#to gaze longingly at the water

[viviansfaefriend]

where I need to be. like actual need

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

[sweetfushi]

CONFESSING TO THEM

fluff | tengen uzui, kyojuro rengoku, sanemi shinazugawa x reader, reader nearly dies, tengen has three wives and you're tryna become his fourth | word count. 1.4k

TENGEN UZUI.

You know he’s married, thrice too. But sitting next to Tengen and watching him observe the Koi in the pond, a subtle smile on his face, warms your chest. You don’t realise that you’d started gazing at him longingly until he catches you, turning to you with a big grin. The beads of his headpiece rattled in the wind alongside your flowing hair.

“Tengen,” you start, voice meek and apprehensive, “I know you’re… married, but um, I don’t think I can continue our friendship if I don’t tell you.” At this point, your voice trails off into a whisper he has to lean in to hear. You almost outwardly giggle at the close proximity.

“You like me, huh?”

“What? Did you– have you known all along?” You huff and grab a nearby pebble to throw at him, only for it to bounce off his bicep in the midst of his snickers.

“I’d feel bad for you if you had tried to be subtle about it,” Tengen teases, leaning in closer until your faces are centimetres apart. When he sees your flushed expression, he shakes his head and rests his right cheek on his fist. “I can’t blame ya for failing though, it was hard for me too.”

You sit upright. “Wait, what?”

“Y’re pretty ditzy today, eh?”

You’re tempted to slash the charming smirk off his face. For the first time since the conversation started, you lock eyes with him (albeit having to almost painfully crane your neck to do so). From the way he maintains your gaze and lets you witness the boyish glint in his eyes, you’re convinced he isn’t lying to you with what he’s implying.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while now,” he admits, stretching his arms. “So I’m glad you’re not threatened by the idea.”

You purse your lips. “How are you going to deal with four wives?”

Tengen glances at you from the corner of his eye, grinning. “You mean it’s harder than handling three? My wives are my partners, not liabilities. You’d be no different.”

You lower your head to hide your impending smile, though he catches your expression even when you don’t think he does. If anything, he’s eager to witness more of your excitement. He finds it adorable that you can barely look him in the eye, even when he gets on one knee in front of you. He’s not proposing - your conversation already acted as one - instead, he wants to see your face. Tengen wants to see what he’s doing to you.

“Ring or necklace?” He asks.

You contemplate it before telling him your choice.

“Consider it done.”

KYOJURO RENGOKU.

“You must eat,” Rengoku tells you in that booming voice of his. He’s already scoffing down two of the bentos that had been provided to him by the cooks, but you had barely touched your food. You were starving, but your nerves overshadowed your hunger.

“I will,” you nod.

A minute goes by and all that is heard is Rengoku’s small comments on the food; tasty, yummy, delicious, incredible. Whenever he stares at you, you nod and smile along with him, but you notice his smile drop slightly further every time he does look at you.

“Is something the matter?” He chimes in, disturbing your racing thoughts. At this point, he’s stopped eating and is just waiting for you to answer, but for the past ten minutes you had been trying to plot how to go about telling him. I’ll never end up telling him at this point, you realise. So, you sip some of your water, place it back down on the coaster and lift your head to face him directly.

“I like you, Rengoku.”

For a moment, it’s silent. “And I don’t want that to make what we have weird, I even considered not telling you because I don’t wanna lose you, but if I don’t tell you it feels like I’m lying to you–”

“You stress too much,” he smiles, watching your throat bob as you swallow thickly. The flame hashira can sense your impending tears and feels oddly honoured that he had the ability to make them happy or sad ones.

Now that you reflect on what you’ve just done, you perhaps should have waited until the two of you - or he at least - had finished eating. Feelings like this are hard to stomach, especially from one hashira to another. While you’re contemplating your confession, you feel his gaze burn into you and, somehow, you find the strength within yourself to not avoid it.

“I’m sorry, I’ll pay for our food as compensation–”

“Compensation for what?” He laughs, your heart aching at the sight of such a brightly lit expression. “If anything, I need to eat more from how overjoyed I am.”

You pause. “Overjoyed?”

“That might be an understatement, but I can’t find the words at the moment,” he admits, that smile still stuck on his face. What you had yet to realise throughout these two years was that Rengoku had admired you the most out of everyone he had met. Yes, Tengen was flashy and Tokito was level-headed, but out of all the esteemed hashira, his flame had been ignited the most around you. Only now could he let it burn as it wished.

“I like you too, very much.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

“Stop looking like that,” he taps the blunt side of his katana on your arm, knocking you out of your daze - the daze you had been in the entirety of this dispatch. It wasn’t anything major, a few rowdy demons that have been unsettling the village near to the woods you were currently in, but Sanemi had insisted that he accompany you for it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sheathing your own katana after having wiped it clean of blood.

Sanemi eyes you for a moment. He knows you’re mature enough to handle yourself and manage your emotions, though he’s come to realise that it doesn’t mean you should be left to do so. So, the scarred hashira doesn’t prod further. Not until you fail to register the unexpected demon launching at you from behind, teeth bared and eyes maniacal.

“You’re askin’ to be killed, damn it!” He finally yells, his brows furrowed from the sheer adrenaline and anxiety he just endured. Sanemi never truly yells at you unless he’s unmistakably upset, so his raised voice makes your lips part and your eyes widen with a late registry of what risk you had induced.

“You wanna be in your feelings? Fine, just don’t do it when you’re out to work! At this rate, we’ll need backup just to make sure your reckless ass is bein’ protected with those villagers!” He’s breathing heavily at this point, his face in yours as he heaves and trembles.

Sanemi is still unsettled even when the two of you finally return to base, washing up and filling your stomachs during the last few hours before you’d call it a day. When you wander out into the pond gardens, your arms crossed over your chest to shield yourself from the night’s breeze, you almost turn the other direction when you spot Sanemi squatting at the edge of one of the smaller pools of water. He’s skipping rocks, watching them dance across the water, or occasionally fail to do so and fall into the pond or onto a lilypad instead.

“Don’t try and avoid me now,” he sighs guiltily, observing his reflection in the water momentarily before rising to his feet and turning to face you. “I shouldn’t…” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to apologising for something he usually does so casually. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he confesses.

“No, I’m glad you did,” you admit, licking your lips. “I like you too much for you to act like you don’t care about me. You’ve noticed, surely.”

Sanemi isn’t sure he has noticed. That thought alone made him kiss his teeth - had he been so distracted by his own feelings to notice yours? The question raided his mind for a few moments while you, unbeknownst to him, watched as his lips pursed and his cheeks flushed a light pink.

Was he seriously blushing? This is so uncharacteristic of him, you think, a smile finally gracing your lips for the first time that day. For a moment, you’re more invested in him blushing than you are in the acknowledgement that he reciprocates your feelings.

He walks over to you, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He doesn’t stop until his chest almost touches yours and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m g’nna kick your ass for today,” he scoffs. “After I take you out…” he almost looks angry at his own embarrassment.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Royal Audience: The Rite

Chapter 1 Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my full Masterlist is here Summary: (1) You, an Asgardian court nobody, fall asleep in the palace baths and have an unconventional introduction to the elusive Loki Odinson. (w/c 3.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x female reader. Smut. Language. Voyeurism.

Water splashes and your legs fly up, floating out into the murk of torchlit water. Bracing against the stone edge, you glance over your shoulder with a blossoming horror. The curved arch reveals the glittering lights of Asgard below; mountains which had glowed with low-afternoon light when you’d settled in the palace baths now cloaked in darkness. Why did no one wake me? It's forbidden for anyone but the Royal family to be in the baths after sundown. And the penalties are severe.

Surely more of a guideline than a rule, you think optimistically as you get your bearings. Panic twists in your chest. Surely Odin can’t imprison every member of the court who dozes off in the hot springs.

Heaving yourself onto the side, you shiver in the immediate chill. The loss of warmth is like the absence of a lover’s touch; leaving their bed on a winter night. You’re surprised you can remember what that feels like. A breeze blows through the atrium as you grasp for the robe you discarded earlier. It sticks to clammy skin, thick droplets seeping though the fabric as you gaze longingly at the towels lined up at the side. No time. But as you flick soggy tendrils of hair from beneath the collar, your ears prick. No. Footsteps. There’s only one doorway to the baths. A security thing. One hallway – in and out. Your eyes dart frantically at limited options. Tall, imposing pillars encircle the room. One of them will have to do. All you can do is pray the guards just take a quick peek around the door. The squeak of your bare feet on the floor fades just as your wet skin meets marble. You cover your mouth, eyes screwing shut. The door swings open, creaking on ancient hinges. “Prepare the oils,” someone commands. A dark, enunciated order which seems to settle in the steam.

A shudder runs down your spine. That voice. Another one replies in hushed reverence, flopping sandals scooting over the marble floor while bottles rattle. “Haste,” the first growls.

You clutch the flimsy robe tighter to your chest. The first time, you might have been mistaken. But as the irritated syllables of that solitary word settle, there’s no mistaking it. Prince Loki. If you were asked to swear in front of the Norns that you’d never envisioned the dark prince as you touched yourself in the dead of night, thought of his forbidden curls twisting through your hair as you rode him, the timbre of his moans as you choked on his cock – you’d be a fucking liar. I mean, who hasn't? But this? This is beyond the pale. Even conjured from your sickest fantasies. This is wrong. This is...a death sentence.

And yet, you find yourself edging closer to the side of the pillar.

Should you announce yourself? Grovel? Retreat out the door with garbled apologies, bowing with your face lowered and begging for your life? Probably.

But it’s too late now. Far too late. And if you’re going to end up in the dungeons, as on some level you always suspected you would, at least this image will sustain you.

Loki Odinson stands all limbs and and length at the edge of the baths. From emerald-encrusted slippers to the crown of dark waves spilling over his shoulders – he’s perfect; unmistakeably royalty even in his lounge-wear. What little there is of it.

White steam rolls above the water, as sheer and flawless as the chiffon robe that moulds to his body. The faint hue of his skin shows through the forest-green material, fingers toying with the tie circling his hips as he casts a scathing glance to the servant whirling a phial of oil between his fingers. “Tis’ ready, my lord” the servant says. The prince grunts, letting the sash fall open.

You hold a breath as the garb falls down the sinewy bulge of his shoulders, deep carves of tricep muscle illuminated in torchlight. You’ve never seen him so close; never had time to admire the stark beauty emanating from every angled inch of him. Without the distracting glint of his armour it’s almost enough to make your eyes water. Glimpses of him had been in passing, a stolen gawk before you bowed you head and he moved quickly through the great hall past the other courtly nobodies.

The luxuriously weaved material slides over his skin, folding and rippling as it drips from his fingertips. It shimmers in low flamelight and he rolls his shoulders back as it drops, abdominals clenching. You clench along with them as the robe pools around his ankles. Your palms sweat against the pillar, fingers beginning to claw as Loki steps into the water. He rakes his hair back, tilting his chin to the ceiling as he puts one foot ceremonially in front of the other. Making an entrance, even without an audience. Or so he thinks.

The servant stands obediently by the bath’s edge, staring ahead as the prince’s thighs flex with each effortless step, liquid lapping around his knees.

As much as you try not to look, sort of, to preserve some sliver of dignity for the god, saliva wells under your tongue. His perfect cock bobs between his legs. It’s true what they say, you think in a daze. His pubic hair is an immaculate shadow. Even his balls are perfect.

Loki sinks down, dipping long hair back in the water before seating himself in the opposite spot you’d occupied minutes ago. Jet hair plasters to his skin like tar, droplets of water clinging to his torso. “Begin,” he mutters with an air of annoyance. The servant complies, pouring the rose-tinted phial into his hand and beginning to massage the god’s scalp.

You watch in utter beguilement as Loki’s head is nudged from side to side, indecent moans of pleasure snaking from his throat as the favoured servant carries out his work. Thin drips of oil roll down the prince’s brow, catching the light. He tips his head back, jawline pointed to the ceiling like the blade of an axe. He lets out a whimper of pleasure.

You press your lips together so hard it hurts as a crease appears in the god’s brow, his eyes shut as the man kneeling behind turns the attention to his shoulders. The oil spreads down the thick of his neck, to the crevices of his collarbone; glistening. “Oh-h, yes…there-” the god growls, a gnawing groan shaking the air. For the first time, you notice the unmistakable heat of arousal sliding between your thighs. Squirming, you think briefly about looking away. You decide against it. In the blink of an eye, Loki’s mood changes like a winter wind. He leans forward, an abrupt tsk punctuated by the wave of a hand. “Leave me,” he demands. The servant looks visibly confused, fingers poised in the air above tense muscle. Loki turns expectantly over his shoulder. “Need I say it again?” he purrs menacingly. It was quietly brutal. You smirk in spite of yourself. Classic Prince Loki, you muse. You never dreamed you’d get to see it in person.

The man shakes his head, shuffling to his feet. He shuffles out the room with little bows and letting the ancient latch clunk into place. Your breaths quicken and the sudden gravity of the situation settles like a boulder in your throat. Frozen, you watch Loki eye the door a moment longer before resting back against the stone with a lazy sigh.

Long fingers run through the slick of his hair while water slops around his nipples. Gods, how you want to pull one between your teeth as you pump his- “Aren’t you cold?” His voice was an arrow. Sharp, targeted, tipped with venom. It’s hit spreads through your body, white noise filling your brain, blood thundering in your ears.

“Aren’t you cold?” he repeats, sterner this time. You realise with horrifying clarity that Prince Loki of Asgard, as eusive and unknowable as faraway galaxies to a mouse, is talking to you. And he’s naked. And you’re definitely spending the next decade in the dungeons. If you’re lucky.

With shaking hands, you step out from behind the pillar. The game is up. But to your credit, you have closed your eyes, one palm shielding them in a last ditch attempt at salvation. “Your Majesty I apologise I...fell asleep in the water, and woke up after sundown- the laws, and you came in...I didn’t know where to go- what to do-please have mercy...” You squint between parted fingers to gauge his reaction, hoping that the last threads of your long-gone innocence are believable. The prince curls a finger to his lips, covering a smirk. “I did not look upon your majesty...” you lie. The god’s eyes run from your ankles to your face, a devious smile playing at one side of his mouth. His lips part, chin tilting upwards, tongue resting behind his upper teeth before the perfect enunciation of, “Liar.”

“I did not look upon-” you stammer, lowering your hand and staring at the floor.

“-Oh, stop it.” Loki says. It’s followed by a melodic chuckle ricocheting around the marble walls. You glance up. One elbow rests on the stone behind him, water rippling against his chest. He tilts his head, raising the other arm out the water. “Never let it be said the God of Mischief is not merciful,” he rumbles coyly. A solitary finger beckons. “You must be cold,” he repeats for the third time, softer. “I assure you the baths are warmer than the dungeon, if that was your intent for the remainder of the evening.”

Each step feels like an eternity as you let yourself be drawn forward by weak flesh. You can’t take your eyes off his, thundering silently into your soul like a sexual storm. “I am not to the dungeons, then?” you ask cautiously. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He winks, a perfectly timed droplet of oil falling from his chin to the water below with a thick plop. It makes your stomach flip. He stiffens suddenly, raising his palm in a ‘stop’.

“You may leave now...if you wish,” he says. An aura of stiff formality settles on his expression.

This is the Loki you recognise from feast days and speeches which ring around the towering cloisters of the great hall. The palm held upright softens to gesture to the other side of the pool. “Or you may stay, if you wish. Either way, sending such a flower to the dungeons to wilt and wither would surely be a greater crime than the one you have committed.”

He pauses. There’s a flash of pink as his tongue runs over his lips. His gaze drops to your fingers fidgeting nervously with the sash of your robe, still stained with watermarks from its hasty assembly. “Curiosity is only natural, one supposes,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you reply quietly.

Loki’s eyes meet yours, one eyebrow rising. “Ah, but you did.” His voice is deeper, wisps of intrigue catching in every syllable. “In my experience, the path paved with mistakes leads to better stories. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You bite your lip. “Your Majesty are you...sure? I’m-” you glance towards the door, hesitating before you met the prince’s waiting stare, “-naked, under this.” Loki’s long index finger dips teasingly into the water, feigned surprise making his brows rise as he watches it sink beneath the surface. The lip twitches again as his digit skims, slow ripples pulsing out from his body. “Egalitarian, wouldn’t you say? Considering your recent education on my own state of undress.” Heat rises in your cheeks, matching the inexplicable confidence beginning to blossom in your belly. Loki smiles expectantly, resting both elbows casually on the ledge.

His lips form a soft o as your robe falls around your feet. You feel his stare roaming your body as keenly as though its his hands. Can he see the translucent sheen of arousal smeared down your inner thighs as you step into the pool? Possibly. Probably.

It’s true what they say about his body, about his temper, about his cock, after all. Why not his powers of perception?

The water licks against your skin, the thrill of this forbidden meeting making every hair on your body stand to attention. Pores tingle against the embrace of heat as you sink beneath the surface, perching on the flat stone seat beneath. The curve of your mounds bob above gently lapping water.

The same spot you’d been in earlier. But now, the view is entirely different.

You imagine that the archway behind you is a beautiful scene. Asgard’s moons would be shining, their light halo’ing your wetted hair against a blanket of stars. And yet, Prince Loki’s eyes never leave yours.

Although ten meters stretch between you, the whisper of his breath seemed to curl against your ear. You widen your legs beneath the water, immediately squeezing them closed again. Your lips purse, stifling a whine. “Your first royal audience, I gather?” Loki asks politely. You nod. This is madness.

Slowly, he shifts. One arm slips beneath the water, then two. His chin dips, observing you seductively from half-lidded eyes. “Why have I never seen you before?” The question hangs amidst the steam rolling over soft ripples.

“I find myself new at court, your Majesty” you hear yourself answer. It isn’t true. But it's better than the embarrassing reality. You're an invisible cog. “Liar,” he murmurs seductively. The corners of his eyes crease with mirth, a wet curl falling down to the side of his cheek. Somehow, your fingers find their way to your clit; hidden beneath the sweet-smelling veil of the baths.

“How can I have overlooked such a jewel in the midst of this grey wasteland?” “Wasteland?!” you scoff. It's bold, a peal of laughter escaping in spite of yourself. “Hardly.” The god cocks an eyebrow. “Despite my hyperbole, the sentiment remains. How did I miss you?”

There’s a moment of silence; anticipation choking the air. A suspicious disturbance begins to swell at the water by Loki’s mid-section and a chill of desire makes you shiver despite the temperate water; imagining those long, elegant fingers wrapping around that long, elegant cock. You began to toy with yourself, sparks of pleasure thrumming through your veins. Your shoulders began to roll in time with the pressure of your fingers. Unmistakeable. Breaths rise and fall in your chest, breasts bouncing lightly at the surface.

He grits, throat working as the straight lower line of his perfectly white teeth flash into view. The swell of water above his groin crests to a flurry; his deep, filthy exhales wrapping around your inhibitions and choking them. All pretence gone, you release the moan you’ve been holding.

Loki breaths out hard, a low ragged breath that seemed to part the steam caressing the water’s surface. “Mmm,” he grunts, neck stiffening. A vein at his throat stands hard and thick, straining as water began to splash against him from his abuse beneath. This is a scandal. You are a scandal. If anyone finds out, you’re finished...and yet. As the prince’s chin points to his glistening chest, wet from the splashback from fucking himself beneath the surface, you find you care not one jot.

His eyes darken, long lashes curled up to knitted brows. Loki’s lips are parted, tongue hovering and forming senseless words between laboured breaths. His cheekbones flash in the low light, soaking hair strewn over his milky skin. And always, his gaze is on you. The lofty, untouchable, inscrutable god that you’ve fantasised about is looking at you as he pleasures himself. Thinking about you as he sits across the water tugging his flawless cock. And if this is the shining, glorious moment which would burn out in a blaze of reputation-ruining glory to ash then so be it. Worth it. His dulcet moans of onanism grow louder, timing with your own. Only once do you tip your head back as you feel climax rear, a growled command of ‘look at me,’ through gritted teeth snapping you forward again.

If you’re ever deigned worthy to feel the prince inside you, have his marble body flush to your own in the throes of passion, feel his lustful praise hot in your ear– just once – you would die happy. But this? This could be enough. “S-so dutiful,” the prince moans, his shoulders juddering as he strangled the words. “B-brave,” he gasps. His brow furrows deeper with one last longing stare at your glistening neck and shoulders as you cum hard, a quiet mewl of his name echoing around the baths. It’s all you can do not to scream. “G-gods,” Loki chokes. Every muscle you can see in his body seems to tense, a thundering roar like ripping leather cascading from his throat. His mouth hangs open, grimacing to the atrium above. In the death of his cry, there’s silence but for the splash of water as the two of you compose yourself. Still flushed from orgasm, you push your hair back. The prince raises the hand that had been pleasuring himself out the water, inspecting a thick, white string that clings to his fingertips. He turns his gaze to you as he sucks the cum from his digits. God he’s fucking filthy, you think. I knew it. It takes every piece of willpower not to wade across the baths and lick it from his mouth. You bite your lip, matching his sultry demeanour and the prince’s eyebrow twitches. Your reaction is clearly to his satisfaction. “This has been amusing.”

He stands abruptly, breath stealing from your lungs as his entire body comes into view again. You aren’t prepared. The god’s cock is still hard. Long and perfectly formed, it’s earlier fairness now replaced with the blush of his work. Above, his abdomen glistens; pearled droplets of oily water running leisurely over muscled ridges. You open your mouth and close it again. Loki smiles. He turns and the toned meat of his ass shifts on his ascent up the short steps out the baths. With a click of his fingers, the robe and slippers he’d discarded are upon him once more. Your stomach drops.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” you blurt as he approaches the door. Prince Loki’s profile slices into view, the perfect arc of his bone structure lined over one broad shoulder in dancing torchlight. His eyes cast down and move to yours with theatrical precision.

“Your name?!” he purrs incredulously. “We must keep some mystery, surely.” And with the swirl of his robe and a thud of the ancient latch, he’s gone.

Loki’s stomach churns, emerald slippers feeling heavier with every step. He feels along the wall, blinking away the dizziness growing behind his eyes. Risky. Even for me. He pauses at the end of the corridor, steadying his breaths. There was something about her. Something which shattered any semblance of decorum he usually clung to in the presence of the court, however strange the situation. Her audacity. Gods, the look in her eyes as she brought herself to climax; pinning him under her gaze like a starving wretch at a feast. He stares at his feet, jewels throwing prisms from torchlight. “Brother?” Loki looks up, immediately rolling his eyes. “Spying on me? Truly you need to find something more wholesome to occupy your time, brother.” “Of course not. I intended to join you.” Loki’s stomach lurches as he notes the robe hanging off his brother’s shoulders, the plush red towels stacked in his glowering manservant’s arms. “No,” he snaps as Thor attempts to pass. The hand pressing against his brother’s chest is still wet, and he has a sudden hope it’s only water. “The temperature is not pleasing tonight. Tepid, at best. Trust me, brother.” “Is that so?” Thor asks, eyebrow rising. If he finds her in there, she’ll be punished. He won’t think twice before running to father like a dog. The thought wouldn’t usually cause him alarm but there it was again, that niggling feeling that greater fates were at play. He studies Thor’s face. "Trust me," Loki says. His brother sighs. “I trust you with very few things, Loki, but the temperature of bathwater is verily one of them.” He waves a hand and the servant scuttles away into the gloom. “In truth, brother, I hoped to speak to you about the Rite.” A hiss blows between Loki’s teeth, eyes darting to the side. “In my own time.” “Your own time?!” Thor stomps forward, making the torches rattle. “You’ve had five hundred years to find someone, Loki. Nine moons; that’s all you have until you must wait another five centuries for the alignment. Don’t you want to secure yourself in the succession? What if something were to happen to father? To me? The people of Asgard must be assured of your suitability.” “The entire thing is a farce. The fact that you succeeded, proves it.” Thor’s face darkens. “Don't speak of our sacred traditions that way. You know they’re in place for a reason.” A snort steals from Loki’s nostrils. “I have no doubts of my skill, I know I could rule Asgard’s people selflessly and with great enthusiasm; why must it be paraded in an inane peacocking which will make the high-lords wilt with inferiority?”

Silence hangs thick in the narrow corridor.

“A fact which makes your refusal to participate even more perplexing," Thor says, narrowing his eyes and yanking the sash at his waist in a way Loki assumes he thinks to be dramatic. "Nine moons, brother.”

As Thor's footsteps die away; he listens for splashing, for movement, for sneaking. But there’s nothing. He steps out the emerald slippers and pads back to the door, turning the handle with a final, furtive glance behind him.

He expects to see you draped nude over the chaise in the corner, or perhaps spread for him at the edge of the baths with hungry longing in your sharp eyes...but you’re gone. Loki frowns and stalks to the pillar which concealed you before. “Borr’s blood,” he hisses under his breath, scanning the room.

And then he sees it; something silken and knotted loops around the balcony pillars, glimmering in moonlight. He realises suddenly that the draping which normally billows in the evening breeze is gone. Loki smirks as he paces to the balcony and casts a cursory look over the edge. The makeshift ladder hangs to the level below. The royal laundry, if he’s not mistaken; the same hot spring source. “Nine moons,” he repeats quietly to the silence, rapping his knuckles against the marble twice before turning away with a smile.

💖Thanks for joining me for this lil journey! 🕯️Tags in comments x Read Chapter Two, Successional Pleasure HERE

[pucksandpower]

Pretty Woman Moment

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: you have your very own Pretty Woman moment in the glittering shops of Monaco

You take a deep breath of the fresh Monaco air as you walk hand-in-hand with Max down the cobbled streets. He gives your hand a little squeeze and smiles at you. Even after all this time, his smile still makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re both dressed casually — just simple jeans and t-shirts, with caps pulled low over your faces. It’s one of the things you love most about your life here. The two of you can blend in and just be yourselves, without the glare of fame and fortune.

As you pass a small cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts out. Your mouth waters.

“I’m dying for an iced coffee,” you say longingly. “Do you mind if we stop for a quick drink?”

Max chuckles. “Of course, schatje. You stay here and keep browsing. I’ll go grab us something.”

He gives you a peck on the cheek before heading into the cafe. You watch him go, your eyes drifting down to admire his cute butt in those jeans. Yup, you’ve definitely still got it bad for him.

Humming to yourself, you continue down the street, peering in shop windows at the latest fashions.

Up ahead you spot the iconic red awnings of Cartier. On a whim, you decide to browse the opulent jewelry shop.

As soon as you enter the store, you can feel the receptionist’s eyes sweep over you, no doubt taking in your casual outfit. Her gaze lingers on your much-loved sneakers. You pretend not to notice as you begin looking at a display of gem-encrusted watches.

Moments later, a saleswoman approaches you. ��May I help you find something?” The saleswoman asks in a frosty tone.

You give her a polite smile. “Just looking, thanks.”

The woman’s eyes flick to your sneakers again, and her lips press together in disapproval. Still, she gives a curt nod and stands stiffly nearby like she is waiting for you to leave.

You feel a flare of annoyance at her judgmental attitude, but brush it off. You don’t have anything to prove to her. You know who you are, sneakers and all.

As you admire a display of delicate tennis bracelets, you feel the saleswoman’s eyes on you. She hovers over your shoulder, as if worried you might steal something. You bite back an amused laugh. If only she knew the size of your jewelry collection back home. Max loves spoiling you with extravagant gifts just because.

You wander towards the case of Panthère de Cartier rings, their tiny emerald eyes glinting up at you. As you lean down to admire them, the saleswoman swoops in.

“I’m afraid those particular pieces are off limits to handle without intent to purchase,” she says crisply.

You straighten up slowly. “Of course. My apologies.”

You turn away, irritation prickling. The other salespeople eye you suspiciously too now. Pretentious snobs, you think.

Just then, the glint of your own diamond tennis bracelet catches your eye — the one Max gave you for your anniversary last year. It’s slipped partially down your wrist unnoticed. You nudge it back into place just as the first saleswoman appears at your elbow.

“Excuse me, but I believe you’re attempting to steal that bracelet,” she hisses.

You gape at her. “What? This is mine, I’ve been wearing it since I came in.”

“Likely story,” she snaps. “Jacques, could you please call security?”

A bulky guard steps forward, eyeing you distrustfully. “Let’s just take a look at that bracelet, miss.”

Mortified anger rises in you. “Absolutely not, I don’t need to prove anything to you,” you say heatedly.

The saleswoman’s expression hardens. “If you make a scene, we’ll be forced to restrain you until the police get here.”

Just then, the door opens and Max strides in, caramel-drizzled iced coffee in hand. His eyes instantly take in the situation. He steps forward, eyes blazing.

“What the hell is going on here?” He demands, voice dangerous. You’ve never seen his racing temper directed at you, though you know it lurks beneath his calm demeanor.

“It’s fine, Max, just a misunderstanding-” you start gently.

He silences you with a look, then turns his glare on the cringing salespeople. When he speaks again, his voice is lethally quiet.

“This is my wife, Y/N, and I suggest you treat her with the utmost respect. She is the most important person in my world.” Though his words are soft, they crack sharply like a whip. “Now apologize. Immediately.”

The saleswoman who accused you blanches paper-white. “M-Mr. Verstappen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”

Max holds up a hand, cutting off her stammering. His sharp features are carved from stone. “Save it. Your behavior was unacceptable. We’ll be taking our business elsewhere and you can be assured that I will be speaking to corporate.”

But the security guard blocks your path. “Just a moment. I still need to verify this bracelet did not come from our store.” He reaches out towards your wrist.

Quick as a flash, Max grabs the man’s arm, halting him. “Don’t touch her,” Max says in a low, dangerous voice. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the ice in his tone.

The security guard tries to yank his arm away, but Max holds firm. “I suggest you let us leave right now, before I call my lawyer.”

He drops the offending arm as the security guard takes several steps back, then takes your hand gently. “Come, schatje. Let’s get you home.”

Once outside, Max halts and turns you gently to face him. His handsome face is creased with concern.

“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing a lock of hair tenderly from your face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

You lean into his touch, letting it soothe away the sting. “I’m okay now that you’re here. But Max … the way she looked at me, treated me like I was garbage just because of what I was wearing …” You trail off, throat tightening.

Max’s jaw tightens, a storm brewing in his beautiful eyes again. “She had no right to talk down to you that way. No one has the right to make assumptions and treat you like anything less than the amazing woman I know you are.”

Despite everything, you feel yourself smile slightly. No one can make you feel better like Max can but furious tremors in his fingers tell you his wrath still simmers below the surface. You squeeze his hand. “I’m okay, really. Don’t let them ruin our day.”

His expression softens as he looks down at you. “Of course. I just can’t stand to see anyone disrespecting you.” He smiles ruefully. “I may have overreacted.”

You laugh. “Just a bit. But it was gallant of you to come to my defense.” You lean up on tiptoes to kiss him sweetly.

Max wraps you in his arms. “I’ll always protect you, Y/N. I love you.”

“And I love you.” You take his hand again. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I saw the most adorable baby swans in the harbor earlier.”

The tension eases from Max’s shoulders as you stroll together along the glittering marina. You chat and laugh, the unpleasant scene at the jewelry store already forgotten. Because nothing can touch the happiness you’ve found here, in the sun-drenched streets of Monaco, hand-in-hand with the love of your life.

***

The next evening, you and Max stride arm in arm into Cartier, looking every inch the glamorous millionaire couple that you are. You’re dressed in a slinky black gown with diamond earrings while Max cuts a sharp figure in an Armani tuxedo. The salespeople gape as you saunter in, not recognizing you as the girl from yesterday.

You head straight for the saleswoman who accused you of stealing. “Remember me?” You ask breezily.

She flushes, stammering apologies. You silence her with one manicured finger.

“Let’s start fresh, shall we?” You extend a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“S-Suzanne,” she manages.

“Suzanne, my husband Max and I are looking to make a significant purchase tonight.” You gesture around the lavish store. “You have some beautiful pieces. Why don’t you show us some options?”

“Of course, right this way.” Suzanne leads you to a private viewing room. Hands shaking, she brings out diamond necklaces, tennis bracelets, rings — tens of millions of dollars in jewels laid across velvet.

You and Max pretend to consider each item seriously, before waving it away. “Oh no, that won’t do … this one’s not quite right either …” With each rejection, Suzanne’s smile grows tighter.

Finally you turn to her, feigning disappointment. “Well Suzanne, I’m afraid nothing here has caught my eye. It all seems a bit … subpar.”

She gapes. “S-subpar?”

“Mmhm. I think we’ll try Bulgari next. Their quality is much more superior.” You pause, tapping a finger against your chin thoughtfully.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I realize this just isn’t going to work out between us.” You gesture around the store. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m sure this is a fine jewelry store for some people with lower standards, but for me ...” You trail off, shaking your head sadly.

Suzanne is white-faced, swallowing hard. “Please, give us another chance. I’m certain we can find something to your satisfaction.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well … I suppose we could take another look.”

For the next hour, Suzanne desperately shows you their most elite pieces, diamond necklaces worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. You and Max have a gleeful time trying them on, admiring yourselves, but ultimately waving each one away.

Finally, after rejecting a spectacular €500,000 art deco diamond choker, you say airily, “You know what, Suzanne? I just don’t think Cartier is right for me. It’s been … educational, but I believe Max and I will be going now.”

As you saunter out, Suzanne calls desperately, “Please come again soon!”

You pause, looking back with a dazzling smile. “I would … but you made a big mistake. Big. Huge.”

And linking your arm through Max’s, you sashay into the balmy Monaco night, leaving the frantic saleswoman behind.

[peppermintquartz]

As he sits down at the table with his cake, Tommy says to Evan, "Hen and Karen are concerned."

Evan sets down his water glass. His big eyes are round with curiosity. "What about?"

"You."

"Me? Why?"

Tommy smiles indulgently. Evan doesn't quite get how important he is in other people's lives, it seems. He cuts a mouthful of cake and eats it. Evan's gaze goes to the cake and he sighs longingly.

"Because I am your first boyfriend," Tommy says after he swallows, "and they want to be sure that I'm not taking advantage of you. It's sweet." His brow creases slightly. "Also terrifying. Remind me never to get on their bad side."

Grinning, Evan says, "I'll put it on our calendar." He leans closer and whispers, "What did they say to you?"

"Well, they wanted to know my intentions regarding a certain young man," Tommy replies, equally quietly, his gaze taking in every detail on Evan's face. "If I am honorable-"

"What? You have a medal!" Evan interrupts.

"-which is what I said too." Tommy stifles a laugh. "Anyway. I told them that I'm following your lead." Glancing around, Tommy sees that his former captain is at the far end of the station, and carefully reaches for Evan's left hand. The amused smile on his own face changes to a serious one. "And I am going wherever you want, however fast you want, okay? If you need us to slow down, we'll slow down."

With a soft, affectionate smile, Evan turns his hand over to squeeze Tommy's fingers. "If I don't know where I'm going, will you guide me?"

"Of course." Tommy risks pressing a gentle kiss to Evan's knuckles. Old-fashioned, which always makes Evan's ears turn a sweet pink. Tommy thinks about their hands, together, and dares to think a little about a distant future.

--

EDIT: now on AO3

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

“si, look at me.” simon's gaze meets yours as you turn his head towards you with a delicate hand. he can’t stop the small gasp of mesmerization that escapes him; the deep pools of love and devotion that smolder in your eyes look unfathomable, like a vast sea of water out in a sweltering desert. as your palm cups his face, simon feels his heart surge and ache at the sight of your captivating, teetering smile.

you tenderly glide your thumb over his skin, longingly. “if you don’t let go,” you shift closer--- melting him despite the bleak, glacial weather, to press your supple lips against the underside of his jaw, breathing in the spice of his cologne. “if you don’t forgive yourself; unless you forgive what happened, you can’t possibly move on.” you murmur, withdrawing your hand from his cheek and planting it against his chest, where his heart, that seemed to beat solely for you, lay pumping a mile a second. “johnny's death is not your fault.” and while simon had heard those exact words, many times over — this time he truthfully believed it. 

[wileys-russo]

like a dumb rom com (3) II k.cooney-cross x catley!reader

this is many many months overdue but feels good to tick it off my wips and wrap this little series up finally! one two like a dumb rom com (3) II k.cooney-cross x catley!reader

ever since steph walked out after catching you and kyra you'd been on edge. plastering a fake smile on your face you made an effort to show appreciation for all your teammates and friends showing up, avoiding both your sister and your girlfriend like they had some sort of infectious disease.

but if anyone noticed the underlying tension they didn't comment on it, though you felt the looks thrown your way by caitlin every now and then who seemed to stay stuck by stephs side for the rest of the evening.

as well as from kyra who was doing her very best to respect you were in an awkward position, but her hands itched to grab yours in them and she found herself staring longingly at you across the room nearly the entire night.

"okay! training tomorrow girls, think its about time we wrapped this up." it was kim who made the call around ten thirty at night, half of the girls already having left and the rest of you lounged about talking.

you looked up from your conversation with lia and caught your sisters eye, dropping your gaze right away as they burned a hole in your head and everyone all started their goodbyes.

when it came to kyra it was obvious neither of you were sure what to do, awkwardly staring at one another before you went for a hug and kyra stuck her hand out for a fist bump.

you both blushed bright red and mumbled apologies before you grabbed her hand and dragged her outside.

"i'm really sorry about-" you cut off your girlfriends apology with a shake of your head and stole a quick kiss. "don't. its not how i wanted her to find out but she was bound to sooner or later." you sighed with a somewhat sad smile.

with a slight frown kyra poked at the corners of your mouth, turning your lips upward into a proper smile. "dickhead!" you pushed her lightly, pulling her a little more around the corner of the house and out of sight.

"i love you." your hands fell to her cheeks as you brought her in for a proper kiss, the words mumbled right back against your lips before you pulled apart, promising you'd check in later and she hurried off to get a lift with teyah.

"you call me if you need something yeah?" caitlin murmured as she hugged you goodbye next, a short nod all she needed before heading off with katie.

you were hoping to sneak away to your room as steph was busy saying goodbye to jen, but fate wasn't in your favour.

"hey kid." you stopped halfway down the hallway and turned, dean standing a few feet behind with a sympathetic smile. "you know the more you avoid it, the longer it drags out and the worse its going to be." he reminded as you sighed, unable to really argue that fact as you followed after him.

steph had her back to you in the kitchen washing something up with far too much vigor, furiously scrubbing a glass you were surprised hadn't smashed in her hands yet.

you shifted awkwardly on the balls of your feet, wishing the ground would swallow you up as dean cleared his throat, steph pausing to glance briefly over her shoulder as he subtly nodded in your direction.

"you are unbelievable." was all your sister spoke, barely loud enough for you hear as she continued washing up, dean stepping out to the living room to give the pair of you some privacy but still hovering close enough that he could intervene if needed, taking calvin with him.

"pardon?" you scoffed, unsure if you'd heard her correctly as she shook her head, dropping whatever was in her hands back into the sink full of water and whipping around to properly face you.

"i said, you are unbelievable." your sister spoke louder this time, drying her hands on a tea towel and glaring you down. "oh and do tell steph, why exactly is that?" you questioned, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring right back at her.

"this. all of this! you are way too immature to be in a relationship, or whatever you and kyra are." steph rolled her eyes as again you scoffed.

"excuse me? i'm the one being immature right now? and yeah we are in a relationship, kyra is my girlfriend." you confirmed with a snarl, your sisters jaw clenching.

"the hickeys on your neck the other day...that was kyra. kyra was here the night before and you picked her up for training the next day!" steph realised as suddenly then chips started to fall into place. "you lied to me, you told me you came back for that textbook but-" steph accused as you rolled your eyes.

"congratulations sherlock, you figured it out! i came back to cover up my hickey." you clapped with a sarcastic smile which only wound your sister up further. "watch the attitude. you still live under my roof!" steph cautioned making you scoff, of course she'd hold that over you.

"for how long? and why kyra? you're just being stupid!" steph laughed humorlessly as you frowned, hurt flashing briefly across your face but it was almost immediately replaced with anger.

"well lets see. none of your business, none of your business, and how am i being stupid?" you questioned, hands on hips and raising an eyebrow in the older girls direction.

"you're too young to be in a relationship, you need to focus on football and school. and i know kyra well enough that all she's going to be for you is a distraction to both of those!" steph rolled her eyes as you shook your head in disbelief.

"i am twenty one years old steph, you were sleeping around long before that, at least i'm just with one person!" you snarked again as your sisters face glowered and dean appeared again as she started toward you.

"okay girls. its been a big day, its late, i think we all just need the night to cool off and-" he tried to calmly intervene but you weren't finished yet.

"and you don't know kyra at all. either way you do not get to tell me who i get to date or when i get to date them steph! you're my sister, not my mum." you warned seriously, turning on heel and exiting the conversation yourself.

"don't you dare walk away from me! we are not done here." steph scoffed and hurried after you ignoring deans urging she drop it for now, your door slammed in her face and promptly locked causing her to gasp.

"you open this door right now or i swear to god!" steph ordered pounding on it with her fist and jiggling the doorknob with her other hand, mumbling under her breath. "no, fuck off stephanie." you rolled your eyes, quickly shoving some things into a bag hearing your sister gasp again.

"oh just you wait till i-" you didn't give her a chance to hear the end of her sentence, carefully swinging one leg over your open window and shimmying around, dropping to the floor and racing away.

meanwhile steph was rummaging around in the kitchen for the spare key to your door, muttering angrily and waving off deans every attempt to soothe her, even ignoring calvin who bumped his head into her leg with a whine.

"telling me to fuck off? me? she's so-ooh when i get my hands on her." steph mumbled storming back down the hall to your room as both dean and calvin followed cautiously behind, your door popping open and steph rushing inside.

a squeal sounded as she tripped over your shoes, tumbling down to the floor and groaning in pain, dean hurrying to carefully help her up as steph took in your empty room and open window and saw red.

"oh she's dead. grounded. shipped back to melbourne in a crate!" steph growled, attempting to flee and make a beeline for her car keys as dean held her back.

"steph. babe, she clearly doesn't want to do this with you right now. when has she ever run off from a conversation? or even an argument? she obviously needs space and so do you, to calm down." he urged calmly as steph melted into his touch with a deep seeded sigh.

it would have to wait until tomorrow then.

~

only by the time tomorrow had rolled around steph indeed was calm, cool as an ice block one might say, and as frosty as one too.

rather than seek you out for an adult conversation like she'd promised dean, steph decided it was much easier to ice you out, ignoring you all together which didn't take long for you to catch onto.

you'd driven to and spent the night at alessia's thinking if you went to kyras that would be too easy for steph to find you, having sent kyra a quick message and prompty shut your phone off so your sister couldn't call you either.

the older english girl welcomed you in and listened to you rant but then made you promise you'd try to hear steph out today, advising your sister was probably more upset at being kept in the dark about it than she was about you actually seeing kyra.

alessia was of course correct, and that was what had been picking at steph as she stewed over things in bed last night, tossing and turning and barely getting a wink of sleep as suddenly she was overthinking everything.

how long had you been sneaking around? how long was this happening under her nose in her house? how long had you been lying to her? how long was kyra lying to her? why did you feel the need not to tell her? did you not trust her? had she been that bad of a sister? no, this was on you and not on her.

forever with a calm head on her shoulders alessia's words had stuck with you regardless, and you'd shown up to training with an olive branch in the form of a coffee for your sister and a new attitude toward hearing her out.

but when she completely blanked your attempt to even greet her good morning, that resolve died as quickly as it had been born.

"steph." you'd started softly, clearing your throat as lia sent you a warm smile, stopping her conversation with your sister who refused to turn around. "steph?" you tried again, lia and beth both frowning at the girl in question who turned but bent to tie her laces, clearly ignoring you.

"but i'm immature? right." you mumbled, harshly dumping her coffee in the bin as alessia winced, watching you storm off and kyra hurry after you as steph pretended not to notice and ignored her friends attempts to work out what that was all about.

"i would have drank that, just because she got caught does not mean she needs to waste a perfectly good coffee!" vic groaned as alessia shoved her, having filled her in but sworn her to secrecy not wanting to upset you or steph any further.

but steph was hardly subtle in the way she was clearly speaking about you to beth during warm ups, the blondes eyes darting toward you and kyra who'd paired up every few seconds which you hadn't missed.

"jesus!" kyra grunted as you grew tired of the fleeting glances and kicked the ball extra hard without watching, sending it sailing right into your girlfriends stomach who bent over winded with a wheeze.

"shit, i'm so sorry ky!" you hurried to her side with wide eyes, grabbing a water bottle alessia offered and handing it to the brunette who nodded with a grimace of pain, mumbling it was fine in between mouthfuls of water as she caught her breath.

catching the slight smirk on your sisters face at what had happened you shot to your feet, intending to march on over there and slap it off but someone grabbed the collar of your shirt before you could so much as take a step.

"nope, no catley brawl in the middle of training." caitlin shook her head, grip on your top tightening as you struggled to pull away but gave up with a defeated huff.

"kyra, finish warm ups with katie. you, come with me." caitlin ordered, dragging you away as you heard katie already start to tease kyra for the way she stared after you like a lost puppy.

meanwhile the smirk was wiped off stephs face but not in the way you wanted, instead she felt a strange feeling settle in her stomach at the way you'd sought out caitlin and were clearly confiding in her.

exactly the way you'd obviously told her about you and kyra before your own sister.

it was that resentment bubbling beneath the surface that perhaps the older girl should have known well enough to set aside and focus on football instead.

and it was that resentment that caused her to take you down perhaps a little too hard in the cool down game awhile later, the ball already gone from your possession when your sister slid into you, taking your legs out and sending you thumping to the ground.

you wheezed in pain, the wind knocked completely out of you by the unexpected tackle, squeezing your eyes shut and taking short sharp breaths as pain shot through your sides.

you heard some of the girls crowd around to check in, waving them off and grabbing leahs hand who pulled you up into a seated position. "i'm fine i'm fine, just winded." you brushed off the physio who hovered nearby.

"ankle? knee? no pain?" kyra squatted beside you with a concerned frown as you shook your head, the whistles blown to end the mornings session. "promise?" your girlfriend pushed as you nodded and mumbled the word back.

you didn't know if your sister would apologise, but you didn't give her a chance to either way as stina helped you to your feet and you took off inside, leaving both kyra and steph behind you.

~

you frowned as you entered the empty gym, your girlfriend having texted you to meet in here before the afternoon session to help her with something.

"kyra? ky?" you called out, hunting about but finding no sign of the midfielder. "she's so weird." you huffed, turning around to leave and screaming as suddenly there she was stood right behind you.

"gotcha!" the brunette grinned victoriously as you clutched your chest. "not funny cooney-cross." you warned catching your breath, heart pounding a million miles an hour.

"you always tell me i'm too loud, but i think i just proved i can be very very sneaky." kyra wiggled her eyebrows as you rolled your eyes. "is that seriously why you made me cut my lunch break early?" you sighed, unimpressed if a jump scare was all you were going to get out of this.

"no. i need your help stretching out my back before gym, please?" kyra asked hopefully, hands clasped together and slight pout on her lips. "you do realize there is an entire floor of physios who could do that right?" you couldn't help but smile.

"yeah...but i'd rather have your hands on me. i've barely seen you all day!" kyra groaned softly. "well whose fault is that!" you poked her accusingly as she smiled guiltily.

"okay its hard to train with stephs eyes shooting lasers at me every second, and thats when i'm not near you!" kyra admitted as you rolled your eyes but took her hands in yours. "where are we going?" your girlfriend asked as you begin to tug her away.

"somewhere stephs laser eyes can't hurt you." you mocked pouting at her as she huffed and bumped her shoulder into yours. "oh how romantic, you've put us both back in the closet." kyra teased as you pulled her into one of the equipment closets.

"are you going to make jokes or are you going to kiss me?" you asked boldly, raising an eyebrow as kyra made a point to snap her mouth shut and tug you closer, pressing her lips to yours without a seconds hesitation.

"-i said i don't want to talk about it caitlin." steph shut down her national teammate with a sigh, the forward trying to press her to talk about everything sensing bottling it up was only making things worse for the both of you.

"steph. you're hurt and you're upset that she didn't tell you, i understand that really. but so is she and avoiding her isn't going to make that go away, it'll get worse!" caitlin warned as steph hummed, rifling through the small stack of papers for her afternoon program.

"just think it over." caitlin gave in, squeezing her teammates shoulder and grabbing her program steph held out for her without another word, the rest of the team all slowly filing in.

now if you and kyra were maybe a little smarter, you might have kept track of time, or chose a less obvious hiding place for your little 'catch up', more specifically not hid out in the closet where the mats and rollers were kept, the mats and rollers that all the girls needed for their warm ups.

which is why one moment you were whispering something, lips pressed against kyras and soft giggles filling the air, and the next you were flat on your back with kyra laid out beside you, four concerned faces staring down at you.

"i didn't think it needed to be said but new rule, no making out in the equipment closet!" kim warned sternly, both you and kyra's faces blushing bright red as you hurried to your feet and she did the same, both of you drowned in the teasings of your teammates shortly after.

you caught your sisters eye as you grabbed your program, her jaw set and eyes piercing into yours you felt a wave of shame roll over you at her judgement, bowing your head and hurrying as far away from her as you could get.

"harsh." beth stated bluntly, knocking her shoulder into her best friends who blinked and glanced over to her, rolling out her hamstring. "thats unprofessional, she should know better." steph mumbled with a roll of her eyes.

"she's twenty one steph, and she's in loove." beth teased, quickly shut down by the sharp glare sent her way by your sister. "don't. she's an idiot, they both are." steph muttered, moving to roll out her back, watching as you arose from your own matt and followed after lotte to start your program.

"steph, she's a kid. kids make mistakes, should she have told you about the two of them? maybe. and when i say this i mean it with love-" beth started, steph averting her eyes toward the blonde and raising an eyebrow.

"-but doesn't your reaction also maybe explain why she held off?" beth smiled sympathetically as steph only sighed, ignoring the question as beth chose to let her sit with it, quickly changing topics.

and sit with it she did, not surprised when she returned home from training to an empty house despite the fact you'd left before her. though given calvin was nowhere to be found and your training bag was sat at your door, you'd clearly been and gone.

"boo!" steph let out a yell and spun around, hitting her fiance a few times who laughed and shielded himself. "alright alright! cool it karate catley." dean grinned as steph huffed, setting down her bag and shooting him one last glare.

"i see our mood hasn't improved. so you didn't talk to her then?" he asked, taking a seat at the counter as steph sighed, grabbing out a few things to make herself some food. "ugh she always does this!" your sister groaned, moving to take out the empty milk from the fridge.

"just further proves her immaturity." steph mumbled, tossing it away into the recycling and fixing her fiance with a glare as he chuckled. "something funny?" she challenged, the man still grinning.

"you do know its me who does that right?" dean advised as steph frowned.

"what? but she always says-" "once, she covered for me once. and you just assumed from then on that its been her!" "but why would she-" "do you remember when we had that argument? after i'd gone out for...a big night." dean winced at the memory as steph hummed in acknowledgement.

"well i drunkenly ate five bowls of cereal and left the milk empty in the fridge. we argued that next morning, you were angry with me and you grabbed out the milk for your coffee and it was empty and-"

"-and she took the blame so we wouldn't argue even more." steph realised with a sigh, drumming her fingers against the counter top. "bingo." dean clicked, leaning over and apologetically kissing her, promising he would no longer leave the milk there.

"then that same morning she went out and got me a coffee, took calvin for a walk and brought home flowers...which she said were from you." steph narrowed her eyes as her fiance winced and smiled sheepishly.

"what else has she taken the blame for or done for me that you took the credit for?" your sister gasped as dean grinned. "we're getting off track here. does this not maybe prove she's a bit more mature than you give her credit for?" dean pointed out, conveniently switching topics.

"covering for you being a grub hardly proves she's mature enough to balance school, football and a relationship." steph sighed, chopping up some fruit to make a smoothie. "but babe, technically she's already been doing that." dean pushed gently as steph paused, frown creeping into her features.

"has she failed a test?" "no." "handed in an assignment late?" "no." "seemed less sharp at football?" "no." "has she been playing poorly?" "no." "well..."

"yeah alright, i get your point." steph grumbled, pausing to massage her temples where she could feel a headache building. "talk to her steph. she's your sister she loves you, and even if she didn't tell you about her and kyra you know your approval means the world to her, she's always looked up to you." dean encouraged softly, standing and rounding the corner, steph melting into a warm hug.

"it really hurts i was one of the last to find out, i thought we were closer than that." steph mumbled into her fiances shoulder. "you are. maybe she didn't tell you because she was more worried about your reaction than other peoples, because it means more to her than anyone elses." dean offered as steph huffed.

"stop being right would you, its a very annoying switch up."

~

steph sighed and raised her hand, knocking on the door and taking a step back, arms crossed over her chest.

"oh! hi steph!" teyah made a point to say her name louder than needed making the australian chuckle. "you can relax with the warnings teyah, i just want to speak with kyra." steph spoke calmly, the blonde nodding and stepping aside.

"were you hiding behind the door?" steph raised an eyebrow as kyra instantly appeared, cheeks flushed bright red. "maybe." the younger girl mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"i meant it, i just want to talk kyra." steph promised, the midfielder nodding in understanding as the older girl rolled her eyes. "are you going to let me in or are we going to stand here and chat with your neighbors too?" steph mocked as kyra stepped aside and allowed her in.

teyah caught kyras pleading gaze and made herself scarce, ignoring the girls silent begging not to leave her alone with steph who took a seat on the lounge, watching kyra squirm uncomfortably as the silence grew until she couldn't take it anymore.

"steph i'm so so so sorry we didn't tell you we were just worried about how you'd react and i wanted to leave the decision up to her since you're her family and i also didn't want to mess things up with you as well as her by jumping the gun and telling you first or pressuring her to tell you which hasn't worked because you're mad at me anyway but i really don't want to break up with her because i love her but i also love you but more like a sister even though thats weird because im dating your sister and-" kyra rambled out all in one breath, not pausing even for a second.

"kyra." she however fell silent at the single word, chest heaving slightly. "shut up and breathe." steph instructed as the midfielder exhaled shakily with a nod.

"how long have the two of you been together? don't lie to me." steph asked calmly, though her eyes warned the younger girl off of any dishonesty. "its complicated." kyra shifted with a frown.

"well, uncomplicate it." steph settled backward into the lounge more, crossing one leg over the other. "well we figured out we had feelings for one another awhile before we started dating, but with me in sweden and her in england we never had the time to give it a go-" kyra started with a sigh, steph nodding curtly for her to go on.

"then when the camp for the world cup rolled around and i let her know i'd be leaving sweden and trying to make a move over here, things changed, and we decided to try officially dating a few days before the tournament started." kyra explained, trying her best to untangle a rather twisted timeline.

"so you've been together for nearly six months." steph's voice was emotionless but kyra could see the thoughts swirling through her eyes and grimaced. "a little over five but...yeah." kyra mumbled, fiddling with her hands which sat in her lap.

so far this was easily the most serious conversation the two had ever had, and it was suffocating the younger girl.

"school. university is really important to her, and to me." steph stated, kyra opening and closing her mouth for a moment. "wait here." with that said the midfielder was up and darting off, steph watching her disappear with a confused frown.

though she returned not even a minute later, calendar and a small bag in hand which she promptly dumped in stephs lap, cautiously taking a seat closer to her than she was before.

"whats all this?" steph questioned not any less confused at the items in her lap. "well as we know im not really...an organised person." kyra sighed. "understatement of the century." steph mumbled, eyes raking over the pages in front of her.

"right. well i might not have a calendar for my every day life, my agent handles that." the midfielder blushed as steph rolled her eyes. "but i do have one for your sister. i know school is important to her and i don't want to get in the way of that steph, i promise." her tone softened as she grabbed the bag.

"i have all these coloured stickers and tabs-" she pulled open the drawstring and showed steph the inside who nodded slowly. "well they all mean different things, this is the key-" she pulled out a piece of card from inside the bag and handed it to steph.

"the blue tabs are days she has exams, the orange tabs are days she needs to study, the red tabs are days i can't interrupt her studying, normally a few days before her exams-" kyras finger moved across the key as steph nodded wordlessly.

"the yellow tabs are days where i need to force her to take a break so she doesn't burn out, and those aren't always days she has to spend with me either. the gold stars are days where her assignments are due, the footballs are game days, the kangaroos and international break and the little flowers are days off." kyra flicked through month after month, pointing out each sticker to steph who admittedly was still speechless.

"you can't even remember your boots on game day...but you keep track of her entire schedule?" the older girl eventually questioned, moving the calendar and bag onto the coffee table and turning to face a bright red kyra who shyly nodded.

"i-i love your sister steph. she runs rings around me and she has so much potential and drive and commitment, i don't want to ever hold her back. i know you might not think i'm good enough for her or smart enough or that im too immature or annoying but i really really care about her. she was my best friend before she was my girlfriend, i've always cared and i wouldn't dream of ever hurting her." kyra bounced her knee nervously as she spoke, feeling frightfully vulnerable and out of her comfort zone with this conversation.

"i know you care about her, and this just proves that." steph sighed deeply, nodding to the calendar. "its not that i don't think you're good enough for her kyra, and your intelligence has nothing to do with it. thats my baby sister, no one will ever be good enough for her." steph promised seriously as kyra nodded quickly.

"but it hurts that neither of you felt like you could come and speak with me about this. though you're not the one i need to have that conversation with-" steph exhaled, dragging her hands down her face and suddenly standing.

kyra followed suit, tracking after her back to the front door as steph pulled it open and hovered in the doorway. "i know you care about her kyra, i do. and you're both adults as hard as it is for me to admit that, and as much as you don't often act like one." kyra cracked a tiny smile at that.

"you don't need my permission or my approval, but you do have it-" steph assured softly as kyra breathed a long overdue sigh of relief, though that died in her throat as steph grabbed a fistful of her hoodie and tugged her closer.

"but if you ever and i mean ever hurt her kyra, you will pay for it. i will make your life a living hell and you will never speak to, look at or breathe near her again. got it?" steph warned seriously as kyra nodded hurriedly, the older girl smiling happily at the fear on her face.

"good, i'm glad we had this talk." steph let go, smoothing out her hoodie and squeezing kyra's shoulder with a nod. "see you at training tomorrow." steph turned to leave, kyra's head popping out of the door.

"i can call her to see where-" "no it's okay, i know exactly where she is."

"oh and kyra?" steph turned one final time, catching the younger girls eye. "if i catch the two of you making out in a closet again, i will snap your ankle."

~

sure enough, you were exactly where steph thought you would be.

not far from her house in st albans there was a huge park that you often took calvin to when you wanted to read in the sun, the pair of you would curl up on a blanket and it never ceased to amaze steph just how calm the normally hyperactive pooch became when you needed him to be, dean teasing you were some sort of dog whisperer.

just as your sister thought you were laid down on a blanket, but there wasn't a book in your hands and the very moment calvin laid eyes on his mum he bolted, almost taking your hand off which was wrapped around his lead.

but knowing all too well he only went haywire like this for one person you let go with a sigh, closing your eyes and making no move to acknowledge the older girl when you felt her sit down beside you.

you grunted as calvin laid himself down, head flopping down onto your stomach as his bottom half curled up into steph who'd also laid down on the blanket, an uncomfortably tense silence between the pair of you.

"sorry for the poor tackle today." your sister broke it first, only getting a quiet hum from you in reply as she sighed, thinking carefully about her next words before speaking them.

"why didn't you tell me?" but of course that all went out the window as her curiosity burned forth, clouded by the hurt that came with the reveal.

"you cannot seriously be asking me that steph?" you scoffed, glancing to her and looking away with a roll of your eyes. "look at your reaction, why do you think i didn't tell you." you mumbled, crossing your arms and glaring up at the sky above.

"okay...fair." your sister sighed, a frown thrown her way by you surprised at the small admission of guilt. "i only lashed out because i was hurt that you didn't come to me first. you've never kept secrets from me before, at least not huge ones like this." the older girl confessed, pausing to give you a chance to think it over.

"i was worried you'd freak out, which you did. you always treat me like a baby and i'm not anymore steph, i'm old enough to make my own decisions and if those decisions have consequences then they are mine to deal with." you warned, adjusting your position slightly.

"again, that's fair." your sister agreed once more to your surprise. "you're being suspiciously agreeable." you mumbled, steph reaching over to shove you lightly, a slight smile on her lips.

"it may have been already pointed out to me that the way i handled this only made you not telling me more valid." steph admitted, a slightly more comfortable silence falling between the two of you for a few moments as you sat with your own thoughts.

"i spoke to kyra." "i know, she called me panicking the moment she saw you pull up in the car park." you chuckled lightly, shielding your face with your hands as the clouds parted and the sun shone down.

"i talked her out of jumping out of her window before you got there though." "she is...something else."

"but, you're happy. right?" steph sat up a little more and looked down with a frown of concern. "yeah i am. i know kyra can be a pest but when its just the two of us its different, i love her and she loves me and she would never treat me poorly or ever get in the way of football or school or anything." you followed her lead and sat up, grabbing the tennis ball from beside you and tossing it for calvin as he sprinted off.

"oh i know, i saw her little calendar." steph smiled wider as you frowned. "what calendar?" you questioned, confused as your sister raised an eyebrow. "i'll let her explain that, ask her about it." the older girl chuckled.

"maybe at dinner, at our place tomorrow." steph extended the final olive branch as you paused for a minute to think it over. "you won't be really weird about it? make her uncomfortable?" you questioned a little hesitantly.

"i will be your older sister who will never think anyones good enough for you, that your girlfriend should be at least a little scared of." steph smiled honestly as you rolled your eyes.

"she's already terrified of you." "a wise choice. this might work out in my favor, she can annoy you instead of me." your sister grinned, poking you and whistling for calvin to come back as he was making some new friends.

"oh no we'll just both team up to annoy you now stephanie." you returned her grin as she groaned and grabbed calvins lead, clipping it onto his collar as you both made your way to your feet ready to head back home.

"hey. if you're happy then i would never stand in the way of that, as your sister all i ever want is you to be with someone who cares about you and though kyra might not have been my first choice, it isn't up to me anyway. you're right you are an adult, and maybe i need to work a little more on treating you like one." steph admitted, surprised as you stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

"well this is nice." your sister exhaled, cradling your head just like she would when you were much younger. "i'm sorry i waited so long to tell you, i didn't mean to upset you." you admitted into her shoulder. "i know, i can tell when you mean to upset me." the girl teased making you smile as you pulled away, grabbing the blanket and tucking it into the tote on your shoulder, the pair of you walking side by side.

"does you treating me like an adult mean you'll finally stop calling me peanut?" "oh absolutely not, you'll always be my little peanut no matter how old you get." "just when i thought we were having a nice moment." "hey embarrassing you is my right as your older sister, you never get to take that away from me."

[flametrashiraarchive]

Possessive Giyuu who can't stand the fact Tengen keeps flirting with you, his favourite kakushi / nurse.

Possessive Giyuu who is a lil bit yandere and a lil bit delusional and fuck you hard, to remind you who you belong to.

Possessive Giyuu who makes sure you can't walk the next day and your whole body is full of hickeys.

You're his, and you would do damn well to remember it.

- Beer anon 🍻

I think about a quarter of my asks are for Giyuu lol. Yandere is not my thing so it may be a bit more toned down than you wanted but I hope it's still okay.

Enjoy!!

Mine- Giyuu x fem!reader

Giyuu couldn't stand it. 

The way you laughed at Tengen's childish humor as he sat in the infirmary bed made the water hashira's mood even more sour than usual. He and the sound hashira had both been injured on their latest mission– which he had initially thought of as something of a blessing because it meant he got to see you again. But he was hating every second of it. 

"I'm just saying," Tengen smirked as you handed him his medication. "These bitter pills go down easier with a little bit of sweetness, and you're about as sweet as they come. I'll be back to my full strength in no time"

You laughed adorably and shook your head. "You're too kind, Lord Tengen."

Giyuu's hands gripped the bedsheets.

He couldn't even blame Tengen. He wasn't even sure that the sound hashira was actually trying to make a move on you. The man was happily married to three women he adored. Tengen was just a naturally charismatic and flirtatious guy, and you… well, he couldn't blame you for blushing. It's not like you were doing it on purpose. 

And it wasn't as though Giyuu could legitimately claim you as his either. You'd kissed a few times and he'd used his fingers to make you cum once in the medical supplies closet, but that had all been over the space of a year and neither of you had ever discussed making it an official thing. 

Still though…

His eyes were as still and serene as the deepest lagoon, but inside he was raging. It shouldn't matter, but it did. It mattered a great deal. You were one of the only good parts of his life, one of the only people he didn't feel like he had to be so closed off from. And tucked away safely in the infirmary instead of out there with the demons, you were safe enough for him to trust that you weren't about to die on him. 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"Tomioka-sama. Your medication…" 

Tomioka… sama? So damn formal. So detached. He took the medication from your hand and swallowed it without a word, turning away from you. 

Did you have to have such pretty damn eyes?

Later that afternoon, the sound hashira was napping, but Giyuu simply couldn't. Your footsteps padded softly through the infirmary, making his heart beat faster when it sounded as though you were coming close, only to fill him with disappointment when they faded.

No, he couldn’t stand this a minute longer. 

He was injured but not so badly that he couldn’t walk. With a pained grunt he got out of bed and began his search for you. It only took him a couple of minutes. 

“Giyuu,” you hissed, a look of surprise and annoyance on your face. “What are you doing out of bed?” 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the storage closet, kicking the door shut behind him as he pinned your arms to the wall above your head and pressed a heated, claiming kiss to your lips. 

The way your eyebrows shot up and then slowly relaxed as he kissed you, the way you were immediately silenced by his lips and your body went from startled stiffness to relaxed compliance. Oh yes…this is what he needed.

This was much better. 

He pressed his body against yours, loving the way you moaned against his lips. His heart fluttered as you kissed him back; so soft and deep, your tongue caressing his as you sighed longingly. Releasing his grip on your wrists, his hands followed the curves of your body, clumsy in their desperation to feel every perfect inch of you.

Finally he pulled back and gazed into your eyes.“Do you want me to make you cum?”

You nodded and he could see the desperation in your face. “Yes.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” His kisses trailed down to your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin. 

He worked open the buttons on your uniform as he began to suck your neck, harder and harder, intent on leaving a mark. He wanted every damn person who saw you know that you were his.

You moaned as he pinned your hips with his, his body heavy and warm against yours. “Giyuu…”

A low hum of approval emerged from him as his rough, battle-worn hands caressed your skin. "So soft. I could do this every day and never get tired of it." He kissed you fiercely, as his hands moved downward, slipping under your skirt.

His fingers circled your clit, and the corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk. You were so wet already, you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, and knowing this made his dick painfully hard. Every little moan you made, every gasp or sigh of pleasure made him ache.

The way you gasped his name made him feral. He pulled his pants down to the tops of his thighs and took your hand, bringing it to his cock. The sight of your hand wrapped around it made his balls tighten.

"Stroke it for me," he whispered, tugging your earlobe with his teeth as he continued stroking your clit.

The moment you started to pump his cock in your soft hands, a shiver ran through his body. He was so damn needy for you, groaning as he rutted against your palm, baring his teeth as you swiped your thumb over his tip and coated it in his precum.

“You’re getting me so hard.” He couldn't stand it a moment longer. "I need to fuck you," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Mm…Yes."

"Yeah? You want me to fuck this pretty pussy and make you mine?" 

"Gods, yes, Giyuu…" Your breath was hot and hard against his lips as he hoisted you into his arms and set your ass down on a table stacked with supplies. 

He pressed his cock to your entrance, sliding it up through your folds and coating it in your wetness. “I want you to watch. I want you to see me take you.”

You did as he asked, your breaths coming in shallow pants as he pushed into you. The sight of his cock disappearing inside you made you both choke out wanton groans. 

“So wet for me,” he grunted as he began to thrust into you. He pressed his teeth to his lower lip as his brow furrowed. He fucked you hard and fast, making damn sure you felt every inch of him pounding into you. You weren't about to forget him. You were going to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.

The table squeaked with every thrust, supplies falling off and rolling across the floor. He'd deal with that later. All that mattered now was that you were his.

The wet slap of skin on skin filled the supply closet. The sound of your wet pussy taking him was so beautifully vulgar it made his back arch.

You put your head back. "Oh Gods..."

"Yeah, I'm fucking you good, huh?"

"S-so good."

“Tell me you're mine. Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Giyuu, please… I’m so close.” 

He stopped thrusting, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as your muscles clenched around him. “No, that’s not what I said. Tell me you’re mine… say I'm yours. Those words, or you don’t get to cum.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, out of your mind with desire. “I’m yours.”

“Good… now, the next time someone is flirting with you, I want you to tell them that, okay? I want you to tell them you belong to me.”

You nodded, desperation cracking your voice. "Yes."

He leaned down, cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you. "Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Who fucks your pussy better than anyone else ever could?"

"You do, Giyuu."

He smirked, thrusting hard into you and pulling a cry from your lips. His fingers gripped your hips, pulling you onto him with all his hashira strength. "Good. Fucking. Girl."

Your muscles pulsed around his cock as you came apart, your hands grasping at him as he kept on fucking you throughout your orgasm. He wasn't much further behind you, pulling out and shooting hot ropes of cum all over your thighs and your belly, staggering as he rode the waves of his release.

As he came back down to earth he pulled you upright, his lips crashing against yours as he gripped the back of your neck. "I'm gonna remind you who you belong to tomorrow," he whispered. "And then every day after, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his. "I might have forgotten by this afternoon though. You might have to drill it into me."

Giyuu laughed, cupping your face in his hands. "Deal."

Yes... this was much better.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟔]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, descriptions of blood and injury, panic attacks and anxiety

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first off, sorry for the late chapter ;-; but the next chapter sort of marks the start to the second half of the story, so i hope you guys look forward to that! some parts of this chapter are a bit intense so please heed the warnings! please let me know if you enjoyed! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗜𝗧'𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧

As you make slow progress toward recovery, Kinich can’t expel the image of you bleeding out from his mind.

The village doctor had rushed to your home, undeterred by the blanket of night falling over the land. The woman practically thinks of you as her own daughter, after all, with the amount of work you’ve done for her over the years. She stitches up your wound with a careful, practiced hand.

(Kinich stands at your side as it happens, your hand grasping his in a bone-crushing grip. He tries not to cry when you start to scream out in pain.)

She commits you to bed rest. You whine and argue against it. Kinich fights with you about it. You make up like you always do, but you stare longingly at the door every day when he leaves to work.

Time passes, and you do get better. He thanks the archons before he sleeps for that fact, truly.

But the guilt doesn’t cease. 

It prods at him in the dead of night, wrapping his stomach in knots as he tosses and turns. Even when he can hear your soft, even breathing across the room, a deep terror takes root in his chest. Nightmares lurk and haunt his rest, and sometimes, even when he wakes up, he has trouble believing that you’re still alive—it all feels too real when it’s in his head.

Even in reality, you’re decidedly…different. The weakness of your smile, of your hand in his—he can’t quite get used to it. It’s all part of your healing process, he knows that deep down, but he can’t shake the feeling that he had a role in all of this. 

On one night, the feeling of sin finally manages to gnaw through his chest.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, shirt sticking to him like a second skin. His blankets are already strewn about the floor, likely from his erratic movements. His gaze slides over to you, still peacefully resting, and he sags with relief. The pain keeps you awake sometimes, so it’s a miracle that you’re sleeping soundly for once.

With that in mind, he eases himself out of bed quietly, tiptoeing past you and into the hallway. He heads for the bathroom—a splash of cold water over his weary face might be just what he needs. The moonlight filters lazily through the window, uneven slivers painted over the wall. He yawns, letting the door shut behind him.

The mirror sits above the sink. 

It’s one of the more expensive things you have in your house, but you’d gotten it for a good deal at the flea market—Kinich had bartered for what felt like hours. You’d gushed over the artistry of it, the glass intricately framed with braided knots of silver. Kinich hadn’t really understood back then—a mirror is just a mirror, after all—but he’s not keen on saying no to you. He never has been.

His reflection stares back at him, haunting in the gloom. 

When he looks at himself like this, he sees his mother. He doesn’t really remember the sound of her voice anymore, but he remembers her eyes, her hair. So much of him had been inherited from her.

Most days, he tries not to think about where she might be—he doesn’t see a point in asking questions he’ll never know the answer to. But he does wonder if she thinks of him, if even for a fleeting moment of her day. Then, he wonders if she remembers him at all.

(Maybe she doesn’t want to.)

His reflection frowns.

Locks of dark hair shine in the lowlight, the streak of blond distinct against the plain backdrop. The paleness of it, even when braided back, still reminds him of his father. A flash of a rage-filled glare strikes through his mind.

“Kinich—Kinich, help me, please!”

The voice—

He chokes.

Kinich stumbles back from the mirror, the sight of his own reflection suddenly horrifying him. No matter where he moves, he can’t seem to escape it, golden eyes—no, his father’s eyes—following as he staggers around the room. A ghost’s frigid fingers grip around his shoulders.

It was his fault.

The room suddenly shrinks inward. Something icy and unseen grabs at Kinich’s heart and yanks until a struggling gasp is ripped from his lungs. The vase on the windowsill tips and cracks against the wall, shards skittering across the floor and water splashing against the backs of his calves. It’s shockingly cold, shooting shivers up his back and fraying his nerves.

Someone is screaming. His mother.

“Kinich?”

A faint voice reaches his ears, but he ignores it in favor of the thoughts pounding around his skull. The memory of his father’s corpse hangs at the edges of his mind. He looks back to the mirror, fingers curling into his hair, scratching at his scalp.

The blond streak is still there.

He sees his mother, begging and screaming, bruises littering her skin. Actually, she’s not screaming at all—he still can’t remember her voice. But she’s looking at him, grasping at his feet, and her lips are moving but he can’t hear—

“Kinich? Are you there?”

His hair—his father—seems to leap out at him, bursting from the mirror and grasping at his neck. The pressure leaves him scrambling to breathe. He thinks of the cliff, of his choice.

Echoes of footsteps pad down the hall, and he panics.

No, no. You’re going to see him, and you’re going to know what he’s done. You’re going to look at him with disgust and fear, and you’re going to leave. He hadn’t been enough back then, and he still isn’t now—no matter what he tries, nothing changes.

It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!

Another voice roars in his head, the hatred almost palpable with each syllable.

He clutches at his chest, desperately feeling for the heartbeat there—he feels like he’s dying, rotting from the inside out. His hand slams against the wall, nails digging painfully into the wood, clawing.

“Kinich?!”

Your voice comes again, more panicked now. You can probably hear the chaos from outside.

There’s no time.

He seizes the blond lock in his left hand, the right scooping up a ceramic shard from the floor and holding it to his head, right near the roots of the hair. He has to get rid of it—he’s panting, mouth dry and burning at the same time.

A firm knock on the door has him halting in his tracks—only a few strands of hair catch the sharp edge of the shard, floating uselessly to the ground. His chest heaves, uneven breaths puffing from his chapped lips.

He pauses. The shard clatters to the ground next to him, dropped from his grip. Slowly, he clambers to his feet. He brushes his clothes off once, then twice, before steeling himself to face you.

When the door swings open, it’s your face that greets him.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. Hesitant, you reach for him—your shirt rides up with the movement, revealing starch-white bandages tinged with red. You’d irritated your wound in your panic to get to him.

He almost vomits at his feet.

He catches your hand before it reaches his cheek. He doesn’t deserve your comfort right now—maybe he never did. But your gaze is still so fond, so soft, as it falls upon his face.

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his. A faint frown paints your lips, wrought with worry. The thought is almost ridiculous—you both have only been worrying about each other all this time. “What’s going on?”

And Kinich knows he should tell you. He should do a lot of things when it comes to you. He should tell you he’s sorry for everything he’s put you through, that he knows he’s not good enough for you right now but he hopes to be, that he hopes you’ll wait for him to be that person. 

But he doesn’t say any of that.

Instead, he lets a deep, shuddering breath escape him. The only way to repay everything you’ve given him over the years is to be strong. If he can protect you, he can be useful to you.

So he takes the weakness sprouting in his chest and crushes it in his hands, letting the ashes go. He’ll bury them with this night—starting tomorrow, he won’t worry you again. 

Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, brushing over your pulse point. The steady drum of your heartbeat brings him some semblance of comfort, at least. The weight of your stare lifts from his shoulders when he meets your gaze head-on.

“I’m fine, just knocked something over,” he finally chokes out. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

/

A few days later, the whispers of a rumor begin.

The sky is still reddened with dawn when he heads out, greatsword secured to his back. It’s newly-sharpened, courtesy of you. With your range of movement limited, you don’t leave the house much these days—you pass the time by cleaning and cooking, despite Kinich’s pleas for you to remain in bed. You’re antsy to do more, even while your healing progress slowly chugs along.

The outpost is already bustling by the time he shoves the door open, slinking inside. The place usually runs rampant with work, with people searching for deliveries or other odd jobs. They seek him out often, knowing how often he visits, and he welcomes the extra Mora. 

For some people, it’s a more social place—they enjoy a drink at the small bar between deliveries, chatting and laughing. There’s one such group already here, the clink of glasses audible even this early in the morning. Kinich’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the stench of alcohol.

On the back wall is the request board, a place for people to advertise any long-term jobs. Kinich favors these sometimes, on days where the weather is better, just so he can maximize the amount of Mora he takes home. When he makes his way over, there’s already another man scrutinizing the requests. Weathered papers dot the wall, some yellowed with age, some pristine white and newly-posted.

“Hey, kid,” the man greets. It takes Kinich a moment to realize it’s him he’s referring to—he offers a short nod in reply, a bit confused. Most people are familiar with him to an extent, but rarely do they try to interact.

He just starts to read another Saurian hunting job when the man speaks again.

“That earthquake a week ago…they found some ruins in the South. Rumor has it that it’s holding some kind of awesome treasure, and no one’s quite made it through yet.”

He gives Kinich a once-over, sweeping eyes reflecting a faint respect—his reputation precedes him, apparently. Kinich shifts his weight, arms crossed, a challenge. Seemingly pleased by his confidence, the man chuckles.

“I’ve heard you’re a strong one. If you’d like, we’d have you join our party.”

Kinich regards the man with his own criteria—he looks experienced, arms criss-crossed with scars as evidence of battles long won. But even Kinich himself is still young, so he knows years don’t equal strength.

“What’s in it for me?” he sighs, feigning boredom. “For all I know, I could head in there alone and not have to split the spoils.”

The man’s smile widens, practically splitting his face.

“I like your spunk, kid. How about this, if you make it all the way down there with us, I’ll even let you have first pick.”

Kinich ponders that for a moment—it’s not a bad deal. Though it’s not his preference, working in a group can make long-term investigations like this go much faster, and he suspects that he’ll be able to assess the value of whatever treasure they find better than anyone else. In short, he’ll be guaranteed the greatest share of Mora, without using all of his own personal effort. Objectively, it wouldn’t be his worst decision.

If he can make a good amount, he can buy one of those cakes you like from the market.

Your smile would be well worth it, he thinks as he shakes the other man’s hand.

/

The dangers of the ruins had not been overstated—even halfway through the place, Kinich finds himself matted with blood and grime, muscles aching with overuse. Already, many have turned back, and as many lives have been lost. Only a few remain, those desperate enough to see the task through to the end, resting in one of the safer areas before continuing deeper toward the treasure.

Kinich reaches back, testingly feeling the stone wall behind him—it’s damp, but stable, so he leans back against it, sliding down to sit on the ground. Even down here, flowers grow through the cracks in the stone, tenacious in their bloom. It reminds him of you.

He wonders if you’re resting well, if you’d stayed in bed like you promised. 

“You got a girlfriend back home?”

He flinches at the sudden address, and he turns to see the man next to him—he can’t remember his name—smirk and nod at his bandana. He’d been thumbing at it unconsciously, the only source of comfort in this dark, stinking place.

“I know a woman’s work when I see one,” the man chuckles.

Kinich wonders if he should mention that he actually taught you how to weave, then decides against it—he doesn’t really care what this man thinks anyway. Somehow, he doesn’t feel an urge to discuss your existence with strangers.

“No, I don’t,” he replies quietly instead, and it’s the truth. There’s no title between you two, nothing to define the course of your relationship—in fact, the closest thing would be something informal, like “roommate”. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

The older man observes the way Kinich gnaws at his lip, bothered, before offering a comforting pat on the back. It’s a bit friendlier than Kinich is used to, but he supposes it comes with the wisdom of age—somehow, the act reminds him of Elder Leik.

“Not a girlfriend, then, but something, right?”

Something feels wrong to say—too vague, too uninvolved. When he imagines the pulsing in his chest, it’s your hands cupping his heartbeat, holding the very core of him. 

Everything would likely be a more proper term.

His teeth grit, flashing in the dark.

“Sure, something like that.”

“You should tell her, you know,” the man sighs, leaning back against the wall. Kinich wonders how the man is practically reading his mind. “At least before you get old like me.”

Kinich knows he’s a bit more mature than other people his age, a result of his upbringing. And usually, it can be an advantage—he’s independent and self-sufficient, unlike most others. But it’s times like these that he wishes he would’ve lived a normal life, going to school and playing until dusk fell. Social skills have never been his strong suit, and he often finds himself saying the wrong things.

He can’t afford to do the wrong thing anymore when it comes to you.

It’s always been entirely unintentional, but these days, he can’t seem to do anything but hurt and disappoint you. And now you’re at home, alone, while he goes out and risks his life. Briefly, he ponders what would happen if he never made it home.

Would you cry? Would you move on?

Would you find someone else?

It’s hard for him to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t have you by his side. 

He wants to keep it that way. 

He really, really likes your smile.

Kinich finally turns to face the man next to him, jaw clenched with determination. The man smirks, seemingly expecting that reaction.

“Got somethin’ to say, kid?” he asks, raising a brow.

Kinich nods, staring down at his hands. 

“After this,” he affirms, more to himself than anyone else. “After this, I’ll tell her.”

/

And, as always, Kinich finds himself alone. 

He can’t exactly say what had happened to the others—then again, he hadn’t tried to look. Monsters seemed to leap at him from every turn, and he couldn’t focus on much more than his own survival. 

On his way back out of this place, he’s sure he’ll come across their bodies one way or another. He’ll try to give them a half-proper burial, he thinks. 

The ruins descended far further than he had expected—a pulsing warmth seems to emanate from this place, layering sweat over his forehead. A heady scent of smoke lies thick in the air, rising toward the unseen ceiling. Kinich has to be careful with his steps—the place is so weathered and worn, he fears that the floor might give out beneath him.

He isn’t sure what he expected to see at the bottom. Treasure doesn’t usually appear in cartoonish chests filled with shining gold coin, after all. But when he inspects the ruins around him, all he finds are pale stone walls with a single pedestal in the center.

Cautiously, he approaches, eyes sweeping for danger. If the treasure is something truly valuable, it wouldn’t be out of the question for it to be booby trapped in one way or another. But he walks up, each step light and gentle, and nothing happens.

He sheathes his sword, peering down at the treasure laying over the smooth stone. 

It’s a wristband, thick and engraved with a language he can’t understand.

The style of it is different than most he’s seen—somehow, it looks a bit more modern. But even historical fashion items don’t tend to sell for too much, he thinks in disappointment. 

Essentially, he’d wasted his time coming down here.

He picks up the wristband, inspecting the design of it. Then, tentatively, he slides it on.

A burst of heat cracks through the air.

“Who dares disturb the Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw?! Speak now, mortal, or I’ll pound your puny face in!”

A tiny, yellow, pixelated dragon bursts forth, and Kinich’s jaw just about drops. 

Treasure comes in many forms, of this he is sure, but this seems to be more of a burden than anything.

It—no, K’uhul Ajaw—whirls on him in apparent rage. Kinich can’t really tell with the ridiculous sunglasses sitting on his face.

“Hey, I’m talking to you! Is there a brain in that puny head of yours, or are you just deaf?”

Kinich sighs. Whoever had started this whole rumor must be having a great laugh at his expense.

“I can hear you,” he replies monotonously. “I just don’t particularly want to talk to you.”

Ajaw grows angrier. Kinich wonders if it’s just his default state.

“Then why did you come all the way down here? Are you stupid?!”

“Well, I was told there was some sort of powerful artifact here,” Kinich admits. He glances toward the ceiling, gauging how long it’ll take him to climb out of this place. “But it seems that they lied.”

Ajaw reddens in rage. “I’ll have you know that I am that artifact! My awesome power is beyond anything your mortal mind could possibly hope to comprehend!”

Kinich thinks it’s obvious why this dragon would’ve gotten locked in these ruins for so long—his personality is loathsome. Whoever sealed Ajaw likely had only done it to rid themselves of the grating sound of his voice.

Still, he can sense the deep thrum of potential within him. He’s likely not lying about having incomprehensible power.

Ajaw fixes Kinich with what he can only receive as a judgmental stare. 

“Why did you come all the way down here anyway? Are you looking for revenge? Trying to topple a nation?”

Ajaw proceeds to list a series of awful atrocities—Kinich zones out halfway through the war crimes. He’d come down here for Mora, but mostly, he’d come down here for you.

He thinks of your smile, and a pink flush washes over his face.

“I have someone I want to protect.”

It’s silent for a moment as Ajaw absorbs the implications of his explanation and the blush on Kinich’s face. Then, he laughs, a shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“You come all the way down here seeking power, all to protect some puny, peasant, mortal girl—”

It’s quite an assumption, not that he’s necessarily wrong. Kinich’s jaw tightens.

“—don’t speak about her.”

A sobering chill crackles in the air, filling the cracks in the ruined stone and sinking onto his shoulders. Ajaw seems to feel it too—he hesitates at the pressure, suddenly devoid of his earlier haughtiness.

“...I see,” is all he replies, calculated.

Ajaw floats languidly towards Kinich, circling him. “Well, I’ll admit, I can sense something different about you. So, luckily for you, I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

The tone of his voice is laced with foreboding. Kinich crosses his arms, cautious.

“What kind of deal?”

Ajaw chuckles—the sound echoes hauntingly, running a chill down Kinich’s spine.

“Don’t be so scared,” he barks. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dying.”

[dragon-ascent]

Zhongli, the Siren

mermay special~ dark content ahead!

════════════════════════════════════════════

Siren!Zhongli whose songs are knowledge - and his reservoir of it vast. When he finds you washed ashore onto his islet, cradled by rocks and debris, he sings for you.

Siren!Zhongli whose rich, silky voice bewitches you, happily watching you lending your ears and baring your heart to this strange and handsome creature. Brown wings and scales and glimmering eyes alike, he is enthralling.

Siren!Zhongli whose talons turn into hands to gently hold you, embrace you, touch you. His soft caresses and feather-light kisses upon your skin seem to promise a world of love for you. Pure, sweet, melodious love.

Siren!Zhongli who senses your nascent wish to leave...so he places a tender kiss under your ear, wrapping you in his arms, and whispers to you to stay...stay, and listen to his musically-wrapped wisdom. Another kiss, and another song.

Siren!Zhongli whose hands - no, talons hold onto you with sentiment whenever you gaze longingly toward the horizon, murky memories of your life making themselves apparent. His lips are warm upon your neck, and...what were you longing for, just now?

Siren!Zhongli whose songs fell rescue boats that come this way, fragile wood bested by merciless stone and swallowed by the ravenous waters; watching blankly as they sink into the depths of the blue, blue sea...

Siren!Zhongli whose melodies become enriched with besotted attachment for you, his lyrics embracing you...constricting you...his every word dripping with tainted truth of his desires.

Siren!Zhongli whose crystalline tears stream down his face when he sees you waking up from his saccharine dream, tasting the bitterness masked by his golden honeyed eyes. One more song, he tells you, running his fingers down your arms gingerly. One more song and you can leave, and thus he pulls you into his sickly-sweet dream again. And again. And again.

Siren!Zhongli who keeps you around until the span of your life has withered out, and as he places one last kiss and breathes a final song into your cold lips, he watches as you, too, sink and become one with the recessed relics of the sea.

[motelsnleatherseats]

By the time John gets back from his hunt, he can tell that his boys were far passed the point of no return. Dean can hardly look him in the eyes without donning a shameful expression, like he can smell the sin coming off him, and Sam's more flighty than usual, keeping as much space as he can between him and Dean as if the sudden distance compared to their usual closeness wasn't a red flag.

Sam's got a bandaid at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, but John can see the outskirts of bruising peeking out from the edges, tiny broken blood vessels darkening the skin caused by careless teeth and lips. Dean's refusing to take off his jacket despite the heat with the collar turned up to shield the obvious marks of blunt nails that were dragged down the nape of his neck and between shoulder blades. Only one bed looks slept in, the other exactly how it was when he left.

A few days go by before they let their guard down a bit, now back in each other's personal space, but John can see the way they look at each other. Dean spends too much time gazing longingly at his little brother every chance he gets, and when he's driving and looking at Sam in the rear view mirror, John has to remind him 'eyes on the road, Dean' more times than he should in the span of a few hours.

They pull off to a gas station to fill up and grab something to eat, and John heads inside, sees the boys head off to the bathroom together around the back, and already he can sense trouble. He gives them a few minutes, but when they're taking longer than they should, he marches his way to the bathroom and calls out for them, one stall occupied, two pairs of feet suddenly scrambling.

Sam's hair is disheveled and Dean looks like he's expecting to get throttled, panic evident. His cheeks that were momentarily red ago were draining color. John cocks his head towards the door in a silent demand that they leave and get back to the car. Sam rushes out but John grabs Dean by the lapel of his jacket and pushes him against the tiled wall before he had a chance to skirt passed him. He can feel his eldest go rigid, face scrunching up some like he's expecting to get hit, but John exhales a rough breath, releasing his hold on him.

"Never in public, do you understand me? And if you're going to mark each other up, get better at hiding it."

Dean stares in shock for a moment like his brain is trying to process what the hell was happening. John can see him trying to make sense of it, to come to the realization that yes, he knows, and he's not going to beat the daylights out of him for putting hands on Sammy.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yessir."

John takes the keys from Dean and lets him leave first to join his brother at the car. He takes a moment to splash his face with some water before scrubbing over it a sigh. Those young, careless boys. What was he going to do with them?

↳ a continuation of this post.

[heehoonies]

I mean,Jungwon having a big package would be a pleasant yet frightening surprise

Like wdym this kitten is huge?

ik this isn't what you asked for necessarily but i wanted to write kitty jungwon and his barbed cock so this is what u get

and NO the barbs aren't painful like they are for irl cats. they just make it feel more snug by attaching to the walls. THEY DON'T PIERCE THE WALLS THO DON'T WORRY our dear reader is very safe with his barbed cock :3

.

“mm, my pretty kitty,” you smile up at jungwon who towers above you, ears twitching as your eyes bore into his. his gaze shifts around the room, failing to meet your eye, shyness crashing over his form. you bring your hands to his belt, fiddling with the buckle lightly. “gonna be a good baby for me?”

jungwon nods, quiet purrs leaving his barely parted lips as his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your gentle hands dangerously close to his aching dick.

“so pretty, wonie…” you whisper, making his belt go slack as you now tug at the button of his jeans, unzipping the denim quickly. your body flushes at the feeling of his length already hard, pushing against you through the barrier of his pants. you silence your mind as you pull his jeans down. the imprint of his bulge is already making your head spin, jungwon being way too big for the way he's acting right now, and you haven't even taken him out of his briefs yet.

the sensation of your delicate fingers ghosting over his impossibly hard length makes jungwon groan, his purrs growing louder and vibrating through your body now, traveling between the place where the two of you are connected.

you pull his underwear down just low enough to allow his cock to escape, the sight before you ripping a groan from your throat. your eyes are wide as you stare longingly at his length, wetness brewing at your core. you squish your thighs together to hide your overwhelming arousal at the sheer size of him.

jungwon has a fucking monster in his pants.

your mouth starts to water, drool nearly spilling out. jungwon watches you with confusion in his gaze, growing more embarrassed.

“i– jungwon…” you sputter, unable to tear your gaze from his length before you.

“what?” he squeaks, and you grow wetter at the fact that he’s confused in this moment, completely unaware of the effect he’s having on you.

“fuck, won… y-you’re huge!”

jungwon watches you with a confused expression, finally noticing the signs of you being unable to contain yourself. “i-i didn’t know…” he confesses, and he watches a gasp leave your plump lips at the sound of his voice reaching your red tipped ears.

“oh my god…” you whisper, finally tearing your gaze from his dick and looking him in the eye. jungwon notes how the fire in your eyes is gone, filled with something completely new, an emotion that he’s all too familiar with.

submission.

a switch clicks in jungwon’s brain as he studies your quivering form, thighs squished together to prevent your wetness from leaking out any further. his ears twist inquisitively, smirk growing on his lips. “you like what you see?”

you nod dumbly, mouth going dry as you see a different look in his eye, accompanied by a now swishing tail, watching you like you’re his prey.

“oh, my baby has nothing to say now, hmm?” the gravel in his voice has you whining aloud, pleading eyes gazing up at him, unsure of what you’re even begging for.

jungwon places one knee onto the bed, trapping you from one side. he leans down and the proximity has you racing to crawl backwards. he shifts forward, looming over you as you scramble backwards until you reach the headboard with a small thud. “nowhere for you to go, my pretty baby.”

you whimper, lip quivering into a pout as your slick begins to seep through your underwear and through your shorts, making a wet patch on the bed beneath you. jungwon inhales, the scent of you permeating his space easily, the essence of you seeping into his bloodstream easily as his dick twitches.

jungwon is quick to tear the offending fabric off of your body, throwing the garments elsewhere. your heat pulses from the sudden exposure to the cold, the contrasting sensations sending shivers through your body. jungwon feels electricity buzzing beneath his skin as he surges forward, further invading your space. his angry tip bullies its way inside your fluttering hole, ripping a scream from your body.

“fuck! jungwon, hold on!”

“can’t wait any longer–” jungwon groans as he pushes his length further into your hole, throwing his head back at the tight squeeze of your wet walls surrounding him. “you can take it.”

your entire body shakes, overwhelmed to the highest degree as it feels like he’s moving in slow motion, everything is too still around you as your walls never seem to get used to him, not budging at all as he presses further inside. jungwon stills for a moment after he’s pressed himself to the hilt, petting your hair gently in a way that’s almost patronizing.

“see? told you you could take it.”

“jungwon–” you groan, hole stinging as it tries to stretch to accommodate his length more comfortably. something shifts, and you somehow feel they’ve gotten tighter all of a sudden. “what the fuck agh!– w-what is that?!”

jungwon leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, one you can’t reciprocate due to the further stretch due to his sudden movement, the lean causing him to press further, nearly kissing your cervix. “ah fuck!”

“one thing about cat hybrids, baby…” jungwon ghosts his lips over your own, trapping warmth between your bodies. your fluttering walls feel tighter than before, all thanks to the barbs on his length. “they’re always gonna be the best fuck of your life.”

[willowsnook]

Hi could i get a short scotch italian soda?

charles leclerc x driver!rider

just shut up and come here

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

Moving from Sauber to Ferrari had been a life-changing moment and you still remembered crying into your dad's arms after signing the contract. Everyone dreams of driving for Ferrari so it really was a dream come true.

You and Charles had been friendly while you were at Sauber but had really grown close when you became his teammate. The media loved the two of you and you both were tagged in thousands of fan edits of you guys dating. Ferrari's PR team was who was to thank for that. They always managed to post clips of Charles gazing at you longingly or you getting flustered when he made a not so appropriate joke.

The most recent viral video of the two of you had come out this past weekend. It was a trivia type thing where you had to answer questions about each other. The question had been directed towards you asking what was the last thing Charles did before bed each night and you had smirked at him mouthing the words jack off making him laugh out loud.

Excited to fuck with him you turned to the camera claiming you knew the answer. Within seconds he flew over at you from his side of the couch, tackling you and throwing his hand over your mouth. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist and while it was friendly in the moment, the video painted a different story. Max had sent an edit some fan on tik tok had made into the drivers chat with a million laughing emojis.

You laughed it off as you did with most of the stuff fans said about you and Charles. Of course you thought he was attractive, who wouldn't? But you'd seen his past girlfriends and they looked nothing like you. Don't get me wrong, you knew you were hot but not in the sweet, soft-spoken influencer type of way. You were a ruthless driver on the grid who didn't take shit from anyone and that bled into your personality. The F1 reporters both loved and hated you for your quick witted responses to their questions.

"Ready for today?" Charles asked, coming up to you in the garage, sipping his water. You shrugged at his question; you were starting 6th on the grid compared to his 3rd.

"Who knows," you replied. "I'll be happy if the car doesn't fall apart."

He chuckled.

"You've got a chance for the win though, nervous?"

"Only if you'll be the prize," he flirted and you swatted his shoulder playfully.

"In your dreams Leclerc," you said laughing.

"Then I wish I was asleep."

Smiling you walked away and towards your team to do the final checks.

The car felt good during the race. You made your way to P4 and were pretty much cruising with no one close in front of you or behind. You assumed that Charles was fighting for the win as you hadn't seen him.

10 laps away from the finish, you saw a yellow flag.

What happened? You said over the radio.

Safety car. Verstappen and Norris crashed out into the gravel. You are P2, strategy now is to defend for Charles.

Sure enough, when everyone caught up during the safety car, you pulled right behind Charles. Oscar would now be much closer behind than he had been all race.

5 laps to go and you all took off. Charles still had good pace and you were close behind but so was Oscar. He kept going at you over and over any chance he had to pull past but you held strong. You cheered over the radio as you crossed the finish line securing P2 and Charles the win.

As you pulled up next to him, you hopped out of your car just as he was walking back from hugging the team. He swept you up in his arms and twirled you around making you laugh loudly.

"Thank you mon chéri," he said in your ear. "Now we get to celebrate."

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

The music was loud in the club as you celebrated Charles' win and you were definitely enjoying it. Three drinks deep you were in an animated conversation with Lewis who was just nodding along smiling, amused with your drunken state.

Eventually Charles dropped next to you slinging an arm over your shoulder giving Lewis an excuse to escape.

"Having fun?" He asked looking at you, eyes glazed.

"Yeah, just starting to hit a wall," you replied.

"Just let me know when you're ready to go," he said.

"You can stay later than me Charles, I'll just get a taxi back to the hotel," you said and he shook his head.

"You're coming home with me tonight remember," he said and your eyebrows furrowed. "I believe you are my prize."

Your face flushed as you remembered his earlier comment.

"There are a million pretty girls here, I'm sure one of them would love to be your prize."

"I don't want any of them, I want you," he said seriously and your heart rate quickened as you pulled away from him.

"You're drunk Charles," you said and he smirked.

"Maybe I am and maybe that's why I'm finally shooting my shot," he said. "So tell me you'll come back with me so I can fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

You squirmed at his words, closing your thighs tighter together as you grew hot. Noticing, his smirk grew wider.

"I don't know...," you trailed off and he leaned closer to you.

"I think you do know," he said. "So just shut up and come here."

Your resolve crumbled as you leaned into his embrace, pulling his head down to meet yours. His lips collided with yours in a rush of intensity, and his hand gently cupped your ass, giving a soft squeeze. Gasping, you felt him smirk against your lips.

"If this is my prize I guess I have to win every race," he whispered in your ear before attaching his lips to your neck.

"I guess so."

[uumiuyu]

bunny tongue || p.sh

pairing - afab!reader x sub!seonghwa

word count : 1,700+

warnings - sprinkles of fluff, smut (nsfw!mdni), pwp (in a sense that), established relationship and consent, swearing, handjob, oral (f receiving), breastfeeding, lactation, nipple play, pet names (baby, bunny, mommy,etc), cum eating, cumming untouched, overstimulation (m receiving), praise, slight somnophila (if you squint).

a/n : heyy!! so this is like my first time writing something in like years so.. forgive me if it’s not jaw dropping! just dipping my foot in the water again :) i hope you guys enjoy! (no prof read cuz yolo! srry for any grammatical errors as well)

smut under the cut!!

you and seonghwa laid comfortably in bed. your warm snuggles helping him fall deeper into the blissful sleep that awaited him.

you turned your head slightly to catch a glimpse at his beautiful face. his soft expression while sleeping made you swoon.

you began to miss seonghwa while he slept.

so, you decided to have a little fun.. there’s no harm in that, right?

you turned away from him, making yourself the little spoon in the cuddle. hwa gave small whine, already missing your proximity for the little amount of time it was gone.

you wrapped his arm around your waist, securing his embrace around you once more. he hummed in satisfaction, preparing to get back to his slumber.

“how sweet..” you mumbled to yourself. it’s so cute how sensitive he is to the smallest movements. anything can wake him up..

that’s when you slowly started to push your ass back up against his crotch. you made sure to add just the right amount of pressure to make him stir.

a small whimper slipped from his mouth, but his eyes were still glued shut.

you continued to grind against him, adding more and more friction with every movement.

his grip around your waist tightened as he moaned. you looked over your shoulder to see hwa looking at you drowsily, slightly biting his bottom lip.

“y/n ~” hwa whined as you continued your torment.

“hi my love. i missed you..” you responded innocently. before he could respond, he buried his face in the back of your neck, muffling his noises.

he’s hot and bothered, just how you wanted him.

you felt him stiffen in his underwear, his tip poking you slightly. you swiftly paused your grinding, and turned to face the pretty boy.

his glossy eyes beamed at you, as he pouted. your heart fluttered seeing him in this state, with such little effort on your end.

you sat up and leaned down, locking eyes with him.

“did you miss me too, baby?” you questioned, trailing your look to his erection. you felt his eyes eagerly follow your gaze.

“y-yes baby.. missed you so so much.” he breathed hastily.

that’s all you needed to hear.

you wasted no time crashing your lips into his. he hungrily reciprocated. your tongue swiped his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. he moaned as you started to suck on his bottom lip, enjoying the slight sting it gave him.

“let me take care of you, baby.” you spoke into his mouth. he nodded his head longingly, craving you more than ever.

you climbed on top, straddling him. your lips never left his. his moans grew louder once he felt the warmth of your clothed pussy against his restrained dick.

you groaned, feeling yourself grow wetter by the minute. your hips started to rock against him, trying to give yourself some kind of relief.

hwa pulled away from the kiss, audible whimpers falling from his swollen lips.

“y/n.. y/n~ please..” he dragged out in agony, squirming underneath you.

this teasing was torture for him, but the night was just beginning for you.

you pinned his arms by his sides.

“what is it my love?” you expressed with a lifted brow. you knew exactly what he wanted. but you couldn’t give to him right away.

where’s the fun in that?? hm?

he shyly met your glare, biting on his bottom lip again.

“please touch me.” he said slightly above a whisper.

you tilted your head before you replied.

“can you wait a little more for me bunny? mommy wants to play with you a little bit more.” you spoke softly, running your fingers over his bare chest.

his mouth fell agape, face growing a light blush. you began to play with his nipple, earning a small wail from him.

“can you be a good bunny for mommy??” you whispered in his ear seductively.

“y-yes~” he moaned out.

“good bunny.” you stated, kissing his ear lobe before hopping off of him.

“take these off and lay on the edge of the bed.” you tugged at the seam of his boxers, drenched in both of your arousals.

he hurriedly obeyed, as you removed whatever clothing you had on to free yourself.

his eyes followed you as you walked slowly to where he was, dragging the moment out even more.

his round eyes filled with more want as he eyed your body. his body filling with anticipation the closer you approached.

your eyes locked onto his nose, the sharpness of it making your pussy clench.

you climbed onto the bed, hovering your lower body over his face.

“can you make me feel good, bunny?” you asked, fervor overtaking your tone.

you looked down to see hwa licking his lips hungrily.

“yes. please, can i taste you mommy?” he asked breathy, ready to eat.

you moaned at his response, quickly shifting your position to sit on his face.

you let out a sigh of relief as seonghwa immediately went to work, lapping at your folds.

he stuck his tongue in your entrance, earning a hearty moan from you.

“my bunny eats so well.. you like the taste baby?? ” you growled, twerking slightly on his face.

he hummed in response, sending vibrations straight through your pussy.

you moaned at the sensation, locking your legs around his head.

his plush lips latched to your clit, sucking everything he could get into his mouth.

moans flew out your mouth, growing louder and louder.

“ffuck baby.. i love sitting on this pretty face.” you grunted.

he moans at the praise, his dick twitching vigorously.

“taste so good..” he voiced with yern.

you felt your climax approaching. the lewd noises coming from your pussy occupied the room. your squelches and moans making a beautiful tune, rushing more blood to seonghwa’s cock.

you begin to curse, pleasure becoming hard to hold back.

you sloppily begin to drag your pussy across seonghwa face, itching for release.

swear words spewed from your mouth, you were so close.

“that’s it baby.. give mommy what they want..” you spoke through moans, head tossing back.

with one final drag, your clit swiped over his nose, sending you over the edge.

you released with a dragged out moan, and seonghwa followed soon after.

his leaking tip spurted out ropes of cum, landing on his stomach.

he cried out in ecstasy.

you pry your pussy from hwa face, and pulled him into a harsh and indulgent kiss.

you pulled away from the kiss, trailing a string of saliva. hwa chased after your lips, frowning slightly.

you looked down at his stomach, grinning at the mess he made. you traced your fingers up the under side of his dick, making his body jolt slightly.

“did mommy’s bunny make a messy for her?” you cooed, looking him in he eyes.

he nodded his head nervously, thinking he did a bad job.

“its ok baby.” you assured him.

“let’s clean this up..” you gathered the cum on his tummy on the pad of your two fingers ask you spoke. his eyes followed your movements closely, knowing what he had to do next.

you watched him stick his tongue out, gathering his release on your digits, sucking it all off with gluttony, trapping you with his siren-like glare.

your pussy pooled with wetness.

“you’re doing so well my love.” you gushed, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. he beamed with a grin as your mouth began to trail him.

“you think you can give mommy one more??” you asked, nibbling on this skin of his neck.

he whimpers once more, the feeling of your tongue against his skin driving him crazy.

“yes.. i want more. please~” he whined.

you grinned against his skin, pleased with how well behaved he’s been.

“come on bunny, lay in mommy’s lap.” you spoke gently, patting your thighs. he complied with no hesitation.

you wanted to give your bunny the reward he deserved. he’s been such a good boy.

you ran your hand down his abdomen, and you slowly wrapped your hand around his length.

he let out a quick gasp, feeling himself hardened instantly.

you began to stroke him slowly, wanting him to feel every ounce of pleasure you were bringing to him. each stroke of your plam dragging a moan from him.

he found his hands going from the gripping the sheets to massaging your tits. he groped and squeezed, spilling the milk from them. he whimpered watching your milk coat his hands.

you hissed sharply at the sensation, soon lifting his head to your breast. he latched instantly, sucking harshly, while pinched and played with the other breast.

you picked up the pace with your strokes, causing him to moan loud against your chest. he sucked faster, cheeks caving in and out with every slurp on your breast.

you tossed your head back with a groan, stroking him more and more vigorously.

“f-faster~ faster~” he begged with a milk dripping down his chin, now running down his neck.

you tightened your grip around his shaft and stroked harder.

his whimpers grew needy, his breathing becoming irregular. he sucked on your nipple harder and harder, drinking all your supply down.

his stomach tightened, abs burning at how hard he tensed up.

he was getting close.

his whimpers turning into sobs and chants of your name. he tried using your tit to sooth his whines, but the pleasure was overtaking him.

you looked at him with pity in your eyes.

he was trying to hard to hold on, but you knew he was about to erupt.

“you gonna cum for me, bunny? hm? you gonna give mommy another mess baby?” you ask mockingly. you quicken your pace one final time.

“yes! yes! feels s-so good! fuck f-fuck yes!~” he choked out, tears falling down his cheeks. he unlatched from your nipple with a loud pop, swallowing down your warm treat.

he tossed his head side to side. his body burned red, coated with sweat. he panted mercilessly, begging for the climax he needed so badly

“let it go baby.” you spoke softly to an incoherent seonghwa.

he immediately released his load with a loud cry, his seed covering your hand and hitting his face partially. his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pure bliss.

you continued to stroke, milking every last drop out of him.

he yelped as his body shook violently beneath you., running from your touch. he was seeing stars at this point.

you slowed your pace, helping him ride out the rest of his orgasm.

you felt him go limp in your hand, and you slowly released your grip. you watch his chest fall up and down, his breathing becoming even again.

you laid the both you back against the bed carefully, trying not trigger his sensitive body with any sudden movements.

you looked down at seonghwa, in his cum covered, milk drunk state.

he was fighting so hard to stay awake, his eyes feeling like weights were on them.

you patted his head. “you did well bunny. get some rest. i’ll clean us up.” you whispered as you kissed him on the cheek one last time for the night.

he weakly smiled before he snuggled into you, burying his face into your chest once more.

“i love you.” he murmured before he dozed off.

i love you too,

my bunny boy.