#time is short if you stay foolish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexiroflife · 6 months ago

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“stubborn”

fluff, sickening fluff

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: you finally ask your boyfriend Toji to help you with something after months of pushing him away

to sum it up: reader is a stubborn, independent woman who despises asking for help, but you're just too short to reach your top-shelf

WC: 1,778

Warning(s): none

Toji knew he was done for when his heart flipped after you had asked him such a simple question, so stubbornly and quietly, your arms crossed over your chest and eyes casted to your feet.

“What was that, doll?” he asked you, smugness clear in his tone.

“Shut the hell up.”

You had to be one of the most stubborn people he had met right after himself. You were a small, pretty thing. Toji was twice your size and towered over you like a damn skyscraper. At first glance, he hadn’t taken you for someone with such a persistent habit of trying to handle everything on your own, but you surely had proved him wrong.

In the two months you had spent together, the assassin had watched you turn down his help time and time again.

He offered you money if you mentioned that you were a little low on funds? Hell no, you were finding a way to rack up the change you needed for your next meal. You couldn’t find what you were looking for in the store? You’d turn down his offer to ask a clerk and wander the isles for damn near forty-five minutes before you finally found what you were looking for. Someone was giving you the stink eye as you walked by? You didn’t need him to defend you, you’d turn around and tell the stranger off yourself.

Toji had to admit, he admired how dedicated you were to handling yourself. He found it attractive, how much of an independent woman you were. Half the time he hardly even felt like you needed him around. He was your boyfriend, sure, but you never let him do the things that ‘boyfriends’ typically did. You spent plenty of time together and stayed over at each other’s places, but getting him to kill a spider or put together a new work desk or help you move around your furniture was never something you expected, asked, or even wanted him to do.

Toji almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Here you were, a young woman hardly taller than his pectoral muscle, pushing him away anytime you were clearly struggling when you had full access to a ginormous mountain of a man over six feet tall. While he commended you for your hardened spirit, he worried for you just the same. You were more willing to wear yourself down to nothing for the sake of your stubborn pride rather than to ask him to pick you up from work after putting in overtime.

At times, he almost felt foolish as your partner. He was there to help you, and when you still didn’t want the help he willingly offered after weeks, he had begun to grow annoyed.

You both were pretty horrible at expressing your feelings and relying on people other than yourselves. You were both incredibly self-sufficient, and you came together because you enjoyed each other’s company rather than depended on it. Toji enjoyed being with someone who could hold their own, but did you really have to hold your own to such a drastic extent? Hell, he had found himself asking you for more things than you’d ever ask for him. Since when had he become the vulnerable person in the relationship (though his definition of vulnerability was hardly the same as an ordinary person’s)?

He knew that he cared for you and was only falling deeper into your relationship, so he wanted you to rely on him more. He wanted you to ask him for things. He wanted to give you more than what you needed. He wanted to give you the world.

But you never appeared to ‘need’ or ‘want’ anything outside of his company and presence.

He loved it and hated it at the same time.

So when you approached him where he lounged on your couch, lips twisting and leg bouncing, looking surprisingly bashful for such a tough woman, and fighting against yourself internally to ask him quietly:

“Can you help me with something?”

His heart burst and his mouth fell agape.

“...Heh?” he squinted, leaning forward and craning his neck as if he hadn’t heard you.

You flushed, crossing your arms tightly and chewing on the inside of your lip. You looked so angry with yourself for coming to him, but you truly had no other choice in the matter. Besides, you and Toji had shared enough disputes about your hesitation to open up and seek his shoulder to lean on. He wanted to take care of you. You were his girl after all, and he was practically useless as a man if he wasn’t there for you when you needed assistance.

You closed your eyes tightly and opened them again, looking off to the floor in embarrassment. “I need your help… reaching something on the top shelf…”

Then and there, Toji realized just how doomed he was. He felt fireworks burst, heard bells ring. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, for he almost had to pinch himself to ensure that he hadn’t fallen asleep in your living room and wasn’t dreaming up this entire conversation.

But no, this was real. You, his gorgeous, stubbornly independent girlfriend, who wouldn’t have dared to ask him for help with anything over the course of the two months you had been together, had finally approached him with a rather mundane task.

And you looked like it was destroying from the inside out to do so. You would have thought that you’d just asked him to strip down completely before her and do jumping jacks by looking at your bashful face… as a matter of fact, you probably would have looked far less tightly wound if you had been asking him to do something as ridiculous as that.

Toji smiled, a warmth spreading over his chest.

“What was that doll?”

“Shut the hell up.”

He chuckled lowly, pushing himself to his feet to stand before you. You didn’t look at him, too humiliated to meet his eye as his hand curved over the side of your neck, his frame towering over you. He tilted his head to look at you, lips quirking up in a smirk. “You askin’ for my help, baby?”

You were visibly fuming, jaw clenching and unclenching, lips puckered forward in an adorable pout. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Ask me again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Come on, you getting this worked up over asking for my help?” he murmured, leaning down. “Ask me again.”

“Why are you getting off on this, you freak?” you bit, snapping your fiery eyes to meet his. Toji melted. He just loved that fire in you.

“I’m not getting off on it. I’m just pleasantly surprised, is all.” His hand dragged down to your waist, holding you gently. “Why ask me now, all of a sudden? What’s at the top of the shelf?”

Your nose flared as you hesitated once more. God, you were absolutely adorable.

“A bowl,” you answered stiffly.

He raised a brow. “A bowl?”

“Stop asking so many damn questions! Will you help me or not?” you frowned, face heating.

“Not until you tell me what you need it for,” he teased, and you growled. He was having entirely too much fun with this, but how could he not? It was your first time asking him for anything. He had to make the most of this moment and treasure it.

“Toji, stop being an asshole.”

“Just tell me what you need it for, baby, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You rolled your eyes, grinding your molars together. “I wanted to start trying out baking…”

Toji smiled. “That’s all?”

“Yes, that’s all, and I need the big glass bowl at the top of the shelf to make you these fucking brownies with the new recipe I found.”

He laughed, thoroughly amused by the whole ordeal. “You wanna bake for me?”

“It was gonna be a surprise, but I can’t…” you swallowed your pride, practically choking on it while doing so. “I can’t reach. Haven’t been able to since after I moved here. Used to have a stepping stool, but I can’t find it.”

Toji couldn’t believe how happy he felt to have heard that stupid request come from you. His stomach was doing flips and his smirk was brightening, leading you to believe that he was making fun of you.

“Shut up, Toji!” you whined before he had even responded.

“C’mere,” he pulled you into him by your waist, your face colliding with his chest. He kissed the top of your head sweetly, rubbing your back. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“Whatever,” your voice was muffled by his shirt, arms hanging limply at your sides as you flushed furiously.

“Of course I’ll help you, doll. ‘Coulda asked me a long time ago. It’s just a bowl.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and do it before I find a way to climb up there myself.”

Toji pulled away to look down at you, green eyes gleaming tenderly with affection. “What’s the magic word?”

You glared at him. “I’ll kill you.”

He shook his head, entirely too please with himself. “Nuh uh. Try again, or no bowl for your brownies.”

“That harms you more than it does me!"

“Say the magic word, doll.”

Your blood was boiling, heart pounding with the shame and anxiety of vulnerability. You knew he wasn’t going to let you off the hook unless you indulged him, but you knew why and he had good reason.

He wanted you to ask him for things, and that desire of his was sweet enough for you to indulge him.

“...Please.”

You ruined him, truly. You had asked him to carry out such a small task, one that in the end would be serving him and not even yourself, but had taken everything within you to muster up the strength to even walk over to him after battling against it for so long.

He was proud of you. Your first steps were small, but they were steps further toward him nonetheless, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. He would have grabbed a million bowls off of a million shelves for you if it meant that you finally felt comfortable enough to rely on him for something.

He was done for, because he knew at that moment that he had fallen so deeply in love with you. You in all of your stubborn glory.

His smile crinkled his weary eyes as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled back to find that your angry pout hadn’t gone away, leading him to kiss you again. “Atta girl. Now show me that shelf you're talkin' about.”

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk season 2 #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #anime x reader #fluff #x reafer #oneshot

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otkuhotgirl · 2 months ago

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─── 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑 .

# with black-leg sanji.

milk started to leak from your nipples — and sanji was never one to waste food.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day one. smut (mdni). breast worship. lactation. praise kink. pathetic sanji. handjob. no y/n used. afab!reader.

WC: 2k.

sanji had witnessed a fair share of devil-fruits in action throughout their sailing. from those who were foolish in its essence, such as that of the candle wax; to those who were horrid and lethal — sanji could well-reminisce the brightness and the sharp ache that followed-in-suit to enel’s lightning strikes. he figured not another thing could surprise him; until his crew faced a short-lived and stupid battle against the pirates from a self-proclaimed stork-stork captain.

the opponents caused no harm. their captain, all but managing to brush your shoulder before being swiftly knocked out. relieved with your untouched health — as it was shown through your exterior —, the straw-hats’ lives returned to common routine in the aftermath, not a thing amiss. that was, of course, until you started to throw up.

countless examinations and book researches pointed out the source of your illness. the devil-fruit from the stork-captain was known for the ability to impregnate others. however, the user needed to touch two people, and that hadn’t been the case — which had sanji praying and thanking gods he hardly believed in. the mere thought of you, bearing the marimo’s child, was enough to leave him seething. comical reaction aside, chopper theorized that, as you had no bundle of cells within your uterus, you’d but suffer from some pregnancy-related effects for a while — perhaps a time equal to the duration of your period. their doctor advised you to refrain from touching others with the previous common frequency, as to avoid the triggering of said devil-fruit.

that had happened four days ago, and sanji was in the deepest pit of despair. you were far from sight throughout the day, gracing them with your presence only during meal times — and even then, your chair was placed the furthest away from the rest, as to avoid accidental brushing. sanji was half-aware of the anatomical consequences of pregnancy: nausea, cramps, swelling; and being unable to support you through it all was driving him insane.

the soothing herbal tea he brewed was intercepted. he had chopper trailing behind him for hours on end. whenever you aimed to spend time outside the walls of your room, the damned marimo stood by the crow’s nest door as though a guarding dog, unallowing him to proceed. even then, with the sunny docked and most of the crew elsewhere, sanji held no expectations of sharing an alone moment with you whatsoever, as robin had been the one assigned to stay behind in order to guarantee that the pair of you would be kept separated. sanji could neither argue nor defy a woman’s request, and robin could not be swayed with monetary bribery on your part.

he sighed. the weather was not suitable for lukewarm beverages, so he could, at least, distract himself from you with thoughts on how to turn thyme tea into a pleasant summer drink. a knock on the kitchen’s door — followed-in-suit by light steps — tore him from his thoughts, however. sanji’s nostrils were filled with the characteristic scent of your perfume, and he turned to your direction so fast he was positive a bone in his back cracked.

“my love!” sanji shouted, gripping the counter to resist the urge to jump you.

“hi,” you greeted softly, sitting on the side opposite from him.

his throat dried up. he had missed the sound of your voice and sight of your face. having you close yet again after four, painful and infinite days, had him squirming as though an addict being offered his most favored drug.

“how did you manage to convince sweet robin?” he inquired, whose worried you waved away.

“i have my ways,” you smiled. sanji fell to his knees, immediately bolstering himself up with flushed cheeks, for he could not waste a second of that moment. “missed me that much?”

“oh, mon amour, you have no idea,” he started out, placing one hand above his chest in order to profess his affection. “the sun doesn’t shine as bright without you. the food loses its taste. the vastness of the ocean brings not freedom but rather a cruel, monstrous prison—”

“shit,” you interrupted through a curse, the lovesick glance once held switching to one of annoyance. sanji’s attention remolded itself, his instincts all but shouting at him to pay closer attention to your needs, rather than to complain about his non-comparable misery.

“are you hurting, my pearl? do you need me to prepare something? perhaps some tea,” he fretted, searching for soothing herbs. “are there any cravings? i can cook it for you, no matter how offsetting.”

“it’s none of the sort, don’t worry,” you sighed. “i just need to see chopper later on. it keeps leaking.”

sanji’s eyes trailed to the wet patch on your shirt; two dots staining the fabric and offering him the clear outline of your nipples. his knees buckled yet again, although he had learned enough from the previous embarrassment to contain himself. pregnancy had a countless set of effects; he could not believe he had forgotten of lactation — a process which happened to have a direct influence on the size of your breasts. sanji caught himself drooling upon the sight of it; your hands supporting the weight you were unused to.

“does it hurt?” he inquired, licking his lips.

“it is far from light on the back,” you answered, squeezing it with a sour expression. sanji grew embarrassed at the speed of his erection — his cock aching amidst the coffins of his clothes. yet another renewed influx of milk had begun, leaving a trail in its wake; tearing through the thin fabric, molded into a droplet that fell on your thighs.

“mon ange,” he whined, losing his breath mid-sentence. sanji felt the surge of tears pooling in his eyes, the sheer yearn to hold you one enough to drive him straight into a bridge of delirium. ��please, it’s been so long.”

his hands clenched and unclenched. a pathetic gesture; a mute plead to be given the pleasure of groping your breasts. the glance spared was one filled with uncertainty, for you were the rock whose surface swayed with the waves of his lust. it was fair to be cautious — if sanji was a most decent man, he, too, would have waited — yet, he was anything but. the man jumped through the counter’s surface to drop on his knees in front of you, his lips ghosting over the flesh of your legs as he glanced up at you, shedding a single tear.

“please,” he pleaded. “i won’t put it in, i just want—no, i need a taste. i promise i will make you feel good, lumière de ma vie.”

your fingers threaded through blonde locks of hair; infatuation filled-eyes. “you wish to be good to me?”

“yes,” he whined, pressing feather-light kisses to the extension of your legs. “more than anything, ma belle.”

you hummed then, at last conceding to his desire. when your touch left his figure in order to remove the ruined shirt, sanji raised to his feet, placing his hands on your waist.

“wait, wait,” he stuttered, clearing his throat. “i want it to be comfortable for you. a mere kitchen chair will not suffice.”

your thumb parted his lips, resting above the lower share. “you’re so caring, love. always treats me so well, what would i do without my knight?”

he whimpered, closing his mouth around the tip of your finger, his tongue swirling with regained desire. sanji’s arms cradled your figure closer, raising you from the previous seat in order to reach a more comfortable room. you retreated your hand, wiping the tears off his cheeks with fleeting brushes of your lips. adoring whispers were a blessing bestowed upon his ears — praises regarding his strength; his beauty; his love. he could feel the warmth of his pre-cum, smearing the tip and the underwear’s fabric.

he sat you with tenderness on the crimson cushes of the leisure room, placing one of its pillows on your lap. when sanji’s fingers met the edges of your shirt, he found them trembling.

“so eager,” you cooed, petting his chin. “will you be my good boy, sanji?”

“yes,” he whined, tender hands working on the removal of your shirt. the wet patch was more prominent, with nothing but the dripping fabric of your bra separating him from the anticipated and sacred vision.

sanji struggled with the clasp, yet you neither reprimanded nor complained. instead, your words were nothing but soothing. “take your time, there’s no rush.”

he slid the straps down your arms, dragging his tongue around the internal dampness etched on your bra’s cups. the taste had him shuddering; whining and rutting his erection against your bare leg as he attempted to swallow it all, sucking on the fabric. your touch was soft on his scalp; toying with the disheveled hair.

“how does it taste?”

“like heaven, ma moitié.”

a lonesome string of saliva connected his lips from the fabric of your bra, yet it was broken once he placed it on the couch. you tapped twice on the pillow above your lap, beckoning him closer. sanji had then positioned his head on it, eyes trailed to your swollen nipples.

“open wide,” you instructed, and he behaved as though a loyal servant; you, his muse and goddess. “that’s it, such a good boy.”

he moaned, witnessing as you pinched on your left nipple, an amount of liquid gushing over. sanji angled his head in order to catch it all; his tongue lolling out. the perfection of your body had offered him a feast and he would rather not waste a single drop. the initial taste drove him mad, and you raised a knee to drive his face closer to where he wished. sanji’s mouth closed around the hardened nipple, as he cupped and teased the other breast, striving to have it leaking as well.

tears rolled down and sanji closed his eyes at the enhanced taste, moaning with sheer desperation as he delved further, his tongue swirling around the bud as his cheeks hollowed in an attempt to coat more of your milk.

“open your eyes for me, my love. i want to see you,” you voiced out, brushing his fringe aside. when he caught a glimpse of your face — worked up and eager; loving and grateful — he rutted his hips against thin air, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “my handsome prince; my diligent heart. you, too, want to be touched, don’t you?”

sanji tried to convey his agreement through a glance, the thought of departing his lips from your breast to produce an answer all too unbearable. you tsked, tugging lightly on his hair.

“a good boy uses his words, and you’re good, aren’t you, san-ji?” you dragged the syllables of his name, teasing him further.

“yes,” he swallowed the milk beforehand, his lips leaving your nipple with a pop. the sudden lack of contact had you whining — it was brief; hidden; but there nevertheless. “please, love, please touch me.”

sanji whimpered as your fingers hovered over the waistband of his pants. “how could i ever deny my baby?”

the fabric of his pants and underwear lowered ever-so-slightly — only enough to free his aching cock — and sanji cried out when he felt the teasing of your thumb on the tip. his mouth latched itself around your nipple yet again, his fingers pinching and teasing the other one as if to coax your essence. the strokes on his cock matched the rhythm of his tongue, swirling and hot, coated white. sanji dragged out his teeth — a butterfly-touch; a temptive bite — and your lips produced the sound of an angel’s choir.

you shuddered, arching your back, face contorting with pleasure as he claimed your sensitive breast. sanji’s eyes were wide, drowning in the magnificent beauty. crimson, warm, red dripped down his nostrils, a trail that merged with the white from your essence. the milk he failed to swallow escaped past his lips, dripping on the pillow; wetting his goatee. the sound of his moan came out muffled, though the vibration had you mewling.

“keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.”

he was your knight; baby; perfect. neither a failure nor a nuisance, but your good boy.

the taste was intrinsic to you, yet unique; the sweetest beverage he was given the honor to drown in. inimitable, stimulating points of his palate that diverged from those teased by your cum. the divine essence born from your pleasure had a saltier base, it would have worked well as a topping for caramelized meals, though sanji hadn’t been able to convince you to use your cum for that purpose. your milk, however; oh, how he yearned to use it. how would it affect the flavor of a smoothie, a cheesecake? which ingredients would suit best to neutralize the overbearing sweetness?

sanji groaned with need, groping your other breast, his cock twitching once the scarce milk tainted his palm, trailing down his wrist; wetting the buttoned sleeves of his shirt. his lascivious tongue followed-in-suit, his nose burrowed into your flesh.

“t’es mon obsession,” he whimpered, sucking on the tender spots around your nipple, ensuing a painting of red and purple; leaving butterfly-kisses and soft bites, tearing up as his mouth failed to swallow you whole. “je t’aime beaucoup.”

your voice failed mid-moan, and you pushed his face back into your swollen niple, eyes rolling once sanji returned to his previous ministrations. your palm squeezed him; his pre-cum a lubrification that enhanced the pleasure from the masturbation. he rutted his hips, craving your touch, and your fingers busied themselves with his face; drawing heart-patterns, wiping the fresh blood off his nose. your thumb brushed against the milk that fell from the side of his lips, red and white creating pink.

when you smeared the tip of your tongue with it, tasting and moaning around your own finger, sanji combusted. he tore his mouth from your nipple, rubbing himself against your hand while moaning louder than he had ever done. a drop of milk fell upon his trembling lips and he opened them as wide as he could, tainting your palm with his cum while your milk did the same to his tongue.

you hummed with approval, pushing his sweat-drenched fringe off his temple. “let it all out, my love. i’m here, that’s it.”

sanji choked on your milk, whimpering whatsoever as a particular squeeze dried him off his essence.

“a good boy cleans up his mess,” you cooed, wiping his tears. “will you be good for me?”

“always, my heart,” he stuttered, his tongue lapping at the damp flesh of his other palm, chasing the sweet taste of your milk.

the breast he hadn’t sucked on leaked less; sanji wondered if he could change that in the future. your thumb gathered the milk on his cheeks and goatee and guided it to his awaiting lips. sanji sucked on it with diligence, drawing pleasure from your approving expression. at last, he sat upright, wiping his cum hastily with his underwear, whining as you sucked on the rest of his load that stained your fingers.

“don’t move,” he instructed, pulling his pants up with a cough. sanji removed the pillow off your lap and properly laid your back on the couch. he wrapped his coat around your shoulders, caressing your chin before pressing his lips against yours. “i’ll pick you a clean shirt and bra. some water, too. just relax, chérie.”

when sanji left, he made sure to hide your previous clothes inside his own closet, sniffing the fabric and chasing the vanishing scent of your milk; committing it to memory. he would not be able to live without that, his palate itching to be graced with the sweet flavor again. he had no idea of the duration of that devil-fruit, but it was of no problem, as all he had to do then, to keep on draining you off your milk, was put a real baby on you.

— 🐈‍⬛ : the nasty month is officially upon us! had to start with my beautiful french blonde, the light of my life. 🫡 let’s have some fun through october!

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #op #op x reader #op x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op smut #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji x you #sanji smut #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece smut #vinsmoke sanji smut

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon is struggling, he can't get off and he doesn't know what to do. As his sergeant you are one of the closest to him and can see something is up. An impromptu visit late one night might just be what he needs... And the way you are suddenly making him bow to your authority and turning his brain off might actually make him come.

Word Count: 6.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2 - Read Here

Lt. Simon Riley is frustrated out of his mind and he’s no longer able to hide it.

Something inside the stoic officer is causing him problems as a recent development makes him unable to reach the finish line when he’s touching himself, a secret that is causing a mental roadblock to his release… and he knows it’s making him a nightmare to be around.

Being his sergeant, the second in command and one of the few people closest to him, you are the first to notice the shift in his personality. Simon Riley has always been a man of very few words, but lately he’s been even more silent when it comes to everyone else, except for you. Every time you two speak he is short and harsh and blunt as if you are getting on his last nerve. It strikes you as strange since you’re not doing anything out of the ordinary from how you’ve interacted before.

Then there is his temper which seems to be on a shorter and shorter fuse these days as a week turns into a week and a half of no change in his attitude. Mix that with the visible tension he is carrying in his shoulders whenever you are near and it’s hard to ignore how drastic things have shifted.

Something is up, though exactly what it is you aren’t sure, but you are curious to find out and nip this shit in the bud so things can go back to the way they were before: you two being able to interact in a friendly manner.

It is the weekend of the nearly third full week this has been going on when you finally decide that enough is enough. The last couple of days he’s avoided you almost exclusively and that is it; whatever it is that has gotten between you is going to be hashed out here and now. Determinedly, under the cover of darkness at this late hour, you make your way to his room with the intention of staying until this entire thing has been fixed.

Simon sits alone in his quarters with his hand shoved into the waistband of his sweats, his hand palming around his cock, stroking up and down in hopes that this will finally be the time his body does what it’s supposed to. Things are progressing fine…that is until he is abruptly interrupted out of nowhere.

There is a knock on his door and it rings through the room; who the hell could be so bold as to bother him at this time of night just when he is about to give this thing another try? Releasing himself, he straightens up his clothing and grabs his mask, putting it on as he stalks over to the door ready to lay into whoever is standing on the other side. He savagely flings it open and immediately he can feel his blood rushing until he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears at who he comes face to face with.

“Do’ya know what fuckin’ time it is?” he questions agitatedly as he stares back into your unwavering gaze.

Nodding in acknowledgement, you try to let his bad attitude slide; your mission isn’t going to be deterred just cause he wants to instantly get pissy. “Are you going to let me in or not?” you throw your own question back at him with a huff.

He weighs his options in silence as you stand in the shadow of his door waiting for him to react and after a few seconds he reluctantly decides that he can’t just keep you waiting outside; he isn’t foolish enough to think that if he just shuts the door that you will go away. There are too many prying eyes that could see something if he doesn’t act and he doesn’t need any of the bullshit that could come from someone catching anything. Stepping aside, he allows you to enter into the room.

“Shut the door,” he barks and you make sure it is secure before turning back to face him. You may have been permitted to enter, but the space right in front of the door is about as far as you can go as his body blocks you from moving in further, keeping you stuck between him and the exit.

“What the hell are ya doin’ ‘ere?” he asks.

Staring back up into his eyes, you survey the curious look through his agitated glare. There is something there sparking in their depths, an unspoken need of something that he is longing for, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. “You’ve been in a mood lately towards me and people are starting to notice,” you admit after a moment. “What’s going on, hmm?”

Simon diverts his gaze from your scrutinizing one. “ ‘is nothin’,” he says hastily, not ready to confess to you the cause of his frustration. It’s not exactly something he wants to go revealing to everyone…especially not to the source of the problem.

Just from his reaction you know it’s definitely not nothing and his lie falls flat without gaining any traction.

“Well something has gotten into your craw,” you say as you lean your back against the door with your arms crossed across your stomach; you can’t move so you might as well get comfortable as you hash this out. “Whatever it is that you think I’ve done that’s gotten you in a foul mood at me, if you’ll just tell me, we can figure this out cause we can’t go on like this; it’s going to affect our work.”

All he wants to do is listen to your words, but his attention is being drawn somewhere else besides your face and it is getting hard to pull his eyes away. Why the fuck did you have to wear that god damn tank top? Christ it’s so tight he can make out the contours of your body without even having to try and at his height all he has to do is look down to have the perfect view of the top of those juicy tits popping out of the top. Not to mention your jeans which look to be painted on to your every curve. There is a stirring in his pants, the first signs of life between his legs. It’s getting harder to tell you that you should go.

“Not exactly somethin’ I wanna talk ‘bout,” he says hesitantly as he adjusts his stance so that the fabric of the long, gray sweatpants he has on won’t reveal anything.

“Come on,” you say, trying to appeal to the small bond you had before all this, “you know you can trust me. All I want to do is figure out what I’ve done so we can move on.”

This isn’t your fault and Simon knows it isn’t fair to put this on you as if it is. As much as he doesn’t want to admit anything, he knows that it will only make things fester more if he doesn’t say something, and all he has right now is the truth. “Ya haven’t done anything,” he denies your culpability in his actions.

“Then what?” You wait patiently for his reply.

He clears his throat. “Look, I’ve jus’ been havin’ a fuckin’ time… Christ… tryin’ to … uh… get off lately,” he grumbles as he begrudgingly admits to his predicament. “Some god damn mental block that’s got me…unable to…”

The sentence trails off with a displeased sigh of defeat, but in all honesty he doesn’t have to keep going; just from that tiny bit of information you can glean what’s going on, why he’s been so on edge, and what he is going to need to fix it.

Simon needs to come.

“Seems like something I could help with,” you say as the corner of your lip upturns slightly at the thought. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would have come over; it’s not like… you know… we haven’t done things before.”

There is a pause. “Thought we agreed that those were just to let off a little steam and we were just gonna leave it be,” he says in that low, gravely tone that instantly has goosebumps prickling over your skin.

Simon has you there; a couple quick, adrenaline-fueled rounds behind the mess hall after a few high stress missions doesn’t make you two actual lovers, but that also doesn’t mean those meetings meant nothing…or that you would deny any chance you could get to have him again. You just can’t ever say no to him.

Besides, he should know that this is something you would be doing for the greater good, right? A distracted lieutenant could mean trouble for the entire team, not just you. So, if getting him off will keep him from being distracted it is worth it; that’s a good enough reason for you to remedy this.

But how?

There are several things you know about your superior officer and one of them that stands out among the rest in this situation is that he always has to be in control of everything in all aspects of his life. What if you took away some of that power? He says he feels like there is a mental block keeping him from climaxing, what if you just shut off his brain for a bit? Make the dominant become the dominated.

Simon was the one to turn your brain off those times past, perhaps it is time to return the favor. Mental blocks won’t be a problem if he is an overstimulated mess.

With a small thrust you push off the door and stand up to take a few steps closer towards him, drawing the distance between your bodies down to just a few inches. “Don’t you want to feel good, Simon?”

“Don’t know if this is a good idea, luv...” he still tries to deny himself even as he catches a whiff of your scent, that natural musk mixed with your perfume that drove him to lose his head those other times, and the fragrance conjures memories of the past that only make his pulse race more heatedly through his veins. He wants to come and he can’t deny that he wants it with you, but if he gives in and allows you to do this it may only make things worse.

You smirk and shake your head as you reach out to grab playfully at the drawstring hanging down the front of his gray sweatpants, lightly tugging on it so that the fabric puckers up. “That isn’t what I asked, Simon. Good idea or bad, that doesn’t matter right now. Do you want to feel good?”

Fuck, how pent up he’s been and with you standing here enthusiastically pushing to help get him off, how in the hell is he supposed to turn you away when now all he can think about is wanting to fuck you until neither of you can move? He knows this is a bad idea, but is unable to stop himself as gives in to your question with a short bob of his head up and down.

“Jus’ somethin’ ta take the edge off,” he says with a hint of desperation.

“Then let me fix that…my way,” you say as you shove him backwards towards the small sofa you see he has sitting up against the wall a few feet from the door.

Large, greedy hands begin to fill themself with your body before he’s even sat down, but that won’t do. That is still giving him too much authority. Simon is bigger than you and if you want to be the one to dominate this hulk of a man you are going to have to cut off his ability to use his body to his advantage.

“Hands off,” you bark as you take a step away.

You can see the immediate shift in your superior. Simon has seen you work with the new recruits and he knows the way you lead and how it demands respect, but being on the other end of it catches him unprepared on how to react and he stops dead in his tracks.

Giving him a second to calm down you step back in towards him. “This is no longer in your hands as doing it your way hasn’t seemed to work this far. What I think you need is for someone to turn that serious fucking brain of yours off for a bit and that’s what I plan to do. So, here’s how this is gonna go: you are going to keep your hands to yourself and use your words while I play for a bit or I’ll just call it a night and leave and you’ll be back to square one. Understood?”

Simon remains silent, unsure of where his voice has gone as he can suddenly hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. What is happening? In an instant the tables have fucking turned and everything he has known is flipped on its head. He isn’t used to giving away any bit of his control to anyone, especially not like this, but god damn does he have to admit that the visceral reaction he has to the way you are standing firm on giving him orders has his cock twitching as it stiffens.

He doesn’t know exactly what is happening inside him, but he wants you to keep going.

Standing there lost in the assault on his sanity, he isn’t aware you’ve moved until you have your hands under the edge of his mask and holding tight you pull it up off his stark features, discarding it to the floor before grabbing his chin and bringing his head down to make him focus on you again. Suddenly he can’t seem to intake enough air.

“I said, is that understood?” you ask again, with more firmness this time. “I’m gonna need you to say it - out loud.”

He swallows to coat the dryness scratching his throat. “Yes, understood,” he confirms.

You smirk. “Good. Now, take a seat Simon.”

Maybe this is something he needs after all; you’ve barely done anything and yet he’s chomping at the bit to have more. He desperately wants you to stay and he will do whatever it is to make that happen. Taking his seat on the sofa he places his hands on either side of his thighs against the cushion before looking back up at you with those warm, golden eyes expectantly.

“See, I knew you’d be good at this. You’re already doing so well for me just like the good little soldier you are, following my orders perfectly,” you approve and his stomach flutters at your praise.

Those dilated pupils track your form as you step up to the edge of the sofa and grab onto his knees, pushing them apart as you lower yourself down between them. Your eyes look straight ahead to the place you want to start at, that broad area just beneath his shirt.

“I think this needs a bit of attention, don’t you?” you ask as you pull your hands off his knees and bring them up without waiting for a reply.

Your hands splay open-fingered and wide across his chest, palms flush with his muscles as you drag them slowly down the rigid peaks and valleys of his abdomen over the soft fabric of his thin sleeveless undershirt until you can feel his pulse quickening under your fingertips. Reaching the hem along the bottom, you lift it up to reveal the broad girth of his torso: those beefy muscles lightly decorated with a thin layer of hair that travels down into the waistband of his sweatpants, a guiding path straight down to the final object of your mission.

You lean in as you lower your head down and he inhales sharply before holding his breath as soft contact is made from just your mouth with all that toasty, smooth flesh just below his belly button, caressing your lips against him repeatedly until his skin tingles. He jerks under the connection as you stick out your tongue and place the pad against him to run it around the indention right in the middle of his lower abdomen.

And suddenly he is vibrating under your lips as if he has been touched with a live wire. Every single embrace of your mouth leaves him reeling in the heat of pleasure until he feels like a puddle in your capable hands.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans with a hiss as he looks down to maintain eye contact as you move up the length of his trunk with your licking and kissing and biting at his sensitive body, leaving a trail of heat everywhere your mouth touches. He knows you can feel his cock stabbing against your chest as you lean further over his body to get at his sides, but there is nothing to help it now.

Sharp teeth trail deliciously painful across his meaty hips like a razor blade over all that beautiful skin and old scars that are still a little numb and add an entirely new sensation to the mix. His abdominals clench under your bite as he takes in quick, short breaths until he is panting as your yearning mouth latches onto the thick of his hip as you suck in the muscles and bite down. Small grunts echo from his lips as you tease and tease his body until Simon can’t help writhing under you as he gets lost in the way you make him feel.

One of his large hands leaves the cushions involuntarily and palms the back of your head, fingers gathering the strands of your hair in the spaces between them to guide you as you move up his body, but unfortunately for him you are going to have to stop; he’s broken your rule by touching and you aren’t going to continue until he’s been reprimanded.

“What did I say about those hands?” you scold with your lips still against him before you pull away, the immediate lack of pressure making him antsy for you to come back.

Jerking his shirt off his torso to get the damned thing out of your way, your eyes dart around the room in search of something you can use to prevent him from disobeying again and it doesn’t take long for them to land on his leather belt just a few feet away. Reaching and scooping it up, you turn back and immediately hold your hand out to him.

“Sit forward and give them to me. Now.” you demand and Simon is compelled to follow your every word as if he has been placed under a trance, more and more eager to see where this leads.

Quickly you gather his wrists together behind his back and wrap the belt around them, slipping it through the buckle and pulling taut so they are bound together, but not too tight. You set the strap under him so he is forced to sit on the tail to keep him from being able to free himself. Satisfied with his restraints you rise to your feet and move yourself over him, kneeling into the cushion so that you are straddling his lap and sitting on top of his wide thighs, his cock resting between your knees.

“No touching,” you reiterate and he repeats the phrase, desperate to not have you stop again.

“No touching.”

“Good boy,” you say the moniker and hear the second he stops breathing as his eyes glaze over.

Never has anyone ever called him that before so it isn't until this moment that he knows what it's like and it triggers some innate part of his brain that now craves your praise as if he has always been starved for it. If his cock was tenting his pants before, it is nothing compared to now. Keep this up and he may come before he ever gets inside you.

Oh he likes that, does he? you think as you watch him completely fall apart at two silly little words. Best make sure to keep that in your back pocket to use again.

Everywhere you place kisses begins to burn until it feels like he’s on fire by the time you reach his chest and latch your hand around the back of his head, your fingers making the short hair tingle across his scalp. Brown eyes flit down to your lips as if willing them towards his face; he desperately needs to taste them, press his lips tight against them over and over until they are raw.

Yet you won’t give in to his soundless pleas. Denial is making him overwhelmed with the nature of his desire and soon his mouth is aching for you to break and give him what he wants. Instead, you tilt his head away from you so that your lips can connect with the feverish skin of his neck.

The sensation of his pulse racing violently against the skin of your mouth is intoxicating. Knowing that you are the one causing nerve ends to spark to life makes you feel powerful; that strong, stoic man is falling apart at the simplest touch. This must be what it’s like to be at the top and you cannot get enough. Never did you think you would have it in you, but now that you are here you can’t get over the euphoria of it all.

His neck is a mess by the time you’ve finished your work and you release him from under your teeth to lean back and admire how pretty he looks with your marks covering him to the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. As your sight is drawn back to his eyes, you can see the depth of his desperate need swimming there as his slightly parted lips beckon you towards them.

Leaning against his chest, you bring your mouth closer until the space between your lips is only enough to force you to share air. His cock twitches against your leg as your lips ghost over his, but not giving in yet.

“What do you want?” you ask barely above a whisper.

Simon can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips as you speak and it is driving him insane. The ghost of your kiss can be felt across his mouth until the skin there is burning for you to break the tension. “Fuckin’ kiss me,” he says, his voice husky and dry with a slight rasp at the end.

You catch his gaze and smile with your eyes. “How bad do you need it, Lieutenant Riley? I want to hear the ache in your voice as you tell me just how much you want me.”

Biting his lip, he takes a calming breath that does nothing to the heavy pulsating beat of his heart. “I’m fuckin’ burnin’ alive,” he admits, a tremble in the start of his sentence. “Achin’ something’ fierce to taste ya again just like the last time. God damn ya tasted so fuckin’ good, sweatheart. Fuck, I need ta feel your lips on mine ‘fore I pass out.”

God, he wishes he could break his restraints and get at your lips, but with your combined body weight securing the strap beneath you both there’s no way he can pull it out; he’s been trying, struggling with the leather and getting nowhere.

Your lips are so close he can almost taste you and yet still so far that it physically hurts that they are not on him. He leans in closer, but you are quick to pull back so that he cannot even brush against them. His body squirms under the overwhelming tension of it all as you keep your mouth just out of reach.

“Tell me, because I’m curious,” you ask in a breathy whisper, “do you ever think about us fucking? Have you ever touched yourself to the memory of it?”

Cocky looks beautiful on you and Simon hardly knows what to do with himself. He bites the inside of his mouth in hopes that the pain will force him back from the brink of insanity, but he is no longer sane enough to even register anything other than the hazy euphoria course through his body like wildfire. You could ask him anything at this moment and he is so strung out that the only thing he can do is answer honestly just so you will give him what he needs.

“I…t-think ‘bout ya all the fuckin’ time,” he stammers out. “Don’t even know how many fuckin’ times I’ve stroked to the thought… I could even still remember the way ya feel wrapped around me for a while after, but lately the memory’s faded. That’s why…”

His hesitation drives you to believe that this is something significant. “Keep going,” you demand as your thumb strokes over the corner of his mouth over the remnants of a faded scar that leads down his jaw.

A strong throb through his cock, a product of his pounding heart, makes him choke on his words. “T-that’s why I can’t get off alone anymore,” he grunts through his heavy breaths. “And it has me fuckin’ outta my mind. Thought I’d not get another chance to feel ya again… and so I’ve been strugglin’.”

Now it all makes sense why all his aggression was directed solely at you: he had to be near the one thing he desperately wanted, but he thought he wouldn’t get to have anytime soon. It was eating him alive and he couldn’t relieve any of the pressure from it. Something about the way his needy voice hits your ears causes a stirring between your legs as your clit pulses.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” you praise. “Now, how about we fix that, yeah? Give you a taste of what you’ve been missing.”

The building anticipation is more than enough to kill as you finally break the tension and collapse your lips together with so much passion that his eyes are rolling back in his head as stars sparkle behind his closed lids. You taste a sweet as he remembers and he cannot get enough. Time doesn’t exist anymore as the moist warm air from your breath mixes in his mouth, the urgent connection of your lips making them sting from the friction, the heat between your bodies making him pant.

That mouth of his is insatiable, stealing all the sloppy, frantic kisses that you allow him to have until your lips are burning from the abrasion. He barely remembers his own name by the time you finally pull back from him; all he knows is that you’ve stopped and it has left him feeling so fucking empty.

His eyes beg you to come back to his lips, but you have something planned that might take his mind off the absence of your mouth for just a moment. “Lean forward,” you instruct, “I need to get these pants off of me and I want you to be the one to undo them… with your teeth.”

There is not a moment of hesitation or a word that needs to be said as Simon dutifully complies with eager movements as he leans to rest his forehead against your lower abdomen, his teeth heading straight for the button on the waistband of your jeans. Grabbing onto the fabric, he pulls it into his mouth and secures it with his teeth as he tugs and uses his tongue to unhook the metal before he catches the zipper and pulls the tab all the way down.

You aren’t going to be able to keep this up much longer, not with how you can already feel that familiar warmth growing in the pit of your stomach as a damp heat gathers between your legs. Even in a position of submission he still makes your clit ache and as much as you are edging him, the denial is working on you as well.

Placing your hand on the center of his chest you shove him back down into the sofa so you can remove your jeans painstakingly slow off your legs, doing the same to his sweats before climbing back on top of his lap to again straddle over him so that only a few thin fibers keep you apart. Your panty-covered pussy pushes down against the swollen tip of his cock straining against his boxers and you can feel the precum coating the tip soaking through the fabric as you press even harder over it.

Those thick limbs of Simon’s tense with an overwhelming need to touch, to feel your soft skin under his rough, coarse hands, to cling to all those deliciously full curves and every minute that passes only makes that need grow in intensity. There are no more thoughts, only sensations that overwhelm his consciousness now. You’ve edged him to the brink of insanity; his cock is so hard that he swears he is going to shred through his boxers if you don’t stop. He has to get at you.

You start to roll your hips over him in rhythmic waves, stimulating your clit off his tip until you are both a mess, and he jerks against the leather of the belt keeping him secure as if trying to break free. It’s time; he’s ready to be set loose.

Again you capture his chin in your grip and bring his face in close. “I can see you are trying to break free. What do you want?” you breathe the fierce words onto his lips. “Say it.”

“L-let me touch ya,” he pleads with what little dignity he has left, still struggling against his restraints.

You grind your pussy harder onto the stiff peak tenting his underwear and Simon grunts deep in his throat as his hips desperately rut against you to produce as much friction as he can. “But your groans are so pretty,” you moan as you roll your hips over him again and again. “Maybe I just want to keep you making good music for longer.”

Simon lets his head fall back as his eyes flutter closed; he cannot hold back those deep, guttural sounds that want to escape, summoned from the way you are grinding against him. “Christ baby, I need ta fuck ya,” he groans loudly into the silence with his mouth hanging agape.

Your pathetic little lieutenant, he does look amazing as a whimpering mess.

“You’ve done so good for me, Si,” you smirk, “I think you’ve earned your freedom.”

You get up on your knees and he lifts himself enough that you can wrench the belt out from under him and loosen the strap and he quickly pulls his hands out. They’ve barely been free for more than a few seconds before he is wrapping them around the sides of your face to aggressively drag it in so that he can overwhelm your mouth completely with his, taking the entirety of your lips and pressing his face against yours so hard that it hurts.

“God dammit, I’m gonna fuckin’ fill ya until ya can’t take anotha god damn inch,” he growls as he drives his fingertips into the bulk of your hips as he picks you up, carries you the few feet to his bed, and flips your onto your back to pin your smaller body down to the mattress with his as he crawls over top of you.

Wasting no time he reaches between your thighs and laces his fingers through the seam of your damp panties and rips them to the side out of his way as he shimmies his down just under the curve of his ass so that he can get his cock out.

“Can ya feel how fuckin’ hard I am?” he snarls as he aligns the head of his phallus with your entrance. “Ya see what you’ve done ta me? I’m a god damn mess. Now you’re gonna take it.”

“Yes, give it to me,” you beg, letting your tough facade fall away as you let him take the reins. “Make me take it, all of it.”

He prods against the tight opening as he readies to strike through and with a strong thrust he is inside you down to the base of his cock, the taut stretch around him that molds your walls to his shape nearly making him come just from the pressure alone. His eyes stay locked onto the point where he disappears inside your body as he waits to be able to watch it slide in and out.

“That’s it, baby. Fill me,” you cry out in adulation as that thick, veiny muscle stretches you out wide and fast, the pressure forcing your thighs to clench hard around his hips. Your fingers grip into his shoulder blades as you hold on for dear life, nails digging into his flesh as your body harshly adjusts to accommodate his girth.

Simon is trembling, struggling to regain some composure through the ragged breaths he takes. “God, I missed this so fuckin’ much,” he groans breathlessly and with such need that it gnaws away at your stability. “So tight, so wet, fuckin’ hell…”

It isn’t until he has calmed enough to start thrusting again that he realizes your hands are clinging to his back and now that he is in control again he rips them off and brings them up to keep your wrists restrained above your head, taking the opportunity to violently kiss your mouth and steal your breath away.

“My turn… no touching,” he snarls into your open mouth in mockery of your demands earlier. Two can play at this game and fuck does he want to return the favor.

His rough, hard thrusts shudder through the length of your body, shaking the bed along with you as his hips slam into yours while he punctuates each one with a loud grunt. He thrusts so hard it shoves his cock so deep into you he is nearly hitting the back of your cervix.

“God, ya feel so fuckin’ good,” his voice quavers as the pressure welling deep inside at the base of his spine radiates out through his limbs and threatens to burst at any moment.

It is a glorious mess that he becomes the longer he thrusts, drooling over your body as he can hardly function, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him and fluttering around him. Those rough thrusts become more sloppy as his abdominals contract, his full body clenching as he grapples with holding on for as long as possible. The gauntlet of edging you put him through earlier leaves him in agony now.

“Keep your pace and come for me, baby,” you coax him through it. “Be a fucking good boy and come for me. I need to know I’m the one that can make you fall apart.”

Your mind is all static now, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it. You are close, so close that it won’t take much more for you to come if he keeps this up and what better way to end this than to make him orgasm from the feeling of your walls clenching around him?

You focus everything on letting go and keeping silent so that the moment it happens he is taken by surprise and he will not be able to brace for it. Thrust after thrust he is trying to hold on to make sure you get yours, but he is losing it fast. Then out of nowhere your body shudders as you cry out and suddenly your body is squeezing him so tight that he can’t stop violently falling over the edge.

A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he hurriedly pries his cock out of you just as he burst his warm load all over your thighs, coating them in the sticky, milky white fluid. You grab onto his cock to stroke everything out as he trembles and grunts like a wild animal until he is dry and spent and only then do you let him go.

You melt like a puddle into the mattress as he finally pulls himself out from between your legs and falls down beside you, exhaustion flooding his body. Weeks of buildup have finally come to an end with an explosion. He turns to you, vision hazy as he relishes in the ecstasy of his high, and strokes your delicate cheek carefully with his rough fingers.

“Better than your hand, yeah?” you laugh, out of breath and dizzy from the flood of adrenaline and he chuckles along with you.

Simon’s body is still vibrating through the drunken stupor making his mind numb as he leans up onto his elbow as he pulls you against his chest so that he can connect your mouths again in a kiss that feels a lot like a thank you. With his mouth barely broken free of yours, you hear his whisper against your lips.

“I’m gonna need ya to do that again. ‘Cept next time, I wantcha ta fuckin’ make me really beg for it.”

Oh, I think you can definitely do that.

2K notes · View notes

wild-jackalope · 2 months ago

Text

Don’t speak! I know just what you’re saying, so please stop explaining, don’t tell me ‘cause it hurts!

pairing :: Best friend!Yuji x reader, older brother!Choso x reader (secondary)

warning :: modern au, pining, one-sided love, angst, love triangle, friends to lovers, smut, some dubcon (reader is intoxicated), fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v sex, low-key toxic at times hehe.

note :: everyone thank Gwen Stefani’s song for inspiring this fic 🙏 strap in cos this is long and angsty.

“And who’re you showing off those legs to?” Maki asked, utter judgement filling her gaze as she swept over the outfit you’d chosen.

“You don’t like?” You asked, suddenly embarrassed of the miniskirt you’d decided to try on.

“You look fine, Maki is just judgmental.” Nobara waved her off, offering a supportive thumbs up to you.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Maki continued.

“No one, this is for me.” You huffed, sure of your answer. Despite it not being the entire the truth.

“Choso, Itadori’s older brother.”

“Nobara!” You gaped.

“Seriously?” Maki’s face scrunched, eyeing you with double the previous amount of judgement. “Hasn’t he known you since you were little?”

“Well, yes —but I’m not little anymore. I’m grown.” You gazed at yourself in the change room mirror. “I want him to see that.” From the reflection, you could see Maki give Nobara a sidelong look, one that the short haired girl avoided.

Had you said something foolish? Blood rushed to your cheeks and you slipped back into the change room, closing the curtain in a quick swish. You unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to your feet and pile at the floor.

You were grown. You could see it in your body, in the plumpness around your thighs and in the breasts that were cupped by a bra. You weren’t the little girl clinging to Choso’s leg crying because of a scraped knee anymore. You were older now, you had matured in so many ways and you wanted him to see that. You placed on your clothes and scooped up the miniskirt.

If asked, Nobara would describe your feelings for Choso as a little crush, some fleeting fancy that had come with knowing him for so long. She wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but fleeting was far from correct. Each time his calm, tired eyes softened at the sight of you, your stomach flittered with butterflies. Whenever he greeted you with a tight hug, you went as soft as a melting marshmallow in his embrace and when he complimented you, telling you he was so proud of you everything crumbled, every judgment you had of yourself dissipated into utter nothingness. The feelings you had for him were seeded since you were a toddler and had since grown into a loyal love.

So, you paid for the miniskirt, uncaring of the price.

The next stop in your shopping trip was the food court, the three of you girls needing a rest and refill after depleting your collective energies shopping and discussing whatever relevant drama Nobara spilled.

“Do you need a ride home?” Nobara asked, taking a break from sipping up her boba.

“Choso’s picking me up.” You murmured, a subtle excitement tugging up the corner of your lips.

“Why?” Her brow lifted slyly and she smiled at you.

“My family is away for a little bit, so I’m staying at the Itadori’s for a week until they get back.” It wasn’t uncommon, you’d often been tossed to your next door neighbours like an orphan during childhood. However now, it was a choice from you. You didn’t need to stay at their’s. You were an adult, you could look after yourself. “Yuji wanted me to stay over.” You added. The reason why you said yes being able to spend a whole week with Choso conveniently kept from your mouth.

“What I don’t understand is why you aren’t fawning over him.” Maki stated, stabbing her glossy chicken with her fork, then biting it.

Nobara’s eyes slid over to Maki, wide at her statement. She didn’t speak though, silently sipping at her boba tea.

“Yuji?” You blinked.

“He’s pretty much the same as Choso, isn’t he?” Maki continued, chewing her meal.

You laughed. “Yuji isn’t anything like Cho, they’re completely different.” You shook your head. “Besides, I’ve grown up with Yuji, he’s like my brother.”

Nobara seemed to cringe at the notion, but still she remained silent. Maki too, continued to eat without making another comment towards the two brothers.

It wasn’t until they said their goodbyes to you, that Yuji was brought up again.

You’d left your hug with Nobara, then reached for Maki. As usual, she wrapped her arms around you with her unusual strength that could’ve left you bruised if the embrace wasn’t so brief.

“Say hello to Itadori for us.” She muttered. Now, if it weren’t for the simple action of Nobara elbowing Maki’s side, you would have responded with a chipper ‘sure!’ But as the caramel haired girl eyed Maki with a stiff annoyance, swiftly aiming for her side you suddenly felt left out, like the third wheel of some information they both knew and had not informed you of. Maki simply rolled her eyes at Nobara, uncaring.

“Uhm, okay, sure.” Your smile weakened and you waved at the two.

Behind you, Choso parked the Itadori family car in the pickup section. A car you could recognise anywhere, especially considering it had been fairly scratched up after Yuji’s father had lended it to his brother, Sukuna, who returned the car after three days of God knows what.

You slipped inside, letting the odd interaction with your friends leave you as you left them. You were far too excited to see Choso to let it linger anyway.

As you turned to see the dark haired man, he was already leaning over to bring you into a hug. His masculine scent filled your lungs like cigarette smoke and twice as addictive as nicotine, you wanted more the second he pulled away.

However, as Choso’s let go of you, he reached for your seatbelt, pulling it over you and for a millisecond, his brown eyes lifted from where the seatbelt strapped your body to your own eyes. His face so close, you could practically taste his lips. The gesture utterly melted your insides to hot lava.

“How was shopping?” He asked, returning to the wheel and starting the car.

“So good.” You sighed, still high off his close proximity. Conveniently, the branded shopping bag hiding your new miniskirt sat on your lap. “I got some nice things for myself.” You added.

“Do you need any money?” He asked, eyes floating to you for a moment, before returning to the road. A delightful shiver slipped up your spine at his glance, and you couldn’t help the grin that reached you.

“No, Cho, you know I’ve got my own money to pay for things.” You were grown, after all.

He shrugged, cracking a kind smile. “Alright, I get it. Don’t be afraid to ask, though.”

God, he was so perfect. You wanted nothing more than for him stop the car so you could smother him with hugs and kisses. “You spoil me too much, Cho. What if I asked you for a hundred?”

He shrugged, the simple movement very telling that he would give it to you, without a second thought. “You know I can’t say no to you.”

So so perfect. Maybe if he did stop the car so you could smother him, you’d ride him too, just to make him feel as spoiled as you did. You let the dirty thought linger, probably longer than you should’ve.

“We’re excited to have you over for the week, Yuji actually cleaned his room for you.” He huffed, amused, at the thought.

“Did he?” Why couldn’t you share a bed with him? You were so tired of waking up in the middle of the night halfway off the bed with Yuji’s sprawled limbs all over you— even worse, waking up to Yuji hugging you (borderline snuffing you) with all his weight.

“Mhm, he’s always so excited to see you.” A knowing smile presented itself on Choso’s lips, and you suddenly felt left out of some knowledge again. It left a bad taste in your mouth for the rest of the car ride.

Once home, Choso opened the front door for you and you were met with an unusually empty, quiet home.

“Yuji’s probably in his room, you should say hi to him.” Choso instructed, moving to the nearby kitchen and dropping the car keys on the table.

As familiarly as your own home, you strolled through the corridor. “Yuuuji.” You sung, pushing into his room.

As the door creaked open, you were met with Yuji midway through putting his shirt on. He paused just before it looped over his head, giving you a view of his toned back. Notably, his pants were spotted with a superhero logo and the shirt he had finally let fall over his body was large and baggy.

“Are you seriously getting into your pyjamas already?” You asked, full of judgement.

“It’s five pm!” Yuji retorted. “Also knock, you could’ve seen my dick.”

“Gross, and I could say the same for you.” There had been countless times Yuji had walked in on you changing, he could likely piece together what your naked body looked like with all the occasions he’s seen various clothes off you. The idea barely bothered you. You trusted Yuji after all. Trusted that when he saw you naked, he just saw you, not your body.

Technically, it wasn’t anything he’s not seen before. During the early days of your childhood the two of you would run around butt naked causing all sorts of havoc, chasing one another with water guns during hot summer afternoons or avoiding bath time together annoyingly late. Puberty might’ve changed your body, but it hadn’t changed your thoughts towards Yuji.

However, you wouldn’t be quick to take your clothes off in front of him now. “I’ll get changed too.” You uttered, opening his bedroom door wider.

He groaned, leaving with a heavy walk. “This is my bedroom, y’know.”

“Not this week.” You grinned, shutting the door before he could come up with a snarky retort.

To say Yuji was just a brother to you, or your friend wouldn’t quite do him justice. Best friend didn’t really fit him either. He was all of it, altogether. The guy who’d answer your one AM phone calls when you couldn’t sleep, the guy who knew exactly how to massage the stress out of your shoulders, the guy to hold you when you cried over spilt milk— he was your guy. Your man.

You weren’t completely ignorant to the idea of dating Yuji, so many people had told you you’d make the perfect couple over the years, it was only natural that you’d consider the possibility. The beautiful moments you shared with him over the years seemed to become muddied in your mind whenever you thought of him romantically. Your stomach would flip uncomfortably at the idea of kissing him. The times you held hands innocently darkened as you considered what if we did that as boyfriend and girlfriend? So you placed the thoughts inside a jar, sealed it shut and threw it into the basement of your brain.

After pulling your pyjamas out from your stay over backpack and put them on, you called to Yuji from inside his room. “You can come back in.”

He did so, entering back into his room and flopping onto his bed. You joined him on his bed, letting yourself freely fall on top of him.

“What’s for dinner?” You asked.

He had no reaction, just the small breath that escaped him at the comfortable weight of you. “Choso ordered some pizza.”

“Movie tonight?” You continued, too lazy to formulate a proper question. Yuji would know what you meant, anyway, he always did.

“Are you finally gonna watch Human Earth Worm three with me?” He asked, head lifting to watch your face contort in disgust.

“Fuck that.” He laughed, shifting you on his stomach at his chuckle.

“Please? It’s seriously good, I’m telling you.” He whined, clear grin still on his face.

“I don’t care man, can’t we watch something nice?” You considered Choso, he’d be there right next to you on the couch, watching. “Something romantic?”

“That’s the thing! It is a romance, if you look closely it’s about the love between the monster and the protagonist.”

On second thought, maybe a horror would give you the chance to cuddle up next to Choso (as corny as it was). “Fine, we can watch it. Just stop yapping about it like such a fanboy.” You smacked a hand over his mouth, muffling the laugh that left him.

Just as quickly as you shut him up, you pulled your hand back as his slimy warm tongue swished against your palm.

“Gross Yuji!” You wiped the saliva on his shirt, hitting his shoulder. You raise your hand again in preparation to give Yuji’s chest another clean whack! However your plans are swiftly thwarted when Yuji grabbed your wrist, rolling you over with his body weight until he was above you.

You yelped, laughing as he smothered your body into the now messy sheets. He had you pinned face forward against the bed, legs kept down by his knees and your arms held back by the strength you’d grown to hate due to it giving Yuji a complete monopoly over your body in wrestling. You squirmed roughly, tugging at his grip. The attempt at freedom worsened your situation, as Yuji just laid flat on your back.

“Get off!” You laughed, choking on the oxygen that Yuji’s weight wheezed from your lungs. Harder now, you squirmed; flailing your arms, kicking your legs, rocking your hips.

“Don’t move like that—” Not a joke, you could hear it in his voice. It was a quick plea, that was followed by a harsh suck in of air through his teeth.

And for a split second, that jar you’d thrown into the dark corners of your mind loosened and you wondered what would it be like to have sex with your best friend? He’d be the type of guy who’d like to take you from behind, surely. Before the lid could completely pop off, Choso’s voice echoed from down the hall, an announcement that the pizza had arrived.

In a flash, the pink haired boy gave you one last shove into the bed, pushing himself off in a quick dash to the front door. You scoffed loudly, immediately attempting to catch up to him in a scrambled hurry, abruptly sliding into a wall at your departing balance.

Pizza and a movie was a usual treat in the Itadori home whenever you came to visit, it was probably why Yuji was so keen on having you over when he found out your parents wouldn’t be home (that, and he really hated the idea of leaving you alone in an empty home for an entire week).

With the hot food served, the three of you planted yourselves on the couch, Yuji eagerly recapping the last two movies in the Earthworm franchise before pressing play on the third instalment.

Having only worked up enough courage by the time the movie had reached its halfway mark to enact you nefarious plan to cuddle with Choso, you’d shuffled on the couch, coming close enough to have your thighs connecting.

Delicately, as if you touched him without the grace of a fairy he might not notice you and pull away, you laid your head on Choso’s shoulder. You must’ve succeeded in your sneaky efforts, because Choso didn’t blink, nor tense, instead he lifted an arm and casually wrapped it around you.

Beside you, sour eyes narrowed at the sight.

He knew, oh how he knew. Yuji was slapped in the face with your pining over his brother since he was a toddler. Even at such a young age, he could tell there was something in your eyes— a glimmer of pure affection— when you looked at Choso that simply wasn’t there when you looked at him. He initially hoped thought you would grow out of the crush, but he just watched it grow. He watched you grow into a gorgeous person, watched himself fall further and further in love with you and watched you watch Choso. Not him.

The too-familiar feeling of covetousness bubbled in Yuji’s stomach, bringing forward the storm that was his feelings for you and tormenting him. I’m back Yuji! Gleefully yelled his jealousy. I’m back and oh, I dunno, this time I might just make you tear your brother apart! Why not? Gotta get that girl sometime, you know, can’t keep fucking your hand thinking of her forever!

He could practically hear your heart dance for his brother even over the screaming gore on screen.

He was only tortured by the sight for another half an hour, completely minuscule compared to the years worth of moments like these. Like a blessing, Choso finally lifted himself from the couch to clean up everyone’s plates.

“What’d you do today?” Yuji asked, quick to distract you from the disappointment of Choso leaving.

“I went shopping with Nobara and Maki, they say hi by the way.” You utter, eyes following Choso to the kitchen.

“Did you give her some money?” Yuji asked, raising his voice to reach the man in the kitchen.

“Guys please, I don’t need money I’ve got my own.” You assured. Were they really so generous, or did they just think you were dirt poor?

“That’s what she said to me when I tried.” Choso shrugged, offering a smile to you. “It made me feel like a proud older brother.”

A thick pause filled the room before you truely processed what Choso had said. “For me?” You questioned, jaw falling somewhat slack.

“Mhm, like my little sister is finally able to take care of herself.” He added, rubbing pure salt into your icy wound.

“Oh.” Was all that managed to fall from your lips.

Yuji eyed you carefully, mouth suddenly sewn shut. His stomach filled with a heat that was not entirely unpleasant.

At first, a queazy glow flushed your cheeks, then the feeling of your ka-thunking! heart falling into your ass hit next. Beside you, Yuji watching your transformation into a heartbroken thing right before his carefully observant eyes.

Had you really been so delusional? That wasn’t it. That didn’t fit right. After everything, all the moments shared. After cuddling with him while watching a horror movie, he couldn’t have just seen you as a pathetic little sibling. Had you truely hyped yourself up to be this mature, romanticised woman and Choso only saw you as the little girl that clung to his knee, crying?

Yuji could practically see the thoughts flash over your eyes as you sat in a tranced— stunned silence. His lips parted to save you from being buried too deep within yourself but you beat him to it.

“I’m going to go for a walk.” You uttered, zombielike.

You’d left the house before either boys could offer to go with you, or utter a quick concern as to why you were craving a walk so late in the evening.

Nostalgia. It spilled like water, filling each crevice of your mind. You couldn’t help it, you had already begun reliving each memory with Choso, overthinking, overanalysing.

'Cho look! I drew something' you'd waddle over to him, holding a crinkled piece of paper scribbled with bright neons.

'Oh wow, is this for me?' He asked, a praising hand resting on your head and sliding down your hair.

'Yup!' You beamed. He'd take the paper you offered and held it with such kind care, never folding it and keeping it near his chest. Even now, you could recall the way he always held your childish offerings with such care.

Despite growing up beside Choso, you weren't his little sister. You weren't even apart of his family. Not really.

'Fight me Yuji!' You'd rile up the peach haired boy like he was a dog too much. Pinching and poking him until he'd finally pounce on you, play fighting until someone burst into tears (you, you were always the first to tap out with teary eyes). 'Ow Yuji! That hurt!'

And he'd be there, a hand resting on your head and swiping the frizzed hair from your puffy, wet face. 'I know it hurts, are you okay?'

Christ. He was ten years older than you, there was no way you were even on his radar! It didn't matter your body had bloomed, you really were still the little girl clinging to his knee, crying. Weren't you? You were, you were finally sure, now.

As you inhaled the fresh night, a subtle scent of rain in the air, you consider what to do with the loving feeling that had seeded its roots into you over two decades. You couldn't find an answer, until the love appeared behind you.

A large coat weighed over your shoulders, planted by Choso who now walked beside you. "You'll get a cold being out here in your pyjamas."

His little hints of affection had become recontextualized in your mind, now instead of thinking he had some buried fancy for you, you could see yourself in his eyes, someone young and needing care. Rocks piled in your stomach and weakly, you thanked him. Even the soft gaze he held you in differed. It was some kind of nostalgia that creased his eyes kindly, a memory of you at a younger age playing behind his eyelids, maybe.

The rocks now piled up to your heart, burying it between pointy— jagged stones. Each silent step the two of you took thickened the awkward sorrow looming over you, until finally, Choso spoke.

"Yuji's been so excited to have you over, you know, he really likes you." He couldn't have picked a worse time to take up the role of matchmaker for the two of you. The implication hadn't seemed to reach you.

“I like you.” You finally freed the words, the piling stones now reaching your throat. It took a confused beat until Choso cleared his throat with a light chuckle and responded.

“I like you, too.” His hand came to rest atop your head, giving you a kind stroke, like he always did, before returning it to his pocket.

But you don’t. The words threatened to spill from your quivering lip. Not like I do.

"Let's head inside." Your short walk had taken you around a loop, now you stood outside the house but you weren't ready to be embraced by the homely warmth yet, you needed to think more.

"I'll be there in a sec." You kindly evaded his attempt to bring you back inside. His warm expression seemed to falter with confusion, but ultimately, he let you go, walking inside without you.

You exhaled, taking a wobbly seat above the road gutter. Little sister. The words haunted you. I like you, but no, I'm not attracted to you, I could never be! You're my little sis after all! Another exasperated sigh left you. Even your faulty confession couldn't lift the weight compressing your chest. You couldn't wait to rip off your bra, although you doubted it would elevate the internal ache.

The rejection wouldn't have been so crushing if you weren't so into him, which anyone could've assumed, but really, you were into him. Your type in men was basically shaped around Choso, having pined for him from such a young age.

Despite attempting to date during high school and the years following, you just couldn't. No man could ever really pull you from your crush, so you were never in relationships long.

But what now? You had the confirmation you'd never be with him, should you date again? Move on with a quick rebound? Go to the club and try hooking up? God you wish you could cry and just hurry up with the grieving process but you were too numb to be misty.

Taking you from the hurricane of your thoughts, steps crunched behind you, but still, you weren't done thinking just yet.

"It's okay, Cho, I'll come back inside in a moment I just—" But it was Yuji standing in the silhouette you thought belonged to Choso. "Oh, sorry." You muttered.

He joined you, sitting atop the gutter. “What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You sighed, face falling into the palms of your hand.

“I’m glad.” You could hardly see ‘glad’ on his face, it was stone, unwavering.

“What?” What exactly was he glad of?

"You finally know how he feels about you."

"Yuji—" Utter mortification. If you'd considered the idea of Yuji knowing about your little crush for a moment longer, you'd likely think huh, I guess he would've known this whole time. He's my best friend after all. But you didn’t have time to think about it, flushing hot blood to your cheeks.

“—Now you can get over this stupid obsession with him.”

Now, finally, the tears could start to form. Yuji's cruelty broke the dam that was your numbness. You stood, him tensing over your quick movement. “Stupid ob—? ugh! You—” A reasonable sentence caught in your throat and you were only able to wave an angry finger at him. Did he really see your feelings that way? Thought that Choso liking you back was such an absurdity? That it was an obsession? You suddenly wondered, if Choso came face to face with your love for him, would he think it was stupid, too?

Yuji swallowed, silently sticking by his rude statement.

“I wouldn’t love him—someone if I didn’t think I could be loved back.” Your voice crumbled. The slight crack tugged painfully at Yuji’s heart and despite the regret that washed over his mind like a cold tsunami, he wasn’t able to utter an apology.

Before the tears burning your eyes could spill, you turned on your heel and began walking inside his home. “Wait—”

“Just let me be, Yuji.”

He’d only left you alone for about an hour.

You'd decided to hide away in his room, after all.

Creaking his door open, Yuji's head peaked through the crack. His eyes fell on you cradling a pillow on his bed, your back to him. Guilt clawed at his gut to know he was the reason you were so upset (truthfully he wasn't, but he sure as hell pushed you over the edge).

Maybe, maybe if he finally told you how he felt about you, you'd understand why he acted so cruelly. What Yuji had conveniently forgotten to consider was the sheer amount of emotions that had currently resided inside you. Another confession? Well, you might just die of a heart attack!

“We should talk—”

“I don’t want to talk, ass.” You picked up the pillow slightly wet with tears and tossed it at him. You weren’t furious with him at least, that was a good sign.

“Look, the thing is, I—”

“No! Get out Yuji—”

“But! Just wait, I have something I need to say.”

"Don't speak!" you held your hands over your ears, kicking another stray pillow at him.

He held his hands up, surrendering himself and his voice to your demands but quickly, he peeped. "Can I at least sleep?"

"Fine." You shuffled across the bed, burying yourself into your usual side and flicking the covers over your head.

With the careful ease of a predator stalking its prey through the long grass, you felt Yuji's hands and knees crater into the bed as he slowly approached his rightful spot beside you. The warmth you developed under the sheet blew away as he lifted them, fitting under the covers with you.

He shifted, finding a comfortable spot on his back staring up at the ceiling. Five minutes went by and the skin on his palms began to itch, the muscles on the back of his neck tightened.

He shifted again, an attempt to reach real comfort. After five minutes of staring at a wall his mouth went dry and his toes curled in irritation.

Again, he shifted, this time, turning to face the back of your head. You let an annoyed puff free whilst his movement crinkled the sheets loudly, one he didn't seem to hear. Five minutes passed and he remained still, but his palms itched, his neck remained tight, his mouth was still dry and his feet were beginning to cramp.

You remained in a tense, motionless lay, eyes unknowingly shut tightly, begging sleep to take you far, far away from your body.

The covers softly crinkled again, but Yuji hadn't moved. You realised the sound was his arm moving as he pressed a light hand to your back, a silent ask. Will we cuddle tonight, or are you still mad? The question soon turned into a bribe as his palm pressed into the stressed muscles in your back.

You allowed him to work his apology into your skin, thumb tracing the muscles beneath your shoulder blades back and forth, creating a relieving rhythmic pattern. I'm sorry.

He continued grinding his palms against the soft tendons of your back. I'm sorry I was such a dick.

Sliding lower, he pressed into the thin muscles of your lower back. It's because I'm in love with you.

But when his hand began to lose motivation and slip from you at your unforgiveness, you sighed, reaching to pull his hand over you. You forgave him, kinda. He grasped your tummy, pulling you into his chest and his glowing warmth.

Friends cuddle all the time, okay? It's pretty normal. Thank you very much.

You could feel his breath pat the side of your neck and his hand occasionally twitch whilst holding you. It was normal, Yuji's always had a slight twitch in his fingers whenever you felt him hold you.

“If you had a boyfriend, would we still do this?” His low words rumbled from his chest into your tender back.

"I thought you agreed to no talking." You responded.

"Sorry." A deafening silence followed his swift apology that basically begged you to answer his question.

"If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't need this."

Again, his hand twitched.

"And if you had a girlfriend, you wouldn't need it either." It was true, and fair. Friends who cuddle only do it because they need a substitute partner, right? "G'night, Yuji."

"Night."

You weren't sure you had fallen completely asleep by the time you awoke, because when you checked your phone, you were face with the time being eleven PM. Fuck, you'd really had an early night. No wonder you hadn't slept long. Your throat ached to be soothed with cold water, prompting you to get up and poor yourself a glass.

You left the warmth of Yuji's arms, immediately regretting your decision to quench your midnight thirst. Lazily, you searched the floor for Yuji's red hoodie and placed it on.

The kitchen light illuminated your pathway to the tap and you wondered if Choso had accidentally left it on before going to bed, but you were greeted with him when you entered the kitchen.

"Oh, hey." Your voice came out in a groggy crack.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked.

"Just thirsty."

Choso eyed you, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. You looked so cute drowning in his brother’s jumper, it warmed his heart and cheeks. “Good to see you and Yuji finally got together.”

The excitement in his words stabbed at your chest and you could feel yourself plummet into sadness again.

“I was starting to worry that you two had a fight.”

“You’re wrong.” You attempted to state the words with a strong intent, however a quiver ripped the will from you. “I don't like him, Choso.” Your burning eyes threatened your already raw cheeks. “It’s you.” You hiccuped. “Please don't think I love someone else.”

In a swift rush, Choso had reached you, bending to catch your eyes. His hands hugged your arms gently. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, softly mumbling your name. "I'm so sorry I didn't know—"

He wiped away the salty drops that pooled in the corner of your eyes, his upturned expression guiltily taking in your devastated shake.

“It’s you, I love you.” You uttered again, chanting the statement that hung around your heart.

He pulled you into his chest, cradling your head in a solid embrace that lasted until your shaky breaths subsided. You pulled away from him, noticeable tear stains watering his clothes.

He took a deep, regretful inhale and you knew the words he was going to utter. “I've always thought of you as—"

“I know. It’s so obvious.” You stated in a huff, almost laughing at yourself for having thought otherwise.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“Choso,” you finally looked into his eyes, finding a sorrow lacing his dark browns, but still, his gaze was so soft, affectionately taking you in. It made your heart clench. “Does me telling you I love you, make you happy? Even a little bit?”

A beat rung out as he considered your question. “It does. Thank you.”

“Choso, will you kiss me, please?” His brows furrowed further and his lips parted to utter a polite no, but you begged again. “Please. Just so I know what it feels like.”

And Lord knows he couldn’t say no to you.

Both his large hands came to cup around your cheeks, his thumbs lightly pressing into the sides of your mouth. He dipped his head down as he angled your jaw. His lips were just as soft as you imagined they'd be and the way he kissed you with such sweet sensitivity was heavenly. Your heart stung with the melancholy of it all.

He broke away, lidded eyes solemnly staring at your tear bleached cheeks. His expression filled with utter guilt, completely ashamed he was the one making you feel this way. He pressed another, deeper kiss to your lips. As if begging that his lips would heal you, despite knowing deep down they’d likely make you yearn for him more.

The pity became too much to bear, so you let yourself fall away from his kiss. A sweet smack sounding at your lips separating.

His hands lingered until you began to speak. "Thank you, Choso, I..." You had nothing else to say.

"You should head back to bed, I'll... see you tomorrow."

He left you with those weak words filled with regret. You could practically feel the sickly feeling in his stomach as he walked to his room, metaphorical tail between his legs and head hanging low in shame.

What would did it feel like to kiss you? His little sister? Expect you weren't his little sister, you weren't apart of his family and most importantly; You were grown. You could go and do whatever the hell you wanted. So you did. To the only place that would accept a broken hearted girl with a fierce desire to get drunk. You were going put that damn miniskirt to use.

Yuji somewhat realised you were absent from his bed when he heard the front door of his house shut. You went to the bathroom, probably. Although, the longer he waited, the more he thought about it and laid there without your weight, the less asleep he really was.

When an hour passed and you still weren't back in his arms, he finally sat up and checked the time. Midnight. He first wandered the house in search of you, checking the bathroom, kitchen, lounge. You weren't there.

His heart hadn't dropped as much as you would expect it had, it merely ached because in truth, Yuji had a feeling he knew where you had gone. Checking your phone's location only confirmed his theory.

However that guilty ache developed into an aggravated disappointment during the drive to you.

His expression was scrunched with frustration by the time he reached the club, having spent $15 dollars just to enter and find you. He pushed past wobbly, half naked bodies, searching for your hair, your skin, hell he even tried to smell you over the stench of artificial smoke and spilled fireballs.

He found you tucked away in a corner, surrounded by smoothly dancing drunks, you fit perfectly into the moving crowd, having the alcohol serging your veins lull you into a swooning dance. Despite easily falling into the sea of people, to Yuji you were outstanding.

The peach haired boy became keenly aware of you in your perfectly blissful state; the flickering neons shining against your glistening skin, the way your lashes fluttered at the brightness and how your lips remained parted, puffing hot air and occasionally sipping at the almost empty glass in your hand. Wide eyed, Yuji soaked the image into the deepest part of his mind, remaining unblinking until his eyes began to burn with smoke.

Yuji had gone completely stiff against the grinding bodies and despite your inebriated condition, you had turned towards the intense aura piercing you. As though the moment passed in slow motion, the two of your eyes locked past the haze and lights. You had come to a halt, hand going weak around the glass of alcohol.

Unaware of their space, another body bumped into you, sending you stumbling forward and into another group of people who rejected to support you. You’d gone dizzy now, reaching the peak of blackout and it sent waves of disorientation over your eyes.

Now by your side, Yuji had taken you into him, holding you with a firm almost too-tight grip. His fingers cratered into the skimpy outfit you threw together before leaving, grabbing at your plush waist. You sighed against his steady, hard person. Your hand was empty now, no longer clutching your drink but being rested over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, cmon.” And despite the room thudding with music you heard his words with a calm clarity.

You came to outside the club, cool air kissing your bare legs and face. Your arms, however, were protected by a large red hoodie. You closed your eyes at the sudden vertigo, unable to remember how exactly you’d left the dance floor.

“Did you take something in there?” Yuji asked, you turned to see him sitting beside you, a wide eyed serious stare drowning his beautiful features.

You were mad at him, you quickly remembered. “No.” You brooded, leaning away from him and averting your eyes.

He sighed, relieved to see some emotion seep through your glossy eyed, dazed drunkenness. “Why are you here? And by yourself, Jesus, do you know how stupid—”

“Why are you here.” You returned, slurred venom drooling your tone.

“To make sure you’re safe, and bring you home.” He squeezed your shoulders and you realised he'd had his arms around you the entire time.

Hotness pooled around your eyelids and you slowly blinked away the wetness. “I wan’ to keep dancing.” You tried to shoulder his arms off you, failing miserably when he held you tighter.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded, searching for your eyes.

“I don’ wanna talk about it.” You murmured, the searing tears now falling from your eyes and to the concrete floor you stared at.

Yuji exhaled quickly, the sight of your glistening tears sucking the air from his lungs. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? It was rude.”

“’s not that, Yuji.” You gave into his hold, letting him pull you into his warmth and smell. “He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t even see me that way. I was so stupid.”

His heart ached to see your wet, bruised eyes, the raccoon ringlets of mascara, the smear of lipstick.

“Am I ugly? Why doesn’t he like me?” The way you looked at him, your eyes wounded, pleading, inarticulate, it made his heart lurch.

He hugged you, so tightly that the bones in your back groaned.

"Stop it Yuji," You sobbed, weak hand swatting his back. He continued to hold you. "You're makin' me feel worse." You hiccuped violently, chest surging and pulling.

"Don't think about him, it's not worth it, he's not worth it. He's— Fuck." He was trying to find a tone, an adult rhythm of speech, and failing. Your shivering and sobbing had regressed him.

“Just—Jus' take me home, Yu.”

And he did, but not to his home, to yours. Empty, with nobody but the two of you.

You remember slipping, but not making any contact with the hard floor. Yuji had held you close, his arm basically attached to you, being the pillar of your nonexistent balance.

You were now in the bathroom, bright lights yelling at your hazy eyes.

“You should shower, sober up.” Yuji hoisted you up by your hips and placed you on the bathroom sink, giving his side a much needed break from supporting you.

“No.” You leaned back, lazy eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

“C’mon, please stop being like this.”

“Help me then.” You threw him a bone, letting into his ask of you.

He exhaled, relieved. “Okay, fine.” Delicately his fingers pinched your skin tight shirt, hesitating to lift. You raised your arms lazily, giving him the consent he was looking for. The shirt slowly rose over your hips, tummy then chest. Yuji let it fall to the corner of the bathroom. His eyes avoided your boobs, like he would be cursed if he copped a look. Instead he intensely glared at your face.

“S’okay, you can look.” You murmured. Yuji shook his head in disagreement, but his eyes betrayed him, glancing at your cupped tits. You huffed a laugh at his weak will. Truthfully you enjoyed the attention. You hated that you enjoyed it.

“Sorry.” He took a step back and breathed. “Look, for what it’s worth, I think you looked pretty. The skirt is cute.” You hadn’t known you craved that compliment until it filled your aching heart with flushing blood.

“Jus’ take it off.” You slurred. He did so slowly, shaken hands unbuttoning then unzipping the skirt, slipping the short garment off with ease. This time, he didn’t even hide his gaze as he stared at your underwear. He swallowed, jaw tensing.

“Can you take the rest off?” He asked, a little desperately.

“No.” You droned.

“Then I guess you’re showering in your underwear.” He finished, freeing himself from responsibility. You groaned.

He gazed at your lidded eyes intensely, trying to gauge your soberness, were you just playing with him? Were you really that drunk? You hated the silence, you wanted more from him.

“So do you like me or what?” You prodded his heart. You knew the answer. You supposed you always knew. You just never wanted to hear it until now.

“Yes. I do.” He swallowed thickly. It made him nervous when he could feel his heart beating in his ears, and wrists, as well as in his chest.

“Don’t believe you.” You muttered, swatting his arm pathetically. It was a dangerous game you were playing, insinuating you couldn’t dare to imagine someone— anyone— him— having feelings for you.

"Believe it." He warned, playfulness evading his intention.

"No." More, you wanted to tease more out of him like a comb knotting straight hair.

His hands grasped at your nude sides and he kissed you. Harsh and desperate, he was proving a point. Through your fluttering eyes you could see his were screwed shut in angered focus. He was making out with your mouth, licking up the remnants of alcohol on your tongue and teeth. Compared to his brother, Yuji was sure and feverent. He wanted you, so desperately.

He seemed like the one with the stupid obsession now.

"Shower."

You allowed his order, adding your own. “Stay. I might fall.”

Stepping into the hot water substantially dinted your drunkenness, bringing a hot clarity to your mind. The running water falling down your skull was a constant tapping reminder that this was happening, or it was going to happen.

You could see Yuji's form through the fogged glass, his back turned from the shower. You wondered briefly, was it out of respect for your naked body that he turned away from you, or maybe, was it for his own sanity?

The steamed water cleaned your face of ruined makeup and the sticky club residue. Your ears still held a slight ring, amplified by the silence surrounding the tapping of water.

When you stepped out Yuji was there to wrap you up in the towel with a turned head. Useless, really. You thought. It'll be gone soon.

In a slow walk, he accompanied you to your bedroom, a silent knowing thickening the air between you. Darkness ate up your view up him, but you could feel the tension permeate off of his body.

“Y’gonna fuck me, Yu?” You asked, staring up at him with dazed eyes.

“Yeah, I am.” His words were hugged by a breathlessness. A shortness of breath that hadn’t stemmed from his lungs, but from his heart.

You both needed it. You needed to be desired, to be wanted, to be loved and Yuji needed to finally take you, feel you, show you how much he loved you.

Again his hands found you, the first points of contact on your still wet body. Next, his lips, hunting your pulse until he reached your mouth. With his unseemly strength supporting you, he dipped you into the bed, his weight following you, pushing you further into the mattress.

You could feel is thick, strong hands on you, feeling, exploring, pulling with helpless desire but no real strength. Multitasking between your lips and feeling for the hem of the towel, unwrapping it from your body.

He stayed for a moment, bringing space between you, staring at you as if he'd never seen you before. Your breasts heaved rapidly. Your face, all flushed and blazed with lust.

"I'm gonna make you feel good." He said, struggling not to pant as he spoke. That would not sound good. That would sound weak, unsure.

Your heart was not breaking anymore. It seemed rather to broil in your chest, melt. You were afraid the heat from your heart might soon destroy your sanity in fire.

And he was so gentle, not tugging or pulling but caressing you with a consideration that was almost prissy. Fingers rolling down your damp tummy, hesitating just before your hip bone.

You spread your legs, inviting him to your aching middle. The offer knocked the air from his lungs and he knew only your taste could allow him to breathe again.

Like you were his salvation, Yuji kneeled at the end of your bed, his face pressed up against your longing, breathing in your scent. His hot exhales patted your sex, dragging you into a moment of utter desire and need.

His breath came closer, until the thick humidity closed and he pressed a wet kiss to your clit. The melodic sigh of ease lifting from your mouth tugged on Yuji's already stiff dick, making him suddenly aware of his own arousal. That was for later, for now, he was starving.

He pressed another moving kiss to your bundle of nerves, adding a smooth swipe of his tongue. Another symphony played from you and he drowned himself in your cunt, playing with you like an instrument. His wet, sucking pampering your leaking sex.

The intensity ripped a twitch from your hips but Yuji caught your thighs before you could jut away.

You leaked such a bitter sweetness, it was too perfect. Food would never taste the same now that he'd had you in his mouth. Live, squirming and moaning so beautifully. When your hand came up to rake though his messy hair, he fell deeper into your cunt.

His make-out with your sex had fallen into the perfect rhythm, sending clean jolts of pleasure throughout your body, you hadn't needed to concentrate or hold your breath to be forced up the hill of your orgasm, Yuji was walking you up with utter ease.

His tongue only occasionally dipped to your chasm to drink up the slick leaking from you, but as he dipped past a single ring of your insides, a selfish desire to feel more arose.

He shifted and you felt a warm pressure circle your chasm. Your cunt was already sucking in the two thick fingers he offered you. He slipped in further, sliding along your tickling nerves, massaging you closer and closer to a release.

The tips of his fingers curled into you, working in perfect time with his mouth until you tensed in preparation around him. Another slight suck and roll over your clit had you cumming on his fingers.

You cursed loudly, a lovingly weak moan of his name leaving you.

The way your walls fluttered around his fingers had his dick jutting painfully in his pants. Now he could finally fuck you.

His weight returned over you, coming back to his rightful place above your naked body. He shed two layers, his jumper and the shirt underneath it. Not because he was feeling hot or sweaty, but because he wanted you to see his tight body and throb. Force into you a sexual attraction and utterly crush your notions of friendship.

It might've been the way he made you cum on his tongue, or the way he took your wrist and made you slide a shaky hand over his abs and chest, maybe it was the way his eyes drooled obsession when he looked at you—perhaps it was a lusted blend of everything— but you could feel the sickening flutter of love butterflies develop in your stomach.

His hand next arrived at the rim of his pants, freeing his erection from the tight confines of his pants. You hardly shied from the sight.

Nothing you haven't seen before, right? Well, the way his blood fat length leaked beads of precum that belonged inside you from his flushed, burning tip was certainly a sight you'd never seen before. He let your eyes linger. It was all for you, all because of you.

He only spared a glance to line himself against your cunt, he cared more to see the way your face would twist to be filled by him.

"Yu— oh fffuck." You weren't sure what kind of rejection would've left your mouth before you felt Yuji enter you, but you were glad it never reached your lips.

Sliding into you was like sliding into some exquisite oil. The white that flashed over his eyes at the sheer— everything— of you blurred his vision for brief moment. He blinked it away quickly, needing to see the way you threw your head back in pleasure.

His size filled you perfectly, reaching each sensitive crevice inside your mushy tunnel, you only wanted more. Yuji sat inside you for a beat, needing a break from the feeling of you sliding around him. He wasn't sure if it was his or your heart he could feel thumping between his legs. The break was short-lived when you began moving your hips in pleading.

He moved with you, using you, but letting you use him as well. The only sounds were the wet sonances of your sex and breathing; his heavy and horse, yours quick and light.

You wondered, if Choso could see you being fucked soft by his brother, would he still say 'good to see you an Yuji got together'? as if Yuji could sense your thoughts by the way your cunt fluttered around him, his fingers dug craters into your side and he spoke.

“You— shit— you thinkin’ about him?” He asked in a thin carping voice, sneering into your neck.

Your lips stayed zipped, unable to lie nor tell the truth.

“He couldn’t— hng— fucken' love you like this.” To stress his statement, Yuji rolled his hip deep into you, pressing a bruising kiss to your cervix. Your hands smacked over his shoulders, clawing his back.

"I know— oh fuck! Yu." Despair in your words, but Yuji worked to fuck it out of you, suckling hickies to your neck.

"I told you I'd make you—hahh— feel good. You feel good, baby?" He wasn't sure where the pet name came from but the moment it rolled off his tongue he knew he'd never use your name again.

His words regressed you into a submissive, panting mess. "Mhm, hngh! yes, Yu." You didn't mean to sound so ravaged and pleased, but your tone made Yuji's eager dick expand more inside you, becoming girthier with blood.

His rhythm finally dissolved into an excited bucking and from it Yuji drunk up your little gasps like a starved man. "You know I love you, yeah? My girl."

You could only nod, unable to even babble a response.

"Say it, hng— say you love me back."

"L-Love you, Yu."

And oh God, your words go straight to his cock, hurling him into a driven frenzy of mushing thrusts that glide right over your g-spot.

He can feel your cunt tighten in preparation, drawing a guttural moan from his stomach. He knew you were going to cum. It was like knowing him all these years had let him memorise your body, inside and out.

"Let me hear it, baby." He cooed softly.

Like an enraptured fizzing firework, your orgasm rolled over you. It bubbled loaded moans up your throat. You cunt fluttered around him, sucking him up, begging him to fill you with his cum. You jump at his sharp canines sinking down into the flushed skin of your neck and he shivered when he feels your nails dig into the sides of his neck.

He couldn't hold himself back anymore, barrelling over the edge as you clamped around him. His cock punctured your cervix in three strong half-way thrusts, leaving kisses of cum across your insides.

You both fucked your fleeting orgasms out on each other, you with rolling hips and Yuji with messy, unfocused thrusts that prodded against your walls mercilessly.

Even when you both came to a panting halt, Yuji still twitched hard and thick inside you.

"You're mine, now." He couldn't even conceal his absent breath. "You're my girl, yeah? M'gonna love you like this forever."

Aside from the proof in the territorial marks decorating your skin, or your gummy cunt being soaked from his cum, you already knew in your heart you were his.

But as his hips drew out in a slide you assumed would mean his exit, then pushed back in, making a circle of frothy cum and slick form around his cock you knew you weren't going to make it out alive without those words tattooed on your tongue.

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juletheghoul · 2 months ago

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covetous

a/n: Jesus Maggie, you really called me out on my bullshit for this one. Originally I want this story to just be a bunch of sexy encounters in a morally questionable world, now we're talking about feelings and love and how the hell did we get here? (This is how I would imagine him the first time he sees his Girl) Please enjoy this un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistake and errors are mine! please enjoy

Warnings; 18+ no minors, Marcus pov, vague but big-legal age gap, there's no actual sex, but memories of it, vulgar yet romantic musings, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.1k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

War is easy. It’s a language he’s fluent in, something he excels in. He is blessed enough to have survived more battles that he could count and has been more than rewarded for his prowess. Battle plans, marches and military strategy are almost second nature, the fury, the heat of battle, all that he can anticipate and it’s probably the main reason he’s come this far in his life.

Soldiers, camp life and brutality, those things are easy for him to understand.

Other matters, love, affection, attraction; these things are…harder.

Physically, he’s perfectly adequate. He's never been ignorant to his looks, or his build. He knows that he fills the societal ideal for a man. He’s broad, he’s strong, he has a good face and no physical flaws.

He’s never been short of attention from the fairer sex either but that doesn’t mean anything as far as he’s concerned. He’s had his trysts, and he thinks he might have even been in love before but his luck seems to stop, and stay within his vocation.

In his younger days, he’d broken his fair share of hearts, he’d been gifted the virtue of many a virgin in hopes of tempting him into a marriage. None of them had held his attention for more than that one night, and sometimes, in the late hours wherever he found his rest he secretly feared the Gods might be punishing him. Withholding the partner he hopes to find as payment for those broken hearts left in his wake.

As he grew older, wiser and more practical he learned to ignore that little emptiness. He saw it more as a blessing. Would he be where he was now with a woman waiting for him? Would he have hit his station with children bearing his name pulling at his thoughts in the middle of battle? Perhaps the Gods had simply made a trade. His life, or his heart.

He’d been content with his lot in life, until he’d seen her.

She’d served at a gathering he’d been loath to attend. His eyes tracked her, the shine of her hair, the curve of her hip, her pretty smile. Her eyes had locked with his for half a heartbeat and he’d felt it in his belly. A rolling, like waves in a stormy ocean.

She’d gone about her business, efficiently fulfilling her duties while the guests all spoke animatedly around him. He’d joined in after reigning in his reaction, but she’d taken every ounce of his attention with her.

He’d negotiated her purchase the next day.

She was quick. She learned everything faster than a lot of the others in his service, and she seemed to anticipate his needs before he spoke them. Most of the time, he barely needed to say anything at all, and so he kept quiet. Kept his thoughts, and his feelings to himself.

His biggest need though, was her. He wanted her bad enough to hurt, to ache.

He was well aware of the practices in other houses. Slaves were there to obey, and in most houses that meant obeying with work, and with their bodies. He saw no issue in this, it was the way of the world. No matter how badly he wanted her though, he couldn’t make himself order her to spread her legs for him. Maybe it was a foolish, childish thing but he wanted her to crave it just as he did. He wanted her wet, he wanted her begging for him, he wanted to see pleasure and lust on her pretty face.

He wanted her to want him.

A year passed, and every second in her presence was exquisite torture. A torture he submitted himself to freely and with a perverse pleasure. It was a test of endurance, until the fateful night she’d come to him with her wet tunic, all of her body on display through the sheer fabric. The shadow of her cunt had sent him into a frenzy and when she’d come back and caught him fucking his fist he’d thought it was just another form of punishment.

It was that look on her face though, that heavy lidded, open mouthed way she stared at him, nipples hardening that had finally made him crack.

That first night he’d taken her, he’d stayed up in his bed, almost blinded with want. Her body had not alleviated the craving for her, if anything, it’d only made it worse. He’d replayed their encounter over and over, obsessed with the taste of her on his fingers, obsessed with the feel of her lips on his. From then on, she’d only cemented her hold on him. Her quiet obedience, her subtle seduction, the way she’d managed to scrape the shape of herself onto his brain.

She’d made herself the figurehead in his mind, the holy place at which he prayed, the Goddess he served. If he could, he’d light a thousand candles at the altar of her cunt, and pray to them daily.

He fought harder to return to her, he took note of her wants, of her preferences, and made sure to cater to her, despite no one in the house, not even her realizing. He dismissed the younger boys that lusted after her, he was covetous of her to the point of violence. A small smile from her could dictate his mood. The thought of her in pain made him feel like some feral wolf caught in a trap, ready and willing to chew part of himself away to reach her.

Sometimes, after he’d spilled inside her, he’d let her fall asleep in his bed and relish the way she clung to him in her sleep. It was a double edged sword though, their stations in this life. A part of him fears that her want is only an act, a way to endear herself to him, her Dominus. A foundation to earn her freedom, or coin, or influence through him but then he sees the shy way she smiles at him and his fears are silenced to nothing.

She cannot fake the way she flutters around his cock, she cannot pretend to feel nothing, not when he sees the same jealousy he feels shining through her eyes at the mention of the mostly political proposals he’s denied. The things she says, the way she takes her pleasure from him, all of these things only compound his delusions that just maybe, she feels for him a fraction of what he feels for her.

It’s a sort of madness, truly, how that part of him that was the perpetual soldier had in so many respects switched their roles, had given her a control–a power he was sure she didn’t realize she had.

He was sick with want for her, ravenous, and yet unable to soften himself in a way that would make her see the truth, make her see just how much she truly meant to him. He couldn’t make himself show her, that whatever she asked of him, he’d do with a smile.

For now at least.

- Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue @ladylovesloki @alexiamargot06 @purple-fig @picketniffler @somedayheaven @flw3rrr

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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catiuskaa · 4 months ago

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RAINKISSED CHERRIES.

summary: by chance or luck, you and minho found each other that rainy summer evening. dirty dishes, cherries and all.

series masterlist (☆) collab with @dalamjisung !

wc: 3.1k

cw: absolute heart-wreaking fluff! short mentions of bullying, minho is a soft introverted cutie pie, the reader is a cherry enthusiast, and a slight suggestive thing on the end [as a present for all of you who thought the cherry emoji on the poll was for dirty stuff, lololol]

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

Minho was used to being alone.

It didn’t scare him, not really. He didn’t feel fear when all that was happening around him was the silence that crowded the restaurant after a busy day as he cleaned up his kitchen. He relished the scent of lemons that lingered on him after he was done, sometimes going as far as doing the dishes by hand instead of popping them into the dishwasher, in an attempt to intensify it.

He knew most people wouldn’t understand. And quite frankly, he didn’t mind it. The kitchen was his space. No one came in during their shifts, merely speaking to him through the window that divided it from the rest of the place. He could cook without interruption, with the tranquil chatter that the clients brought merely on the background as he hummed distant tunes he couldn’t remember the lyrics to while chopping vegetables or cleaning up a fish.

So he took his time cleaning too, waiting for his ears to get used to the absence of noise and to welcome the reverberation his steps made when he walked around cleaning the counters, or when he moved the plates and cutlery and glasses, the sounds all too familiar, or sometimes new ones, like the door to the fridge that now chirped as he opened it while checking on the list next to it to see what he’d need to buy or refill.

The rain sounded shyly as it fell on the roof over him, like a gentle reminder to bring an umbrella to work. Its soothing charm made him sigh in comfort, and Minho relished in the sound of nothing at all that filled the restaurant after closing.

And when there was a sudden shaking of the backdoor, is why his heart skipped a beat. Or that’s what he liked to think at first, considering that it seemed much more normal to relate that to the unexpected sound rather than the unexpected, unknown visit.

“We’re… closed,” Minho uttered, frowning lightly, confused at the sight of you.

He was pretty sure it was late enough for you to know that the restaurant was closed —if the fact that the sign over the main door that read HAVEN wasn’t on couldn’t have been a dead giveaway already—.

But under his disoriented grin, he found you smiling. “Right. S-sorry,” you mumbled. Your hair was wet, your clothes too, which was also weird, considering summer rain showers were never intense to such an extent.

It brought the conclusion that you had probably been walking under the rain for a while.

“Did you… um.” He felt a small lump in his throat, and he cursed in his mind.

Minho knew he wasn’t cut out for customer service. That’s why his brother, Felix, like the everlasting ray of sunshine he was and had always been, was the one who managed the front while he stayed in the kitchen. The sole contact he had with clients would be when they sat on the window by the kitchen, and that was only allowed in the early mornings, which meant barely any people interacted with him aside from the casual, “coffee, black,” or “is there a newspaper I could read?” He kind of enjoyed that sort of contact. Minho didn’t even need to answer, merely nodding and following suit to what the clients demanded.

But this was different, and despite himself, he tried to push through. “You’re soaked.” He stated, a fact you didn’t dare to contradict, as foolish as that might have been, taking in the state of you. “Come in. You’ll get a cold.”

He moved on autopilot as he headed to the locker that stood in the corner of the kitchen. There was a small smile of triumph that crossed his face when he found the towels that Felix kept there for rain showers, and grabbed one.

“Take a seat… if you, um, want to.”

You blinked at him, puzzled, watching as he left the neatly folded towel over the windowsill-like counter.

Licking his lips, Minho just stared at you, doubting his every action, going as far as wondering if his breathing was too loud for the silence that crowded the restaurant, bubbling with the gentle words he had just spoken.

But then your eyes got teary, and you smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky for you to see. His heart did a thing at the sight of your new-formed happiness, beating a bit faster as you took the towel and messily squeezed your hair with it, sitting on the other side of the counter.

You were an unexpected visit in his space. His kitchen. His mind related that to the fact that his heart was going what his brother would call “bananas”, now timidly troubled at the sight of you.

It was a small diner in a small village. With the exception of tourists here and there, arriving in boats to enjoy the cool water to ease the warmth the Sun brought. But there were no boats that night, if Minho’s view of the sea from the kitchen was right. Still, he had no idea who you were, nor how it was that he had never seen you before.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow?” The tone of your voice was soft, almost as soothing as the silence had been before your arrival.

He nodded, handing it to you with a sheepish smile on his features, ones that matched your own.

You sighed, plopping your head down against the towel, laying on the counter, fidgeting with the stool you were sitting on, moving side to side.

“Are you not going to ask?” You mumbled softly, playing with the wet strands of hair that fell over your eyes.

Truth be told, Minho hadn’t planned to, not when he had just remembered he had to dry and hang the wine glasses over the counter.

He let out a somewhat breathless chuckle as he unloaded the glasses from the dishwasher.

“Last time I walked for hours in the rain, I wasn’t keen on people wondering why.”

Your gaze felt piercing against his face, but he pretended to be so very interested in drying the glass in his hands. Mmh, oh, yes, glass was made out of glass. Surprising.

The snicker that passed your lips felt equally sad and amused, and a small part of Minho couldn’t help but think that it sounded way better than the tinkles of the dishes.

“Guess so, yeah.”

“You do look like you have a good story to tell.” He grinned bashfully.

The tips of his ears turned pink, but he didn’t mind it when he noticed the shimmer in your eyes turning lighter, entertained by his words.

“You think so?”

He cherished the giggle you let out. Better than a bittersweet snicker. Much better.

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

A gentle blush dusted your cheeks, and you remained silent, wondering what could be the best way to explain how you had ended up there, like a stray kitten, scratching the wooden door.

“A friend invited me over. I live nearby, I moved recently, but her house is closer to the main plaza here. You know, where the summer concerts are.” He nodded, attentively listening to your every word.

It wasn’t a place he frequented, much less when it was so crowded, but it was easy to hear the music and see the lights from his room, a recurrent scenario every summer since he could recall.

“I don’t drink. Which, to a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds, seems weird enough to comment on it every single time. Sometimes they say that I ruin the vibe, that I’m a killjoy. It’s whatever.”

Now, Minho sucked at social cues half of the time, —the other half he just wasn’t interested enough to give a flying fuck—, but even for him it was easy to say that, to you, it wasn’t just whatever.

“We went to today’s—, well, yesterday’s concert.” You snickered, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was okay. They had their fair share of alcohol, I had apple juice. I can’t say I didn’t have fun.”

Minho felt his heart pout inside his chest when he saw you shrug nonchalantly. And he lied too, by omission, deciding not to comment on it.

“Then we went back to my friend's house.” Your tone had changed, and the palms of your hands pressed into your eye sockets, as if that could make the memory of a few hours ago more bearable. “And I had this necklace on. A silly thing. Gold.” You muttered, moving your hands to your jaw as you kept speaking. “Probably fake anyways.”

You gulped, as if swallowing dry. “Suddenly, the girl who invited me turned against me.” You bit your lip, chuckling a cold laugh out of your system. “Said I was only there to drive them, because I didn’t drink. But now her boyfriend had a license.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Like, girl, your sad excuse of a boyfriend is one shove away from an alcoholic coma. Sure. Let him drive. First one who ends up in a ditch loses.”

Hanging up yet another wine glass, Minho snickered, which got you out of your head lightly, making you smile shyly, noticing your phone had turned back on.

But instead of throwing yourself at it head first, you sighed, continuing the story.

“She said I wasn’t needed now.” Your voice felt heavy with pent-up emotions. “That the only cute thing I could bring to the group was my necklace.” Your eyes were teary again, and Minho couldn’t help but scoff, frowning.

“Sounds like a handful.” He mumbled.

“God, yeah,” you passed your hands through your hair, “but the worst was when her boyfriend, drunk as fuck, decided that if she liked my necklace, she should have it.”

His hands stopped, as if someone had pressed pause on him, and Minho promptly left the wine glass on the counter, cloth inside it.

“He… grabbed the necklace and… and shoved me.” You recalled the motion, taking a hand to your neck, tightening it on a fist, and tensing up your body, as if you had been pushed right then and there before Minho’s eyes.

“And, well, the thing couldn’t really hold my weight to begin with…” You scratched the back of your head, your hair still damp under your fingertips. “The clasp got loose and… I fell back to the swimming pool.”

“God, you must be freezing, then,” Minho mumbled, the shock passing through his tone, mixed with light worry.

You dismissed it with a gentle groan and a flick of the wrist, but when he got you another towel, you were quick to settle it over your shoulders.

“I don’t know if Lix could have left something around here…”

But you settled your hand over his wrist, smiling. “No, please. You’ve done enough for me already. More than any of my so-called friends to begin with.”

That’s why I should keep doing more.

It was a thought, just a random idea, something far from being a grand gesture of any kind. Still, the weight of it threatened to tint Minho’s ears a deep shade of red and take his breath away. It was then and only then that he noticed a red scratch on your neck, just a bit over your collarbone.

You could only blink, puzzled, when he didn’t move his arm away from you, but instead leaned forward, slightly over the counter, boring his eyes to your neck.

“He did this to you?”

Ah. You were talking. Mmh. Having a conversation, yes. He— god, he was a total stranger. Handsome, sure, whatever. Ok, maybe not exactly whatever, fine. Still. Huh? What had you been thinking?

“I, uh,” you swallowed dry, but it hadn’t been full of awkward tension. Not as much as you had expected. “What… what?”

Breathless. It was ridiculous! How could a random, gorgeous, beautiful young man from the countryside make you so weak in such little time? It wasn’t normal to fall so easily for anyone, was it?

His eyes stared at yours, and the brown of his calmed your racing heart and fuzzy mind.

Oh.

“Um. You have a… t-there’s a… scratch. Red. From, um, the necklace, probably.”

But neither of you had moved from the closeness that you had just discovered.

“Is it, eh, bleeding?”

Minho’s tone matched your own. A whisper, barely loud enough to be called a sound.

“No. Just a scratch.”

His eyes —bright and kind, yet guarded— held yours with an intensity that was both unnerving and comforting, whereas Minho felt like he was being seen, really seen, for the first time in a long while. Which was, again, bananas. One hundred per cent bananas.

Like I said, ridiculous. Odds are that you had spent less than an hour in his space, his kitchen, and now he didn’t find himself yearning for the tranquil buzz of his ears after a loud day. Tonight, he wanted your voice, telling him a story. And he’d love to listen to anything, especially if you didn’t have that sad undertone while you spoke, because when you had giggled, it had reverberated in his space. Not his kitchen, honestly, but his chest, fluttering butterflies fighting inside of him.

Neither of you spoke, but the silence was no longer awkward. It was filled with something else, something tender and unspoken. You licked your lips, chuckling lightly, and tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear, a delicate movement that had only seemed to draw him closer, despite the stillness of your bodies.

“I think there are bandaids here somewhere.” He grinned gently, and you watched him, almost mesmerized. “It’s better than nothing.” There was a slight doubt in his mind, but he ended up shoving it away, speaking softly. “I can’t offer you much aside from bandaids and cherries, really. Let me.” Minho chuckled.

He had to hold back the impulse to bite his lip at your toothy grin. “You have cherries?”

For you, yes. But instead, he merely smiled, cruising to the counter close to the window, moving the bowl closer to you.

Plopping a cherry in your mouth, you sighed in contentment. The familiar, almost homey feeling of the explosion of sweetness in your mouth brought you back to the comfort of your own house. You picked a paper napkin from the corner of the windowsill counter, leaving the pits over it.

“You must really like cherries.” He tongued his cheek, missing your enthusiastic nod, heading to one of the small drawers of the aisle in the kitchen, like a man on a mission, and you snickered, staring at his back as he looked around in the different drawers. But then, he paused, and his shoulders made a weird motion. “Ah, Yongbok…”

You couldn’t help but frown at him, yet it was obvious that the giggle you let out after he turned back to face you had been totally on purpose.

“Hello Kitty bandaids?” You relished on the light blush that dusted his cheeks pink, before sparing him. “That’s so cute.”

Minho let out a chuckle that was full of relief. “My little brother. A menace, as you can see.”

“Mmh, I’m thoroughly terrified.”

“You don’t say.”

He snickered, getting out of the kitchen, standing now before you, towering over your sitting figure, even on the bar stool.

You watched as he skilfully unwrapped the pink and colourful bandaid, lemon-scented hands tenderly pressing the sticky band over the red scratch.

“There,” Minho mumbled. “You can keep an extra one if you’d like.”

Only in certain moments, he could remember not missing the old clock that used to tick every second, hanging over the backdoor like an impending sign that his time in the kitchen was well past midnight. And that night was not only one more to the list, but most likely its number one addition. Minho loved the feeling that came over him when he stared into your eyes, and that old wooden thing would have ruined everything.

No old clock. Just two strangers standing in front of each other, on a late August night, inside a closed diner, waiting for something to interrupt what was too early to happen yet.

There would be other chances, Minho was sure of it. At least a small part of him was, whereas the other debated how stupid he was because he hadn’t asked for your name yet. Nevertheless, the other part of his brain —a much, much funnier one, if you asked for this humble author’s opinion— knew there was time.

He didn’t need an old clock in the diner, because there would be time on other rainy evenings, when you’d come back from wherever you had been in the day, the lingering scent of rain on you, and he’d melt in your arms, as if that could make the lemon scent stain on you as much as you had stained him.

Minho would scrunch his nose.

“You reek of cherries.”

And you’d smile, guilty as charged, both of you fully aware that you had probably bought and finished a small box of cherries on your way to him.

“Change that, then.”

It would only take a playful giggle escape from your cherry-tinted lips for him to grab you in his arms and sit you down, not behind the counter like the night you two had met, and not on the edge of his bed like he had done barely a couple of months after —one could only resist a sweet sweet cherry for so long—, but on top of the recently-cleaned surface, and he’d giggle too, torn between kissing away the day off you as you both simmered in the late, rainy night, protected only by the diner’s roof, or melting in your hold, your hands, slightly cold from being outside running through his hair and scratching his scalp, letting rain, cherries and lemons lull him to sleep.

He hadn’t seen any of this in your eyes, that first night. But Minho knew deep inside that there was no way in hell he’d let you go without you coming back the next morning.

“I should go.” You grinned, looking down sheepishly. “Thank you for tonight.”

After folding the towels —an excuse to stay just a bit more—, you both parted ways under the rain.

Were there things left unsaid? Sure. Honestly, it’s why this author keeps adding small bits and pieces between long hyphens. Minho hadn’t told you how he was dying to see you again someday —the sooner the better, if you asked him—.

And you had just smiled cheekily as you walked away to find your car instead of saying what you had been thinking for a while, Hello Kitty bandaid in hand —that would surely end up stuck to the wall of your room—.

It wasn’t your name, as some of you might be thinking. You had scribbled that on another napkin when he wasn’t looking. No, it was something even better.

See you tomorrow.

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

kats, who is craving not cherries but a late-night, lemon-scented minho for herself to cuddle to sleep.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

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bold and red means i couldn’t tag you! </3

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

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selinay-in-wonderland · 27 days ago

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„ A Monster‘s Kiss “ ( VENOM X F!READER)

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

You hadn’t expected to develop feelings for a creature like Venom. When he’d first come into your life, it was nothing short of terrifying. A towering black symbiote with sharp white eyes and a voice that rumbled through your bones, Venom was something out of a nightmare. But over time, something changed. His presence, which was once intimidating, became familiar, almost… comforting.

It started with chance encounters, moments in the dead of night where Venom would silently watch over you as you navigated your daily life. Somehow, he was always there—whether you were heading home from a late shift, or pausing at the park to catch a breath after a long day. You could feel him, sense his intense gaze on you from the shadows.

You grew accustomed to him. Even more than that, you grew fond of him. Beneath the brutal exterior, Venom had his own kind of gentleness, though he’d never admit it. When you were around, his snarl softened, his tone shifted, and you saw flashes of something almost vulnerable beneath his dark, monstrous exterior.

One evening, the city was quiet, bathed in the faint glow of streetlights. You were walking home alone when a chill ran down your spine, a feeling that someone—or something—was watching you. But you knew it was him.

“Venom?” you called softly, knowing he could hear you.

A ripple of movement appeared in the shadows, and he stepped forward, his form towering over you as he emerged. His eyes, pale and gleaming, fixed on yours, intense and unreadable.

“Why do you always seek me out?” he asked, his deep voice echoing, resonating in the still air. “You know what I am.”

You crossed your arms, a playful smile on your lips. “I think you know why.”

Venom tilted his head, his jagged teeth showing in a faint grin. “You are a strange human,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Others fear me. But you… do not.”

You shrugged, feeling bold under his unwavering gaze. “Maybe I see something others don’t.”

His eyes narrowed, his gaze softening as he took a step closer. “You are foolish if you think I can be anything but a monster,” he said, though there was no malice in his voice. It almost sounded like… regret.

Your heart raced as you took a step closer, feeling his strange, dark energy washing over you. “Maybe you’re not as much of a monster as you think,” you whispered.

Venom hesitated, his gaze flickering. He looked almost… uncertain, as though torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

“Why do you stay?” he asked, his voice softer, barely more than a rumble. “I could destroy you with a single movement. I am dangerous. A lethal protector.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” you murmured, lifting your hand to rest gently against his chest. He was cool to the touch, his skin slick and smooth under your fingertips. Your heart pounded, and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it.

Venom’s eyes softened, and you saw something there that you hadn’t seen before—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. “I do not understand you,” he said, his voice a whisper, though the words seemed like a confession.

“You don’t have to,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. “I’m here because I want to be.”

Venom’s expression darkened, and for a heartbeat, you thought he might pull away. But then, to your surprise, he leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. The air between you was charged, an electric tension that left you breathless.

“If you stay… you are mine,” he murmured, his voice a possessive growl. His words were both a warning and an invitation.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’m already yours,” you whispered back, reaching up to brush a hand along his face, tracing the sharp lines and jagged edges of his form. He tensed under your touch, as though shocked by your gentle fingers, by your choice to stay with him in spite of what he was.

And then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips—or what passed for them—pressing against yours. The kiss was strange, wild, yet tender. He was cool, firm, and there was something thrilling in the way his dark tendrils wrapped around you, holding you close, as though afraid you might slip away.

Venom pulled back, his eyes flickering with something deep, something raw. “You are… fragile,” he said, his voice a murmur, a hint of pain in his tone. “I do not want to harm you.”

You shook your head, smiling softly as you reached up to cradle his face in your hands. “You won’t,” you whispered. “I trust you.”

For a moment, he was silent, studying you as though trying to understand why you would choose him—why a creature like him could ever deserve something as pure and precious as your trust. But then his expression softened, his sharp teeth flashing in a faint smile.

“Perhaps… I can protect you,” he said quietly, though it sounded like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “Perhaps… I can care for you, even if I am what I am.”

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I know you can,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his presence, the strength in his embrace.

In that moment, Venom seemed to relax, his dark, monstrous form softening ever so slightly, as if the weight of your trust had somehow made him lighter. And as he wrapped his tendrils around you, pulling you closer, you realized that no matter how strange or dangerous this bond was, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#venom 1 #venom x reader #venom symbiote #venom #venom 3 #venom comics #venom the last dance #venom movie #x yn #fanfic #x reader

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fangswbenefits · 4 months ago

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The Arrangement (15) - Acquaintances

Summary: Astarion meets a friend of old and quickly realises it might have just cost him something very dear to him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma and abuse. Mentions of abuse.

Note: This post on reddit shed some light on Cazador, so I definitely giving it a read!

Word count: 3.3k

Series masterlist . Ao3

In times past, Astarion would have found momentary solace in the person standing right before him. After all, silence and whatever could be called normalcy were hard to come by in Cazador's palace.

The servants had been the very embodiment of the life he had long lost. In fact, they had been the only life that roamed the vast halls. All had accepted being there willingly and under the foolish illusion that Cazador would one day grant them the gift of immortality.

If you could actually call it a gift…

And even though they were loyal to the vampire lord to a fault, they were, for the most part, quite amicable to his spawn as well. Some would even tend to the vast and deep wounds inflicted by Cazador after he had spent his wrath.

Astarion had been quite fortunate to be on the receiving end of their mercy on numerous occasions, when his field of vision was nothing but a pool of blood – a sore reminder that crossing Cazador Szarr was not to be taken lightly.

Eyla?

He did remember her name and her kindness and gentle touch amidst his wails of pain.

“Surprised to see me?”

The slim figure took a few sure steps in his direction as he cradled your limp form in his arms, still overrun with shock.

Astarion tried to talk, but no words left his mouth.

“I suppose your silence is a novelty,” she said, coming to a halt as she pushed the hood down, revealing her pleasant face. “After all, you were always the loud and troublesome one.”

For better or for worse, navigating through undeath and the unpredictability of his circumstances ever since he was snatched from Baldur's gate, had taught him a thing or two about being prepared and always on guard.

The dagger tightly strapped to his thigh was proof of it. He would only need to move his hand slightly under you to reach the hilt.

“What have you done to her?”

The woman's lips were pressed into a fine line for a long while, as if examining his question.

His patience was running thin, and he tried hard to keep her engaged enough so he could find a way to incapacitate her.

“Do not fret – she will be fine,” she said with a sigh, drawing even closer. “Not that it wouldn't give me great pleasure to put an end to the so-called hero of Baldur's Gate and her role in what you did to the master.”

Ah.

He should have known that this had something to do with Cazador. It seemed that he was destined to have him haunt him even in true death.

The sudden realisation hit him so hard he held you even closer to his body, shifting along the bench as if that would create a safe distance from Eyla.

Surprised was soon drowned out by the ever-growing anger that took root within him. He was known for his temper and outbursts, and clearly not the most sensible man when cornered.

But this was something else entirely.

Astarion had over two hundred years of having the worst atrocities being inflicted upon his body and mind. As far as he was concerned, he had managed to find useful ways to deal with imminent threats to him.

But he wasn't so lenient when it came to you.

You were off limits to anyone.

And he wasn't going to allow any harm to befall you.

“You'd be wise to undo this right now, or this conversation will be rather short.”

She had the nerve to snicker, eyes flickering under the moonlight. “Freedom has made you even more insufferable and entitled. Godey ought to have been harsher to you back then. I reckon one hundred more lashings would have made a difference each time you crossed the master.”

Rage swirled throughout his body like poisonous fumes, and he found it hard to stay put through the taunting.

But she was a fool to think she could best him in his natural element. After all, he had a tongue sharp enough to rival the blade of his dagger.

“Well, darling,” he started, slipping nearly effortlessly into his usual demeanour, “Godey is now nothing but a pile of dust, so unless you intend on joining him for a tea party in the afterlife, I'd make sure to tread lightly.”

And like clockwork, the first cracks began to show.

Her face dropped ever so slightly and he figured he had one - maybe two if the gods above even cared to bestow him any grace - sneer remark left before she lashed out at him.

“You insolent and ungrateful brat,” Eyla spat out through gritted teeth, both fists clenched at her sides, allowing him to infer

Well, he had clearly exhausted her patience already, hadn't he?

No bother.

His right hand now gripped the handle of the dagger firmly, as he readied himself for an imminent physical confrontation.

But something made him freeze almost instantly, and his gaze dropped briefly to your face.

Maybe, just maybe, it was merely his mind playing tricks on him and feeding off his desperation, but he could swear he felt you shift slightly against him.

And then he saw your face tense.

A sudden wave of relief washed down on him, his free hand giving you a reassuring squeeze.

Good girl.

It was in moments like this that he vaguely wished – much to his utter disgust – that the wriggling worm was still a . He would have made good use of them right now.

More than relief, he felt pride.

He had yet to meet someone quite as resilient as you. Whatever incantation had been cast on you surely wasn't enough to contain the tempest within you.

You had been shaped by the elements and woven into a sorcerer whose magic wasn't so easily put out. He had been foolish to think a mere vampire lord servant could ever be a match against your mind.

“Isn't it enough that you turned on your master and betrayed him?”

Oh, what a bloody nuisance. He had no patience to entertain speeches of heartbroken servants whose wet dream had been crushed.

However…

You shifted again, but no sound came from your parting lips.

Astarion knew then he had to play the waiting game. There was no denying you were slowly but surely coming to your senses, but he couldn't draw attention to it.

More than friends, you two had grown to become teammates, taking in on each other's queues to know when to make the right move.

He knew you needed time, and time he would give you.

Meeting her eyes with defiance, he took on the challenge. “What Cazador sold you was naught but a fantasy.”

Your hand shifted next.

Mentioning his name so blatantly made her visibly shudder. “How dare you? You utter his name with no regard that he saved you from certain death.”

He leaned back with a roll of his eyes, further reeling her into his trap. “Oh, please. And what would he save you from, exactly? Idiocy? I am afraid it would take more than a vampire bite to fix such ailment, dear Eyla. Eternal life can only do so much.”

Warmth began spreading under his palm, letting him know that you were returning to him.

Still, you needed more time.

“Your words might work on the weak, but not on me.”

“And yet… you managed to serve a vampire lord who had no intention to ever deliver his promises.”

Eyla was young and naive, so he couldn't truly fault her for being so passionate and loyal. Cazador's grasp reached far and viciously. Astarion had once fallen for his

“That does not make me weak.”

A crooked grin curled his lips. “Just an idiot, then.”

He tugged on his dagger slowly, allowing his fingers to glide down across the blade, knowing that, sooner or later, he would have to make use of it.

Eyla scoffed, crossing her arms, apparently unaware that you were no longer unconscious.

Come on… you're almost there, darling, he urged sweetly in his head as if his words could ever reach you.

“The others warned me that you had become rather insufferable.”

Others?

“Oh, how very interesting,” he said, trying his best to ignore your hand clawing at his shirt. “Ava?”

Were they… friends? In on this together?

Her brows furrowed. “The monster hunter whore you befriended? Don't insult me.”

Clearly not.

Well…

“Does this rendezvous even have a purpose?” Astarion said with a forced yawn. “Are we to swap snarky remarks until one of us perishes? I had more engaging plans for this evening.”

The serenity in her face had given her away.

She wasn't alone and he was a master of shadows.

Even in the poorly lit area, he could see silhouettes drawing near right behind her. That was certainly yet another nuisance he would have to deal with.

“Astarion…”

Your voice snapped him out of his bloodbath scheming right away.

For a brief moment, he let his guard down by meeting your hazy eyes.

“There you are.”

His voice was almost shaky from relief, but it would come at a cost.

It had been an unfortunate distraction.

He wasn't sure how he managed to tap so quickly into his reflexes, but he soon felt the warm and familiar splatter of blood hit his face, making him wince from bloodlust.

In the midst of chaos and footsteps and hisses surrounding him, he was able to spot the man he had hurled his dagger at, slicing clean through the pulsing artery in his neck. The obscene gush of blood that ensued as he hit the ground was enough to drive any vampire mad.

And he was not immune to it.

He hadn't fed in days and he could use this to his advantage. In fact, he reckoned it would be the only way out.

Droplets streamed down his face, hitting his lips, and he wasn't strong enough to deny himself of an added burst of power. As such, his tongue darted out and a rumbling groan tore through him as the liquid progressively took over his senses. One by one.

Blood was blood.

He would have preferred yours, but he was far too hungry to be picky.

He had pushed you right behind him as he leapt from the bench, determined to take on anyone who dared to come close.

By the time he had managed to retrieve his dagger, Eyla had a smile dancing on her lips. One that had his eyes wide.

Astarion was fast and agile, but he was also severely outnumbered.

Two other men had rushed to his side, and he flinched as something began poking at his lower abdomen, as they looped strong arms around his own, immobilising him in place.

Wooden stakes.

“Astarion…”

Your voice was still void of the life it usually held. It was evident that you were still weak and in no condition to fight.

And, in truth, he wasn't even sure he wanted you to.

“Drop the dagger.”

It wasn't a request.

It was a command and he wasn't sure how to dodge this one. He usually carried knives and other daggers on him just to be on the safe side, but he didn't think he would need those tonight.

Fucking idiot…

No amount of self-deprecation would get him out of this one.

They wanted to kill him for what he had done to Cazador. They wanted revenge and he wasn't sure how his wits and snarky replies would talk him out of this one.

He groaned as one man drove the stake harsher against him, from under his shirt. Still, the pressure wasn't enough to break skin. Not yet, at least.

As a reflex, he immediately let go of the dagger, hearing it land with a muffled thump on the grass.

Eyla's spirit had been renewed and she took measured steps towards him.

He heard grunts from his side as you struggled to sit down on the bench, flickering snaps of lightning emerging from your hands.

That almost made him smile.

You were a fighter through and through, and he wouldn't mind parting this world in these terms. Knowing you had been enough to ease the pain of centuries of hurt. He had been given a second chance at life when he met you and not when he was made immortal.

He had never felt more alive than in the moments he had spent with you and he would wish to have more, but he couldn't wish for that at your expense. After all, you had your whole life ahead of you.

He had had his fill.

He was ready to meet whatever fate awaited him, as long as you were kept safe.

“You're coming with us.”

His brows furrowed, caught by surprise.

“Do not harm her.”

Eyla was so close he could feel her hot breath on his skin, fanning the blood on his face that had begun to dry into sticky patches.

“We are not harming anyone,” she said viciously. “But we've had enough of you running around unscathed after what you've done.”

He wished he could tear his eyes from you, but it was like a force field. Your arms trembled as you tried your best to rein in the elements inside you. Lighting and fire swirled erratically from your hands.

Yours was wild magic.

Hard to harness and bend to your will.

Even harder when thrown off balance unexpectedly.

“Look at me, Astarion.”

The two men pressed the stakes harder and he had no choice but to comply, meeting her eyes again.

“Did you really think we were going to allow you to have your happily ever after? That you could off into the sunset with her once you found a way to not burn to ashes?”

She was mocking him… goading him, knowing he was rendered immobile.

“Have you been the ones sabotaging this all along?”

A surge of outrage nearly burst from deep within as her silence answered his question.

“Surprised?”

That would be an understatement. He couldn't even begin to describe the turmoil that gripped him from the inside out.

“Why…” His voice faltered momentarily, “why not just kill me right when you had the chance?”

At this, Eyla laughed. “Is there a bigger punishment than the illusion of freedom? Killing you would have been the kinder way out for you,” she went on, each word dripping with poison. “No. No, Astarion. You were a fool to hope. You were a fool to hope your misery was over.”

A part of him was still in shock at the revelation, and he had no smart jabs that could possibly help him right now.

But the truth was that, the rest of him, had begun to accept that. He had been a fool indeed to think he could have had any other ending than this.

That he could have had a semblance of happiness with you.

“But I think that we are tired of playing this game. Maybe it's finally time to kill you.”

Just like a punch to his gut, he was quickly overtaken with dread as he heard a faint whimper from you.. “If you're going to kill me, don't do it in front of her.”

“You are in no position to make demands.”

“Please.”

He was running out of time.

He thought he had bought enough for you to recover, but you couldn't even bring yourself to sit upright, let alone save him from whatever awaited him.

Most importantly, he was running out of ways to ensure you weren't scarred for life for witnessing him being destroyed.

“Oh, you're going to beg? The way you used to beg Cazador to stop carving the scars you carry on you, hmm?” Eyla said, visibly satisfied with the effect her words had on him. “Get on your knees and beg, then.”

“No… fuck…” you said in between groans.

He'd rather you had lost consciousness once again, for each word from you was as a dagger that was carved into him.

“Astarion. Do not kneel…”

The two men holding him tight chuckled darkly as his knees began to cave in, but before he could go through with it, Eyla raised one hand, halting him.

“What if we kill her instead?” she chirped, making her way to you. “I think we should. Astarion would have an eternity to suffer for having killed the only person he has ever truly loved.”

Blinded by anguish, Astarion lurched forward, feeling both men struggling to keep him in place. He felt the sharp tips of the wooden stakes break skin just enough to draw blood, but he powered through the fear that loomed over him.

“I will fucking kill you if you touch her!”

With a click of her tongue, Eyla sat next to you, one hand caressing your head as you spilled curses at her, still drained from whatever magic had been cast on you.

“You'd be staked before you could even reach me, silly boy,” she said, revealing a knife from under her sleeve. “Now that I think about it, killing her seems the most reasonable choice here.”

You tried to flinch away from her grasp, and Astarion felt himself go mad from the sight in front of him.

He was about to scream when they muffled him with a piece of cloth, robbing him of his voice.

Reflexively, he tried to break free once more, but he was far too weak to put up a fight.

He knew it was futile, but he had abandoned all reason. Even though he had savoured blood, he was still too weak to break through the hold they had on him. Each pull from him and each attempt to break free were quickly met with an immovable force.

When his eyes met yours, he saw you mouth something.

And it broke him.

He didn't need to hear it.

He knew what you were attempting to say.

Thank you.

He doubted any torture Cazador had ever inflected on him could ever match the pain he was currently experiencing.

Eyla suddenly grabbed a vial from her robes, spilling the clear liquid along the sharp blade.

“Isn't it poetic justice that you are a master of poisons, and she gets to die at your hand?”

He recognised the vial as his.

It was his poison.

He couldn't tell which one, but it hardly mattered. Each poison he concocted was terrible through and through. They were designed to hurt and, ultimately, kill.

Soon, you began to sob, swirls of fire engulfing your hands as frustration gripped you. You were unable to get your magic under control and you were going to die.

For him.

Because of him.

Eyla threw him a final glance, positioning the top of the knife right across your neck. You stilled immediately, knowing any sudden movement could have the blade slice right through.

He tried to speak again, but all his words came out unintelligible.

“If you scream, they'll stake you.”

Eagerly, he nodded, and they swiftly removed the cloth from in between his teeth.

“Please. Don't!” Astarion said in sheer despair. “I will do whatever you want!”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. “You have nothing to offer us.”

He had to try.

He had to try to buy himself more time in the hopes that someone had heard him and might

“You want eternal life, don't you?”

Silence. Dreadful and agonising silence.

“I can find a way to help you. There are other true vampires out there.”

Eyla tapped the side of her blade to your skin as she pondered his words. She then exchanged looks with both men.

“Should we take his offer?”

Had he made it? Had he managed to bluff his way out of this one? To possibly get you somewhere safe?

Hope.

Eyla lifted the poisonous blade and Astarion felt a crushing weight being lifted from him.

She locked eyes with him for what seemed like a lifetime.

Please. Please. Please.

Eyla clicked her tongue with a pout. “I don't think so.”

And he watched in horror as she moved her hand to swiftly bury the knife into your abdomen.

“NO!”

Astarion felt his body go limp as his field of vision got flooded with a golden and warm beam that tore through the night sky akin to how the sun breaks the dawn.

Next chapter: When All Things End

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #the arrangement #astarion fic #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you

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opbackgrounds · 6 months ago

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This scene with Sanji is one of his most important moments in the series, and in my opinion also one of the most difficult passages in the manga to interpret, because to completely understand it you have to look at the manga holistically rather than this scene by itself.

The big question that needs answered is why does Oda let Zoro "win" here by having him be the sacrifice instead of Sanji. Both are equally willing and both are identified much later on as the Wings of the Pirate King, implying that they have similar importance (although vastly different roles) within the Straw Hat crew.

If we go back to Sanji's introduction on the Baratie, his big flaw was that he lacked the "spear of spirit" to pursue his dream. Since he's been a boy he's wanted to find the All Blue, but even when he had the opportunity to go after that dream he chose to stay on the Baratie out of a feeling of obligation to Zeff. Sanji put the continued existence of the restaurant over his own life, something Luffy rightfully called him out for at the time, and even at the end of the arc had to be pushed away by Zeff and the other chefs before he finally set sail for good.

On Drum, Sanji once again almost died protecting Nami and Luffy during the avalanche, resulting in a broken back that required surgury from Dr. Kureha. Luffy again calls him out (note the English translation here isn't entirely accurate, see here for a breakdown), and with his power there's a good chance Luffy could have gotten them all out of trouble without all the dramatics by Sanji.

Something similar happens on Skypiea, when Sanji puts himself in the way of Enel so that Usopp and Nami can be saved. This case is perhaps more justifiable given the extreme situation they were in, but nonetheless he was still quick to throw his life away.

Then on Enies Lobby Nami--while not criticizing his chivalry--calls out Sanji for simply not running away from Kalifa, instead just accepting that he's going to get the shit beat out of him, and possibly die.

So there's a pattern of self-destructive behavior. Sanji repeatedly puts his life on the line when he doesn't need to in order to preserve the lives and dreams of the people he loves. Even him constantly simping over Nami and Robin falls a little into this category, because if either of them told him to take a long walk off a short pier I have no doubt he'd comply. It's that same extreme willingness to sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for that we see in Baby 5, except Sanji was fortunate enough to not be surrounded by people that encourage these worst impulses of self-destructive behavior. As he says here in Thriller Bark, he's just the cook. Luffy can always just find someone else.

(The glory of Whole Cake Island being Sanji realizing, no, Luffy can't, and he won't).

And it is finally on WCI that get to the heart of why Sanji is like this with yet another episode of putting his own dreams and happiness aside for the sake of others, and not until Wano that we finally see him take the first steps toward asking others for help instead of passionately throwing his life away when he doesn’t need to.

When Zoro first offered his head to Kuma, the prominence of his dream was first and foremost. Notice that Sanji never mentions the All Blue. One Piece is a series that places the pursuit of one's own ambition above all else, even if that ambition is selfish. Sanji hasn't yet learned to be selfish, so Zoro knocks him out and ends up being the one to accept Luffy's pain. Sacrifice isn't sacrifice if the person doesn't value what they're giving up, and right now Sanji clearly doesn't value his own life compared to the rest of the crew.

Next chapter Oda will speak through Brook to confirm that Sanji's willingness to give himself up wasn't foolish or stupid. It's just that he's missing a piece of the puzzle, and that's not something he'll have for a long time yet.

#opbackgrounds #one piece #ch485 #themes threads and throughlines #sanji #characterization #character development #character analysis #god tumblr's search function sucks finding all those links was a nightmare

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san8ny · 6 months ago

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Hiii i have a request, could u write about ex ellie still totally in love with u, she comes to your house to pick her things up, you guys end up fucking and start to date again?

(Emoji just to identify it was me 🌸)

Sweet Girl.

an: had to contribute to the sub! Ellie shortage..srry if shes pretty pathetic../wc: 1.09k

“We both need to move on.”

Ellie lets out a frustrated huff at your blunt response, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I don’t want to move on from you. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.” She sighs again, feeling so hopelessly vulnerable like this. But she knows they’re already past the point of holding back.

“But you—“

“Please..” Ellie looks up from where she’s kneeled at your bedpost, her gaze hungry and desperately possessive. She doesn’t want to have to think about anything else right now. She just wants to be this, tangled up in bed with you. “Please..”

“Ugh, ‘els.” You sigh annoyed and obviously irritated with the time of night she’s decided to come bother you.

2:22 AM

Ellie lets out a short whine at the nickname, her body already responding to your exasperation. She leans down and buries her face in your lap, pressing as much of herself against you as possible. “I want you so bad,” she whispers pathetically like you didn’t hear her the last 200 times.

“You know what? Fine, but you’re gonna get the fuck up out of my house after this.” You press, pulling her from the wooden floorboard and onto your bed, “and you’re going to listen to everything I say.”

“I-i always do—“

“Answer.”

Ellie shudders at the menacing tone of your voice, “Everything,” she whispers, her hands running over your body. “ ‘i’ll do everything you want..just, shit, touch me...”

You hum at the soft pleading, massaging her scalp lightly with your fingertips, an attempt to ease her into a state of relaxation; Ellie’s eyes feel heavy as she slumps into you, you’re so pretty..

“ What happened to getting your stuff?”

Ellie groans, letting out a petulant huff when you catch onto her excuse to come over. “I’ll grab my stuff later,” she mutters, lifting her head to look at you with a pleading look in her eyes. “Why won’t you touch me..”

You scoff, taking your hands away from her scalp and pushing her away, “Impatient girls don’t get jack.”

Ellie's eyes widen as you push her away, her breath suddenly hitching in her throat. "W-what?" her voice comes out as a strangled whisper.

She feels utterly humiliated, her heart clenching hard in her chest. "Is this some kind of punishment for what I did? Making me want you this bad, and then turning me away?" She feels foolish and humiliated, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Say you’re sorr—

"I'm sorry," Ellie chokes out before you can even complete the order. The words feel foreign in her mouth, but her heart tightens as she forces them out. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry for being so impatient. I'm sorry for..." Her voice breaks, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks up at you, her eyes pleading. "I'm sorry for everything. Please, baby. Let me stay. Let me make it up to you."

She hesitates a moment before she clambers forward to sit on your lap again, her body pressing flush against yours.

you sigh in content, “Such a good girl you are, Ellie.” cupping her cheeks, you tilt her head backwards to slightly face you, “Pick where you want me to touch first.”

A shiver runs down Ellie’s spine at the question, but she doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Lips,” she whispers. She wants to taste your mouth again, feels like she’s starving for it. “Kiss me,” her voice coming out needy and desperate.

Ellie moans hungrily into the kiss once you give in, her hand coming down to your side to your arm, holding you close as she kisses back. Her tongue pushes past your soft lips, tasting herself as she lets all her pent up desperation and longing bleed out and into the kiss.

“Missed you so much,” she babbles, “Nothing has felt the same without you. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t think. I just need you. I need you so bad..” her back arching involuntarily as your lips start trailing down her neck

You nod against her skin, nose brushing up on her nape where your perky tits were to her toned back, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby. Hm? ‘dunno if you’re gonna wanna leave after this actually..”

Ellie feels dumbed out from how your smooth hands slowly slither into the waistband of her sweatpants, slipping them off; she also, can’t help the slight smile that grazes her face in the realization of what is just about to occur between the two exes.

loveyouloveyouloveyou

“Gotta let me know what to do, sweet girl. Ungh...you’re so wet..” you preen when the pads of your fingers meet contact with the pleasurable mess Ellie’s made underneath the layering

Your compliments don’t help as much when you begin to rub her puffy mound, constricting hold feeling like sweet death to Ellie in addition to the sticky boxers she still had on.

shittttttt….

After some while, you kiss behind her ear right on a pressure point

“You still with me?” You murmur, knowing how little she can get off on if you tick her just the right way. she’s always been ultrasensitive, “Gonna give me a big one?..” your fingers don’t let up on the assault, occasionally rolling her clit in between your digits all the while,

She lets a small squeak out before leaning an arm back over her shoulder to hold your neck, almost in an attempt to press you closer to her like you both had space inbetween— you didn’t, “Uhn..uhn—! I’m g-gonna cum..” She whimpers,

You kiss the crown of her head before grinding the heel for your palm further onto her, “juust like that, like how I taught you..” She eventually does orgasm, repeating your name like a prayer while you talk her through it,

Ellie is breathless and boneless, her body utterly spent and sated from the intensity of the moment. She lets out long, shaky exhale as she blinks her eyes open, taking in the sight of you in front of her, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “That was…” she begins, her voice coming out a breathy whisper, but the words to describe it don’t come.

“Still gonna leave?” You ask, licking your digits

Ellie almost laughs at the question, still spent from the high she feels. “God, no,” she whispers. She lifts a trembling hand to your face, her fingers dancing over your soft skin. “After that? I’m never letting you kick me out again.” She presses a chaste kiss against your collarbone.

#ellie williams x f!reader #Ellie williams #Ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #sapphic

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fatkish · 4 months ago

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First time asking 🤭🤭 but I wanted to make a request for upper moon demon Kokushibo x hashira fem/reader headcanons with him as a lover (sfw and nsfw, if you’re comfortable writing it ofc👉👈 (˶˃⤙˂˶)

Kokushibo x Hashira Fem Reader HC’s

SFW + NSFW

Kokushibo must have seen something in you, maybe it was your resolve or bravery to face him knowing that you’d most certainly die, or maybe it was your strength

Either way, whatever it was, congratulations, you’ve gotten his attention

Your relationship was definitely rough at the start

Perhaps you kept running into him during your patrols

Every time you came across him you’d have a short battle, maybe exchange some flirtatious words and then eventually he’d leave

No matter what, you kept coming back and so did he

Every night you’d stop him from eating people but you’d get hurt in the process

Eventually you just flat out asked him why he became a demon if he was a demon slayer

He then revealed to you the truth about the demon crest and what it would mean for those who awakened it

One night, you saw him and stood next to him, you asked him if he was ever lonely

Surprised by your disregard for the rules, you sat down beside him and laid back, looking up at the stars, completely ignoring the fact that he could kill you

When he mentioned that you were being foolish about letting your guard down, and that he could kill you, you simply replied with ‘and yet, you still haven’t’ and patted the grass besides you

Kokushibo decided to sit down next to you

You asked him again if he was ever lonely being a demon

He told you it had its moments

You asked if it was worth becoming a demon

He told you it was

You then sat up and looked him straight in the eye and told him, “I don’t think you’re evil. I don’t want to kill you, but I have to make sure that you don’t kill anyone, if you’re willing to not eat anyone, I’ll let you drink my blood whenever you’re hungry”

To say he was surprised by your sincerity was an understatement, he was shocked but didn’t show it much

That’s likely how your relationship came to be

Kokushibo started to develop feelings for you and you for him

He would stay at your estate (Kagaya already knows and has allowed it since he believes that you may yet change Kokushibo and that he will change his ways) during the day

At night you both would train, he’d teach you and you’d become stronger

One of the things Kokushibo loves is when you rake your nails and scratch his scalp. Running your fingers through his hair, gently combing his hair whilst scratching his scalp. He’ll lay his head in your lap while you do this

If you’re cold, he’ll let you snuggle up to him. He’ll sit down with a blanket around his shoulder, once you sit next to him, he’ll wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer

He would go on patrols with you and watch you from a distance

When you both learned that Nezuko had conquered the sun, you decided that Kokushibo should get treatment from Tamayo so that he’d no longer be under Muzan’s control

When the final battle came, Muzan didn’t expect Kokushibo to defect and help in fighting him

You and Kokushibo were an immense help and you both managed to survive the final battle

After losing most of your friends and having awoken your own demon crest, Kokushibo proposed that you become a demon to which you agreed

You and Kokushibo built a house together, you both live together and you watched as your friends grew and passed away

You learned medicine and you and Kokushibo both are able to survive off of small amounts of blood alone

You both run a small nighttime clinic similar to what Tamayo did, you supply Yushiro with blood

Although you were saddened by the loss of your friends, Kokushibo stayed by your side as you grieved

As time went on, you and Kokushibo would both come to love the other more

Eventually as things settled, Kokushibo would become more bold

You still enjoy food so when you would cook, Kokushibo would come up from behind you and wrap his arms around you

During the day, you both would sleep

Eventually you both learned to gain energy from sleeping, and you both decided to then open a small dojo

Kokushibo enjoyed teaching the art of swordsmanship to young people

At night, sometimes you both didn’t do much sleeping

Kokushibo is a very passionate lover. He dovotes himself entirely to you and your pleasure

If you haven’t cum at least three times, then he believes he’s done something wrong

He’ll lay you down and run his hand all over your body, slowly caressing you and mapping out your body

His kisses are slow and deep, making sure to convey his vast love for you

He’ll use his fingers to explore your insides, curling and scissoring you, making your toes curl

He’s very methodical with his approach to sex, taking his time and making sure to feel everything

He’ll pinch and nip at your chest, taking his time to mark your chest with love bites, giving each breast and nipple, through attention

By the time he reaches your nethers, he’ll have already brought you to the edge and back at least twice

He’ll then spread your legs and begin to feast on you, using his tongue to explore every inch of you, slowly and steadily licking and sucking on every inch of your sensitive flesh

The way he eats you out makes you see stars, he’ll bite and suck on you, shoving his tongue deep inside you, twirling it around as he grips your thighs

When you cum on his face, he makes sure to swallow and collect every last drop of cum you have to offer

Once you’re throughly prepared in his eyes, then he’ll gently and slowly sink himself inside you

Making sure he feels each and every inch of your silken vice like flesh, letting you slowly swallow his entire length

Once he’s fully sheathed inside you, he’ll slowly begin to thrust, taking his time and feeling every inch before pushing back in

He’ll use his thumb to circle your clit or pump your dick while he slowly thrusts

His slow pace is enough to drive you mad

When he starts to speed up, he’s changing the angle and begins to aim for your g-spot/prostate

Once he’s found it he doesn’t stop his assault on it, he’ll abuse it until he’s done for the night

As he speeds up his thrusts are getting harder and rougher, making your insides clench down on him

He’ll start kissing you and biting at your neck as he speeds up

When you cum on his cock he fucks you through your orgasm

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo #michikatsu tsugikuni #michikatsu x reader #kny michikatsu

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brittle-doughie · 7 months ago

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Late Arrival (Dark Cacao Cookie)

“Dark Cacao Cookie. Now that they have awoken, they will attack us to reclaim their lost Soul Jams. During the fight, Shadow Milk Cookie had taken Y/N Cookie under his control through his deceit. I fear that with Shadow Milk Cookie pushed back for now that he will alert the others to Y/N Cookie’s existence.”

“White Lily Cookie and I were barely able to bring them back from Shadow Milk Cookie’s control, they need the time to settle down. Please, for their sake, do not bring Y/N Cookie with you. I understand how much we all value and cherish them, but it only puts them in danger of the Beast Cookies.”

“There’s no telling what the other Beast Cookies will do to keep Y/N Cookie for themselves…”

Dark Cacao only sighed as he looked away from the letter, seeing Y/N Cookie prepping alongside Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip Cookie from the distance. It looked like he had ALREADY invited Y/N Cookie to come along with him for the expedition to Mystic Flour Cookie’s temple.

He was too attached to them for his own good….

But…he shook his head as he gripped his blade and headed over to the cookies.

He…he can protect them. It won’t be like what Pure Vanilla described back at the Silver Kingdom.

He’ll make sure you’re safe…

“Have the preparations been made?”

“Yes, my King! I have ordered the troops to be ready at the gates.”

“Your Majesty! Everything has been ready and set for our travel to Beast Yeast! I’m worried about Y/N Cookie though, they look uneasy…”

Crunchy was right, you had that shaking feeling in your legs….

Going back to Beast Yeast so soon….

You really wanted to stay at the Cookie Kingdom, where it was safe…

But when Dark Cacao Cookie practically pleaded for your aid, you didn’t want to let him down…

“Will you be okay, Y/N Cookie? I know it was such short notice to ask for your help. Especially after your recent arrival back to your kingdom, but I will do my best to protect you…”

“As will I.”

Dark Cacao Cookie had placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you more reassurance as you collected yourself.

He was right, as long as you had him and the others backing you up, things won’t go south…like before…

———————————————————————

“Foolish Cookies..! You simply have no idea what’s waiting for you! How long can you protect Y/N Cookie before they fall into our hands! HA HA HA HA HA!”

———————————————————————

You shake your head to try and forget his words. You can trust Dark Cacao. With the others in the kingdom, there shouldn’t be any cause for concern.

Definitely…

#cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #dark cacao cookie x reader #caramel arrow cookie x reader #dark cacao cookie

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videovamptramp · 1 year ago

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foolish one

// ellie is one of the biggest players on campus, and reader just so happens to be the only girl immune to ellie’s charm. at least, that’s what she thought. //

warnings: fuckgirl!ellie, reader is a bit difficult, ellie is a simp for r but also a huge womanizer, this is angsty cause ellie and reader are both dumb fucks <3

a/n: part 2 of heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and i) is coming sooon, but until then here’s an ellie fic i wrote a few months ago <3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

you were known at jackson university for being a good girl. sure, you’ve been to your handful of frat parties, who hasn’t? but you always kept your grades up, and made sure you never hooked up with any of the rich wannabe’s here. not because you thought you were better than anyone, no never that— mainly because you’ve worked too damn hard to get out of your shitty neighborhood to let all of your progress get ruined by a broken heart. so you refused to date or even flirt. you had friends and you were known for being vibrant and kind, but the second someone crossed a line you’d shut them down. you could be colder than ice when you wanted to be, and as sensitive as a baby at times, but you always knew how to keep yourself together. you always kept your heart safe.

maybe that’s what attracted ellie to you so badly. the fact that you weren’t easy, and how unaffected you were by whoever showed interest in you. she’d never heard about any of the jocks or frat boys hooking up with you, and the stories she has heard she knew weren’t true. you are far too much of a good girl for that. that’s exactly what makes ellie want to ruin you. god, she seems to always notice how cute you look in those tight pants, or how beautiful your hair looks each day. she even noticed how you cut it a few months ago; nobody else did because you only cut a few inches, and when ellie complimented you on it, you actually blushed. the interaction gave the brunette hope that she had a chance.

when ellie first approaches you, it’s because she needs help in her english literature class. she normally has excessive skills when it comes to talking to girls; she’s nearly slept with half the cheer team, started drama throughout the schools debate club because she slept with three members, and there were even rumors going around about her and one of the hot professors at the school. you knew ellie williams was nothing but trouble; but there was something in those evergreen orbs that caused you to soften whenever she was near. she’d smile or blush sheepishly, and it would make your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way that terrified you.

so when ellie asks for your help, you instinctively say yes. that’s how you end up meeting ellie in the campus library every thursday for a study session. though, it’s the fourth session and each time ellie seems to get more and more side tracked. she can’t help it; the weather is getting hotter, and those tight jeans you’ve been alternating between throughout the winter turn into tight denim shorts. that black long sleeve top you’re wearing, hugs your body just right. ellie can’t help but let her eyes roam down. you notice every time. whenever she’d look at you, her eyes would trail you up and down, and then back up to meet your gaze. she’d lick her lips and flash you that grin that made your knees weak. though you had to continuously remind yourself that her grin probably makes every girl around here weak.

“you going to jesse’s party tonight?” ellie asks hopefully, and you shake your head. “no, i have plans with joey tonight.” you confess and ellie tenses up. “joey? frat boy joey?” she asks, and you can hear the clear disdain in her voice. “yeah, he needs help studying. like you. he’s coming here after you leave.” you explain and ellie purses her lips. she doesn’t want you to be alone with joey. the library is empty and her stomach sinks as she thinks about how pretty you look tonight. “maybe i can stay extra, just so you don’t have to deal with him alone.” the offer hangs there for a moment, and it shocks you. “why wouldn’t i want to deal with him? it’s only an hour, and he doesn’t seem too bad.” you say uncertainly, though you don’t want to tell her you’d prefer not to be alone with him. you thought the library would be a little more full tonight, but the fact that there’s a frat party tells you nobody’s going to be worried about studying.

maybe that’s why joey agreed so quickly. “he’s just a creep. i’d rather you not be alone with him.” ellie states and you feel your heart lurch in an unrecognizable way. “careful, williams, it sounds like you care.” you taunt, and she stares at you with those intense green eyes. “what if i do?” she asks, and your breath gets caught in your windpipe as you lose all train of thought. “i mean we’re friends now, right? i’m allowed to care about you.” she blurts out, and you chew on your bottom lip. you’ve never heard about ellie williams being friends with any girls. except for dina who’s her roommate, but she’s dating jesse. you shrug, “i guess we are friends… fine, you can stay.” you give in, turning away before noticing her relieved expression. “but what about the party?” you question uncertainly, and she shrugs, “i’d rather be here.” she admits, and that stupid knot in your stomach returns again.

for the next few weeks you and ellie get ironically close. your library study sessions end up moving to your dorm, and ellie meets your roommate michelle. the blonde is crazy and a party animal, but it turns out you’ve both been friends since middle school. you’re so carefree in your dorm, and the posters and pictures on your wall show ellie you’re actually an extremely outgoing person, regardless of how you try to portray yourself. every time she learns something about you, she falls deeper for you. whenever she makes you laugh, her heart lurches and she can’t help but stare at you. she’s never felt this way with anyone else.

though it doesn’t take you long to bring up all of ellie’s rendezvous. “c’mon ellie, cat and katherine in the same week?? they’re friends! what did you expect?” you ask, giggling mercilessly as she tells you why cat and katherine got suspended last month. she rubs the back of her neck, her cheeks reddening. “i didn’t realize they’d tell each other!” she responds and you raise a brow. “seriously?? girls have bigger mouths than guys when it comes to hook ups!” you tell her, and she smirks. “do you?” she inquires tantalizingly, and you roll your eyes. “i don’t hook up.” you answer simply, causing her to smirk. “or you just don’t kiss and tell.” she points out, your cheeks flushing at the insinuation.

“no, i really don’t hook up. i think it’s pointless to sleep with someone you don’t actually have a connection with. meaningless sex doesn’t sound appealing to me.” you explain, and she blinks a few times. you shake your head quickly, realizing how that sounded. you didn’t want to offend her, so you rush to add on, “not that there’s anything wrong with it!!” you save yourself and she laughs. “hey, don’t stop on my account. i mean hooking up is fun, but that’s all it is; you’re right, it doesn’t mean anything.” she reveals, but she doesn’t tell you how glad she is to know you don’t hook up. she knows how hypocritical that would sound.

“would you at least consider dating?” she asks curiously, and you purse your lips. “probably not.” you respond, “it’d only get in the way of my studies.” you add while she only nods. “oh. so if i asked you on a date you’d say no?” she questions smoothly; your cheeks feel as though they’re on fire. “i’d definitely say no. especially when you were just bragging about ‘bagging’ cat and katherine in the same week.” your face expression is serious, but she can see in your eyes there’s traces of hurt mixed in your orbs. “but those are just hookups. you said it yourself they don’t mean anything.” she counterpoints, and you frown. it means something to me, the words are hanging off your tongue. but it shouldn’t mean anything to me, you think. she shouldn’t mean anything to you. she’s a player. a known player, with a reputation for ruining every girl she touches. why would i even risk it?

“if they didn’t mean anything to you, i certainly won’t either.” you argue, and she blinks at you, staring at you as if you’ve grown an extra head. “what do you mean? you’re different, you’re the prettiest girl at this place.” she admits, and you feel the blood rise to your face, “how many girls have you told that one to? seriously els, let’s get back to studying, this essay isn’t going to write itself.” you try to shut down the argument, and she deflates a bit. it’s not as though she has any more defense to her argument. she knows you’re right, and she knows she made her reputation herself.

“can you believe it, d?? she said she’d say no if i asked her out on a date!” ellie rants at the bar over the loud music. dina raises a brow, traces of amusement laced into her features. “didn’t she say it was because of all the girls you go through? i mean, i know i’m your best friend, ellie, but that’s a valid reason not to get involved with someone.” she shrugs, making ellie’s eyes widen in offense. “seriously?! who’s side are you on??” the brunette asks, making dina laugh in disbelief. “certainly not yours! because of you, rachel and carina were arguing all throughout my sociology lesson.” dina grumbles, and ellie sighs as she lays her head on the bar counter, squishing her forehead against the cool marble surface.

“she’s never going to want me.” ellie groans pathetically, and dina rolls her eyes. “wow, pull yourself together. if you really want her to want you, you need to put in actual effort.” dina starts, her tone stringent and up for no debates. ellie opens her mouth to say something, but the raven haired girl beats her to it. “seriously, this can’t be like all of your half assed attempts at getting into someone’s pants. if you really want her, prove it.” dina says sternly, and ellie sits up, flashing her a questioning look. “what am i supposed to do!? i’ve never done this sort of thing before… i just— i don’t know how to get out of the friendzone. i’ve never been in the friendzone with someone i actually want.” ellie grumbles, and dina hums in amusement. “for one, stop hooking up with every girl you find attractive. being easily accessible to other girls isn’t as hot as you think.” dina slaps ellie’s back a little too hard, causing her roommate/best friend to glare at her.

“ow!” “and actually make an effort to get to know her. text her, ask about her day, her favorite bands and artists. you said she’s smart, does she like books? ask her about her favorite book and major.” dina explains, “what if she doesn’t want to tell me those things? we’ve only been friends for two months, and she literally only talks about studying.” ellie says, her tone laced with insecurity. “y/n is nice. i’ve talked to her a few times at the library. she’ll tell you those things as soon as you ask. all you have to do is put in effort till she notices.” dina assures her, and ellie reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone.

“what are you doing?” dina asks uncertainly, “texting y/n about her day and favorite band and all that bullshit.” ellie slurs as she begins smashing her thumbs on the keyboard, and dina’s eyes widen. imagine your surprise when you wake up at midnight to a bunch of texts from ellie, asking you about your day, and your favorite books. the grammatical errors in the message don’t fail to make you smile, and you can’t even fight the way your heart warms.

you: go to sleep, ellie.

ellie: i can’t stop thinking about you.

you: think about me while you sleep. it’s late.

ellie: i was at the bar with dina tonight, just got to my room. gonna dream about you, princess <3

you roll your eyes at her cheesy message. of course she’s intoxicated. you have a small smile on your lips as you type back a single message.

you: goodnight ellie. don’t forget to keep a water bottle by your bed for the morning.

you aren’t sure why ellie williams seems to suddenly be interested in you. it’s a strange feeling to be wanted by one of the most wanted girls in school. you can’t help but wonder if she’s truly interested, or if you’re accusations are correct and she’s just trying to get into your pants. you sigh as you put your phone down and try to go back to sleep. thoughts of ellie plague your mind, and you hate the way her smile makes you feel all warm inside. you’re trying your absolute hardest to not feel anything for ellie williams, but it doesn’t seem to be working out very well for you. especially not when she drunk texts you the cutest things.

the texts don’t stop there. over the next few weeks ellie begins to text you daily, nonstop. she’ll send you memes, or posts that remind her of you. she’ll even send pictures of puppies she sees when she’s out in town. there was a night where you were reading, and ellie sent you a voice memo of her playing guitar and lightly singing a song she wrote. her voice made you feel as though your heart was about to burst right out of your chest. it’s been three and a half months of trying to ignore these feelings in your belly every time the brunette is near. three months of trying to keep your blush at bay, and not laugh at her horrible puns.

“i didn’t know you could sing like that.” you pipe up one day as you’re revising her essay for her english class. her cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink, and you have to bite your bottom lip to stop from smiling. “i don’t normally let anyone know that i can sing… but you’re special to me.” she clarifies, and you stare at her, getting lost in her emerald eyes. “maybe one day you can come to my dorm, and i’ll sing for you in person.” she flirts, and you just now realized how close she’s sitting. the blood rushes to your cheeks and you have to force yourself to look away, breaking eye contact. “when will your excessive flirting ever end?” you ask her, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

ellie smirks, “when you finally agree to give me a chance.” she declares, and you can’t help but frown. “a chance? a chance at what, ellie? to get in my pants and then never talk to me again?” you ask, sounding slightly upset. ellie shakes her head quickly, “no! y/n you know i’d never do that to you.” she tries, and you sigh. “no, i don’t. the truth is, i like you and it scares me, ellie… but the way you treat girls scares me more.” you whisper, unable to look at her, ellie feels her heart sinking in her chest. she feels herself responding with one of the only few emotions she knows; anger. “no offense, but how would you even know how i treat women?” she asks, and you can hear the clear offense in her tone.

“i already told you that girls talk, ellie. i know what i’ve heard from them, and what i hear from you is no better.” you don’t even look at her as you continue revising her essay on her laptop. “look, you misspelled ‘continuity’.” you say, swiftly trying to change the subject, but ellie doesn’t let up. “the way i treat girls i don’t care about is different. i care about you. i could treat you so well, and take you on dates.” she begins rambling, and you look up at her, your eyes unamused. “have you ever even been on a date, ellie?” you ask unable to contain a chuckle. “well— erm— no, but i bet i could plan one. a better date than you’ve ever been on.” she tells you, leading you to tilt your head to the side in order flash her a curious look. “is that so? well, maybe you should practice by actually taking your next conquest on a date.” you suggest sassily, and she deflates.

i don’t want to date anyone who isn’t you, she thinks, but chooses not to press any further. instead she goes back to her room after you finish revising her essay, and even though she doesn’t text you throughout the rest of the evening, you still receive a goodnight text from her. a simple message shouldn’t make you smile or give you butterflies, but it does. you respond to her, and go to sleep, thoughts of ellie freaking williams on your mind, and you have to continually remind yourself that you’re not the only poor girl thinking about her tonight. you think about the advice you gave her, to take some poor other girl out on a date… but the thought of that makes your heart ache. you don’t want ellie to date or hookup with anyone else, but that’s wrong. ellie can do whatever she likes, you just wish she only wanted to do you.

your disheartening thoughts from last night linger all throughout the morning. you don’t text ellie back, and when she asks to hang out, you don’t even answer. you’re starting to realize the main problem is you’ve been spending so much time with her, and the closer you two get, the more you fall for those freckle coated cheeks, and evergreen eyes. you can’t help how you feel, and you know ellie only flirts with you because that’s the way she is. it doesn’t mean anything to her, and that’s what hurts the worst. to her you’re just some other girl, and to you she’s starting to take up spaces in your mind like she owns it.

it doesn’t take long for ellie to find you on a bench outside of the university after your classes. you’re reading some stephen king novel that’s pretty worn, “you’ve been hard to find.” ellie’s soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up to see her standing there with a button up collared shirt, and those jeans that make her look cuter than anyone you’ve ever seen. “i’ve been looking for you. and texting you.” the brunette says, and you shrug. “i’ve been busy.” you murmur and she frowns as she takes a seat next to you. “too busy to hang out with me?” she asks, and you shrug. “you’re a little distracting.” you admit as you wave your book at her.

she smirks, and it makes your belly flip flop. “you calling me distracting?” ellie teases, and you let a giggle escape your lips. the delightful sound causes ellie to grin. “yeah, you are. in the worst way.” you joke, and she throws her head back and laughs. she stares at you for a moment, “i have a date tonight.” she admits, and you tense up. “oh really?” you question, trying not to sound too interested. “yup. angela from kappa sorority.” she explains and you chuckle, “a sorority girl?” you ask, and ellie can hear the slight judgment in your voice. “well, the girl i want won’t give me the time of day, and i’m trying to prove i can do more than just sleep with a girl.” she explains simply, and you roll your eyes.

“where are you taking her?” you inquire, and ellie shrugs, “probably maria’s diner downtown.” she says and you nod. “nice. hope you have fun.” you sound pretty genuine, but ellie can see a trace of hurt in your features. you’re trying to ignore the way your stomach sinks at the thought of her smiling at some pretty girl, and paying for her dinner. you hate thinking about it. “maybe we can hang out before? get some studying in?” she asks hopefully, she just wants to spend as much time as she can with you. “can’t. i have to do homework before i help joey and kayla with their project for an english seminar.” you explain, and ellie only nods in a bit of disappointment.

“will you be free tomorrow?” she asks and you shrug, the thought of having to hear about how good her date went doesn’t sound too appealing. “i’ll text you.” you weakly respond and she nods as she stands up, flashing you a questioning look. “uh, okay…” she wants to say something about how upset you seem, but she doesn’t want to press. “i’ll see you later then.” she adds, and you only nod as she walks away. you try not to watch her leave, but you can’t help it. you release a ragged breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “i’m so screwed.”

throughout the night you ignore ellie’s texts, trying not to think about her date. the next day you begin to avoid ellie as if she has the plague. it doesn’t take her long to notice. you’d leave her on read, and she checked the library but you weren’t there. all of the benches around the university that you’d usually sit at to read were empty, and you weren’t in the cafeteria. that’s how ellie ends up in front of your dorm room, knocking lightly yet adamantly. when you open it you’re wearing a pair of tight flare jeans, a pair of converse, and that cute cropped sweater that fits you well.

“e-ellie what are you doing here?” you ask, obviously surprised to see her. “you’ve been ignoring me. why?” she asks as she pushes her way into your room. your roommate is sitting on her bed, and she raises a brow, “should i give you guys privacy?” michelle asks and you nod, “yes please.” you breathe out, and the blonde nods as she gets up and reaches for her phone and purse. “i’m gonna bring lunch. for three in case you’re still here when i get back.” michelle tells ellie before she leaves you two alone. the atmosphere is tense, and you can’t even look at her.

“how was your date?” you inquire, ignoring her previous question. “is that why you’ve been ignoring me? because i went on a date?” she asks in disbelief, making you scoff. “i haven’t been ignoring you, i’ve been busy.” you lie through your teeth, and now it’s ellie’s turn to scoff. “seriously? you expect me to believe that? every day for the last four months we’ve been hanging out, and now suddenly you’re busy?” she asks, her tone stern and angry. you roll your eyes opting not to respond. this only adds to her frustration, “i mean, what gives? i thought we were friends.” she points out, her tone more fragile now, and it makes you pause. your hard expression falters, but you can only stare at her incredulously. “friends?” you ask, your tone skeptical and hurt, “a friend wouldn’t endlessly flirt with me, and pin me in the same category as every other girl in this school. they don’t say all this stuff that’s supposed to have meaning, and then go on a date with some other girl. friends don’t look at each other the way we do, ellie!” you snap and she’s staring at you with wide eyes, while her breath is lodged in her windpipe.

“you like me.” she blurts out, her tone laced with realization. you blink, “you like me, like me.” she declares, and you release a shaky sigh. “i do. but i can’t afford to, ellie. you’re not the kind of person i’m supposed to be with. i need someone who’s ready for commitment, and who has a whole lot of patience. you don’t have either of those things.” you begin to ramble, and ellie frowns. “why do you always make me seem like i’m a terrible person?? is that really what you think of me? that i’m so shit, i don’t even deserve a chance to show you i can be better?” she asks, and the hurt in those eyes makes you feel tremendously guilty. but you don’t let up, “you’re a wonderful person, ellie. you’re funny, and smart, and you always make me smile… but i don’t think you’d be a good girlfriend. i’m sorry. i think it’s best if we don’t talk anymore.” you say, your voice low and distant.

ellie stares at you in disbelief. “so that’s it?? you’re just never gonna talk to me again?” she questions angrily, and you look down at your shoes. “i’m sorry ellie.” you whisper, and she stares at you with a look of pure betrayal. “you know, i may not know what it’s like to be in love or know how to be a perfect girlfriend, but i would do anything you ask. i would never hurt you intentionally. so, you just lost someone who actually gives a shit about you.” she hisses venomously, as she turns to leave, and you have to clamp down on your bottom lip as you try to ignore the tears that are threatening to leave your eyes.

ellie leaves but you can’t watch her go. you don’t want that memory engraved into your brain. her words are all you can hear replaying in your head, and it isn’t until you can taste the salt from your tears that you realize you’re crying. you haven’t cried over a girl since high school, and now you feel like a fool for letting ellie get so close. you didn’t even let her touch you and you still ended up broken-hearted like her string of other women. but this was different, and it’s taken you this long to realize it. ellie didn’t even try to get into your pants, yet it still hurts just as much, maybe more. you can’t help but feel guilty for being so harsh, but how could you possibly give ellie a chance to break your heart for real? you’re terrified of the way you feel about her.

you: i’m sorry.

ellie leaves you on read after that, and two days go by with you thinking about her consistently. she doesn’t try to show up at your door anymore, or go out of her way to look for you on campus. ellie is now actively avoiding you, the same way you were avoiding her. the guilt and sadness was gnawing you up inside, and you couldn’t fight the urge to make things right. that’s how you ended up at jesse’s frat party. you’re wearing a tight white cropped top that ties around the back of your neck, and light blue denim levi short shorts. your hair was curled perfectly in hopes you’d see ellie tonight and get to make things right. you realize that if you don’t give her chance, you’re going to be heartbroken over all of the ‘what if’s’.

“hey y/n! i didn’t think you’d come tonight!” dina shouts over the loud music, as she stands in front of you, she has a strange smile on her face. she looks almost nervous. you smile back, choosing not to dwell on it. “hey d! yeah, i’m looking for ellie, have you seen her?” you ask and dina’s smile falters, “uh, she’s— she’s around.” dina lies horribly. as if on cue you move a bit to the side, and see what she was covering with her body by standing in front of you.

madeline from one of the sorority houses was hanging off ellie’s neck, and the brunette’s hands were all over madeline. your heart breaks at the sight; you have a few classes with the blonde and she’s on the cheer team. she’s drop dead stunning. that’s when ellie leans in and kisses the cheerleader in a way that cause the final bits of your heart to crack into little pieces. suddenly you feel like an absolute fool for coming here tonight.

“y/n…” dina tries, and you clear your throat, shaking your head, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “do me a favor and don’t tell her i was here, okay?” you ask pleadingly and dina flashes you a concerned look. “please?” you nearly beg, your voice cracking slightly, causing her to sigh. she nods reluctantly and you rush off, making your way for the exit you just came in through. you try not to cry, and thankfully your roommate/best friend is at that stupid party trying to get laid. you let it all out as soon as you get to your dorm; your mascara’s running, and you’re sure you sound as pathetic as you look. the image of one of the prettiest girls in school hanging off ellie’s neck is now burned into your mind. you should’ve known better than to think you could actually make things work with ellie williams.

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kusanagihaku · 1 month ago

Text

an indentation, in the shape of you

⭢ haku x mc, 6.1k

God, the sight of him like this – kneeling between your legs and head bent, moss-green hair tangled between your fingers, eyes dark and fierce – it is nearly enough to send you over the edge. It’s funny, some distant, coherent part of you thinks, how he looks like he’s the one in worship but you’re the one chanting his name in fervent prayer. or: my first and last time ever writing smut, so help me god. ao3 here.

｡°⚠︎°｡ minors dni!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

You’re late.

You’re late and you should have met Haku twenty minutes ago by the Galaxy Express gates so you could head out for the night, but due to an extremely foolish lack of foresight you’ve put off trying on your Halloween costume until now, which of course meant something was bound to go wrong.

You stare despondently at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t remember cheerleader skirts being quite this short.

Maybe you’ve bulked up since you’ve arrived at Darkwick? After all, you’ve been running around and pulling off frankly inhumane feats of strength during missions (never mind that those feats were mostly mental and emotional). That’d explain why the top of the cheerleader uniform fits more snug than you thought it would when you ordered it online.

Would it explain why the hem of the top ended higher up your midriff than you’d like? Would it explain why the skirt, albeit high-waisted, barely covered your ass? Maybe not.

You tug at the hem of the skirt again, as if it would magically lengthen in the span of time since you last tried to stretch it to cover more leg. Perhaps the real problem was you ordering a costume online. Maybe you should have just borrowed a fox robe or whatever, like Haku decided to do.

You exhale. The only choice would be to wear a white turtleneck and some stockings underneath and a longer jacket over your costume and pray really hard the area Haku ends up bringing you to won’t have too many creeps.

Of course, that’s where the next problem arises – you only have the Darkwick-assigned standard black stockings, which barely came up to mid-thigh and barely go with the white turtleneck, and a pair of bright white exercise leggings, which frankly would be ugly as hell.

You’re going to scream.

You’re about to give up and go with the lesser of two evils when the chime of the doorbell echoes throughout the empty cathedral.

…Haku.

You scramble downstairs to the doors, tugging it open to see a very bemused Haku.

“Did you forget our- oh, woah.”

You feel the heat of his gaze brush down your body, catching slightly on the bare of your midriff before alighting on the hem of your skirt, coaxing a flush up your neck and leaving a raise of goosebumps in its wake. Or maybe it’s just the impending chill of October seeping in through the open doors – you reach out to pull your boyfriend in so you can safely shut the doors.

“That’s, um,” Haku says. “Woah. I thought this’d be for my eyes only, princess.”

You roll your eyes, and turn away to walk back upstairs. You hope he doesn’t see the burn in your cheeks – it’s been a while since you’ve started dating, but Haku’s casual compliments still sends your heartbeat thundering through your veins. “That’s why I’m having trouble choosing what to wear underneath.”

“How about nothing?” You can almost hear the growing smirk in his voice as he gets over his initial shock. He catches up to you easily, long legs matching your stride as he follows you up the staircase.

You snort. “And stay cold? I’d rather not. Help me–“

“Help you get undressed?” Haku interjects, teasing grin in his voice. You turn to swat at his shoulder, only to find him a couple of steps further down than you expected, golden gaze trained on where the pleats of your skirt barely covers the curve of your ass.

The spark of his gaze sends flames dancing across your skin. It is both a familiar feeling and not, a kind of burn only Haku can rouse from the base of your spine, a burn you fear will get you addicted but hope you will never get used to. Heat creeps up your cheeks as you bite back a smile. “Stop it.”

At least he has the decency to look sheepish as he closes the distance between you, slipping his arm around your waist and kissing the crown of your head. “Can’t help it. I’m just a guy, and it’s such a great view.”

The warmth of his palm on the bare of your skin spreads as much through your veins as his words do. His thumb stretches, accidentally (?) slipping under the hem of your top as you reach the top of the stairs.

“Anyway,” you continue hastily, as if filling the air with words will distract you from the questing of his fingers. If you give in to his touch now neither of you will make it out of the dorm tonight. “I was thinking about wearing a white turtleneck underneath this top.”

Haku hums. “Shame.”

His thumb slips up further. Definitely not accidental.

“The issue is I only have black stockings.”

“Go without,” he suggests, blithely. His thumb slips out from under your top and tucks itself into the waistband of the skirt.

You turn to narrow your eyes at him as you enter your room. “And let everyone see half my ass?”

“Hey, now,” Haku frowns, and all of a sudden you are pressed up against the back of your door, his arm coming up to rest beside your face. His hand slides out from your waist to the curve of your ass, squeezing, and he dips his head towards yours, lips brushing the top of your ear as you suppress a shiver. “Who said anyone else is seeing anything?”

Your breath hitches as the heat of his mouth finds the shell of your ear in the exact way he knows will drive you crazy. “I thought– I thought you wanted to go to–“

He laughs, a low chuckle that melts straight into your throat and dries out your mouth. His hand moves lower to skim the hem of your skirt, tugging gently on it, “I mean, we were… until you decided to put this on.”

Your eyes slip closed as his lips meet the hollow behind your jaw, soft and hot and open-mouthed, and you struggle to find the words you need, hands coming up to rest against his biceps and head tilting back to allow him more access. It’s amazing how after so many times he can still take you apart with one well-placed kiss. “It– it wasn’t on purpose–“

Haku grins against your neck. His fingertips drift lower, running over the back of your thigh and dangerously close to where your legs are pressed together. “Really.”

Well. You’d be lying if you said no. You did order this outfit with your boyfriend in mind after all, wondering how he would react to your showing a little more skin than usual. You just didn’t expect this much skin.

And you definitely didn’t expect this big a reaction from him either – if anything, your make-out sessions so far have been soft and languorous, framed by the gentle sounds of drizzle on the wood of his Hotarubi veranda, and punctuated with laughter and adoration as you explored each other’s bodies.

Oh but this, this Haku is different. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the sudden increase in expanse of skin chest-down, and his mouth is hot and panting on the column of your neck as he pivots you away from the door and stumbles you backwards toward the sofa.

You crash into the scratchy grey of the sofa, legs falling apart naturally to accommodate where Haku has slid his knee between them. He braces one arm on the wall behind you, and his other hand comes up to stroke the side of your face.

His eyes are dark with an almost-hunger as he leans over you, trailing down to your lips in a silent request, and when your tongue darts out to wet your lips he groans, tipping his forehead forward against yours. “So fucking beautiful.”

You flush – you’ll never get used to the praise Haku lavishes on you. But before you can think of anything to say in return, his mouth finds its way onto yours.

When he kisses you it is all tongue and crash, a messy and hungry and wet that steals your breath away. He licks into you, like he cannot get enough of your taste, and when you pull away, gasping for air, his mouth finds its new church on the bruises he sucks onto your neck. You let out an involuntary whimper – the nip of his teeth and smooth of his tongue is only overshadowed by the way his hand slides from your cheek to your ribs, brushing gently over the curve of your chest to tuck under the tight hem of your top.

He only stops two seconds later, frowning and leaning back to tug at the pale purple fabric. “How-“

“Zip,” you say, slightly breathless, and lift yourself off the sofa so he can reach around you. His deft fingers make quick work of the zipper in the back, loosening the top, and his eyes follow your chest as he helps you lift it over your head.

His voice is deep and pained as he watches your breasts fall out of the confines of your top. “No bra?”

You shake your head, eyes tracking the lick of his lips as he stares at your nipples hardening in the cold room air. “Shirt was too tight.”

“Fuck, princess,” he swears, and slides his hands up your waist to rest under the curve of your breasts. “God, you’ll drive me crazy.”

He leans down to lick you, experimentally, sliding the rough of his tongue over a sensitive nub. It sends a jolt to your system that immediately pools between your legs, and a gasp escapes your lips.

Haku grins at the sound. His hand comes up to squeeze the soft flesh of your other breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers and eliciting another gasp. He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your chest, “You always make the most beautiful sounds for me.”

“Haku…” you squirm at that, but he is already leaning down to attack the expanse of skin underneath his hands with his tongue, biting and nipping and pinching and drawing all sorts of sounds from the back of your throat. His hungry mouth finds your nipples again, soothing and pinching as he suckles bruises into the soft fat under his fingers.

You arch into the warmth of his hands, keening. There will be marks littered all around you by the end of the night, you’re sure – Haku has never been one to hold back when it comes to tasting the sweet of your skin.

He bites, harder than usual, on the saliva coated nub between his fingers before laving his tongue over it, and the combination of pain and sooth explodes from your lips in a tight, “Ah, Haku–“

Your legs snap shut. You rut, shamelessly, against the firm of his thigh between yours – the tension between your legs has been building with each slide of his tongue, and you crave some sort of friction so bad–

Haku presses a hand against the plush of your leg, preventing them from clamping around his own. He pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes looking as lust-hazy as you feel. His lips are slightly swollen, you notice, a delicious pink brought on by the assault against your skin, and it sends a shiver through you as he murmurs, “Let me. Please.”

His words sink straight to your core; he sinks straight to his knees. His hands drift to your knees, pushing them apart to allow him to sit between them, then pushing them up to allow him a better view of your inner thighs.

The flimsy skirt flips upwards as you set your heels on the sofa, leaving you exposed to Haku’s hungry gaze. He takes one look at the underwear you chose for the evening and groans. “God, princess, you wanted to go out wearing this?”

You flush again, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you try to clamp your knees shut, but Haku’s grip is vice-like on your thigh. You know what he’s talking about – the piece you chose today was a thin, black lace number that barely covered anything. After all, you needed to make sure it wouldn’t leave panty lines when you put on the cheerleader skirt. You didn’t think…

His groan goes straight between your legs. You watch him lick his lips, almost unconsciously, as his eyes zero in on the dark spot in your underwear. You know that you’ve been getting steadily wetter since Haku first kissed you, and you know the effects of Haku’s ministrations definitely show in the dampness of the black material. “Haku…”

His eyes drift up to meet yours. You know what a mess you must look to him, all dishevelled and neck and chest littered with red bite marks, legs spread and gasping his name without his fingers even touching your drenched core. Your eyes drop, self-conscious, but Haku just chuckles. He rises to kiss you, the gentle, chaste press of his lips on yours a far cry from the way he’s been devouring you. “Gorgeous. Always takes my breath away when you’re spread out like this, just for me.”

God, he always knows exactly what to say.

“Just for you,” you echo. Your voice comes out breathy, needy, thinned with want, and Haku’s brows immediately tighten as he rocks backwards, swearing as he kneels between your legs again.

“Fuck,” one hand slides further up your thighs. “The things you do to me, princess.”

He places one, two, three kisses on your inner thigh, sliding closer and closer to where your underwear is doing absolutely nothing to hide the way you’re dripping for him. “How did you expect me to keep my hands off you the whole night, hmm?”

When his mouth finally reaches your core, placing a gentle kiss at your clothed clit, you arch against the sofa with a loud gasp. It takes Haku’s grip holding your thighs apart to keep you from wrapping your legs around him.

The heat of his breath ghosts across your underwear as he chuckles. “That sensitive already?”

You could cry. “Haku, please–“

He ignores you, choosing instead to place another kiss over the wetness of your core before nosing at it. His eyes drift closed as he buries himself in your scent, nose bumping again and again against your most sensitive part as he places kisses through the lace.

It takes you a few more dazed seconds of his earrings tickling your inner thighs to realise he has taken his left hand off your leg, and to recognise that the pumping movement of his arm means he has pulled himself out of his pants. “Haku, I can–“

His eyes snap open, dark pupils almost taking over the gold of his irises, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to where he knows your clit is.

The pressure instantly steals your words away, and leaves a loud moan in its place.

Your cheeks burn as the sound leaves your mouth. God, the things Haku does to you, too. You want to touch him, you want to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, feel the stiff of his cock slide into you, heavy and thick and him, but–

Haku swiftly pulls your thin underwear to one side. The shock of cold air on your exposed core wrests another gasp from the burn in your throat, before it is replaced with the inferno building on his tongue.

Your head hits the back of the sofa. “God, Haku, please, oh–“

He hums against you. Whether or not it is a muffled moan at the taste of you or if he is just pleased with the way you drape his name on the tip of your tongue, it does not matter – the vibrations unfortunately shoot straight up your spine and into the most animalistic pleasure-centred part of your brain. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to keep yourself from humping his face as you press the back of your fist into your mouth.

Haku stops. “Princess,” he says, roughly, and the pet name is so loaded you pry your eyes open to look at him. His voice is thick with want as he rushes out a, “Don’t– don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, he rests his cheek against the soft of your thigh. His gaze is filled with something you can’t quite name, a blend of lust and adoration, a different type of exaltation you only see the likes of when Haku is between your legs. “Please,” he rasps.

Lord, you would do anything in the world for Haku, if only he asks.

You move your spit-slick hand away from your face, wincing at the way a string of saliva connects your fist to the shine of your lips, and Haku’s gaze hardens at the sight.

“Fuck,” he growls, and sinks his teeth into the tender skin where your leg meets your core.

You jerk up in surprise, his name flying from your lips as he soothes you again and again with laps of his tongue. Before you can say anything else, though, he licks a slow stripe up your centre, rough and sweet, dipping his tongue in between your folds. Your fingers find their way into his hair as he moves into you, tongue pressing inside your aching core desperately like a man who has not found water in days. A familiar tension coils between your legs under the movement of your boyfriend’s tongue, a slow burn that you know will consume you and leave you bereft at the end of the night, but right now you need more, more–

“Taste so fucking good, princess,” he pants, breaking away. The lower half of his face glistens, a testament to how fucking wet you are for him; a whimper escapes you at the sight.

He taps a long finger against your entrance. “Can I–“

“Please,” you whine, hips shifting shamelessly to press yourself against his finger. “Need you–“

When he pushes his finger into you, gently, slowly, your eyes drift closed, his name floating on the shape of your moans. Every drag of his fingertip against your walls draws fireworks on the back of your eyelids, sends sparks up to the cry of your lungs; every clench you make on the slender digit sliding in and out of you sends fresh curses spilling from the sweet of Haku’s mouth and loads his name on the runway of your tongue.

When he latches onto you, sucking harshly on your clit and sliding another finger into you, his name flies out from your lips, the vowels of Haku, please, ah, Haku, Haku unintelligible amongst the squelching as he pushes you closer to your climax.

But oh, Haku curls his fingers just right, just so, exactly in the way you acutely need and are so hopelessly addicted to, and just like that you lose all train of thought and tumble headfirst into the delicious friction of his fingers. You cannot help but tighten against the pump of his hand, breathless and wanting and so, so close, and are rewarded with a hazy hum that blazes right into the fire between your legs. “Haku, wait, I’m gonna–“

“Fuck,” he curses, voice strained, “Love it when you say my name like that– you’re so good, so tight for me, princess–“ he sucks your clit hard, once, twice, vibrations of his voice echoing through your nerve endings “–fuck, cum for me, please–“

He curls his fingers again, and all at once everything explodes behind your eyelids, a blooming white that shoots from between your legs to the tips of your fingers and the curl of your toes. His name tumbles again from your lips, a desperate devotional that he rises to seal and swallow against his own as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

You don’t know how long your free fall lasts, a blinding pleasure that sends trembles through your thighs and soaks into the pump of his fingers in and out, in and out, but as you regain some semblance of cognition, weakly clenching around the still steady push of Haku’s hand, you taste yourself on the slip of Haku’s tongue against your own.

“God,” he says, resting his forehead against yours, breathless, “you should see yourself when you come. So beautiful, so good,” another kiss, pressed against your open, panting mouth, “like a work of art.”

You whine a little at the way his thumb is still rubbing circles against your clit, shifting your hips slightly away from the overstimulation, and he chuckles, finally bringing his hand up to your mouth.

The chuckles stop, however, when you take his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around the long digits as they slip toward the back of your tongue. “Gods, princess–“

You take your time cleaning his fingers, tasting your own slick and licking up and down and between them, brain still hazy from the way your orgasm slammed into you less than a minute earlier. Christ, the way his fingers work you – you’d spend all your life worshipping them if you could.

Haku groans, watching your tongue flick around the base of his middle finger, and with some degree of self-control, tugs them out from between the pink of your lips. He presses his lips against yours instead, soft, gentle, reverent.

Your mind is marginally clearer after that. You mumble his name as he helps you sit back up, propping you against the sofa backrest with your heels on either side of him.

“Hmm?” he says, as he runs his hands down your thighs, searching for where your underwear is still clinging to your hips through force of will.

“Are we… are we still going out?”

Haku laughs, startled and breathless, then taps your hip so he can pull the soaked scrap of fabric you used to call underwear off your legs. “I don’t think we can.”

You want to suggest that you maybe go tomorrow (or whenever you can find a more… suitable costume, really), but your eyes follow Haku’s fingers as he wraps the damp black lace around his cock, stroking slowly.

Fuck.

You try and sit up. “Haku–“

Haku groans again, using his other hand to press you back onto the sofa. “If you touch me right now, I don’t think I can last, sweetheart.”

Only now you notice the sheen of sweat around his temples, the squeeze of his fingers around the tip of his leaking cock like he’s trying to hold himself back. You swallow at the sight of his precum smearing itself onto his hand, throat bobbing as you consider his words – he got so close to cumming at just the act of eating you out. God.

You can’t believe he’s real.

Oh, but the thought of the taste of him on your tongue, the weight of his cock hitting the back of your throat just the way you like it, the tug of his fingers in your hair as you swallow around him–

“Please,” you whisper, looking up at him – from underneath your lashes, in just the right way you know will bend him to your will – “I want– I want to taste you,” and just like that you watch his resolve crumble like dust in the wind.

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles, and rises to crush his lips against yours. It is all teeth and tongue this time, a dance of desperation that tastes all too much like you and not enough of him.

You whine, scrabbling your nails against his biceps – how is he still clothed – and he lets you flip him backwards into the sofa.

From there it is a battle of will for you, caught between making sure he is as unclothed as you are so you can nip and suck your way down his body, and going straight for his cock. You end up trying for the former, clumsily, if only so you can watch the flex of his abs as he comes; Haku takes pity on you and helps you divest the rest of his uniform as you straddle his lap.

You run your hands down the smooth of his body, then lean forward to kiss him once, twice, thrice. You can feel the laze of his smile against your lips, a familiar sensation from your quiet afternoons in Hotarubi, a reminder that–

You shift forward a bit too much, and the head of his cock brushes against the bare of your core.

The moan bursting out from Haku’s lips is sinful, melting straight between your legs and reigniting the ashes of a fire not yet burnt out. You roll your hips again, whimpering at the drag of his cock against your folds, thick and solid and delicious, but Haku grips your hips, pushing you away from him as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting.

God, the way he reacts to your touch – you want to bottle this feeling up forever.

It takes all your remaining braincells to remember your goal, and to the disappointment of the other parts of your body you do not impale yourself on the tantalising firm of his cock, but instead push off his lap to kneel between his legs. You take the base of his shaft in your hand, squeezing lightly, and are rewarded with Haku’s voice, thick with want.

“Gotta let you know, princess, I’m not gonna last long.”

You lean up to kiss his abs, hands letting go of his length to brace against his thighs, tongue flicking out to taste the hard muscle. “Then don’t. Let me– let me make you feel good.”

Haku makes a sound at the back of his throat, eyes on you as you lick your way down his obliques, leaving a trail of spit and kisses in your wake. His skin is feverish under your lips, a far cry from the casual leisurely make-out sessions you’ve spent exploring his body. His cock strains under your chin as your mouth goes lower; it weeps pre-cum against where it slides along the bruises he has left on your neck.

Haku’s hand comes up to rest on your hair. He is a complete wreck beneath your mouth, breathing rapid and Adam’s apple bobbing in anticipation. “Look so good like this– ah– between my legs.”

His breath hitches as you take him in hand again. You press a soft kiss, feather-light, to the tip of his cock, and hear his sharp inhale. He twitches, in your hand, the head an angry purple-red smoothness that leaks clear pre-cum into your touch. His body trembles beneath you; he groans, clearly holding back from thrusting up into the soft of your fist.

You give an experimental tug. Your thumb rubs the thick vein running down the side of his cock as you pull the weight of his cock towards you, tongue darting out to lave over the thick pre-cum coating his tip. It is salty, bitter, mixed in the taste of you from where he slipped along your folds earlier. “Taste so good, Haku.”

His hand slides down to cup your face, thumb running over your cheekbone. You look up at Haku at his gentle touch, only to find him watching you intently, dark ochre eyes trained on the way you lick his slick from your lips.

“So perfect,” he mumbles, moving his thumb to brush over the spit-shine of your lips. “Mouth was just made for me.”

You tilt your head to suck lightly on his thumb, just before he can move away, and feel his cock twitch again in the palm of your hand. He groans. “Don’t tease me anymore, princess, please.”

Alright.

You don’t give him a warning before you sink your lips down over his head, flattening your tongue to take the length of him all the way into your mouth.

He cannot help the jerk of his hips in response to the unexpected wetness, forcing the head of his cock past the back of your mouth. It triggers a swallow almost instantly; the sudden push of your tongue on his shaft against the roof of your mouth as your mouth tightens around him drags a low groan from the back of his throat. “Fuck—“

You pull off slightly to breathe, hollowing your cheeks around him before bobbing back down; what you cannot reach with your lips you make up for by stroking the velvet of his skin with your fist. You set a comfortable pace for yourself, making sure your teeth don’t scrape the sensitive skin and making sure the head of his cock hits your soft palate every time you sink down on him. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth; you swallow again, looking up.

Oh, Haku is glorious.

His forehead is sweaty, fringe stuck to his forehead in a mess; the red strings of his earrings are plastered to the side of his cheek, darkened with sweat. His mouth is open, panting with the effort of restraint, and his eyes are hooded, staring down at you with a mix of adulation and awe as his cock rests in the heat of your mouth.

You quicken your pace, twisting your wrist just so as you pump the base of his shaft, and watch as his golden eyes glaze over as he groans. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, princess, so good with your tongue–“

The gravel of his voice makes you squeeze your thighs together. Your other hand leaves his thigh to wander beneath your skirt, sliding between your legs to–

“Fuck,” Haku curses, and adjusts himself so he can see where your hand has pushed the edge of your skirt up.

You pull off of him, cock springing from your lips as you shuffle on your knees, trying to adjust your own position in accordance with his. A thin string of spit connects your lips to the tip of his cock as it tips back to hit his abs.

“God,” he breathes, eyes darting back your lips, “what a sight you are.”

His voice is rough with need, but filled with adoration all the same as he brushes your hair away from your face. You can’t help but smile back up at him. You’re a sight, you’re sure, on your knees and hair dishevelled and salivating for him, but when he looks at you like you’ve personally hung the stars-

Your hands return to his cock, smearing the copious mix of your saliva and his pre-cum down his shaft. The image of you on your knees, both hands pressed together around the thick of his cock, does not slip by you; what was it that Haku said the other day, murmured words lost in the rustle of undressing – something about a belief that your lover is cast in the image of your gods. When you glance back up at Haku it feels like you understand.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs. He reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re praying.”

You laugh. Haku’s uncanny way of knowing exactly what you’re thinking strikes again. You press a kiss to his shaft, then another and another, up the throbbing vein in his side until you reach his glans. You swirl your tongue around the flared head of his cock, dipping into his slit to collect a pearl of precum before sucking lightly on his tip, coating it in the warmth of your spit. “And what if I am?”

“I’m pretty sure whatever– ah– whatever holy you pray to isn’t supposed to– ah, princess– isn’t supposed to defile you like this–“

You hum, taking all of him into your mouth and sinking down until he hits the back of your throat before swallowing around him. Is it defiling, if you want the taint of his taste on your tongue? Is it defiling, if you have never wanted to be pure of him?

What is the point of holy, anyway, if not to find something you’d devote yourself to?

You set a far more punishing pace this time, his thickness threatening to split your jaw open, and watch as Haku tips his head back in pleasure. Your personal deity, your personal idol. You’d stay on your knees all night for him, if he’d let you.

It doesn’t take long before the tell-tale flex of his abs comes, before he tangles his fingers in your hair and your name in his speech, before he tugs tenderly on your scalp and a litany of praise comes spilling out, unfiltered from the gold of his tongue. “So perfect, princess, you– ah– can I—“

Your deity, falling apart under the heat of your tongue.

You hum around his cock, meeting his eyes in permission, and all at once he comes, hot of his seed shooting into the warm confines of your mouth. The thick cum is salty as it hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, drawing out pump after addictive pump from the twitching cock between your hands.

His body jerks up, thrusting shallowly into the heat of your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. He groans your name, low and long. “So tight and warm, so beautiful around my cock, ah– so good for me–“

You continue hollowing your cheeks around him, rubbing your tongue along the underside of his shaft. One hand leaves his cock to brace against his thighs; the other keeps up the slip-slide of his cock into the heat of your throat as his hips begin to stutter. You swallow as best as you can, trying to keep the thick rivulets of cum from spilling out between your lips as the erratic jerk of his hips against your hands slow and come to a stop.

When you look up, lips still wrapped around him, his eyes are trained on you again, glassy and awestruck.

You’ll never get tired of the way Haku looks just after cumming. His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, almost like he’s glowing, and the light catches in his hair like his own personal halo. All dazed, all blissed and reverential. All fucked out, just for you.

You suckle on him, again, dragging his cock along the pad of your tongue. His hands tug on your hair, the pain a delicious distraction from where your jaw is aching around his width. He lets out a groan at the overstimulating shift of your mouth around his tip. “Princess, please–“

You grin, pulling off of him with a pop, and you both look down as the string of spit and cum connecting the head of his cock to your lips elongates and breaks apart. His thumb finds your cheek, stroking gently as you leave a kiss on the soft pink of his tip.

You rest your cheek against his thigh as you breathe in the salty musk of his scent. Your voice is slightly hoarse as you look up at him, “I don’t suppose we’ll make it to that Halloween fair tonight.”

It takes Haku a while to find words, like he has to pull braincells back from where you’ve been sucking them right out of his dick. He smiles lazily at you, “We can always go tomorrow.”

You laugh, and he sits up to help you up off your knees. His hands rub at where your knees have turned red, then reach up to smooth over the pleats of your skirt, still too short to cover anything important. He playfully squeezes your ass, before tugging you down into his lap.

You let out a soft unf as you land in his lap, straddling him. You shift forward to kiss him, pressing your chest against his; in doing so your folds, wet and warm, brush once again over the thick of his cock.

Haku groans into the kiss at the same time a small gasp escapes you. You feel him twitch in renewed interest against your core, stoking the small fire that now burns brighter between your legs.

“That is,” he adds, voice husky, hands moving under your skirt to grope your ass, “if you can still walk tomorrow.”

You roll your hips against his, grinning brightly. “Bet.”

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker smut #haku kusanagi #lin writes #insp by like this one haku fanart i sent to mel.....#it's DONE i'm FREEEE #this was SO MUCH MORE DIFFICULT THAN I THOUGHT im never doing it again #haku the things u do to me.......#haku brainrot

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