#trying not to look at all the rough parts

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Geta’s kisses were strong, possessive as though he was intentionally making himself envious of the idea that your lips had been touched by another before him.

His hand could be found at your neck more often than not, squeezing it now and then as though to remind you of who was the more dominate one out of the two of you, his thumb would even caress the pulse on your neck to see whether he was doing things that made your heart work a little harder.

His kisses were hot and soft at the same time. yet firm and had a way of leaving you a little breathless afterwards. He’s a man that has everything and yet he still heavily influenced by human greed and desire for even more, so much more despite controlling an already dominating empire.

So to say his kisses weren’t also demanding for more and more of you was an understatement as he would always find the need to deepen the kiss, invade your mouth with his tongue after demanding entrance before taking complete control. His kisses didn’t allow you to be in control anytime at all, for Geta always needs to be in content power no matter what for he doesn’t like the feeling of being weak or easily overthrown in anything.

Yet let’s say after an almost successful assassination attempt on either of your lives, Geta’s kisses become more of a celebration of living, a reminder that you were both still alive despite what the gods chose to throw at you and how you both continue to thrive regardless. His kisses were also ones of relief that his reign got to continue but also that you weren’t taken from him unceremoniously, not that he would ever admit it to you but he wasn’t quiet ready to give you up just yet, not when he was heavily indulging on the taste of your lips and how nicely you slot against him.

Caracalla’s kisses were bruising and felt rough, rushed as though he was running out of time and he wanted to taste every last part of you before so, even if meant suffering through his harsh bites to your bottom lip and causing it to bleed somewhat before slipping his tongue in.

His kisses left your lips aching and had a lingering tingling feeling of pain, it made you wonder if the man smiling before you was capable of a softer and less intense way to express his innermost passion and love. He was, it was just extraordinary rare that you were led to believe you married a man whose only emotions was sadistic and lustful.

Yet on the rare one off occasion where he’d be feeling soft and affectionate his kisses became soft, almost featherlight, and tender as he scattered them across your jaw, neck and collar bone as though he was eagerly chasing after something as you ran your fingers through his fiery hair in content. His kisses were almost desperate to keep you with him, to remind you that he was the one you married and dedicated yourself to despite his inherent chaos.

He tries to prolong the kisses as much as possible as they varied from moment to moment depending on his emotions and where his minds was in during the kisses. So with Caracalla you were subjected to more lustful, ravenous, carnivorous as though he was trying to devour you or make you into one being through deepened kisses and painful looking love-bites that left you wincing upon grazing them.

His kisses were like fire but you couldn’t help but grow addicted to it and the sting that came from his teeth digging into your bottom lip, he wasn’t good for you and yet you couldn’t help but become more and more convinced through every kiss that you could help him, become his solace and safe space; yet you knew deep down that would never be the case but yet his kisses made you all the more ignorant to his more dangerous capabilities in other aspects as though he was slowly corrupting you with each and every kiss.

[thecoochiefairy]

gamer girlz. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.6K word count. blackfem!reader, drabble, college football coded! onyankapon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon, dominant!onyankapon, kinda sorta makeup sex?, couch sex , black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, backshots, missionary, condomless sex, cumming on face, kissing, spanking, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 ����𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ day 283737272 of liyah’s ovulation and faithful celibacy pact meaning she’s having the most nasty, egregious thoughts. please enjoy my black man fantasies. the links inspired this fic heavily, so enjoy those too.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon just wants to help you finish your game.

link. link. link. ony’s visuals.

YOUR FINGERS SHOULD'VE HURT AT THIS POINT. Swiftly moving from button to button, they tap the controls as you’re on another level of the game you desperately wanted to beat.

You had some time off of studying, and this is how you wanted to spend it. Your boyfriend was at football practice—although a part of you just wanted to be swarmed up in his arms, your attention span also had you elsewhere—this damn game. You enjoyed the older games, replaying the hardest version of Batman: Arkham Asylum, your boredom peaking your interest back in the game you’d had since childhood. 

You didn’t even register that the door had opened, or maybe you didn’t just care enough. You knew who it was. You eye him dropping his keys against the counter, black hoodie over his head, sharp jaw grunting lightly from his sore muscles, scowl along his face—definitely had to do with practice. 

You pause the game for a second, turning your face to the side, fuzzy socks along your feet, his large jersey slung along your body as you greet him, “Hell, baby. What they’ do to you?” 

“Coach was on dick today. Had me running laps cause other niggas couldn’t catch the ball and I got mad,” he huffs, taking his helmet and slamming it on the counter next to him. He massages the nape of his neck, sighing deeply to himself. 

“Now you know coach don’t like all that cussing on his field,” you sigh, “He knows you're good. That’s why he’s on your ass.” 

“Nah. He just annoying as fuck. Can’t expect me to do everything.”

He’s like a child, grumpy and pouty. His tall frame comes closer, wanting your attention in response to his rough day at practice. 

“How’s my baby?” he says in your ear, wrapping his large muscular arms around your waist and gently biting your shoulder. His broad frame shadows under his hoodie, tat against his face shining under the lights of your shared apartment, full lips moisturized—you’d never let him leave the house otherwise. 

You give him a soft laugh, rubbing your fingers over his durag as you say, “I’m fine. Had some time off studying, tryna’ beat this game. I meant what I said, Ony. He doesn’t just give you a hard time because he’s bored. You’re his star player, gotta make sure he ain’t treating you like everybody else.” 

“Don’t tell me you on yo’ nerdy stuff. C’mon. I’m sore,” he groans, his grip around your waist tightens and he pushes himself against you. 

“Oh, is it nerdy shit when you’ screaming on the game playing 2K with your friends? I was gonna offer a little massage. Now you’ve lost your entry to that,” you say, trying to push him off of you, reaching for the controller in between your lap. 

He doesn’t budge. He holds firmly onto you, pressing sloppy kisses against your neck to distract you. 

“Don’t be like that. I was kidding, you know I like that shit,” he huffs, his breath against your neck as he presses his lips on the sensitive part of your skin, “Forgot to tell you, I got an away game coming up in a few weeks. So I’ll be gone for like, a week.”

Your head comes down a bit to look directly at him, “What? You’re not coming with me to my parents? You know the holidays are coming up, Onyankopon. I told them you’d be there.” 

“You know imma’ just be sitting around hiding behind you,” he murmurs against your skin, his hot breath tickling you. 

It’s not that he’s shy— rather, he just doesn’t enjoy the unnecessary attention. 

“How ‘bout we do our own Christmas, before I go?” 

He’s nuzzling himself against your neck now, his hands roaming all along your body. You press his body away from yours, standing up as you become annoyed. 

You then say, “I wouldn’t be going up to my parents place if you didn’t agree to come with me in the first place,” going into the kitchen, searching through the freezer. 

He runs a hand over his face, seeing how instantly irritated you became. He knew having his support for the holidays meant a lot to you, and he might’ve waited on telling you about the going away game to lessen your disappointment. 

“Mama,” he calls, watching you from the sofa. 

You turn, raising an eyebrow as you say, “Oh, so now I’m Mama, you love hitting me with that shit when you know I’m mad.” 

“You know I don’t like going to those family functions, I swear that house always stinks cause yo’ auntie cooks that nasty ass fish. A week ain’t no big deal. Let’s just have our own thing here.” 

“So which one is it? You don’t wanna go or you got your football shit?” You narrow your eyes, pulling the ice pack from the freezer, arms crossed as you come back closer to him.

He knows better than to lie, especially to you. 

“They got some NFL scouts coming to this game,” he mutters, scratching his temple. I’m sorry. But I’m tryna’ go pro, you know that.”

“Mhm.” 

You hand him the ice pack, “Put it on your knee. I know it’s been sore lately.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You’ not mad?”

“Did I say I was mad? You’ want the ice pack or not?” 

He takes the ice pack, wincing once the coldness hits his knee. He knew you were gonna give him a scolding if he didn’t.

“You’ got a bad ass attitude right now.” 

“I wonder why, Onyankopon? If we had plans to go back to your parents house for the holidays and at the last minute I told you I have exams and that I just didn’t wanna go, you’d be irritated too.”  

“Damn, you gon’ be on my ass about this for the next three weeks?” 

He didn’t like it when you were like this, cause instead of being pissed you were more disappointed, which was somehow a lot worse to him.

“I’m gonna be gone for a week.” 

You scratch your nails in between the baby blue orchid claw-clip that holds your curls. You dismiss him, “You need to go shower.” 

“What, you ain’t tryna’ join me?” he murmurs, a smirk on his lips, “Quit being mad. I’m tryna love on you. Wanna put on The Isley Brothers and give you a rub down.” 

“You’re playing too much right now,” you deadpan, “Bye Onyankopon.” 

“What’ you mean bye?” he says, his smirk turning into a frown.

“I’m finna’ go finish studying,” you’re already walking back towards the bedroom, ending the conversation off as that. 

When you finally hear him smack his lips and make his way into the shower, you glance over your notes, deciding you weren’t gonna let him ruin your previous plans. You’re now back on the sofa, eyes set onto the screen, trying to defeat the computer generated opponent. 

You switch over to the sound of the bathroom opening, seeing him re-tying his durag back on, basketball shorts baggy and house shoes on his feet. His tattoos all along his face, neck, chest and arms always had your attention—but not as much attention as you usually gave him at this moment. You sprawled along the furniture, elbow deep into the couch's pillow as one leg laid straight out, while the other bent itself over the top of the couch. 

He doesn’t like how you’re paying no attention to him. As stupid as it sounds, he’s always got to have your eyes on him. They were pretty. 

“You’ still mad? You for real ain’t finna’ give me a massage?” 

“I’m good,” you swiftly respond, “Just playing my game. You can massage yourself.” 

“Why you’ gotta be like this?” 

He sits down next to you, his large frame takes up a lot of the space. The couch becomes smaller somehow. His eyes watch the game intently before he decides to get comfortable. Lying back down on the sofa, he lets his head rest in your lap. Even with you being irritated, you let him lay there. 

You continue going up level by level, your focus intently on the game. The little argument between you and Onyankopon irritated you to say the least, but you didn’t have the energy to completely push him away. It’s unfortunate he was persuasive. You notice out the corner of your eye that he lifts his head a little, the warmth between your legs along the back of his neck, and that’s when he sees that you’re wearing nothing under his jersey.  

He takes the time to admire you, legs lazily hung open, his eyes staring directly against your pussy, scenting of vanilla on your legs, freshly shaven. One of his large hands comes to rest on the back of your thick thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“What you’ got on?” he mutters.

“Had to wash clothes, didn’t have any underwear. That’s why I put on your jersey,” you tell him, eyes still not looking at his face, unable to see how his jaw clenched at the sight. 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. In that moment his large hand rubs along the skin on your thigh, pushing the jersey up further.

“You look good as fuck in my shit,” He mumbles, a low rasp in his tone.

“Thank you,” you say in a softer tone, mainly because you’re distracted, buttons pressing harder against the controller. 

He can tell how focused you are—how your face scrunched up, the way your fingers move, even the way your thighs fall open on his head.

He’s getting impatient.

That’s when you feel him lean down, giving a gentle peck to your inner thigh. The feeling makes you tense a bit, but you still keep your eyes against the screen, huffing out a breath as your character is close to dying. This level was difficult. 

He’s giving small, light kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, taking small intervals to glance up to you as you keep your eyes against the screen. His hand moves higher up on your leg, slowly pushing the jersey up even more.

Your eyes go to him for a millisecond, seeing as his head is down, lips attached to your thighs, sucking ever so gently on your skin. You can almost feel a pressure building in your stomach, the slow ache of his movements almost purposeful, teasing you in a way. You press your glasses up against your face, huffing out a breath as you mutter, “Stupid ass level,” trying to come up with a reason as to why you sound so breathless. 

He grins as he’s laying there, hearing your breathing getting heavier. It’s obvious how hard you’re trying to focus on the game, but he’s working you up.

“You’ trying so hard, Mama,” He murmurs against your hot skin, his kisses trailing to the spot he knows is extra sensitive.

You shift your body, clearing your throat as you say, “Gotta restart,” adjusting your legs a bit, opening them up just a little more than before. 

He can tell how you’re slowly giving in, how you’re shifting your body around, legs opening just enough for him to move closer. He lets his free hand come to caress your stomach, rubbing against the skin under the fabric of the jersey. His lips are so close to you, his breath is hot against your skin. 

“Restart then,” He mutters, tongue now coming to flick out from his lips, gliding across your skin, hiding beneath the pillows of his lips as they begin sucking a dark red mark against you.

You narrow your eyes lightly as you restart the level you play, but your body is distracted by Onyankopon’s lips along it. You drag your teeth along your lip a bit, pressing your fingers harder into the controller, feeling his lips coming up higher. 

You could feel the arousal you had flooding in between the lips of your pussy, protecting your clit as it now begins to pool farther down, dampening the couch. His large fingers wrap along the outside of your thighs, using his thumbs to pull the skin on the inside apart, showing the dark pink of your pussy, squelching at his presence. Your body tenses even more as you feel his thumb meet with your clit, rubbing so softly against it, dropping his mouth down to press another kiss to your skin. The leg hiked up against the top of the sofa trembles a bit. 

“You’ winning?” You hear him murmur against your skin. 

You take a deep inhale, squeezing your fingers against the hooks of your controller as you softly reply, “No.”

He circles your clit with maddeningly light touches, barely grazing the swollen nub. At the same time, he’s still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth. 

"You’ getting distracted. Wet ass pussy," Onyankopon murmurs appreciatively, feeling the slick evidence of your arousal coating his finger.

Your chest heaves a bit at his tone, but you don’t let up. You keep your eyes on the screen, but you seem to be losing. In both games. 

He spreads you even wider as he leans in closer, hot breath fanning over your slick folds. He pulls his thumb back as he replaces it with his mouth, giving you an innocent kiss against your clit. His beard captures your arousal, your fingers shuddering as you hear him groan, “Ooh, fuck, Mama. You’ wet for real.”

Without warning, he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bud. He releases it with a lewd pop before trailing open-mouthed kisses along your slit, lapping up your dripping arousal. Your eyebrows deepen into a frown, lips trembling as you give one more press to your controller, before you take your hand and reach it to the back of his head, getting a clutch against the knot of his durag. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, clasping your mouth shut as you whimper for him.

He delves his tongue deeper between your opened folds, dragging it up and down, lapping up to create more secretion. His hands grip your thick thighs, spreading you obscenely wide as he eats you out like a starving man.

"Mmmm, this a nigga favorite fuckin’ meal," he rumbles, voice muffled by your flesh. He alternates between slurping you up and flicking rapidly, determined to make you fall apart. One hand slides up to grope your ass roughly, kneading the plush flesh.

“O—Ony���” you gasp, voice small and high pitched, fingers squeezing harder against his head, dropping the controller out of your other hand, the object hitting the ground with a thud. The music of the battle within the game becomes something you hear, but not as loud as his mouth gulping you down, heavy tongue sopping against your pussy, drenching his beard so much that he could drown in you.

“Pretty ass voice,” he encourages huskily, the vibrations from his words sending shockwaves through your core. He dips two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your weeping cunt, pumping them slowly as he continues his relentless assault on your clit with his tongue. The wet sounds of him feasting on your pussy fill the room, mixing obscenely with the forgotten video game noises.

His free hand roams your curves possessively, groping and squeezing every inch of exposed skin he can reach—your ass, your thighs, the underside of your breasts. You’re lost in a haze of pleasure.

You were always so sensitive to his touch, the pleasure that you received from him kept you so kidnapped that it was hard to be mad at him. You grind your clit along his mouth that waits to catch it, voice ineffective of composure as you struggle, “Gonna cum soon, Ony…” 

“Yeah?” He grunts, head knocking up and down, your eyes only able to watch as his lower face disappears in between your legs, glistening a coat against his beard, “Where you wanna cum?” 

“On your dick, baby…” you whine softly, rotating your hips gently to match his moments, “Please…”

"You wanna cum on your dick, Mama?” He coos against you, the sound reverberating through your core, you’re whimpering with an urgent nod, “Mhm,” before he can even finish his sentence. 

He pulls himself back, already tugging his tip from beneath his basketball shorts, taking off the material as your eyes follow the curve, the vein in his dick, heavy against the stretch of his large palm. Tattoos spread against his pelvic, scriptures and inspirational quotes that didn’t belong in his blasphemous moment.

"Turn around, put that ass in the air for me.“

Your legs feel a bit numb, bringing yourself up as you know exactly how he wants you. Raising your left leg along the arm of the couch, you lean your breast over the top as your face hides beneath your arm, right knee digging into the seat of it. He places his fingers along the side of your neck, other hand digging into your thigh thrown over the furniture. He doesn’t have to tell you to look at him—you always give him your eyes, feline as they blank beneath his control. Your body trembles as he slams his palm against your ass, “Arch more,” your body following suit, deepening the valley your silhouette creates. 

He grips your hip with bruising force, using the leverage to grind the swollen head of his dick teasingly along your soaked slit. Up and down, he rubs himself through your slick folds, coating his length in your essence. Your hips tense as you feel the weight of his tip stretching open your pussy, sinking in that it makes your abdomen cramp, aching in a pleasure that has your entire body tighten. Your eyes are beginning to roll back, digging your nails into the sofa as you keep your eyes on his, he looks mad at you, slamming his palm against your ass again as he grunts, “Keep that fuckin’ arch.” 

Your chest is filled with oxygen, holding your breath to cure the slight discomfort you feel, but it’s also an agonizing pleasure, feeling so full from him. He’s slowly dragging himself halfway out, rolling his hips back in and going even deeper, your mouth dropping open as your eyes flutter shut, turning your head back towards him as you whimper, “Fuck, baby. You’re deep…” 

Silence goes in between the both of you, savoring the rush of pleasure that clutches the air as he drags his first couple of thrusts, so slow it felt like time wasn’t even passing. The sedated actions almost feel better than if he sped up, his eyes locking down as he sees you painting his tip, creaming on him. 

“I’m in your shit, huh?” he talks to you, it’s almost tortuous as he hilts himself fully inside, his heavy balls slapping against your throbbing clit. Your walls clench around him like a vice, your head tilting back as you completely tense. You whimper, “Ungh,” attempting to push him back to relieve the stimulation, jumping as he gives you a bruising spank, deep voice aggressive as he says, “Uh-uh, don’t do that. You know I don’t do that running shit.” 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he starts up at a carnal pace. The wet squelch of your pussy being split open echoes obscenely in the room, mixing with your deep whines, nodding your head, gently dropping your hips against his abdomen to meet his strokes.

“Keep riding that dick, goood fuckin’ girl,” each thrust is punishing and deep, stirring up your insides. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes obscenely as he rails into you, chasing your pleasure to insanity.

You always try to keep up, but you never could. All your organs feel tossed around by him, so blinded in your erotic state, your mouth opens as you give long moans, deeply gasping each time you need to catch your breath. He brings you to a point of saying things you’d never thought would leave your lips, mouth parted as you groan, “Yes, yes, baby. Agh, fuck, Ony. Deeper.”

"You want this dick deeper?" He growls, accentuating his question with a thrust that has your eyes rolling back farther. His grip on your hips tightens, surely leaving finger-shaped bruises on your toffee skin as he sets a merciless pace.

He’s back at palming his hand brutally against your ass, rushing it up to come around the front of your mouth, resting his fingers there as he grunts, "Take this fucking dick then," yanking your head back.

The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his hips slapping against your clit, “Finna’ tear this fuckin’ pussy open.” 

His filthy words mix with the lewd sounds of your bodies coming together, filling the room, it has you groaning through his fingers. 

“Love you so much,  baby—“ this was a regular routine, the affection you give him as he’s hitting that spot that only he could find, whines plummeting from your mouth, eyes to the back of your head as you reach back and grab onto his wrist that holds your hip, moaning louder each time he rolls his hips back to meet the weight of your ass matching his rhythm.

“What happened to you being mad?” He questions, going slow as he tugs you back into his dick, the echo of your skin bouncing off each other like a drug induced round of applause. 

You shake your head, “Not mad at you, Onyyy,  love you so much….”

He chuckles darkly, low and rumbling in his chest as he leans over you, pressing his muscular torso against your back. His hot breath fans across the shell of your ear as he murmurs, "I know you do, Mama. I love you too.” 

One large hand slides up from your hip, reaching around to splay across your stomach as the other now tangles in your hair, tugging your head back. He rolls his hips in a slow, deep grind, stirring you up from the inside, your mouth releasing broken shouts, your face hot, pleasured tears wanting to stroke along your face. 

"Fuckin’ love you, princess. Pussy was made for me,” He gives another sharp thrust, grinding against your cervix. "You’ getting tight as fuck—You’ cumming, Mama?”

“I’m….” You gasp, defeated in your inability to speak, taking your hand and reaching back to hold his face closer to yours, hips trembling as you dangerously moan in a cracked tone “I’m cumming, baby. I’m cumming. I’m—agh,  c—cumming…”

His chuckle is dark with lust as you flutter and clench around him erratically. He grips you harder, using the leverage to pound into you relentlessly, chasing his own release.

"Good job, baby. Biggg fuckin’ girl. Cum on this dick. Fuckin' soak it," he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. One hand moves from your hip to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub as he continues his brutal pace.

Your whole body tenses and shakes as your orgasm crashes over you, a loud cry tearing from your throat. Your pussy spasms almost violently around his thick shaft, gushing against him so much it pushes him out of you, trying to milk the sensation for all it’s worth. 

“I’m finna’ bust, baby,” he warns, groaning in your ear, “Come eat this dick up.”

Your body feels numb as you turn yourself towards him, immediately wrapping your lips along his tip, enveloping the taste of your own arousal within the walls of your mouth, sucking him in to reach the heavens of your throat. He clasps your hair within his palm, bobbing yourself back and forth as you reach down, rubbing your clit as you still feel your orgasm rushing through your body. You moan around him, giving him those cat eyes, fluttering your dark extensions as you swirl your tongue against his tip, begging for a reaction.

He throws his head back with a deep, guttural moan as your warm mouth engulfs him. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding your movements as he starts to thrust shallowly into your throat.

“Shit—just like that. Eating that dick up good as fuckk," he pants, his abs flexing with each snap of his hips. The sight of you—eyes fluttering, cheeks hollowed, one hand buried between your thighs—it’s almost too much.

He pulls your mouth off him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his glistening tip. With another smack to your ass, he flips you onto your back, settling between your spread legs. 

"I wanna see your face when I nut in this pretty ass pussy." 

He lines himself up and sinks back in with one smooth thrust, bottoming out instantly, clutching your throat, holding you down as your back arches up, clawing into his back at the visceral sensitivity.

He sets a hard, fast pace, the wet sounds of your joining filling the room. His intense gaze locks with yours, pupils blown wide with lust as he takes in every expression that crosses your face.

"That's it, baby. Gonna fill this pussy up real good," he grunts as you whimper with his talking, “Ba-by,” angling his hips to hit that special spot inside you. One hand slides under your thigh, pushing your leg up and back to change the angle, allowing him to go even deeper.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to pound into you. His tongue dominates your mouth, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure. Breaking the kiss, he buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking dark marks into your skin as he chases his release.

"Fuckk, finna’ cum soon. You want it in you, baby?”

“On my face baby, you say it’s pretty there,” you whimper, deepening your nails in his back, “Mmmph, c’mon, Ony. Please…” 

A grin spreads across his face at your pleas. Grabbing his throbbing tip, he positions himself at your face, smearing the leaking pre-cum across your cheek. He’s moaning, stroking himself rapidly, aiming his tip at your parted lips. His free hand grips your chin firmly, keeping you in place as his strokes become erratic. He then cums, painting your face—across your cheeks, over your lips, some even landing in your waiting mouth.

You stick your tongue out, running your tongue over your lips that darken in color, bruised as you dig your teeth into them with a sultry giggle. Heavy breathing fills the room as you keep your eyes up at him. 

He steps back as he says, “Hollon, baby,” going into the bathroom as he finds a towel, rubbing it along your face to clean you up. He then leans down, pulling you into a kiss as he grunts, “Gimme’ your mouth. I love you, Mama. I’m sorry.” 

You give him a kiss, holding his face in your hands, running your tongues together sloppily, passion filling your entire body from the previous actions. 

You say, “It’s okay. You’ want your massage now?”

He pulls his mouth back a bit, eyeing you before he chuckles. It makes you pout, “What’s funny?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he helps you stand, “Nothin’ Mama. Just thinkin' 'bout how quick you forgave me after I tore your ass up."

You roll your eyes, “I can always change my mind.” 

He runs a hand down your side, squeezing your hip possessively. "Chill out. I want that massage. You know I'm always ready for your magical hands."

He stretches languidly, his muscles rippling beneath his tattoos as he leads you towards the bedroom, “ And don’t be all stingy with the lotion. Do that lil’ thing I like if you feeling extra generous.” 

“You’ getting beside yourself. Do you need that?”

He turns, “Do you?”

You scrunch up your nose, “No. I want a massage next!”

“Exactly. C’mon, get that ass on the bed.”

[orangeblossomsintheair]

CARLOS SAINZ

u wake up with his arm around you. that’s the plot i fear

the first thing you noticed when you woke up was the heat. it wrapped around you like a blanket, thick and stifling, and you groaned softly, shifting against the sheets as you tried to find a more comfortable position.

but then you stopped. because something wasn’t right.

you opened your eyes, squinting against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, and immediately found the culprit: carlos’s arm. his bicep, to be exact, and it was... right there. practically in your face.

you blinked, momentarily confused by your predicament, until reality hit.

sometime during the night, your fiancé had flung his arm over you and kept it there. and now it was resting just above your head, caging you in completely.

“oh, come on,” you muttered, half-exasperated and half-amused. you turned your head slightly, trying to shift away, but all that accomplished was pressing your cheek closer to the ridiculous mountain of muscle.

you huffed softly, lifting a hand to push at his arm but couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbled out of you.

his muscles, even in complete relaxation, were ridiculous, thick and defined, warm under your touch. you poked him lightly, muttering, “what are you, a steel bar?”

tilting your head back, you glanced at him.

he was sprawled on his back, taking up most of the bed, his curls a chaotic mess against the pillow. his lips were parted, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, completely unaware of how obnoxious he was being.

“carlos,” you tried, your voice a sleepy grumble.

he didn’t move. of course, he didn’t.

you huffed softly, lifting a hand to push at his arm, but your fingers froze midair. because now that you were looking at it, at him, it was hard not to take in how unfairly beautiful he was.

your attempt to be annoyed crumbled instantly as you took him in. his jawline, dusted with faint scruff, caught the light just right and the freckles that decorated his cheeks were like a sprinkle of stardust. the warmth radiating off him was a comfort, even in the heat of midday summer.

you groaned again, quieter this time, because as much as you wanted to complain, the warmth and sheer solidity of him felt stupidly nice.

you rolled your eyes at yourself, trying to shake off the distraction.

“carlos..” you said again, louder this time, shoving at his arm for emphasis. he shifted slightly, a low hum rumbling in his chest, but his arm stayed firmly in place. If anything, it moved closer, the curve of his bicep now brushing against your forehead.

after a moment, you sighed in exasperation.

fine. if he wouldn’t wake up, you’d have to get creative.

without thinking, you tilted your head and in one swift motion, sank your teeth into his arm, the pressure firm but not painful, just enough to make your point.

he jerked awake instantly, a sharp inhale breaking the quiet. “Dios mío, what-” His voice was rough, accent thicker and gravelly with sleep, as he shot you a bleary-eyed look.

“good morning,” you said sweetly, even as you glared at him.

carlos blinked down at you, his arm still hovering near your face. his confusion melted into something amused, his lips curving into a lazy smirk. “did you just.. bite me?”

“you gave me no choice,” you shot back, shoving his arm off you. “you were suffocating me with your bicep.”

he chuckled as he stretched out beside you, clearly unbothered. “you could’ve just moved me.”

“i tried,” you said, glaring at him. “you’re like a human rock.”

carlos grinned, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours. “admit it, you like it.”

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed under his teasing gaze. “next time, I’m biting harder.”

he laughed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back against him before you could protest. “mm.. don’t threaten me with a good time, baby..”

you blinked at him, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “excuse me?”

"yeah," he drawled. "biting, maybe it’s my thing now. maybe I should look into it, explore this side of me…"

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "you’re impossible," you muttered, but the edge of annoyance had faded, replaced by the warmth of his teasing.

carlos’s smile softened as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding into your hair, and his breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “i should pin you down more.. give you an incentive.”

you huffed out a laugh, poking him in the chest, “is this a territorial thing? you like being claimed?”

he shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. "you never know, cariño. it could be our thing now."

before you could respond, he kissed the tip of your nose, cutting off any retort you might’ve had. And for a second, as you melted into his arms, it seemed like maybe this was your thing now.

[softspokendove]

"Keep making those noises, baby"

pairings: rafe cameron x shy!reader

summary: you always tended to hide your moans in bed with rafe, until one night it became too much. rafe instantly falling in love with your noises.

warnings: smut, p in v (unprotected), moan kink, doggy and missionary position, Rafe is kinda rough.

You continue to grind down on your bottom lip, the flesh horribly swollen as you try to keep your moans in. You've always felt safe around Rafe in every way, but when it comes to letting out your noises in bed you would blush and scur away from the idea. It wasn't about being uncomfortable, you just didn't know what to do or how to sound. All of those nights you'd stay up late watching those nasty videos only paying attention to the moans and whimpers coming out of the women. They always sounded so confident, so open. That just couldn't be you, you didn't know how.

Rafe was relentless with pounding into you, his hands digging into your waist as he pulls you backwards to meet his thrusts. Every few seconds he would let out some sort of noise, whether it be a groan, grunt, or a whimper. You loved it. Each sound that came out of him rewarded him with your walls tightening around his cock, his head craning back in how good you felt.

There's been times when Rafe has brought up how quiet you are in the bedroom. He'd be careful about it; not trying to embarrass you or make you feel bad. He'd slowly approach the topic and wait for you to add anything you'd want to it. Which usually would end up in you lowering your head trying to avoid eye contact and say that you didn't know how. Of course, Rafe didn't understand what you meant, it should come naturally to you not something you need to learn, but non the less he wouldn't push any further and would instead rub your thigh trying to calmly reassure you.

As Rafe tilts his hips in a certain way and his thrusts continue their abuse on your cunt from behind, your hands reach out to grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're tightening your grip. A weird sensation crawling up your neck and staying in the back of your throat. Your mouth instinctively letting go of your bottom lip and opening agape. The feeling gets stuck in your throat until a certain hard thrust of Rafe's pushes you towards the feeling and you let it out. The moan flowing so softly out of your mouth Rafe thinks he might've imagined it.

Rafe holds back his own noises and hits in that one spot just right again, earning another low moan from you. The moan causing Rafe's breathing to hitch and his dick to twitch. He puts one of his hands on the lower part of your back and pushes down causing you to arch more. The angle making you roll your eyes into the back of your head; the next moan leaving your throat is even louder this time.

God, you sound so good. Rafe could listen to you making that sound all day, it edges him on further. The tip of his cock constantly hitting that spot inside of you at a rough pace, Rafe leaning down and leaving small kisses all over your back. The soft tender kisses mixing deliciously with how hard Rafe is pounding into you. You rest the side of your face on the bed and let out a whimper at the beautiful feeling of the combination.

You whimper making Rafe let out a groan. "Fuck yeah, keep doing that." You're too lost in the pleasure that you're not too sure what exactly he's talking about. You feel your head get reeled back as he pulls your hair, the new sensation making a louder moan come out. "Yess sweetheart, that's it." The new praise making more of that same feeling pile in your throat, just wanting to come out.

You close your eyes and focus on Rafe's hard length sliding slickly in and out of you. The noises starting to escape on their own now. Each time he would bottom out inside your cunt it would end up in another whine or moan coming out and filling the air.

Rafe gets filled with a need to see your face, to see how good you look when those beautiful sounds are coming out of you. His hands land on your hips and force your body to turn over, your cunt and face on full display for him. Your eyes were still closed, but open in confusion when you don't feel his cock still inside of you.

Your eyes then widen when they come in to contact with his, your face becoming a deep shade of red as you recall all those noises you helpless let out. Rafe just smiles at your reaction and shoves his cock right back inside of you still hitting that same spot as before. Your hand reaches out and holds onto his wrist as the overwhelming pleasure hits you all at once. "Keep making those noises, baby. Wanna see how loud you can get." He then pushes down on your lower stomach bringing you closer to your breaking point.

"Rafe!" You try to warn him, to say anything at the quick feeling of your core about to snap. Instead, all that comes out is the sound of your moans getting louder and louder. Your walls wrapping tightly around Rafe's throbbing cock. Your noises bringing him close.

You let out one final loud moan as you cum and spasm all around his cock. Rafe quickly follows your suite and groans as he cums inside of you.

"Fuck baby. You have to do that every time, you sound so good."

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 18. Holiday knot

Yeti x fem!reader || semi-public sex, oral sex, knotting

You had a great idea for your anniversary. Since you married your yeti husband, you’d been trying to get him to chase you through the woods, but seeing as it was mid December and the temperatures would probably kill you if you ran naked… You decided to make it special in other ways.

You wore a nice coat, the longest one you had, with extra padding on the inside so you’d be warm no matter what. And under it you wore… almost nothing. You bought the naughty lingerie so long ago you almost forgot you had it, but at the last second you put it on and walked to his office as a normal day. You had dinner with him once a week, always on Wednesdays, and he was always waiting for you.

But this time around you had a bit of a surprise.

You opened the door to his office and closed behind you, making sure the blindfolds were down and the secretary left for her lunch. He was on a call you weren’t too interested in, you could only focus on the feel of the coat against your naked skin and the way your heart was trying to escape from your chest.

Even from afar he was magnificent, giant and furry and so incredibly beautiful in his monster features that you were dripping wet even before he even breathed in your direction. You’d never felt so strongly about any human, but as soon as you met him… you were done for good. Forget human tiny dicks, who wanted that when you could have giant ridged dicks that knotted you until you were dripping cum for hours after?

You were a bit nervous, you knew he’d love your surprise, but you were way past your honeymoon phase and maybe office sex wasn’t on his kink-list… Maybe.

“Well, hello there, wife,” he greeted you in his most cheerful rough voice, making you shiver.

It was now or never.

You slipped the upper part of your coat down your shoulders, exposing the red lingerie framing your tits in the most amazing way. He choked on a breath, and that encouraged you. You let the coat fall to the floor, pooling at your feet as you blinked slowly at him. And you realized the exact moment when he saw the mistletoe adorning your panties.

In a flash, literally the time it took for you to blink, he had jumped over the table and was crowding you, his giant sized body pulling you up and against the door. You shivered in anticipation, his rough breathing matching your accelerated heartbeat.

He bit down on your neck playfully. “You smell like cookies, wife…” He rumbled against your ear. That meant you were excited, that you were aroused, he loved the smell of cookies as much as he loved the smell of your horniness. “You came here wanting to be ravished by a monster?” He teased, his voice amused but his dick very hard under your barely covered ass.

Your nerves got the best of you when you answered: “Really? If you… If you want to...”

He pulled back a fraction, his big white inhuman eyes looking straight into yours, almost shocked when he deadpanned: “Do I want to fuck my wife in my desk? Yes. What kind of question is that?”

“I- I didn’t know if you’d be up for it,” you confessed, feeling shy all of sudden.

“Wife, I’ve wanted to fuck you over that desk since the first time you came to have lunch with me. And you are making my fantasies come true right now, you are the bestest of wives,” he said between soft kisses around your face, making you giggle with his sudden affection.

But it wasn’t all that soft, his dick was pressing insistently against your ass and you wriggled your bottom until he was whimpering, his strong arms holding you up as he walked to the desk and sat you there. He kissed you softly on the lips, and then sat down on his chair, legs open and erection very clear in his slacks. Fuck, he looked good enough to eat with his fur peaking through the buttons of his shirt, sleeves rolled up…

But he was only staring at you, not doing anything. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” You asked, a bit confused at the situation.

“Oh, yes… I’m definitely going to. But first: lunch.” That was all he said before his face was buried in your pussy as he pushed the panties to the side, not even taking them off.

He devoured your center with desperation, with a hunger so primal and deep that you didn’t know if you would survive. It was the best oral sex ever, and he had just started. He kept grunting and moaning against your sex, his furry face getting messy with your juices as he enjoyed himself. You could only hold onto his hair and pull every time he tried to get a breath in between licks. You didn’t care if he breathed or not, you only needed him against your pussy, his fingers playing dexterously with your clit.

“I’m- I’m gonna…!” You tried to warn, but you were too slow.

The orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave as your body convulsed over the desk, his hands holding you down as you knocked a few things off the table. He only chuckled against your pussy, probably not caring you were destroying some important documents.

He pulled back, whipping your juices away from his chin and licking his fingers clean. That movement was so hot that you whimpered as he smirked at you. He knew what he was doing.

“Now the main course,” he said, ripping the panties off and pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You groaned whorishly and he smirked again, his fangs so big you couldn’t suppress a shiver.

You thought he would push inside in one go, but he chose a tortuous pace, his dick breaching you so slowly and thoroughly that you could feel him everywhere at once. His hands were on your boobs, on your ass, on your clit… And his dick kept going deeper and deeper. Your brain was barely functioning at that point, not caring about the noise of the possibility of someone finding you. You could only focus on the way he felt against you.

But once he bottomed out, there was no place for soft sex anymore. He started a rough pace, fucking in and out of you with the desperation of a husband in his anniversary. With the desperation of a yeti who found his mate in the middle of a big city. With the hunger of a monster in need of his bride. And you ate it up, matching his noises and groans, moving against his body until you were both sweaty and your lingerie was probably beyond repair.

But you didn’t fucking care.

It felt so good. It felt too good.

“I’m going to knot you,” he warned.

“But we- Someone could...” you tried to argue without much strength. You wanted it. You wanted it more than anything. You needed it like you needed breathing.

“Let them,” he grunted. The rough tone and the way his dick hit your G-spot just right at the same time his thumb rubbed your clit was enough to send you over the edge once again. “Fuck, so tight, so good…”

He kept chanting how good your pussy was when you felt the erratic thrusts and the beginning of his knot at your entrance. He pushed one last time before it fully developed inside of you, locking you two together as he came over and over inside your welcoming heat.

His body was holding you down as you breathed calmly, his dick still twitching inside of you as he kept coming and coming. You knew this would take a while, and you were more than content to just wait it out. It felt great to have him inside, almost like cockwarming but… bigger. Maybe you should try cockwarming next.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he complained against your neck, landing a few soft kisses and scratching you with his fangs, making you shiver.

By the time his knot went down, you felt almost coherent again, but when you got up and felt the first gush of cum out of you, you were already thinking if he could fuck you again soon. You were about to tease him to get a rise out of him when he beat you to it.

“Are you going to walk back home with my cum leaking down your tights?” He asked as you put your coat back on, hiding your body from him. There was an edge to his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m going to the car and then I’ll drive home,” you explained, a smirk on your lips when you realized what he wanted. “Do you want me to plug myself and wait until you get home?” You asked back, a blush covering your cheeks as his eyes turned big, his dick filling inside his slacks once more.

“Fuck. Yes,” he groaned. “I’d be there as soon as possible, I just have one meeting.”

“Don’t be late or I’ll start without you, I bought a new toy…” You commented before closing the door, laughing when you heard the curse behind you.

You didn’t get to the elevator before his big body was hoisting you up between giggles and walking to the stairs with you over his shoulder. “Forget the meeting, forget the elevator, I need you in our bed ASAP,” he roared as you laughed.

[dieseldame]

𝗠𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗙𝗹𝗲𝘀𝗵

Sevika x Mechanic! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,2K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Sevika arrives at your workshop late at night, battered and bruised from a brutal fight, seeking urgent repairs for her damaged mechanical arm.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Angst, comfort, hurt/comfort, slow-burn, first kiss, mutual respect, found family vibes, detailed mechanics, strong female lead, emotional vulnerability.

In the Lower City, time doesn’t move the way it does above. There’s no rhythm here—only chaos. Machines wheeze and hiss, drunk men stumble out of alleyways, and the Shimmer lights the night with its sickening purple glow. A place where even silence feels heavy, where danger coils in the shadows like something alive.

And yet, there’s always the hum of a machine shop somewhere—your machine shop.

Most nights, the noise keeps you company. The grinding of gears, the hiss of steam, the soft vibration of metal meeting metal. You’ve carved a life out of this grimy corner of Zaun: hands blackened by oil, skin marred by burns, heart stitched together with the same steel you shape. You mend what others break, piecing together scraps to give back function. If there’s one thing the Lower City respects, it’s those who can make things work.

But not tonight.

The shop is quiet. Tools lie idle on the workbench, scattered like forgotten relics. You sit slumped against the wall, head heavy, breath shallow—your body aches, but it’s nothing you can’t endure. A stitched wound at your temple pulses faintly; the bruises across your ribs feel tight when you inhale too deeply. It was worth it, though, for what you’d built.

The machine gleams under dim lamplight.

A marvel of metal and innovation, an appendage worthy of the woman it’s meant for. State-of-the-art sensors—so small you nearly went blind assembling them—thread through the new limb like nerve endings. You’d spent months on it. Scavenging parts. Trading favors. Getting into fights when “negotiation” failed. All for this: a piece of art wrapped in cold steel, capable of letting her feel again.

Capable of giving Sevika back something she’d lost.

She doesn’t know. She wouldn’t have let you—wouldn’t have wanted you to bleed for her, as she would say. Sevika was stubborn like that. Built of sharp edges and gruff words.

And yet she always came to you.

As if the broken parts of her knew where they belonged.

The door bangs open, hard enough to rattle the hinges. You don’t jump—Sevika never knocks. She storms in like a thundercloud, leaving the door yawning wide behind her. Smoke curls from a half-burned cigar clamped between her teeth.

— Thought I’d find you sleeping. — she says, her voice rough, but she pauses when she sees you.

Her sharp eyes track the bruises at your jaw, the bloodstained stitches above your brow, the stiff way you’re sitting. A subtle shift passes across her face—something unreadable, but heavy.

You lift a brow. — You’re late.

Sevika scoffs and strides inside, her boots loud against the floorboards. The flickering lamplight catches on the dark red smear down her cheek and the gouge in her mechanical arm—a deep tear through the metal, sparking faintly with exposed wires. She looks worse for wear: hair tangled, coat torn at the sleeve, shoulders tight with the lingering strain of a fight.

You stand, biting back a wince as your ribs protest. — What happened?

She shrugs off her coat with a grunt, tossing it over the back of a chair. Her ruined arm whirs as she flexes it, and for a moment, you think she might try to downplay the damage. Instead, her lips pull into a humorless smirk.

— Some idiot thought he’d try his luck.

— Clearly, he didn’t win.

Sevika snorts, the sound dark and pleased. — Didn’t even come close.

You’ve heard this before—her coming in late, bruised and bloodied but alive. You’ve always admired that about her: the way she endures. Survives. Sevika’s not invincible, but she wears her damage like armor.

Tonight, though, something feels different. You can see it in her posture, the heaviness in the set of her jaw.

— Sit, — you tell her. — Let me look at it.

She does, with minimal grumbling, lowering herself onto a stool by the workbench. Her damaged arm hangs limply at her side, and you kneel beside it, fingers brushing the jagged metal edges. Sparks hiss where the wiring has frayed. It’s worse than you thought—too far gone to repair tonight.

— Damn it. — you mutter.

— Don’t hold back on my account. — Sevika drawls.

You shoot her a dry look before rising to grab your tools. The lamp casts your shadow long across the room as you search for something—anything—that could be a temporary fix. Sevika watches you, one brow raised, her good hand braced against her knee.

— I can’t patch this up, — you admit after a moment. — Not tonight. The damage is too deep.

Sevika grunts, not surprised, but her eyes narrow slightly. — Then what are you waiting for? Find another way.

You hesitate. It’s now or never.

— You’re right. I do have another way.

She frowns, leaning back slightly as you turn and cross the room. Your hand moves to the edge of the sheet that covers your secret—months of work, pain, and sacrifice hidden beneath it. You look at her then, at the woman who sits in your shop like she belongs there, like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

— Consider it an early birthday present.

And then you pull the sheet away.

The room seems to hold its breath.

The new arm lies on the table—a masterpiece in steel and precision. It shines silver under the light, sleeker than Sevika’s current appendage, but heavier somehow. Something about the design demands respect. The plating has been shaped to fit her perfectly, every joint reinforced and seamless.

But the real wonder lies in the small, intricate workings beneath the surface. The sensors, invisible to the eye, hum faintly with potential energy. Capable of transmitting touch—real touch. Warmth. Pressure. All the things Sevika’s flesh had lost.

You’d made her a gift.

Sevika doesn’t move. Her eyes rake over the arm, slow and careful, and for the first time in a long while, she looks… surprised.

— You made this? — Her voice is low, quieter than before.

You nod, throat suddenly dry. — For you.

She doesn’t speak. You’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, so you keep talking, filling the silence. — The sensors are custom-built. Took me weeks just to get the design right. They’ll let you feel things again. Temperature, textures. All of it. — You glance at her, searching her face for a reaction. — I thought maybe… you’d like that.

Sevika’s gaze drags from the arm to you. Slowly, her expression shifts, softening in a way that feels dangerous. Like something she doesn’t let anyone see.

— You didn’t just make this, — she says, voice low. — Where did you get the parts?

You look away.

Her eyes narrow. — Tell me.

— I got them, — you reply, a little too quickly. — That’s what matters.

Sevika rises then, moving toward you with a deliberate slowness that makes your pulse quicken. She’s too close now, towering over you with that sharp, unreadable look.

Her gaze drops to the bruises at your jaw, the healing wound at your temple. She takes you in like a puzzle she’s solving piece by piece—her good hand lifting to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes.

— You fought for this. — It’s not a question.

You swallow hard. — Zaun’s not exactly a charity.

— Idiot, — she mutters, though her voice lacks any bite. Her thumb grazes the edge of your jaw—light, careful, as though testing her own ability to be gentle. — You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.

— It was worth it. — you say softly.

She blinks. For a long moment, Sevika just looks at you—searching, measuring, as though trying to understand something she doesn’t have the words for. You hold her gaze, unflinching.

— You’re a fool. — she says finally.

— Maybe.

Her hand drops, but she doesn’t step back.

— Sevika, — you start, — I just —

— You didn’t have to do this for me.

— I wanted to.

The words hang between you, raw and undeniable. Sevika stares at you, something unspoken passing through her eyes. You’ve seen her fight. Seen her spit blood and laugh through cracked teeth. But this is different. This is vulnerability—quiet and unarmored.

— You’re too soft for this city, — she mutters, but there’s no malice in it. Only something close to affection.

You smirk faintly. — And you’re too stubborn to accept a gift.

She snorts, shaking her head, but her mouth twitches at the corner—an almost-smile.

— Sit back down, — you tell her. — Let me fit it.

Sevika hesitates, then moves. When she lowers herself onto the stool again, you begin the careful process of removing her damaged arm, piece by piece, before fitting the new one in its

place.

The process is slow, deliberate. You work in silence, your fingers moving with the precision of someone who knows their craft intimately. Sevika doesn’t speak, but you can feel her watching you—her gaze heavy, lingering on your bruises, the faint tremble in your hands as you lock the new appendage into place.

The final connection clicks with a soft hum, and the arm comes alive. Its joints shift smoothly, a near-perfect mimicry of organic movement. Sevika flexes her fingers, and the sensors respond, lighting up faintly as they adjust to her.

— How does it feel? — you ask, watching her carefully.

Her brows furrow slightly as she tests the arm, running her metal fingers over the edge of the workbench. The faintest smile pulls at her lips when she feels the texture of the rough wood beneath her touch.

— Strange, — she admits. — I didn’t think… — She trails off, her voice softening. — I didn’t think I’d feel anything like this again.

Your chest tightens. — Good strange?

Sevika looks at you then, her expression open in a way that feels rare, like she’s letting her guard slip just for a moment. — Yeah. Good strange.

Relief washes over you, and you take a step back, suddenly feeling the weight of the night settle over you. Your ribs ache, your head pounds faintly, but it’s worth it—worth every bruise, every drop of blood.

— You’re something else. — Sevika mutters, shaking her head.

— What do you mean?

— You fight, you bleed, and then you do this? — She gestures to the arm with her good hand. — You didn’t have to. Hell, you shouldn’t have. But you did it anyway.

You shrug, trying to play it off. — Like I said, I wanted to.

She leans forward, her new arm resting against her thigh, the metal gleaming under the lamplight. — You’re not Zaun, you know that? Not like the rest of us.

You raise a brow. — What does that mean?

Sevika smirks faintly, but there’s no edge to it. — It means you’ve got more heart than sense.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. — And you’re just figuring this out now?

Her gaze softens, her smirk fading into something quieter, more serious. — I noticed it the first time I walked in here.

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of her confession—small but significant—hangs in the air.

— Sevika…

She stands suddenly, towering over you, her new arm flexing as she tests its range of motion. Then she reaches out, her metal hand brushing your cheek—light, tentative, as though she’s still adjusting to the sensation. The coolness of the metal contrasts with the warmth of her touch, and your breath hitches.

— You went through hell for this, — she murmurs, her voice low and rough. — For me.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. — I told you… it was worth it.

Her lips twitch into a faint smile, but her eyes stay on yours, searching, unreadable. — You’re a fool. — she says again, softer this time.

— Maybe. — you whisper.

For a moment, the world seems to stop. The noise of the Lower City fades, the sharp scent of oil and metal dulls, and all that exists is Sevika—her presence, her touch, her quiet intensity.

And then she leans in.

Her lips brush yours, firm yet hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. It’s not soft, not sweet—this is Sevika, after all. It’s rough around the edges, but there’s something real in it, something that sets your pulse racing and makes the ache in your ribs worth forgetting.

When she pulls back, her gaze holds yours, unflinching.

— Thank you. — she says, the words rough, almost grudging, but filled with a sincerity that takes your breath away.

You smile, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. — Anytime.

Sevika chuckles faintly, shaking her head. — You’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that?

— Not if you’ve got my back. — you reply, grinning.

She smirks, and for the first time all night, she looks at ease. — Damn right I do.

As she steps back, flexing her new arm with an almost childlike curiosity, you can’t help but watch her, a warmth spreading through your chest. The bruises, the fights, the exhaustion—it’s all worth it.

Because this is Sevika.

And for her, you’d do it all over again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[rainychaoloveshack]

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝.

you and shadow cuddle up in a flower field. (after some persuasion)

A SIDE • B SIDE

☂︎ w/c. 650

☂︎ a/n. sorry for the all lowercase, i didnt care too much to capitalize while writing (wont happen again, i promise!) im a little rusty when it comes to writing for shadow, sorry if he's ooc

he’s already looking for you, isn’t he?

you can feel him among the flowers, petal after petal swaying with the wind, finding their way to graze across his cheeks, to the very tips of his quills. his ear twitches at the sound of your distinct chuckle, revealing your hiding spot to your ever persistent admirer.

“were you trying to hide?” he calls out from afar, footsteps trampling over the soft blossoms upon noticing you, until he takes notice and decides to soften his steps, avoiding the flowers the best he can.

“hmph.” he exhales softly, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he sees your cheeky smile. that firm facade of his is already falling to pieces. “are you trying to taunt me?” his usually stern expression softens, not yet a smile, but the corners of his lips twitch as you stretch your arms up high, noticing the silly, yet adorable scrunching of your expression.

something always stirs inside him when he looks at you, even from afar. a sweet sense of familiarity despite how stressful the world can be.

unlike any other feeling he’s ever had.

shadow kneels down beside you, his gloved hand running across the flower petals around your waist, taking the time to drag his fingertips across your stomach. his ear flicks once he snaps out of his trance of admiring you, retracting his hand back as he clears his throat.

“come on. get up and lets go.” his harsh words mean nothing at the fault of his actions, his hand cupping your cheek gently to turn it in his direction. you can see the admiration in his eyes, despite his demanding tone.

you lazily raise your hand, waving it around as a signal for him to tug you up. he lets out a louder sigh than usual, but rises up onto his feet and takes your hand, briefly running his thumb across your knuckles. his lips part to say something else, but you interrupt him with one last attempt to beckon him to your side upon the flower field. his neutral expression sours into a scowl.

“there’s no point in trying to convince me.”

oh well. you huff frustratingly at his words. but there's nothing else to do but give up on his stubbornness.

… no, not at all. you’re not one to give up just like that in the eyes of your lover.

“no, i’m not wasting my-” his eyes widen, the stars and light flower petals illuminated within his irises as you tug him down, grasping him tight on his wrist. the cool feeling from his inhibitor ring hits your palm, but is replaced by his wonderful warmth shortly after, running your fingertips across his quills as your lover squirms within your grasp, displeased. after his incessant complaints and attempts to break free, his demeanor seems to calmen, still apprehensive, but at least he lets you brush your fingers through his quills, his head resting on your chest after a few minutes of this.

your lips part to utter sweet nothings to your lover, but his finger extends to poke you in the cheek briefly, shutting you up with the sudden gesture. he doesn’t look up to meet you in the eye, preferring the sound of your heartbeat.

“don’t.” he says plainly, his voice rough as usual, but his body relaxes once he snuggles up to nook his face into the crook of your neck. he practically melts into your touch, the rest of his face covered by the flowers. he’s flustered. “just… five more minutes, then i’m taking you home.” it’s somewhat pleasing to see him so shy.

your mouth spreads out into a wide grin. five more minutes is more than enough. and all shadow can do is sigh, completely and utterly taken by the person you are.

[zorosangell]

zoro x mihawk daughter! reader 👁️👁️

⛥ﾟ・。 nurse

synopsis: a mysterious man crash lands on your gloomy island, and you patch him up... unaware of his odd relationship with your father.

cw: part 1/3, fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a lovable idiot, reader's a bit soft spoken, reader is FIONE, i imagine she dresses like morticia addams but its not explicitly described, mihawk clocks zoro's tea a lil bit

a/n: what i would give to bandage this man up myself

"Never thought I'd see the day..." you sighed, grabbing a vase of water off the end table.

The sound of clanking and pouring echoed throughout the room, slowly waking the swordsman up.

"A man on this island..."

Zoro fluttered his eyes open, the golden rays of morning light ushering him back to the land of the living.

'I'm... alive? ...But where am I?'

"Morning," you greeted, softly, a warm smile on your face as you approached the bed. "You scared me for a moment. With the rough shape you landed in, I thought you were dead for sure."

Suddenly, his eyes shot wide, memories from Sabaody all rushing back.

Pacifistas.

Sentomaru.

Kizaru.

The crew.

Now fully awake, he greeted the world with a deafening yell, you letting out an equally loud shriek of surprise.

And, in your fear, you dropped the entire vase and fell backward, too occupied with trying to back away from the screaming man.

Hearing the commotion, Zoro shut up, weakly turning to see its source.

You had managed to retreat into the shadows, hiding yourself from the intruder.

"Who are you?" he asked, sharply, eyes zeroed in on your silhouette. "Where am I? And why are you here?"

"I could ask you he same..." you replied, warily. "And don't scream like that again. You're not dying, I made sure of that."

Painfully, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, letting out a few winces and curses as he attempted to stand up.

He was missing a familiar weight on his hip.

"What did you do with my swords?!" he barked.

"I'm keeping them hidden until I can ensure you're not a threat."

Brows furrowed deeply, Zoro grit his teeth, thoroughly pissed.

"I'm warning you..." he stood on shaky legs, attempting to step forward, only to fall on his knees.

Guilty, you let out a sigh, suddenly feeling sorry for his poor shape.

"Sir, please, get back in bed. You'll re-open your wounds," you sighed, imploringly, moving forward to help him up.

Annoyed, Zoro scanned the area, eyes landing on your figure as you emerged from the shadows, widening at the sight as your hips swayed side to side.

Long, (h/c) hair...

Plump lips...

Heavenly curves, made evident by your long, black dress...

Smooth brown skin...

Alluring, (e/c) eyes....

Goddamn.

'Curlybrow'd lose his mind...'

You were dripping in beauty and mystery.

Zoro, so mesmerized, didn't even realize that you'd already cruised your way over, and were now standing directly in front of him, helping him up.

"I found you laying in a crater in the woods, unconscious," you explained, pulling him back to the bed. "You looked two steps from death's door... so I brought you back here, and tried to fix you up the best I could."

It was almost funny.

You had little to no medical knowledge at all, so majority of the first few days was spent teaching yourself how to do it all.

With a smile, you sat him down, "I'm glad to see you're alright."

But Zoro didn't register a single word.

He couldn't help but allow his mind to drift to the way your lips moved, enunciating each syllable so smoothly.

Though, when he realized you'd stopped speaking, his eyes found yours, an embarrassed glow rising to his cheeks.

"I... uh... can you repeat that?" he replied, bluntly.

This was the first time he was talking to you, and he wasn't even paying attention.

It was easy to say you were a little irked.

"I'll get you your swords," you sighed, flatly, giving up on any hope of conversation as you turned around to exit the room.

Without giving him a chance to speak, you walked away, hair swishing across your back as you moved.

Zoro, on the other hand, still sat there, more flustered than he'd been in a long time.

He thought back to how close your body was to his, your breast slightly rubbing against his back as you helped him up.

Watching you strut out the room, his gaze drifted to your backside, internally cursing himself for being so pervy.

Something about you flipped a switch in him—be it your mystery or your unspoken grace—and he had never found himself so entranced and intrigued in all his life.

And all you did was talk to him.

'The hell's wrong with me?'

This was the type of behavior one expected from Sanji or Brook.

Not him.

Not the cool-headed swordsman.

Not the Roronoa Zoro.

Hand rising to his face, he roughly shook his head, snapping himself out of it.

"I gotta get the hell out of here..."

"Father, please, I—"

"Not only did you bring an unknown man into our home while I was away..." Mihawk started, tone sharp as he cut you off.

You flinched, instantly piping down as you took a step back, hanging your head.

He hadn't taken such a tone with you since your teen years.

"But you nursed him back to health... and returned him his weapons before confirming that he was of no threat."

Hearing it laid out like that, you sounded stupid.

But in the moment, you swore that Zoro meant you no harm, your observation haki not sensing any malice or ill-intent even when he was yelling at you.

"He's not unknown to you, Father, you've met him before," you attempted to plead your case, albeit quietly. "And from what you've said about him, he's perfectly honorable. He wouldn't have hurt me."

"You didn't know that," he corrected, brows furrowed. "For all you knew, he could've slit your throat the moment you lost sight of him."

"That's a little extreme..."

"That's the world."

After returning Zoro's swords, you left to go make him something to eat, but returned to find that he had escaped.

Frantic, you searched the castle for hours, combing through every nook and cranny in an attempt to find the swordsman.

But, of course, it would be your luck that your father would find him upon arrival—somehow he had found his way through the woods and to the ruins where he attempted to fight off some of your monkey friends.

Safe to say, when your father finally arrived home, he was less than pleased.

Even still, you patched up the swordsman once again, unable to leave him in such a precarious state.

"Father, please try to understand. I was only trying to—"

You stopped in your tracks, both you and the warlord sensing a new presence.

And, like clockwork, the man of the hour weakly pushed open the door, heaving, as he seemed to be struggling to keep himself upright.

Worried, your brows furrowed, concerned for his health.

"What are you doing out of bed?" you asked, softly, "You're hurt... bad."

But Zoro pressed forward, using the sheaths of his swords as walking sticks as he approached your father.

"You shouldn't be walking in this condition... you can barely stan—"

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head before his arch rival, much to your surprise.

"Will you... train me as a swordsman?" Zoro asked, fervently, pressing his forehead into the stone floor.

He'd managed to take a look at the News Coo you left on the end table, discovering Luffy's message to reunite in two years.

Which meant that the whole crew would have to get significantly stronger if they wanted any hope of surviving in the New World.

Him included.

"You disappoint me," Mihawk stated, brows furrowed. "Stand up."

He turned away from the sight, annoyance dripping from his tone.

"I can't believe you would ask your enemy for instruction... Have you no shame?"

He rolled his eyes, swirling around his wine glass.

"Get out of here. This is pathetic," he scoffed. "A pity, perhaps, but I overestimated your worth."

'Father...'

You felt bad about his harsh words, not wanting him to kick a man while he was down.

But the swordsman didn't budge, remaining in his exact position without fault.

"I said stand up... you're making a fool of yourself."

"Please help me!" Zoro tried once again, not moving an inch.

"First of all, the baboons beat you... and even after that, you couldn't make it to sea," Mihawk shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. "I can't help you. It's hopeless."

"They didn't beat me."

The two of you froze for a moment, shocked.

'No way... did he really?'

"You're the only one left to take down... but, I'm just not good enough to win against you the way I am now. Anybody can see that."

"I don't follow," Mihawk stated. "Clearly, you still consider me your enemy, yet here you are bowing down, begging for my help."

Zoro lifted his head, his expression one only attributed to a man on a mission.

"What do you mean to do?"

The swordsman's glare sharpened, not a doubt in his mind.

"Kill you, of course."

With that, your father let out an amused laugh, a rare smile cracking on his lips.

"You admit you want to kill me, and you expect me to assist you in that?" he asked, knowingly. "You're strange. What a ridiculous request. Aren't you the least bit embarrassed?"

Though he was quick to reel it in, a new question popping into his mind.

"Perhaps... your priorities are different now, Roronoa?"

Zoro's breath hitched at the insinuation, slightly surprised by his perceptiveness.

"(y/n)..." you father turned to you by his side. "Tend to his injuries."

(y/n).

'So, that's her name...'

It was oddly fitting.

With a quiet nod, you stepped forward, silently heading toward the door.

"We start your training once you've recovered."

At that, Zoro's face lit up, gratefully.

It was finally time to get stronger.

Throughout the entire two years, he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into his training, working diligently to become the reliable swordsman Luffy knew him to be.

But, little did he know, those two years would bring him ever closer to you, as well, as you acted as his personal nurse and cheerleader on the sidelines.

You two would become inseparable, spending your days together as you watched him train, cooked him dinner, did his laundry.

Your presence and company became as constant as he air he breathed.

So, when the day finally came for him to depart, it was safe to say that both sides had a particularly hard time letting go...

To be continued.

[rosesdrop]

What do they feel for you ?

(Check out patreon for the extended version)

Pile 1:

There's this immense amount of energy ready to be directed towards a specific goal, the goal is you. They are definitely action takers they don't stay reluctant for long, it's part of who they are, they just like to see energy explode everywhere, they're passionate and so is the way they express themselves, they don't hold themselves back. They feel like you'd hesitate though, it makes them feel discouraged, it's like everytime they try to let you know proudly the kind of person they are you seem to back away, as if you're not so contented with what you see, they believe they're probably not your type, hence the reluctance from yourside. They try to change themselves sometimes to fit your standards, they try so hard to fit in what would seem like your ideal type. They think you're a perfectionist so you always look for people that share the same vibes with you

Pile 2:

This person feels like your business is their business, they're invasive. The reason is, they feel disconnected from you so they're using indirect ways to reach you, even if means spying or meddling in your business. It hurts them deep inside even if they appear rough. They cannot express their emotions for some reason. They feel lonely most of the time. It's hard for them to explain themselves because it seems like everything is not fine with them or they think that you'll see it this way, so they don't even try. Even if you think you know them they won't show you who they truly are. They're contradictory, they wanna know things about you but they won't let you even get close.

Pile 3:

This person is exited for what to come next with you, they talk about you to their friends. They put a lot of hope on you. They give a lot of value to this connection. With you they feel like they can let their walls down, they trust you. They do feel like your presence is important, they don't wanna miss it or make things harder so they try to go with the current to keep things calm. They believe that deep down you actually care for them, they know that you try to hide it from them but it's as  clear for them as the sun. They try to sweep all of their negative emotions under the rug and keep up a good behaviour, they want to let you know that they are a good and reliable person so that maybe you can be more open to them.

[elliee3e]

‘pretty when you cry’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‘old’ logan howlett x crybaby f! reader

‘don’t say you need me if, you live last, you're leaving —

i can't do it, but you do it best

‘cause i’m pretty when i cry’ — pretty when you cry - lana del rey

summary ;

basically just old man logan & his lil crybaby girl<3

content warnings ;

light ddlg if you squint, piv, size difference, age play/younger & smaller reader implied, corruption kink, oral sex (f receiving), slight overstimulation

old man logan, who both loves and hates having his sweet girl crumble in his arms.

by now, he feels like the only thing he’s good for is ruining. killing. tainting. that’s what he did with you, tainted your damn innocence. and now he hates how big he is compared to you, hates how he always feels like he has to hold back in fear of hurting you, hates how he tries to be gentle with you because you always end up crying in his arms no matter what.

he could be between your spread thighs, scruff brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue works against your heated core, sucking onto your clit whilst you completely crumble — thighs squeezing and trembling around his head, sniffles, whimpers and broken moans leaving your parted lips, tears starting to drip down your cheeks as you pant, the sight making logan pull away as he looks up at you from his glasses, that by now had slipped to the bridge of his nose that you always so badly wanted to kiss.

“baby, baby— hey, look at me darlin’..” he would croon, your sweet taste still clinging onto his tongue as he shifted up to grab your face, watching your pretty glazed eyes full of tears for him: looking up at him. “l-lo..” you would sniffle, voice no more than a broken whimper and it tugged at his heart.

“did i do something wrong? was it too much?” his gruff voice, laced with worry — asked. and god, yes, it was too much: but in the best way possible. you just didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t help the tears that would take over you when something felt too good.

“n-nothing wrong, lo— just.. just a lot..” you would huff, stomach fluttering as logan would sigh at your words: bringing up a rough thumb to swipe your salty tears away: the other gently tugging your panties back up. “damn it, darlin’. givin’ me a damn heart attack everytime you sob like that, makes me feel like i hurt ya.”

“c’mon. let’s just lay together for a while. probably be better for ya, sweet thing.”

old man logan, who, after a while, would begin to understand that his girl just couldn’t help her pretty tears and sobs. it was a part of her that only he got to see after all, and that’s what made it special.

he began to love having that power over you. loved having the ability to be fucking into you, pretty legs wrapped around his hips perfectly, nails scratching along his shoulders and back where you could reach, your desperate moans mingled with choked sobs ricocheting off the apartment walls — your nails leaving cat like scratches that started to heal in a short while as they weren’t deep wounds — but they still made him groan. one of his hands, the one not on your waist to keep a steady grip on you, moving up to grab your small wrist to stop you; his hand wrapping around it no problem. “easy, baby. i’m tryna be gentle here, but you’re really pushin’ it.” he would grunt, bringing your wrist down up next to your head, easily using that for leverage to keep on his slow and deep pace into you.

“gosh, darlin’, don’t go cryin’ for me right now..” he would groan, watching as you sobbed even more, trying to slow his pace more than it already was to scoop you up into his arms, keeping your smaller body cradled in them as he soothed your sobs with gentle ‘shh’s’ — hips still fucking into yours at a steady pace, just enough to have you trembling under him and for your cries to choke up in your throat with pretty moans, a familiar heat starting to build up in your lower tummy as it made your walls flutter around his thick cock. “uh— mmph, gonna.. gonna cum, lo—“ you would whimper, small hands squirming under his bigger ones, his grip only getting tighter on your soft wrists.

“that right? my baby’s gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock like the sweet girl she is?” logan would grunt, using the best of his force to fuck into you just enough to find your little gummy spot, the one that sent shivers through your small body and made you let out a sob that broke off into a moan as you felt your orgasm quickly take over — hips trembling under his, sweet pussy squeezing around his cock as much as it could as your juices leaked onto him.

“fuck, doll.” he would huff, glancing down and pulling out just enough to see your pretty pussy — flushed and dripping for him, your sniffled cries filling the room once more as you tried to recover.

“gonna be a good girl and finish me off now too?”

[viskitten]

ྀི nsfw .ᐟ vi x fem!reader

the sensation of your girlfriends muscular leg against you was enough to drive you mad. you're grinding down on her thigh painfully slow. you lean in and put your hands on her shoulders, kissing the spot beneath her ear, momentarily stopping to catch your breath or say something. she loves watching you get sloppy when you're close, because she loves to guide you and help you. your movements become sluggish. the knot in your stomach only building with each thrust. before you're too far gone you decide to get off of her. knowing your girlfriends getting no pleasure out of this leaves u feeling guilty. but holy.. the amount of pure joy she gets from just watching you is insane. regardless you sit yourself between your girlfriends legs. bodies entangled. she grabs you in an attempt to help you. "no.. 'm okay" you grinned. you didn't want her to have to do all the work. the first movement forward sends a shock through your body. your girlfriend tilts her head back due to the sensation and lets out a long breath. you continue the thrusts, placing a hand on her abdomen to stabilize yourself. your motions are constant now, synched and unremitting. her hands dig into your side leaving crescent marks all over your skin. the knot in both your stomachs growing tighter with each shift. the room completely silent except for heavy breathing and whines. you're biting your lip to try and suppress whatever sound is about to escape your mouth. lip turning white from the amount of pressure you're putting on it. your guys' lewd sounds filling the room as you both climaxed. you're seeing stars as your head is thrown back. you're latching onto your girlfriends leg for stability, while yours are quivering. violets rough hands gripping you aggressively as you ride out your high. strands of hair stuck to the beads of sweat scattered across your face.

warm clammy skin touching, the air in the room is anything but cold. you're resting on your girlfriends lap, skin to skin. her hands trace up and down your thighs. you're both looking at each other. the silence comforting, making you both ease into each other. your hands faintly gliding up her toned abdomen. her eyes trailing down your body with tenderness. you lean to the side, your girlfriends hands letting you down softly at her side, but still managing to keep her hand on you. you're laying in front of your girlfriend on your side, her hand stroking the dip of your side. you look at your girlfriend lovingly, staring at all her features. you could stay in this position forever, you loved spending all your time with her. her presence was intoxicating, you could never have enough. the next thing you know, you two are back to kissing and she's mounted you. she scoots back and positions herself between your legs. her hands softly pulling you by your hips to get a better view. her eyes almost bored holes into you. the attention was too much. you could feel her staring, hard. you gently grasped her wrist as you sat up, placing her hand on your face. her hand now tenderly cupping your cheek. she needs the reassurance from you, and of course you console her as you lean back. her hand falling from your face to your thigh. you put your forearm over your mouth in preparation, but you keep your gaze attached to her and what she's doing. she grips onto your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed, leaving her kneeling in front the bed and you.her left hand gently lifting your calf and placing it over her shoulder as she readjusts her self so her face is directly between your legs. her hands fall to your thighs, gently gripping onto them and parting them. she looks at you one last time, in need of assurance. you urgently shoot her a nod of approval, and that’s all she needs before dipping her head down. she delicately draws lines up your slit with her tongue. your breath faltering and hips slightly jerk at the sensation. her icy blue eyes locked onto yours as you examine her and everything she’s doing. her movements are slow, her right arm curls above your thigh leaving her hand resting at your heat. she thumbs the area before slowly circling it. your breath hitches at the action. your thighs ever so slightly closing, in desperate need of more friction. your girlfriends movements are painfully slow, the need for more was becoming unbearable almost. you slither a hand down to her head, burying your hand in her pink locs. you gently inch her face closer to your heat, your actions lingered with sweetness. vi continues the assault on your slit, lapping your mess up on her tongue. she brings her right hand down, arm now beneath your thigh but hand resting between your legs, her fingers aligned with your entrance. you let out a string of lewd noises as she sinks a finger into you. her pace is slow, painfully slow. her tongue flicking into you, making your hips shutter due to overstimulation. she pauses to pepper wet pecks along your inner thighs, maintaining eye contact the entire time. your eyebrows furrowed and eyes half lidded, you could melt beneath her. she sucks on the supple skin that is your inner thigh, leaving splotches of discolored skin. she looked down upon the clouds of purple and red, it made her core heat up. she loved leaving marks on you. she gives your inner leg a soft bite before turning her attention back to your heat, tiny crescent shaped puncture marks lingering along your inner thigh. her right hand returns to its previous position, circling your clit. while her left hand traces circles on the flat of your navel. her tongue positioned at your entrance, slowly sinking in with a soft squelch. your hips buck at the overwhelming amount of sensations all at once. her tongues dipping in and out of you swiftly, while your lower abdomen continues to jerk slightly from the immense amount of pleasure. as her movements grow faster, your hand fists the pillow next to your head. your hips fluttering under her grasp.

her arm is expanded along the flat of your tummy, applying light pressure to your lower abdomen, trying to keep your stable. however that doesn’t completely work, maybe using her words would help instead. she pauses in between licks to let out a little “you have to keep still..”. the words bringing a flush to your cheeks, underpainting the apples of your cheeks a rosy hue. your brows pinch as a pleasure filled expression floods your face. desperately trying to maintain your composure as you inch closer to your high, you take the hand that was once on top on your girlfriends head and clench into the sheets beneath you, getting a fistful of the fabric. violet raises her head and removes the hand that was abusing your clit, to take your arm off of your mouth. she looks at you with love and tenderness, her touch gentle and fond. you bite your lip in an attempt to trap any noise that was about to escape your mouth. she peppers kisses along your inner thigh, giving you a sultry look, “ s’okay i wanna hear you..” she coos. her voice echoes in your head. her tongue and hand switch places, she's sinking two digits into you little by little. she swears you're made of glass, she treats you so gently, with tenderness and care, as if you could shatter at any second. its a contrast from her rough exterior, you weaken her. in a good way obviously, she's nothing but gentle with you and she does it on purpose. she pulls one of your legs up, your calf once again resting on her shoulder, only she's standing up now. her free hand gripping your thigh, there's sure to be bruises in the morning. your whines only grow louder along with the soft squelch noise coming from between your legs. your lewd noises and breathy strings of curses are like music to her ears. she kneels back down to continue the work on your slit with her tongue. the coil in your stomach has only grown tighter, your legs shaking and hips bucking tell her that you're close. she takes her free hand and starts massaging the skin of your thigh, trying to relax you and make sure you're enjoying it. you shove your face to the side, trying to hide any expressions you were making or shut in any noises that were about to escape your lips. brows furrowed and jaw clenched shut. you're biting down on your lip harshly as if it'll help. violet catches onto this and reaches her arm up to your face to softly cup your cheek and turn your face towards her. your hands massage her scalp as you relax and close your eyes. she's knuckle deep in you as you clench around her fingers and let out a string of lewd noises. lower abdomen shaking, twitching harder as she help you ride out your high. the pace of her tongue and fingers slow drastically. her eyes zeroed in on your face, catching every expression you've made in the last 45 minutes. she slowly withdraws her fingers and stands up. your chest is heaving and as soon as she could move her head your thighs were clenched together. your girlfriend hovers over you, planting soft kisses along the glazed skin on your face. beads of sweat scattered across your forehead. the action never fails to make your lips quirk up into a smile, except this ones got a bit of a tired winded expression with it. your girlfriend gives you a meek "i love you" and two little pats to your hip before going and running a shower for the both of you.

the end!!!

sorry if the writing is ass or if my vocabulary isn’t big enough i’m trying to expand it and i’m KINDA new to this 🤓🤓

[arabella0001]

i feel so anxious about posting this, but these are my guilty pleasure thoughts 😫

yours to break (choso kamo x reader)

synopsis: choso needs a reminder of his place—and you make sure he feels it

warnings: insecurity, bad self-esteem, uexperienced, sub/dom play( sub choso!!), blowjob, oral (female receiving), teasing, praise, overstimulation, rough fuck, light degrading

choso has always been quiet, but you get it. you actually like this about him. you know he’s struggling with words and trying to fit in, but you always admire this about him—about your pretty boy—how he’s trying, how he wants to understand humans, how he cares for his brothers, and how he’s more aware of his surroundings than most people are.

you’ve started learning his subtle changes in behavior, when he’s struggling with words, emotions, and all of that. and today was one of those days.

you can’t put a finger on it, but oh, choso has his mind wrapped around it.

he wasn’t used to being around so many people, let alone watching you around them—how you laughed with his brother yuji or playfully nudged megumi’s shoulder, joking about his stoic behavior. of course, you never let him out of an interaction; you were so good to him. but he feels like he’s wasting your time, like he’s not good enough for you. his dark eyes tracked every small interaction, feeling complicated emotions that he usually shared with you.

of course, he didn’t need to tell you he was upset—you already knew. but you wouldn’t speak to him about it in public. you waited until both of you were back at your apartment. you tried to talk to him, and he tried—he really tried—but he couldn’t help drowning in his insecurities.

you shut the door and crossed the room, looking at him gently. after he undressed from his jacket, he felt your gaze on him, and when he looked at you, he panicked internally.

“choso?” you asked him in a soft voice.

“y-yes?” he slapped himself mentally for stuttering; he didn’t want to be a bother to you again.

“what’s wrong, my pretty boy?” you murmured, tilting your head to catch his gaze. his eyes flicked to yours, full of love and adoration, but fear too.

"i’m sorry," he said, voice low and rough. "it’s nothing, let’s—" his voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled sharply, like he was scolding himself.

“cho, please tell me. i know you don’t feel well. remember, we navigate your feelings together so you can understand them better?”

“yes, but—” he stopped himself, but unconsciously, he trusted you too much to hide this from you. “i know i shouldn’t feel like this…” his fingers dug into his thighs, frustration clear. "i’m just—" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "i feel like i’m not… enough for you."

your eyes widened a little at his answer.

“choso, that’s not true," you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. "what makes you say that, baby?"

he stilled immediately when you hold his hands firmly. there it was—that quiet surrender you knew so well, the way his defenses crumbled when you took contro

“you’re… different with them," he said quietly, voice tight. "you’re so comfortable, so... happy." doubt swam in his eyes. "but i’m not like them," he muttered. "i don’t know how to be that for you. i don’t even know if i can."

the vulnerability in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut.

you walked over, gently prying his hands open and threading your fingers through his. he finally looked up, and you saw it in his face—his insecurity, his self-doubt.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“cho, look at me,” you said, grabbing his chin gently so you could lock eyes with him. “they’re my friends, but you? you’re… you’re everything."

his breath hitched, his eyes flicking down as heat crept up his cheeks. you noticed the way his body relaxed slightly under your touch.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "you don’t have to be like them. i like you exactly how you are. i don’t want them. i want you."

he shook his head, his lips parting to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. his breath hitched, his hands hovering over your hips as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you.

"let me prove it to you," you murmured, your lips brushing his.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself. the way his body softened beneath your hands, the slight tremble in his shoulders, told you everything—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“should i show you, cho?”you take his hand and turning to your room, he bites his lower lip, uncertainty flickering across his features before he nods eagerly.

"y-yes, Y/N” choso’s breath hitches as you lead him into the bedroom, his pulse quickening at your sultry voice, his other hand shaking slightly anxiously.

he swallows hard, his mouth going dry as you close the door behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet room. choso’s gaze return to you, his pupils dilating with a mix of nervous excitement and longing, his mind quickly adapt to the new atmosphere, an atmosphere he knows it very much.

"you will be a good boy and you will listen?" you tease him, whispering in his ear, putting him on the bed with his feet hanging off and you between his legs.

your fingertips flicker gently over his face and collarbone, each touch deliberate and teasing.

a shiver runs down choso's spine as your warm breath tickles his ear, sending waves of tingling heat across his sensitive skin. his eyelids flutter shut at the teasing motion of your fingertips, making him squirm slightly beneath your touch, his breath catching in his throat.

"yes, y/n, i'll be a good boy," choso promises breathlessly, his voice thick with anticipation.

his gaze, dark and heavy with need, locks on you, drinking in every detail—the playful curve of your lips, the way your eyes glint with mischief, the soft fall of your hair framing your face.

as you settle firmly between his spread thighs, choso’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break free. vulnerability flashes across his expression for a moment before it melts into sheer desire, completely overwhelmed by your dominant affection.

"p-please, y/n…" he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he surrenders completely.

"mmm aleeady begging” you chuckle softly, letting your fingers trail over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake “you’re so beautiful, choso…did you know that?” you murmur appreciatively, your hand coming closer to his aching dick, you want to worship every inch of him until his begging for more.

choso’s back arches off slighty the bed, he whimpers softly, his hips twitching involuntarily

"you are beautiful too..." his voice strained with need, he wanna reaches out, desperate to touch you, but he know better you don’t wanna do it like that.

he bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he fights the urge to thrust into your touch

"please..." choso pleads, his submissive eyes glazed with lust and surrender.

“you are so sweet, baby.i love how you try ro behave. i really do “you kneel between his legss, looking at him teasingly and undress his pants slowly.

choso’s breath hitches as you unfasten his pants, the zipper sliding down with agonizing slowness.his heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

he watches a intently, drinking in the sight of your mesmerizing eyes, choso’s cock twitches in its confines, straining against the fabric as his body responds to the building tension

"c-can you touch me…more? " his voice ragged with desire as he almost tries to lift his hips

you give a wicked smile, removing his pants and underwear, exposing his dick and you start stroking it slowly, from base to tip, watching his reactions closely

“more? but you are so cute when you are completly at my mercy”

choso’s head falls back against the mattress as you wrapp your small hands around his throbbing cock, the first stroke sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through his body

“ahhhh” he cries out, his voice cracking with pleasure, lids fluttering closed as he surrenders himself fully to your touches. “don’t stop, please...“ his voice hoarse with desire.

“shh. don’t command me baby or i might stop” you continue your ministration, teasing the head of his cock “and you don’t want that, do you?”

his hips buck instinctively, seeking more of that maddening touch and your threatening voice.

"no, no, i’m sorry…please... “he whimpers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. his eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intense, pleading gaze

his hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he struggles to maintain control, but the ache in his cock threatens to consume him wholly.

you smirk at him, your pussy dripping already just by his pleading eyes, continuing to stroke his cock slowly, occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze, your other hand moves to fondle his balls, rolling them in you palm.

“mmmm, you're so responsive, cho. such a perfect little boy, you’re making me so wet already

you lean and start lickiny his dick slowly up and down, preparing him for what has to come.

his entire body quakes as your tongue makes contact with his sensitive flesh, he throws his head back, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat as pleasure crashes over him

"Y/N!”, his hips throbbing erratically as you lavishe attention on his aching cock, his vision already blur at the edges as he teeters on the brink of climax but he know he needs ro resist the urge. you retreat for a second, gasping for air.

“remember cho, you don’t get to cum untill i say so, yeah?” he moan so hard when your lips envelop his cock once more, the suction drawing him deeper into the wet heat of her throat.*

“yes yes Y/N, i remember! please don’t stop!" his voice raw and desperatec his body trembles uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he fights the impending orgasm, his fingers dig into the sheets, the only thing keeping him grounded.

his vision goes white as you take him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock, gagging and slurping. tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow as he's pushed to his limit.

"please, baby... i can’t... is too much!" he sobs, his voice breaking on a ragged whimper. his muscles spasm, his toes curling as he strains against the iron grip of his climax.

at that, you let him go with a pop, returning to stroke him slowly “oh baby but i think you can a little more, right?”

“but I admit, you were such a good boy, cho” you tease the head of his cock again and he twich instantly“should i reward you? should i let you fuck my throat, baby? to cum in my mouth? or maybe on my tits?”

choso’ s resolve crumbles, his willpower shattered, his eyes widen, pupils dilated with lust

“yes!!! please Y/N, let me… i need so badly i can’t —“he begs, his voice thick with desperation. choso’s hips surge forward, closer to your beautiful lips, his imagination running wild with the depraved scenarios playing out in his mind, about your warm mouth, about your perfect tits

"cum in my mouth, cho” you take him again in your mouth and start deepthroat him, looking up at him with determination in your eyes.

he don’t need much longer, as your throat constricts around him once more, choso loses all sense of control, his climax erupting in a violent rush of hot, sticky fluid. he bucks and thrashes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his release as he empties himself into your waiting mouth.

choso’s hands find your hair, tangling as he holds you in place, plugging your mouth to the limit.

after the aftershocks pass, choso slowly takes his cock out of your mouth, his body limp, spent and panting. a dazed expression on his face, still reeling from the force of his climax.

you swallow everything he give you and pull off his softening cock, licking you lips clean “mmm so delicious” choso watches you gulp his load and he cups your check with trembeling hand, his expression full of adoration while he watch every part of your face.

"that was….incredibile..Y/N….thank you.”

“you deserve it, baby” you stand up and climb on him, his legs still shaking slightly, you take his earlobe in your mouth “now, how about you take care of me, hmm?”

a shiver runs down Choso's spine as warm breath caresses his ear, he groans softly.

"...anything for you," he moans feeling your hot breath and lips on his earlobe, he push your back closer and start worshiping your body.

he licks and nips at you skin, trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. choso’s hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour as you gasp and grinds unconsciously on him. you lick his neck and pinch his pecks slightly which made him moan.

“yeah? should i muffle you with my pussy? grind on your pretty face?”

a gasp escapes choso’s lips as the brief sting of pain quickly giving way to pleasure. He arches into your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants.

“mmm yes... please, i want to make you feel good" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “i-i want to taste you, feel you grinding against my face..”he pleads, his words dripping with submission and longing

you push him by his chest and climb on him fast, your soaked pussy closer to his face, smearing your juices all over his cheeks and chin as his eyes widen, hungry with desire while he put both hands on your ass and push it closer to his mouth, without hesitation, he parts his lips and extend his tongue and you start grinding on his face.

“f-fuck, cho! you are so obedient…..” you lift one leg over his shoulder, opening you further to him “now, open wide and show me how much you adore me, cho.”

"mmmhm…," he moans around your pussy, the flavor of your arousal coating his tongue. choso’s nose burrows into your slick folds, inhaling deeply as he laps at your clit and inner walls with reckless abandon.

choso’s cock already throbs painfully against his belly, straining for release even as he focuses solely on you

“ahhhh, yes, cho! just like that, eat my pussy! you starts grinding harder on his face, her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him where you wants him most “you’re such a slut for my pussy, aren't you? fuck you feel so good” you moan harder, your legs trembeling

choso’s response is a muffled, guttural moan, his voice distorted by the plushness of your pussy filling his mouth. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him deeper and he welcomes the slight discomfort, craving more of your dominance, using his mouth like that.

"mmph, mmhmm...yes” he manages to convey between licks and sucks, his words slurred and breathy.

“oh, cho! right there, don't stop!” your breathing gets heavier, your moans louder as you ride his face “i’m gonna cum, cho!” you warn him before your whole body tenses up and she screams in pleasure, your pussy clenching hard around his tongue as he devours you and licking all your cum.

choso’s low moans vibrate against you, a symphony of pleasure and devotion. he continues to tongue-fuck you through the aftershocks, only when your tremors subside does chlso slowly pull back, his face glistening with your arousal and tears of pleasure

as he gazes up at you with adoring eyes, his chest heaving with emotion

“you taste so good, Y/n”

you look down at him, your eyes filled with love and lust “you were such a pretty good boy, cho” your voice hoarse from the screaming, still catching your breath

you undress from your shirt, revealing your tits to him, and start moving slowly on his abs, your pussy closer to his throbbing cock.

“such a good boy like maybe you deserve to fuck me, what do you think?”

choso’s heart races as you teases his straining erection with your slick folds, hos gaze is transfixed on your perfect breasts, his hand instantly cupping both of them, teasing them and pinching them slowly.

he groans, he pleades, his voice raw with longing “please…need to be inside you... “i’ll make you feel so good, Y/N, I promise," his eyes locked onto hers, brimming with love and lust.

you chuckle gently “i love how desperate you are for me” you take his dick and slowly you let him feel your walls

“f-fuck’” a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he feels you, he gasps as you start moving, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to anchor himself.

"do you see it now?" you whispered, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "do you feel how much you mean to me?"

his grip on your waist tightened, and his voice broke as he stammered, "y-yes… i—ah—" he couldn’t finish, his thoughts too jumbled, his body trembling beneath you.

"you’re the only one," you murmured, your tone soft but commanding. "the only one who gets to have me like this."

his eyes squeezed shut as a desperate, shaky moan escaped his lips, your name spilling from him like a prayer. the way his body reacted to every touch, every word, almost overwhelmed you—soft whimpers, broken gasps, his lips parting as he tried and failed to keep up with the sensations. he was so vulnerable, so open, it made your chest ache.

you steady yourself, wrapping your hand on his throat, bringing him back to the present “you like that, cho?” you smirk and start moving faster, slamming your hips down his cock “being my only one submissive boy?”

you lean forward, your breast pressing against his chest as you whisper in his ear

“i bet you want to take me and fuck me however you want, huh?” your hand tighten around his throat, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp and choso’s eyes roll back in ecstasy, a primal part of him almost taking over.

“no, no, Y/N….ah..i love it when you take control” he pants, his voice ragged with desperation. his hips buck up to meet your thrusts deeper

you grins wickedly and keep going, your movements become erratic “look at you. so desperate for me” you slap his cheek playfully, your pussy clenched harder on him.

“think you've earned a reward, do you know what is it?” choso’s vision blurs at the edges, your grip on his throat remains unyielding, he feels an intoxicating sense of euphoria. he gasp when your slap touched his cheek, his body tenses, coiled springs ready to snap, desperatly.

"p-please,... tell me... I'll do anything..."

“you can fuck me how you want, choso” you whisper, your voice cracking from the pleasure

at this, choso’s control stop immediately, he loses all semblance of restraint, flipping you onto your back and start thrusting with bruising force.

his hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head as he begins to pound into you violently, each savage thrust driving him closer to the edge. one of hand goes to your clit, start moving faster and faster, wanting for you to cum either him

“mine! you’re only mine!” he snarls, his voice a feral growl as he claims glur body with ruthless intensity. choso’s hips slam against you, the lewd sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room.

“oh my god, cho!!! make me cum!!!” your head rolls on the bed as you scream, when you lock your eyes with him, his eyes, wild and unhinged, bore into you as he ravages your cunt, his cock throbs inside you, driving closer and closer to the edge.

feeling your body tense, sensing your impeding orgasm, choso’s hip start slamming with bruising force, he rolls your clit between his finger, your legs shake badly as you feel your own climax taking ove. you start screaming into his neck. choso groaned deeply, his cock grinding harder around cervix, feeling your spasmming walls and orgasm,

““Y/N!!!”” choso cant hold any longer as his hips start jerk erratically, with a a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock throbbing as he unleashes a torrent of hot seed deep inside you and you whimper, feeling so full from both of your climaxes.

💞💕afterward, he collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. you turned to him, brushing his damp hair out of his face, and his dark eyes met yours, still clouded but filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"you’re incredible," you murmured, your voice soft but full of conviction.

he blinked at you, his lips parting slightly, and after a moment, he whispered, "thank you… for letting me."

you smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "you don’t have to thank me, choso. i wanted this just as much"

his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you like you might disappear.

"do you believe me now?" you murmured against his skin, your voice soft and steady.

choso pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and hoarse.

"yeah," he whispered, the smallest hint of a smile in his voice. "i do." You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin

“good," you whispered. "because you’re stuck with me."

"wouldn’t have it any other way," he replied, pulling you even closer.

"thank you, y/n," he murmured after a moment, his voice still shaky.

"for what, my pretty boy?" you asked, your fingers never stopping their soft patterns on his chest.

"for reminding me i’m enough," he said quietly, his arms tightening around you.

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his skin

“you don’t need reminding, choso. you always have been."

"i’m sorry," he murmured after a pause. "for doubting you."

you shook your head slightly, your voice tender but firm. "you don’t need to apologize either.. just remember next time—there’s no one else i’d rather be with than you."

he buried his face in your hair, his voice barely above a whisper as he promise

“i’ll remember." and for the first time all night, he let out a quiet, contented sigh, his insecurities finally silenced.

[curly-my-beloved]

I love love LOVE your fanfics<3

Anyways, can you write a Curly smut with a reader who's too timid of the idea of sex. Like, he's being so patient and they're just so sensitive and nervous and all they can do is lay down and let him lead with a smile on their face. They're so excited and nervous they can't tell what's causing the butterflies in they're stomach. I just think it's be romantic to have passionate sex with Curly<3

Comforting moment during sex with Curly (drabble)

cw: gn! reader. reader's genitals not specified. non-descriptive sex. can be read as part of the fiance saga if you want.

"Shhh... it's alright..."

Your eyes flickered open, looking up at the gorgeous man above you. He put his body weight on one of his arms, his hand close to your head as his other hand gently cupped your cheek.

He was a great view.

Handsome. Stunning, even. The way some of his golden hair fell out of place to frame his face, which seemed to glow with a thin layer of sweat, all coming together to add an extra glow to those beautiful but oh, so painfully bright eyes of his.

The eyes that where now focused on your own, trying to understand why you'd tear up in a moment like this. Did he do something wrong? He did his best to be gentle, but maybe that wasn't enough and you were in pain despite his best efforts? He hoped not, he'd never forgive himself if he ruined it for you...

Or maybe, as much as he dreaded the thought... maybe you were scared. Maybe somehow he put too much pressure on you and didn't even realize.

"What troubles you, my love?"

Oh, how you love his voice. It was so soft, so warm, so comforting... it made you melt every time, especially when he used the hushed tone he used now.

You let out a soft, content sound as he wiped away a stray tear of yours. His hand was a bit rough, even after he started using hand cream after your recommendations. Not that you minded, there was something comforting about the texture of his skin. And the way his palm fit perfectly against your cheek.

You shyly reached out to him and he understood immediately, pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely his strong heart beating against yours through your chests as he allowed you to cling to him.

Finally, you confessed to him what was on your mind. You weren't in pain or scared, which made him visibly less tense. You were... happy. Giddy, even. And so ridiculously, too. The joy that filled your heart must've simply spilled over, making you tear up from how happy and just how ridiculously in love with him you were. It almost made him chuckle.

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know."

He assured softly, carefully laying down with you still in his arms. Perhaps tonight was a better night for cuddles.

[midnightswels]

★ LET ME BE YOUR VOID

All your life, you've been the "good girl," playing it safe. Vi is the opposite—rebellious and unpredictable. After a chance meeting at a club you were invited to by friends who felt you hadn't forgotten your cheating ex yet, your worlds collide in a way neither of you expected, leading to a "lesbian incident thing" as your friends called it. Well, you've heard that good girls gone bad... [recent work]

tw: cheating (not from the vi's side, reader was cheated on by her ex gf); english isn't my first language

This is the second part of a series of fanfics based on songs from Sky Ferreira's album "Night Time, My Time". Each can be read as a one-shot unless otherwise noted.

You weren’t supposed to be here—not in this club, not surrounded by deafening music and flashing lights, and definitely not nursing a drink your friend insisted on handing you. But here you were, trying your best to act like you weren’t completely out of place.

Your friends had been relentless. They claimed this was what you needed after your ex-girlfriend had shattered your carefully constructed world a few months ago. "You’re too young to waste time on someone who didn’t deserve you," they’d said. And maybe they were right, but a part of you still felt like it wasn’t your scene, wasn’t your speed.

So, it was supposed to be just another night out with your best friend, the kind where you’d forget about work, unwind with a drink, and laugh about things that didn’t matter. You had no intention of getting involved in anything more. The club was packed, the lights dimmed, the bass pulsing through the floor, making everything feel more alive than it should have. You knew the people who invited you, but you didn’t really want to be there. You were more comfortable in your quiet, organized world. Yet, there you were—pushed out of your comfort zone by the gentle yet insistent coaxing of your friends.

That’s when you saw her.

Vi stood by the bar like she owned the place, casually leaning back with a drink in her hand and that signature smirk that screamed confidence. Her short, messy pink hair caught the strobe lights, making her look like something out of a dream—or maybe a warning.

She wasn’t the kind of person who blended in. Vi had an undeniable presence, the sort that made people instinctively look twice, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The kind of woman who always lived in the moment, unafraid of what came next, someone you might be drawn to and terrified of at the same time. She was standing across the room with some friends when your eyes accidentally met, and it was like everything around you faded for a split second. There was something about her that made your breath hitch, but you quickly turned away, reminding yourself that this was just another club night, nothing more.

You caught her gaze for just a moment, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Her smirk deepened as she tipped her glass toward you in silent acknowledgment. You quickly looked away, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Your friend noticed. “That girl’s been looking at you,” one of them teased.

“She’s not,” you mumbled, sipping your drink and trying to appear calm.

“She definitely is. And she’s hot.”

“She’s trouble,” you said without thinking, earning an amused laugh from your friend.

Trouble wasn’t something you ever sought out. You’d always been the "good girl," the one who followed the rules, stayed out of trouble, and avoided unnecessary risks. Your life was organized, predictable—safe. But something about Vi made your carefully crafted walls feel unsteady.

Hours later, you were leaning against a wall, waiting for your friend to drag you home (you weren't sure when it would happen - it seems she was talking to some guy) when Vi appeared at your side like she’d always belonged there. “Not your scene?” she asked, her voice low and slightly rough, but somehow warm. “And not from around here too, are you?” she added, her voice low and smooth, like honey, a little teasing but also somehow warm.

You turned to her, startled. Up close, she was even more captivating than you’d realized. There was something wild in her eyes, but also something deeply curious. “How could you tell?”

“You’ve looked ready to bolt since you got here.” Vi grinned, taking a sip from her drink. “And also, if you were a regular,” she continued, her eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart race, “I'd probably have to steal you away from everyone else.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone,” you replied, attempting to sound composed.

“Oh yeah? Someone like me?” she teased, her grin turning into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

You rolled your eyes, though your pulse quickened. “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” she said, leaning closer. “I’m not the waiting type.”

It started innocently enough, just talking, chatting about life, music, mutual friends. But before long, you were both standing by the dance floor, the music drowning out your words. She was closer than you'd expected, too close for comfort, her breath warm against your ear as she leaned in to shout something over the music. You could feel the tension between you two growing, a sharp, undeniable attraction that neither of you seemed willing to ignore. But you stopped yourself from rash actions — it's too early.

Vi was different from anyone you’d ever met before. You were usually the responsible one, the one who kept things in line, avoided risky behavior, stayed on the safe side of the line. And yet, here you were, your pulse quickening every time she looked at you, making you feel a pull that was unlike anything you'd ever known. She was everything you weren’t—bold, reckless, unafraid to challenge the world. You couldn’t understand why she was interested in you, someone so different from her usual type. But as the nights turned into days, you started seeing each other more often (like good acquaintances, almost friends) and the encounters grew more frequent, you started to feel like maybe she saw something in you that you hadn’t seen in yourself.

“You’re too serious,” she’d say, nudging your shoulder. “Life’s too short to be afraid of it.”

And maybe she was right.

But it wasn’t all easy.

You couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of your mind, the one that whispered doubts and insecurities. Vi wasn’t like anyone you’d ever been close to, and you weren’t sure if you were what she needed—or if this was all just a phase for her.

One night, after a particularly long day, you found yourself sitting across from her in a quiet corner of a bar. She was laughing, telling you some wild story about a bar fight she’d once been in, when you blurted out the question that had been haunting you.

“Why me?”

Vi blinked, her laughter fading as she studied you. “What do you mean?”

“You could have anyone. Someone cooler, more... I don’t know, exciting.”

She leaned forward, her expression softening. “You think I care about that stuff? You’re... different.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said quietly, looking down at your drink. “I shouldn't ask it. Sorry, it was pathetic.”

“You're not.” Vi reached across the table, gently tilting your chin up so you’d meet her gaze. “You make me want to be better,” she said simply. “That’s not something I take lightly.”

From that moment on, things felt different. ”Let's dance,“ she said and you surprisingly agreed.

You were caught up in the rhythm of the music, your movements fluid, free, and then, just like that, Vi was beside you, her presence magnetic, pulling you even closer. Her lips were teasing the edges of your earlobe as she leaned in, shouting something into your ear you couldn’t hear. The space between you two had grown smaller, closer, until it felt like there was no space at all.

It wasn’t planned—it just happened. The kiss was messy, hot, and full of need, nothing like you’d ever experienced before. You had been sober—maybe a little tipsy from the drinks, but nothing that would explain this sudden decision. It was wild and unexpected, and you couldn’t even tell if it was a mistake or something else. All you knew was that in that moment, it felt real.

It was awkward. But it felt like everything—chaos, excitement, vulnerability, all rolled into one. And then, just as quickly, you pulled away.

Vi pulled away first, her lips grazing yours just slightly as she smirked. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, the sudden rush of shame washing over you like a cold wave. What had you done?

You were still processing what had just happened. You weren’t the type to do something so spontaneous, let alone kiss someone so... bold. You took a step back, your heart racing. You were aware of the looks people were giving, but the only thing that mattered was her—her eyes, her lips, the way she made you feel like you could fall into something deeper than you’d ever imagined.

“I—I don’t usually do this,” you stammered, barely able to catch your breath.

Vi raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up. “You’re not a regular girl. I can tell.” Her voice was laced with something teasing, but there was something else in it, something softer you hadn’t noticed before.

”I need to go,“ you awkwardly said. ”Remembered something.”

The rest of the night was a blur. You left the club without a second glance, slipping into the night, your heart pounding as you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t need to explain it to anyone, certainly not Vi. But then why did it feel like you were running from something much bigger?

The next few days were spent in silence. You ignored Vi’s texts, her calls, anything that might bring you back into her orbit. You couldn’t bring yourself to face Vi, couldn’t stand the thought of what you’d done. She was wild, spontaneous, everything you were not, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were just a fleeting interest to her. Your friends had all seen what had happened, and now they rolled their eyes, joking about it like it was just another “typical lesbian incident,” a moment of confusion, a kiss, followed by an awkward disappearance. They didn’t understand.

But Vi did.

One evening, she showed up at your door. You opened it hesitantly, already knowing what was coming. Vi stood there, looking just as unbothered as she always did, her arms crossed.

“You running away now, too?” she asked with a small, knowing smile.

You stepped aside, letting her in, but your nerves were a mess. The weight of the kiss was still there, lingering like a silent elephant in the room.

“I don’t get it,” you said before you could stop yourself, your voice tight. “I—I don’t know what I was doing, Vi. I just... I’m not like you. I’m not supposed to be someone who does... that.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, her usual smirk softening. “Do what? Live a little? Look, you don’t have to apologize for kissing me. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“But I don’t even know what this is,” you confessed, your eyes tracing the floor. “I’ve never been... like this. I’ve always been cautious. I’ve always... followed the rules. And now I’ve gone and done something reckless.” You looked down, feeling small. “It’s just... you’re so used to being spontaneous, to going for what you want, and I... I’m not that. I’m careful. I don’t do things on impulse.”

Vi walked over to you, her gaze serious now. “What’s wrong with that?” she asked gently. “It’s not about being like me. It’s about figuring out what you want, and trusting that you deserve it. I don’t want you to be someone else. I want you to be you.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. You were still reeling, unsure of what you wanted or where this connection between the two of you could go. “I just... I had an ex, and she messed me up. I wasn’t ready for anything new, and I still don’t know if I am.”

Vi’s expression softened further. “You don’t have to be ready right now. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not asking you to be someone you’re not, and I’m not going anywhere. But don’t run away from me. Don’t run away from this.” She smiled softly.

You looked into her eyes, seeing something real, something vulnerable in them. Maybe it was the calm in her voice, or maybe it was just the way she always knew how to make you feel seen, even when you couldn’t see yourself. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone in the confusion.

“I don’t want to run away from you,” you admitted quietly. “I just... I don’t know what to do with this. With us.”

Vi took a step closer, her hand brushing lightly against yours, sending a spark up your arm. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t need to be perfect or understood right away. Maybe it was enough to just be in the moment with someone who made you feel like you mattered.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” she added with a grin. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you.”

The awkwardness was still there, but something had shifted. Something had clicked, and it felt like you weren’t running anymore. You were stepping forward into something you couldn’t yet define, but it was real, and it was yours.

And for once, that felt enough.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?” Vi asked, her voice steady.

A warm smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

[milky-aeons]

— TO LOVE ME

౨ৎ . . . in which DAZAI OSAMU apologises for being a little too rough.

warnings: semi-nsfw, f!reader, hair-pulling, flashbacks to sexual activity, rough!dazai (he pulled your hair a little too hard), soft!dazai, slight angst, comfort, fluff, non-established relationship, w.c 1.6k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ november — mahalia ft. stormzy ꒱ ˎˊ-

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍.

It was a type of awareness — a fond little quirk, if you will — that you had developed a few months into dating the Armed Detective Agent. Or as far as dating someone like him would go; he never really liked the label, after all. You were both stuck in that chaotic, intoxicating limbo of not quite lovers, but too far gone from friends. Because friends did not stay the night and wear each-others shirts as you washed the dishes, friends did not hum softly into the empty apartment he owned as you waited for him to return with your favourite take-away coffee.

As if your souls were already intertwined, protesting at even the slightest distance, your whole body sang to life when Dazai Osamu tried to sneak through his front door unnoticed.

With wet fingers, you reached over to turn the faucet off just as his airy voice sifted through the air.

"I'm home~"

"Welcome back." You beat him to it.

Dazai made a wrangled sound. "How do catch me every time I try to sneak up on you?" He moaned, his voice coming closer until he rounded the little alcove of his small, one-walled kitchen. "It's almost like you have a sixth-sense, you know? Oh! We should put this unique talent of yours to the test!"

You hummed, following his playful line of thinking. Does his blood thrum to life underneath his skin when you breeze through the Agency offices, you wonder, does his mind eddy of all thought when you cast your eyes his way — just like it does yours?

You did not know. You would probably never know. But he remembered your exact coffee order perfectly, every single time.

"I'm almost afraid to wonder what that would entail." You muse, drying off your hands and leaning back on the countertop. He handed you one of the take-away cups. "But not for me. If I know you at all, Osamu, then you would definitely tie Kunikida-kun up in this elaborate experiment just to set him back a few days on his schedule."

"Pft. A few days?" He echoed, incredulous. One of his eyebrows raised. "How you insult me. If I don't set Kunikida-kun's precious schedule back by at least one month at a time, then why would I even bother at all?"

"You're absolutely right. My ignorant mistake."

"And yes, you do."

"Hm?" You hummed, uncapping the coffee to take a greedy inhale.

"Know me." Dazai finished.

Those two words jarred you a little. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, wordless, the coffee cup held just an inch from your parted lips. Dazai was looking straight at you with that ever-present unreadable expression, but it was a little softer around the edges, a little less impenetrable this time. This was familiar. This is what you two were; you took each other's hand and danced around the truth. You let things hang in the air, unsaid, untouched, staring at one another in his apartment while you wore his shirt like you were both in love — but not quite, not yet.

"Do I?" You said softly. You reached for that thing left unsaid and used it to challenge him.

He tilted his head, amused. Letting you rock the boat. His unkempt curls slid across his forehead when he did. But as always, he said nothing. He danced. He changed the subject.

Do I know you, Osamu?

Instead, he let his dark eyes wander to the dishes you had stacked on the drainage rack. "Wah, [Name]!" He exclaimed with exaggerated shock. "Did you clean the dishes while I was gone?! If you keep doing things like that I'll seriously have to marry you, you know!"

Precarious. A tease. Oh, but he loves to twirl with you close to the fire.

You stayed silent, opting to take a sip, instead. A small, bashful smile fought its way onto your face — you hid behind the disposable cup, but you knew he caught it. Dazai Osamu caught everything, but only with you, did he wear that boyish, self-satisfied grin when he saw the effect he had on your heart.

The sunlight was soft and choppy as it filtered through his broken shutters that barely gave any privacy to the kitchen. It was winter time; Yokohama was bustling, as it always is, but this corner of the city was delightfully sleepy. It was just you and him, enjoying the silence of two people almost in love. A car horn beeped in the distance. You noticed the smattering of freckles on his nose when he stepped forward into one of the balmy sunbeams.

Quietly, Dazai reached towards you. You didn't move — how could you? — as his long fingers half-hidden in bandages danced across your exposed shoulder. A shiver broke out across the skin he barely touched. He noticed. He grew bolder, slyer, letting his lazy touch flutter across your skin; the column of your neck; tickling the nape of your neck and burying into the mussed tresses of your hair—

"Ow—!"

You winced.

Dazai jerked his hand away. "What's wrong?"

You placed your coffee cup down and lifted your fingers to where his own had just been. With ginger movements, you traced the tender spot, your face souring into a grimace at the little shoots of pain that resided there. It was still sore, you noticed. And so did Dazai. When you glanced up at him, his brows had knit together. Not quite a picture of concern — but pressingly curious, his eyes wide and imploring.

And for the first time that lazy morning, you found yourself averting your gaze from him. You stayed quiet for a pregnant moment, searching for the right words as Dazai too, placed his cup down. He dipped his head, trying to meet your eyes. "Bella?" He called again, his voice soft and coaxing.

"Sorry," You chuckled quietly, smiling small. You gave the tender spot another rub before releasing your hand from your hair. "It's just a little sore, that's all."

Dazai's lips tugged down into a frown. "Sore—?" A bell chimed on some astral plane of recognition. His words died on his tongue, his expression halting. You saw the shutter in his eyes then; his mind moving, racing, taking scintillations of the night you two shared and meshing them back together.

You had let him do it before — fisting his lithe fingers into your hair while you were both caught in the throes of passion. As a matter of fact, you quite liked it. He'd bow your head back and decorate your lovely neck with a multitude of bruises, just for you. Or during those times where you took control — settling between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. You'd start slow first; taking the length of him into your mouth, licking, kissing. But as you picked up the pace and worked him right to a fever pitch — Dazai would wind his hand into your hair. Around, around, until he had a decent grip, and guide your movement just the way he needed it.

It had been an accident last night — but you still had not mentioned it; had not wanted to draw too much attention as you knew he did not mean it. It was a frenzy on both parts. But he had gripped your hair and tugged it a bit too tight. A bit too rough. Leaving the spot at the crown of your head tender as you passed a brush over it once you two were done.

He remained so uncharacteristically silent — staring at you like he was meeting you from a previous lifetime again after searching for so long. You tilted your head, suddenly worried. It wasn't like you were upset with him — so why did he look like that? Like he had revoked any and all permission to touch you? Like he was suddenly afraid?

Dazai was not acquainted with words of apology. He had went his whole life posing as a shadow, looking in on people and never being a part of them. But standing there looking down at you with the realisation that he had hurt you, that he — by his hand — had brought harm to someone like you — a sudden paralysis took hold of his body. He stared at you with wide eyes. He couldn't speak. He felt like he had lost all privilege to be near you — that for the first time in his life, he had met someone so bright and so genuine, and he had succeeded at tainting that, too.

He was abominable. He had always been, it was part of his makeup, ingrained into the lining of his very bones.

And yet, to him, he was also selfish. Because he had the gall to ask for your forgiveness.

"I'm," Dazai started. It wasn't like him to be at a loss for words. "I . . . [Name] I didn't realise . . . "

"Osamu, really — it's okay," You implored, your expression honest. "I know you didn't mean to. I'm fine! Just a little sore, is all." Smile turning lopsided, you turned to fully face him. "How about next time, we just don't pull as hard? I do really like when you play with my hair, but not that rough. Hm?"

Dazai opened his mouth to speak — but whatever he wanted to say got lost between his head and his tongue. He blinked once, twice. Then, in such a quiet voice, he whispered, ". . . I apologise. I'd never try to hurt you, beautiful [Name]. It will not happen again."

It was so resolute. In a tone you have never heard Dazai Osamu speak with before; not quite unsure, but lacking the perfectly precise way he would usually choose his words with. It speared into your chest and made your heart lurch. Such a raw, clean-cut promise. Like he'd burn his own hand before he let himself cause any such harm to you, ever again.

The smile that softened the sides of your lips no longer belonged to someone who was almost in love.

You reached out suddenly for his hand before he could react. You guided his palm to your face, nuzzling into his warm touch, delighting in the soft scratch of bandages against your cheek. "I know. I'm sorry too, for not mentioning it sooner."

I love you, it was the three words you still left unsaid. Because not quite, not yet. Although the way Dazai's fingers curled against the shell of your ear, the way he stepped forward to tug you into his sturdy chest — something about it all whispered the words I love you, too.

from this lovely nonnie // writing requests!