off in the distance was a large palace, it was decorated beautifully and was completely coated in ice.

Your attention is then drawn to the dock, there were seven individuals standing looking up at you. Although most of them had a mask on their face, you could tell they were all waiting with baited breaths.

The one in the middle, a mask covering half of his face and with white hair bows towards you slightly and the others follow suit.

“Welcome to Snezhnaya, Your Grace.”

© avocad1s 2024

Note: HAHA I BEAT NATLAN 🙏🙏🙏🙏 ehem… anyways… I hope you enjoyed this part! and like always i appreciate your patience love you all and i hope you win your 50/50 for any character you want 🫶🏽

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if it’s bold, for some reason i couldn’t tag you!

[kitten4sannie]

ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ/ꜰʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ/ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: enemy emperor! yunho x empress! reader x scribe! yeosang

genre: historical au, smut

summary: you have another tension filled meeting with the stubborn man that wants nothing more than to conquer and own you. your new dedicated scribe records everything.

w.c: 4k

warnings: hard dom! yunho, bratty pillow princess! reader, bricked up witness! yeosang, monster cock alerttt, cnc, light mxm, exhibitionism/voyeurism, name calling/pet names, degradation, dirty talk (this man…he’s so nasty in this i’m not even sorry…), lots of manhandling, spanking/flogging, dacryphilia, half dressed kink idk, spit, hair grabbing, threesome elements, some cucky vibes, a little dash of praise, rough wall sex, creampie, yeosang licks everything up… AHEM, oral (receiving), fingering, cum eating, squirting

a/n: i was extremely high when i wrote this and i am down bad astronomically for yuyu and yeosang so yeah something religious happened to me during the writing process !! i mostly blame it on jackson wang bc that song is sooooo…. rfhhehwh it turns me into a rabid animal ngl anywaysss i hope you enjoy lovelies xx

Now Playing:

ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

As the empress of your country’s land, it’s always been up to you to partake in the anointed trivialities that required your royal attention. Aside from drawn out, traditional ceremonies to endless horse riding and archery lessons with a seasoned member of the congregation, you spent most of your time having meetings with your supposed suitors, having to listen to their boundless, self-important monologues about their days in battle, coming to know just how much knowledge they held in combat and war strategies, and fighting the urge to pull your hand away when they would hold onto it, pleading you with their eyes for your approval. It all bored you to tears. 

Though, there was a particular individual that you couldn’t seem to keep your mind off of, no matter how hard you tried. Jeong Yunho, an emperor from the land that bordered yours. A man from a bloodline that your family had gone to war with many times over the years. Despite that you were quite literally sleeping with the enemy, you couldn’t help yourself. You had never met anyone like him before. Instead of asking and pleading for your attention, time, and body, he simply took it. Took what he wanted from you without a care in the world. He wasn’t even bothered by that fact that your dear scribe still sat in the meeting room with you, hazily scribbling down everything that occurred and what was said, spilling bottles of ink onto his scrolls due to how flustered he was from witnessing the way Yunho forcefully conquered his dear empress with a domineering smirk plastered on his sweaty face, the panting emperor’s cock routinely disappearing underneath your disheveled ceremony garments and into your willing cunt. 

“Your Highness, Lord Jeong should be here any second now,” your fresh-faced scribe began from across the meeting room, setting up various sized brushes in a line, smoothing out a few creases he found embedded in the elongated sleeves of his ceremony robe. He suddenly looked up at you, concern present within his widened honey brown eyes. “Should I make more tea?” 

“That won’t be necessary, Yeosang, but your intention is very sweet, thank you,” you replied softly, making your way across the room in your heavy garbs, taking the time to run your fingers through your newest scribe’s hair, offering him a smile that made him drop one of his brushes. “Lord Jeong doesn’t drink much tea. He…prefers to get straight to business.” 

Yeosang’s smile dropped slightly when your hand left his hair, his eyes traveling your form as you sat on your knees in front of the meeting table, watching you take a sip from your steaming celadon cup and nod your head in approval of the flavor. “Have you considered his marriage requests? I’ve read some of the letters he’s sent to you…” The young scribe blushed suddenly, his eyes lowering to look at the blank spaces on his scrolls. “They’re quite intense. Does that sort of thing interest you?” 

You rested your chin inside the palm of your hand, your gold bracelets dangling from your wrist, squinting your eyes at Yeosang, your lips curling up ever so slightly. “It does, very much so. Lord Jeong is one of the most interesting men I’ve come across thus far…I’ve greatly considered his offers, despite him being the enemy.” 

Yeosang tilted his head, a few locks of his hair falling into his focused eyes. “If I may ask, your Highness…What’s stopping you from accepting?” 

You ran your finger around the rim of your celadon cup, looking at your reflection within the black tea, your smile fading. “I don’t want the excitement to end, Yeosang.” You looked back up at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling gently at his confused expression. “Marriage, as beautiful as it is, brings monotony, which brings contempt…” 

“Ahh, I see now,” Yeosang nodded slowly, giving you a sad smile back, feeling like he understood his empress a bit more in that moment. He squeezed his fingers around the intricately carved wooden brush inside his grasp.  “Your Highness, may I ask you a question?” 

Just as you were about to respond, the large, jewel-encrusted doors of your meeting room opened with a groan. A tall, handsome man dressed in an extravagant, hand-sewn traditional robe came strolling in like he owned the place, holding an expensive mahogany box within his large hands. 

“Oh, princess, I’ve brought you a present,” Yunho called out teasingly, walking up to the table. He acknowledged Yeosang’s presence with a nod, who bent over to bow. The confident emperor sat down across from you at the table, his eyes hooded, his lips quirked up perversely as if he was reminiscing about your previous meetings. “Hi. Did you miss me?” 

You rolled your eyes, pretending as if you didn’t care about the emperor’s arrival, despite your heart and core throbbing rhythmically from him simply sitting there across from you. “What did you bring me, Yunho?” 

“Something that’ll have your little scribe here pulling at his robes when I’m done using it on you…Maybe he’ll even spill his ink all over himself like your last one…” Yunho’s eyes shifted from Yeosang, who gulped, to you, who simply sipped on your tea, his long fingers rubbing along the smooth edges of the mahogany box. 

You tilted your head to the side, idly biting at the tip of your manicured nail. “Is that so? Well, get on with it. I’m a busy woman, as you know, and I don’t like when my time is being wasted with nonsense.” 

Yunho simply scoffed, shaking his head slightly, sitting there silently for a moment, the only sound in the room being Yeosang’s wet brush expertly sliding across the scroll and your nails tapping against your tea cup. 

All you registered was the sight of Yunho swiftly getting up onto his feet and heading in your direction, his feet thumping against the mat below. Before you even realized what was happening, you were laying face down on the table, watching your tea pool out onto the sleek wood, your intricately crafted tea cup now split in individual pieces. Yunho had you held down by the neck, his fingers closing around it, his warm body pressing against yours, able to feel his stiff cock against your ass, even through your thick robes. 

He chuckled at the gasp you let out, bringing his lips near your ear to purr huskily, “Am I still wasting your time, princess? Or is getting your little cunt all nice and wet for me something worthwhile?” Instead of letting you answer, Yunho simply reached past you, flipping the boxe’s lid open, bringing it closer for you to take a good look at its contents. Inside the box sat a hand-woven flog, the edges of it decorated with a silver finishing, making it glisten in the light. “Do you like your present? I got it made just for you.” He rubbed his cock along your ass, his free hand roaming over your upper thigh to the curve of your ass. “Can’t you see? I’m in love with you…” 

“Oh, please.” As you tried to get up, Yunho pushed his body weight down onto you, holding your wrists down with ease. “Do you really think I’m going to let you use your little toy on me in front of my innocent scribe, Yunho? Who do you think you are?” 

“I’m simply a man who’s head over heels for you, Y/N…Take some responsibility…” Yunho quickly reached past your neck and down to your chest to rip open your garments, tugging on them while you continued to resist until your bare body was revealed underneath the many layers.

Yeosang dipped his brush inside the bottle of ink with a shaky hand, his cheeks flushed, unsure if he should speak up, his eyes fixated on you, never having seen you in such an indecent state before. “Sh-should…I keep going, your Highness?” 

When Yunho forcefully bent you over his knee and pulled your disheveled robe up to reveal your ass, his large hands squeezing into it, you nodded your head weakly at Yeosang, feeling a bit dizzy from being treated in such a way with your lovely dedicated scribe watching on. “Please, don’t let us stop you from doing your job, Yeosang…you’re doing so well…”  

“Thank you, Your Highness…” Yeosang blushed from the praise, dipping his brush back into the ink, before pressing it to the scroll, thankful that his garments were thick enough to cover his stiffening length.

You weren’t able to reply to Yeosang when Yunho abruptly slammed his open palm against the curve of your ass, a moan leaving your lips instead of words. He smacked the other side of your ass to watch it bounce and groped along it, squeezing your sensitive flesh between his slender fingers. “That’s it…just look at that color…Wish you could see it, princess. Shall I add some pretty shades of purple and pink too? You’re my canvas, Y/N…I’m sure you’ll let me paint you with my cum next, right? Just like every time, yeah?” 

“Fuck off, Yunho,” you grumbled, attempting to climb out of his lap, throbbing at the feeling of him grabbing you by the waist and holding you still, knowing you couldn’t get away even if you tried. 

“You weren’t saying that last time, princess. You were begging me for more…” Yunho picked up the flog, running his fingers along the woven leather, before he cracked it in the air, making Yeosang and you jolt from the sudden loud noise, bringing joy to the emperor. “Take a deep breath for me, Y/N…” 

Just as you did so, Yunho brought the flog down onto your ass, watching the individual leather straps leave pretty red marks on your skin, groaning, “So pretty… you’re so pretty for me, princess…” and repeating the motion, lacking the proper self control to stop himself, even when you began to cry, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

“F-fuck…! Stop!” You kicked your legs and thrashed around until you were able to wiggle out of his grasp, just barely making it over to Yeosang’s large scribing table, before Yunho slammed you down onto it, knocking over one of the ink bottles with his rough handling of you. 

“Crying just for me, princess? You’re making me so hard,” Yunho sighed into your ear, moving closer to your face to lick one of your tears away, his hot breath hitting your cheek, your ass stinging more when he grabbed it roughly, bolts of pleasure shooting into your core. 

 “You fucking asshole…” you choked out, about to pull yourself up when the emperor pinned your hands painfully behind your back, feeling his knee press in between your thighs. 

Yunho tugged more of your garments off without a care in the world, huffing and as he shoved his hand in between your thighs from behind, rubbing two fingers along your clothed cunt, before tearing it off with ease. “Ahh, that’s what I thought…You’re so wet for me, Y/N.” He looked to Yeosang, who was blushing wildly, still just sitting there and haphazardly recording the chaos that was occurring right next to him, knowing it wasn’t his place to interact in any way unless either of you allowed him to. Yunho continued to rub at your cunt, enjoying the noises you and your gushing slit were making. “Hey, scribe, make sure you make a note about how fucking soaked your empress gets from getting manhandled by an enemy emperor. That’s an important detail, isn’t it, princess?” 

You struggled underneath the man, starting to feel ink soaking into your expensive garments, some of it staining your cheek. “Yunho, get off of me, or so help me–” You suddenly found yourself gasping for air, having been flogged again, though this time some of the leather straps reached your cunt, feeling it sting pleasurably in between your trembling thighs. 

Yunho looked over to Yeosang, who had his fingers clenched around his brush, his free hand in between his clenching thighs. “Hey, Yeosang, do you know why the previous scribe quit?” When he shook his head, Yunho grinned, admiring the pattern of bruises he left on your ass, running his fingers lightly over them. “He couldn’t handle watching his beloved empress cry and take what I so graciously gave her, but you can, can’t you, Yeosang?” 

He bit his bottom lip, feeling conflicted, not sure if he should nod or not. He instead looked to you, his eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Your Highness…” Yeosang whispered softly, hesitantly placing one hand on top of yours, holding it tightly. 

You looked up at him, smiling gently, blowing a bit of hair out of your hazy eyes, reaching your other hand over to rub the top of his knuckles. “It’s okay, Yeosang…I want this…” 

Yunho grabbed you by the hair, forcefully lifting up your head so that he could get a good look at you, practically drooling at this point, his cock throbbing against your backside. “Say that again…Let me hear it…” 

You turned your head to look at him, smiling sweetly, before you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit onto his cheek, satisfied with the way it dripped down along his tightening jaw. “If you hurry up and fuck me instead of continuing on with this bullshit, I’ll think about it.” 

Turned on beyond measure, Yunho grabbed your own jaw, forcing it open so that he could send a wad of spit straight down your throat, chuckling darkly at the moan that escaped your parted lips. “This is why you’re my favorite, princess. You’re such a bratty little thing, just aching to be put in your place, huh? You want me to do that? Fuck you into submission in front of your sweet little scribe? Just say the word….” 

This time around, Yunho could see the desperation on your flushed face, your lips forming a pout. “Please…” you whined, surprising yourself and the two men watching you with your sudden act of obedience. 

“Oh my god, that’s fucking it right there…” Yunho groaned, pulling at the sash wrapped securely around his slim waist and pulling it loose, so that he could gain access to his undergarments, quickly tugging his stiff, leaking cock out. “Do you draw portraits too, scribe? This slut’s pretty face should be kept in the history books…” 

Yeosang nervously shook his head, starting to spread the ink across his scroll from watching the way Yunho pushed you up against the wall, so close to Yeosang that his garments spilled into his lap, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist, just as he fully sheathed himself inside you, your soaked panties pushed to the side.

“No? That’s too bad…Well, at least jot down the fact that I conquer your Highness’s tight little cunt every time I give her a visit…” Yunho huffed out, smiling at you with his canines showing, his hands cemented tightly around your bare waist, bringing himself down to one of your tits to suck it into his open mouth. 

“God, will you just–aaah–shut the fuck up and…nnngh…fuck me properly?” you asked in between pants, barely able to take the emperor’s thick, oversized cock without feeling like you were going to break, your nails digging into his straining upper back through his garments, one side of his robe starting to drape off one of his broad shoulders. 

“Yeah? You want it rough just like every other time, don’t you, whore?” Yunho groaned against your skin, dragging his tongue up over your spit-laced tit to attack your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving your skin in various shades of red and purple. “Write this down too, scribe. The people should know that this pretty princess can’t cum unless she has a horsecock ramming into her cunt. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”  

You couldn’t even speak at this point, from the way Yunho lifted one leg up onto the scribe table, using the leverage to fuck into you as deep and hard as he could, about to cream yourself from the way he kept you pinned down, just using you like a doll made for his pleasure. 

Now almost directly underneath his empress and the enemy emperor’s rapidly joining bodies, Yeosang couldn’t help but look up, fixated on the way your cunt spread open each time Yunho slammed himself inside your clenching hole, feeling a few drops of your mixed arousal drip down onto his face and roll down his warm cheek. He gingerly opened his mouth and held his tongue out, now pressing his brush directly into the soaked paper, leaning his back against the wall behind him, his hand beginning to rub at his pre-cum soaked cock that was still trapped underneath his heavy garments. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet, princess…I think I might…slip out…” Yunho sighed heavily against your ear, roughly nibbling it with the aid of one of his canine teeth, slowly sliding his cock out of you and slapping his heavy cock against your abdomen, smearing his pre cum onto your skin. 

The feeling of being completely empty just as you were about to cum almost sent you into a full-blown rage, practically ready to start another war with Yunho if he didn’t stick his cock back inside you. You abruptly grabbed him by the hair, clutching a tuft of his damp icy blond locks, leaning in so that your lips ghosted his. “Fuck me, you goddamn bastard. Make me cum.” 

This time Yunho didn’t play any games, simply rubbing his cockhead back and forth over your throbbing clit just to make you shudder against him, before he slipped back inside, immediately pounding himself into you, essentially leaving you breathless. “Look at you just taking it, princess… I know it’s big…You’re doing so well for me…taking it so good, princess…I’m so proud…” 

The sudden bout of praise coming from the enemy in such a sickly sweet tone, especially while he began to pump hot loads of cum into you, sent you barreling over the edge, not doing your dear scribe any favors when you began to babble nonsensically, tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. 

“Yeahhh, take it, princess…I’m gonna knock you up so you have to marry me.” Yunho chuckled darkly, his fingers squeezing into your hips, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, biting at your bottom lip before he pulled away. 

“You’re disgusting,” you huffed, grimacing at him, despite the fact that your thighs were still trembling. 

“Don’t say that, princess,” Yunho whined, leaning his forehead against yours, slowly pulling out inch by inch. “You know how hard that makes me…” He looked down to Yeosang, who was breathing heavily underneath the both of you, his mouth agape, splashes of arousal decorating his pretty, flushed face and damp hair. “Hey, scribe, you’ve been a good boy just sitting here and watching the whole time. You want a taste of your Highness’s used cunt?” 

Feeling sufficiently dizzy, Yeosang looked to you for approval, feeling his cock pulse at your slow dazed nod, bringing his hands up to your thighs to caress them, bringing his lips up to kiss and lick at the wetness around your cunt with a gentleness that would’ve had you collapsing if your legs weren’t securely hooked over Yunho’s shoulders. 

“Make sure you get it all…” Yunho murmured softly, completely pulling out of you with a wet, shlick sound, dribbles of his cum beginning to gush out of your gaping hole, allowing Yeosang to collect it inside his drooling mouth. Yunho brought a free hand to Yeosang’s head, holding him against your cunt, finding great joy in the desperate, sloppy manner in which he ate you out, like a delirious, thirsty man that had just found a hidden oasis. 

It was when Yeosang slipped his slender fingers deep inside your pulsing cunt, his hot mouth closed around your sensitive clit, that you began to whine and whimper, one arm hooked around Yunho’s neck for support, your free hand going down to grab onto Yeosang’s hair when Yunho let go, gazing down to find him already looking up at you with half closed eyes. 

“It’s so good, you’re so good for me, Yeosang, I’m going to…oh my god…”  

Yeosang clutched one side of your bruised ass with one hand, curling three of his fingers inside you and rubbing them against your clenching walls, lapping at your clit, his thighs closing together, his cheeks bright red from the praise. 

All the while, Yunho simply watched on, his chest swelling with pride, occasionally leaving kisses and licks on your straining, marked-up neck. “Cum for him, will you, princess? Won’t you soak his pretty face with your squirt?” 

Having your lovely scribe in between your legs, eating your cunt like it was his assigned job to do so, having your sworn enemy pressing his heated, sweaty body against yours, more filthy words leaving his lips for your shared pleasure was all far too much. “Yeosang…!” 

Yeosang found himself being covered in a warm spray of liquid, tasting your squirt on his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment to bask in the pleasure of it all, opening them back up just in time for you to pull him into your arms, your bare body against his half-dressed one. “Your Highness…” 

“I didn’t mean to do such a dirty thing to you, Yeosang, I’m so sorry…” You used your sleeves to wipe some of the wetness away from his face, blushing more than you had during the whole night. 

“Your Highness…” he repeated, softer this time, giving you a shy smile, pulling his robe apart until you could see what he had done to himself. 

Your eyes widened at the milky stains of cum splattered across the insides of his ceremonial garments, looking back up into his eyes, returning his shy smile. “If I had known you had such an affinity for me, I wouldn’t have looked for suitors this long. Who needs them when I have you?” 

Yeosang reached up to hold his heated cheeks, dumbfounded by the string of events, unable to believe that his beloved empress could feel such a way about him. “It’d be an honor to always be by your side…”

You giggled, reaching up to place a hand over his, your thumb brushing over his pretty birthmark. 

Yunho cleared his throat, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, his robe already wrapped ornately around his body, looking like he did when he first entered the meeting room, besides the afterglow he was now sporting. “I’d love to stay here longer and experience this beautiful moment with you both, but my job here is done.” He patted both of your heads, as if he were a proud father, before heading taking a few elegant strides towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you, his tongue poking into one of his canine teeth, giving you a shit-eating smirk. “Until next time, princess.” 

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes, your arms still around Yeosang, watching your smug enemy leave the room with a soft chuckle. 

Yeosang chuckled softly, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, feeling confident enough to share his thoughts with you. “Now, let’s not kid ourselves, Your Highness.” 

“Heyyy,” you whined, giving him a pout, watching him pick up his drying brush up from the table. “Don’t you dare write that down.” When he motioned to dip his brush into the spilled ink, you hugged onto him from the side. “Yeosangggg, I’m still your empress!”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “By the way, what was that question you wanted to ask me?”

Yeosang gulped, studying the ink-stained table below for a second, before turning his head to look at you, your faces just centimeters away from one another. “Will you replace me one day, Your Highness?”

Your eyes widened slightly, taking in your scribe’s vulnerability, wanting to return the same energy to him, as he was deserving of it. “Never, Yeosang. You’re here to stay.”

Yeosang blushed fervently, dropping the brush back down to hug you into his arms, nuzzling your neck gently, his hair tickling your skin, about to melt inside his empress’s grasp. “Promise?” 

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, pressing your lips to his cheek, waiting for him to look back into your eyes to whisper, “Promise.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[kurokawaia]

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Genin! Sasuke Uchiha X Fem!Genin!Reader

WC; 1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers apart from sasuke himself, x fem reader, reader is apart of team 7, reader is a genin, reader is a ninja

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Reader and Sasuke who are on team 7 together, with Sakura getting jealous that Sasuke prefers reader over her. Sakura always tries to butt in on their convos but Sasuke just ignores her or tells her off. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 love your work so much 🤍🤍🤍 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

You and Sasuke just finished a training session in combat so you were sweaty and gross. Although, Sasuke didn't really want you to leave him, you could feel it, that he wanted you to stay. So now, your legs swing gently from a small stone wall near the training ground. Next to you, sat Sasuke who was leant forward with his elbows propped on his knees. 

You shoot a glance over at Sasuke, who is staring out into the training field, his eyes distant. A stifled smile quivers at the corners of your mouth, his one-track mind amuses him, he's just so serious. You can't say that, though, before the sound of footsteps reaches your ears and the comfortable silence is broken by a familiar voice. "Sasuke-kun!" Sakura's overly happy voice broke the peaceful silence. 

You bite back a sigh as she sprints up, stopping right in front of the two of you. "Do you want to train with me later?" Sakura asks, eyes wide and hopeful staring only at Sasuke. You can't help but feel a slight awkwardness as she comes to the two of you, Sasuke doesn't want her here. She doesn't even glance your way, and though you're used to that, it's hard not to feel you are some sort of third wheel when she's present. 

However, Sasuke is normal, where he does not even look remotely fazed by her presence. 

Not even bothering to look up from where he sits. "No," Sasuke answers shortly, his tone uninterested. You send a sideways glance to Sakura in time to catch her face falling, though she covers well, forcing a tight smile. "B-but... we're teammates, right? It'd be good to practice together," she presses her voice sounding as if she was pleasing now.  This time, Sasuke simply lifts his head to give her a sideways glance. "If I wanted to train, I'd ask her," he replies annoyed, his head motioning towards you without missing a beat. Sakura's false smile falters, and her gaze-really catches yours for the first time, in that second, the flicker of jealousy is there in the eyes before it is hidden fast. 

"Oh, right," she mutters, thrown off clearly by Sasuke's dismissiveness which shouldn't be odd because he always does it... It isn't the first time Sakura tried to force her way into your conversations with Sasuke. She's always been relentless in ways concerning him, and that determination to be near him more often than not leaves you in this position. "Well, maybe the three of us can train together?" she attempts again. But Sasuke's having none of it. "No," he says sharply, finally twisting his head fully to look at her. "I don't want to train with you.: The bluntness hangs in the air, and you watch in discomfort as Sakura's face twists with hurt, her eyes darting briefly between you and Sasuke. "Sasuke-kun, I—" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"I want to talk to her alone," he adds.

She looks down to the ground, her cheeks red in embarrassment. 

"Oh... okay," she stammers out in barely a whisper. 

She lingers for a moment as if waiting for Sasuke to take back his words, but when nothing is said, she turns on her heel and starts to walk away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. You feel a little guilty just watching her go. "You didn't have to be that harsh," you tell him, turning back to Sasuke, an eyebrow raised at him. He shrugs. "She was being annoying," he says simply. You laugh and shake your head. "You know, there's such a thing as being nice, Sasuke." "Hn," he grunts, falling back onto his hands and tilting his head up to the sky. "It's not my problem if she can't take a hint. You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that plays on your lips. That's just direct, sometimes a bit too much, but honest. It's one of the reasons you're able to sit with him like this and feel utterly at ease. Unlike others, you don't have to guess what he's thinking.

But sometimes, you don't know what he's thinking, you wonder if he is going to change. "Still, you really didn't have to shut her down like that in front of me. I feel like I'm caught in the middle of your weird rivalry," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. Sasuke utters a soft "tch," one that is barely worthy of a response in itself. He turns to you sideways. "I'd rather be here with you." The words catch in your throat, and for a moment, you're not sure if you've heard him right; he said it so nonchalantly. Still, with Sasuke, you know there's a weight attached to those words. So used to him being cold and distant from anyone else, but he's always been different from you. You let a soft smile spread across your face, and you lean into him lightly with your shoulder. "Wow, the great Uchiha Sasuke actually enjoys someone's company. What's next? You're going to start giving me compliments?" He gives you that look. "Don't push it." You giggle, falling back onto your hands once more. Sasuke shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture, but it set your heart racing. Neither of you does anything to pull away. You look across the training grounds to find Sakura staring at you, her face red with jealousy. "You know," you say after some time, breaking the silence, "you should try being nicer to her sometimes. She's not all bad." Sasuke says nothing at first, and for one moment you think he's just going to ignore that comment of yours. But then he speaks, quieter than a moment before. "I don't care about her." You turn your head towards him slightly, your brow furrowing a bit. "Then what do you care about? There is a long pause, Sasuke meets your gaze, his dark eyes unreadable just like they have always been. You almost think he is going to avoid the question, but then his lips open ever so slightly. "You," he says, barely above a whisper. Your heart stutters, and for once, you are at a loss for what to say. Sasuke doesn't look away, he stares into your eyes with a serious intensity that somersaults your stomach. You finally smile after ages have passed, your voice soft. "You're such a softie, Sasuke. He glares at you, his eyes flashing-but the faint blush dusting his cheeks is a dead giveaway. You laugh softly, light and easy, and he lets out a low "tch," turning his head away, not before you catch the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

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