#trying to do more shorter sessions

[x22817]

In case you were wondering what we are doing this evening: going through treats like it's nobody's business. These are the treats we currently have available. I want to get more of the Vital Essentials stuff because that's just freezedried meats.

I was planning on just seeing what we had left, but Hek wanted to Do Stuff. First, it started out as heel work. I just weaved in and out of all the bones scattered through the house, turning around randomly, going backwards, sideways.

We've been working on our in-between the legs heel (if anyone knows what it's called, please let me know), so we did that next. We are up to about 10 steps forward and about 5 back.

Treat tosses were meant to end the session but we grew on that too. We started with sitting just a foot away and tossing treats. This evolved into position changes with 3 foot gap. It ended with me being about 20 feet away doing distance position changes.

This was our longest streak. Hek is not the greatest at the whole eye mouth coordination thing, so I am VERY proud of my magickal fruit

[thewickedjazzy]

Special week: Blurred Lines for Kinktober.

♡featuring: jjk & bsd x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x reader

♡synopsis: being a movie star in the jjk world has its perks and pitfalls, especially when you find yourself face-to-face with four swoon-worthy men. to make things even more complicated, you end up sandwiched between chuuya and geto in one night.

♡warnings: ņsfw, mdņi 18+, established plot, smųt with plot, characters are aged up or in their 20s, threesome, double penetration, cum mentioned, double cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation 'slut' ... not proofreaded, ig that's it?

♡word count & a/n: 5.2k, a special thank you & a smooch to @remlionheart for helping my ass write this and feeding my brain with her sweet ideas. it was so amusing and fun to write that i couldn't stop giggling. this fic is dedicated to my bbg @bittysuguro

[check the jjk & bsd special week masterlist]

“what do you mean my card got declined?!” a furious voice echoes across the pristine, high-end louis vuitton boutique.

you pause mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. the boutique is one of the most luxurious on omotesando street, and you haven't expected any kind of outburst here, of all places and you can’t help but arch an eyebrow, pondering if he's trying to pay with monopoly money or if his bank account has suddenly taken a nosedive.

the subject of the chaos stands by the counter, fuming—he’s a redheaded man in a black designer coat with a flat cap pulled low over his striking blue eyes. he looks like he just walked out of a fashion editorial, except for the part where he is practically roaring at the terrified cashier and waving a gold card like a weapon.

you find yourself blinking once again—what in the world is going on?

“sir, i ran it three times, and each time—” the cashier stammers, flinching as the redhead leans over the counter like he is about to blow the place up.

“i know there’s money on it! RUN IT AGAIN!” he growls, and you swear you can see veins popping in his neck.

before the poor cashier can even protest further, another man saunters into view, tall, lean, and wearing the most obnoxiously casual yet designer outfit. white hair peeks out from under a pair of dark sunglasses, and despite the clear chaos, he is wearing the cockiest grin you’d ever seen.

“tsk..no need to get so worked up,” the white-haired man drawled, arms laden with five louis vuitton bags. “your poor is showing.”

the redhead whirls on him, eyes blazing. “what did you just say, you asshole?”

the taller man stands there unfazed with his shit grin spreading wider. “you heard me, short stack.”

the redhead’s whole body stiffens, and you half expect him to launch himself across the store. you are only a few paces away, casually browsing the new bags collection, but now you find yourself watching the scene unfold like a deer caught in headlights.

“oh, please,” the white-haired man replies with a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “you sure you wanna do this, kid?”

at that moment, the shorter guy’s feet literally lift off the ground as he floats up toward the white-haired man, arm cocking back for a punch. it's like some weird gravity-defying stunt, and you can't help but stare, unsure whether you are hallucinating or if this is a really elaborate prank. you half-expect someone to jump out and yell, “surprise! you’re on candid camera!” while someone else films your bewildered expression.

the punch swings forward but… stops. midair.

“what the—” the redhead sputters, his fist hovering a mere inch from the smug man’s face, like an invisible barrier is blocking it.

“oh,” the taller man snickers, “you actually tried.”

just as things are about to get out of hand, a third man appeared—a taller figure with dark hair tied back wearing a serene expression as if he just strolled in from a yoga session. he places a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, gently pulling him back to the ground.

“hey man, let’s not destroy the boutique today, alright?” he says, tone weary yet unbelievably calm, like he is used to this kind of chaos. his gaze shifts to the white-haired man whilst rolling his eyes. “saturo, stop antagonizing everyone you meet. people are staring.”

the redhead grumbles something under his breath, glaring daggers at the taller man—saturo?—who simply chuckles back at him.

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the fiery-haired man still glaring at gojo, like he’d just stolen his lunch money—suddenly turns his gaze toward you as if he can feel your eyes boring into him. “what are you staring at?”

he takes a step toward you, and you feel your body tense up like a live wire. you can't help but blink back at him, because honestly, what are you supposed to say? "oh sorry, just trying to figure out why a five-foot ball of rage is levitating in a louis vuitton boutique?"

before you can formulate any semblance of a response, a smooth voice cuts in, dripping with nonchalance, “now, now, chuuya, no need to take your frustration out on innocent bystanders.”

the ginger-haired man—chuuya, you think you heard—glare flickers with surprise as a tall man with messy brown hair sidles up next to him, his brown trench coat swaying with his lazy steps. you barely register him before he sweeps his hand out, pushing chuuya aside like a piece of furniture. “pardon my associate’s behavior. he’s always a little testy when his card gets declined.”

you blink. “huh…?”

the brown-haired man gives you a dazzling smile, the kind that should come with a warning label. “ahh but you…” he trails off, letting his dark eyes roam over your figure with a look of pure delight. “such a wonderful sight. how can such a radiant beauty even exist in this world?” his voice dips, smooth and syrupy, and you can practically hear the faint sound of violins playing in the background.

chuuya’s eye twitches as he scowls at dazai. “are you seriously doing this right now?”

dazai ignores him entirely, stepping closer to you. “osamu dazai, by the way. and you must be the goddess gracing us with your presence today. It’s an honor to bask in your light.” he flashes you a grin, the kind that looks practiced but somehow genuine, and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or call security.

“i—uh—” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the situation.

before you can utter another word out, the white-haired man—saturo, you assume, based on the way the other man addressed him—suddenly whips around, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to reveal his gorgeous icy blue eyes, narrowing his gaze on you.

his entire demeanour shifts in an instant, going from casual smugness to absolute starstruck fanboy in 0.5 seconds. “wait… wait a damn minute—” his eyes widen, and he practically leaps forward, shoving dazai to the side like an afterthought. “you… you’re—no way, it's you! you’re my favourite movie star!”

dazai, now comically stumbling from the shove, frowns, “hey, i was talking first!”

saturo doesn’t even hear him, his attention laser-focused on you as he runs a hand through his white hair, grinning like an excited puppy. “holy shit, i’ve seen all your movies! you’re incredible! i mean, not just pretty—you’re talented too! that last film? chef’s kiss. truly. pure brilliance.”

you stare at him flabbergasted by the sudden barrage of praise. “uh… thanks?”

saturo claps his hands together and then turns to dazai with a smug smirk. “sorry, what were you saying? something about basking in her light?”

dazai, ever the smooth operator, recovers quickly, “wait a minute…” he muses, leaning slightly closer to saturo, “you know, your voice is kind of… nice.” he cocks his head as if discovering a new piece of an intriguing puzzle. “almost like i’ve heard it somewhere before… perhaps in a mirror?”

saturo's eyebrows shoot up, a look of surprise briefly crossing his face before his smug grin returns again. “well, well, aren’t you observant?” he says, hands casually stuffed into his pockets as he looks dazai up and down. “i guess i should compliment your taste then—great minds and great voices think alike.” he chuckles, and you can almost feel the mutual smugness radiating off the two men.

chuuya, who has been silently simmering through the whole exchange, finally explodes. “are ya both fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls, fists clenching at both his sides. “first, i’ve gotta deal with him”—he jabs a finger toward dazai—“and now this jackass too?” his foot taps impatiently on the boutique's polished floor, like he's ready to fight both of them.

“chuuya tsk.. tsk you're just upset because your little card got declined.” he shakes his head chuckling, “i didn’t know the economy would reject you specifically. but you know, you could always start a gofundme or maybe, uh i don’t know, pawn that fancy hat of yours?” he smirks playfully. “i hear they pay well for vintage."

saturo chuckles, clearly enjoying their little banter chaos. “hey, i like this guy! he’s got jokes.” he leans over toward dazai. “you sure we didn’t cross paths before?” then, turning his attention back to you with a teasing glint, he adds, “don’t worry, sweetheart—i’m still your best bet if you’re looking for a hero.” his eyes glimmer with flirtatious arrogance, as if he’s already planned your honeymoon by now.

chuuya throws his hands up in exasperation, shooting dazai an accusatory glare. “this isn’t funny, dazai! how the hell are we even supposed to survive in this weird-ass world when my damn card doesn’t work? not to mention that this is your fault for bringing us to this ridiculous place!”

the bandaged man sighs briefly, slipping into a serious look, “you're right. but I guess it's time to become a street performer. i mean, with your size, you’d make an adorable little tap dancer. might even make some decent pocket change.”

“you son of a—”

“enough!” the hot black-haired guy, who had been silently observing, steps forward, placing a firm hand on chuuya’s shoulder again. “we’re in public. can we try to act like civilized people for five minutes?”

chuuya grumbles, his fists still clenched, but the black-haired guy’s firm grip on his shoulder seems to anchor him enough to stop an all-out brawl. he glares between the two idiots in front of him—dazai still grinning like a smug bastard and saturo, who looks like he’s already planning his next punchline.

saturo straightens, his grin shifting slightly. “ugh suguru..don’t be such a killjoy.” he gestures lazily at dazai, “i was just making a new friend.”

chuuya scoffs. “friends? yeah, right. who the hell are you guys anyway?”

“just… tell them your name already. this isn’t a fight club.” suguru rolls his eyes.

saturo shrugs, turning his attention back to you and flashing that million-watt grin. “well, since suguru insists.” he dramatically puts a hand to his chest as if introducing himself for the first time. “i’m gojo satoru. the strongest sorcerer and uh apparently,”—he glances at dazai with a smirk—“your newest competitor for this sweetheart's attention.”

you sigh, clearly having enough of this shitty situation that feels like the setup for a sitcom episode. the ginger looks more frustrated by the minute, and the sight of him glaring daggers at the so-called companions makes you feel slightly bad for him.

“alright, chuuya,” you say, pulling him toward the cashier, ignoring the stunned look on his face. you feel suguru follow, maintaining a calming presence beside you. the cashier looks just as frazzled as chuuya, but you’re determined to end this nightmare once and for all.

“wait, what are you doing?” chuuya protests, glancing back at you with wide eyes. “you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, really. it happens all the time,” you insist, shooting him a reassuring smile as you pull out your own card. “this is on me. plus you can pay me back in another way, though.”

dazai, overhearing this, perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag crinkle. he sidles over with that ever-present smirk on his face, leaning closer to you. “oh, you accept other ways? you naughty naughtyyy tsk!”

you roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm slightly, and ignore him completely. instead, you focus on the cashier, who looks thoroughly confused but also relieved to see the drama coming to a close. “just run this through, please.”

chuuya crosses his arms, clearly still disgruntled but unable to resist the tide of your determination. suguru shoots him a look that seems to say, “just go with it,” and chuuya huffs, lips pressing into a thin line.

as the cashier processes the transaction, you turn back to huuya. “it's fine, I really get it—everyone has rough days. uh how about you let me help you out a bit? i actually have a project coming up that could use two male leads.”

“it’s a vampire movie,” you explain with a grin spreading across your face as you watch chuuya’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “and honestly, you two fit the aesthetic perfectly. everyone i’ve auditioned so far has been terrible. i could really use your looks and… personalities,” you point toward the redhead and the hot black-haired man.

chuuya raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his features. “a vampire movie? seriously?”

“actually, I think you’d be perfect for the role. your features and that hair of yours are perfect for it.” suguro chuckles, nudging chuuya slightly.

you watch as chuuya’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. for the first time, he chuckles, rolling his eyes at suguro. “you wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve had to dress up like one just to save that idiot dazai’s neck.”

suguro chuckles back, shaking his head. “guess it’s time to redeem yourself.”

chuuya huffs but a small smile betrays him. “fine, i’ll consider it. but only if you promise i don’t have to wear any ridiculous costumes.”

“i can’t make any promises,” you say with a teasing grin.

suguro smiles, leaning against the counter. “i’ll accept the offer, too.”

you beam, feeling a wave of relief wash over you finally. “great! i’ll send you both the details later.”

“ugh, why is this so hard?” you can’t help but chuckle at his struggle, it’s not like you're defusing a bomb here—just rehearsing a kiss for a scene.

“chuuya, it’s just a kiss. how hard can it be?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, watching him pace back and forth through the rehearsal room like a caged tiger.

“just a kiss? have you seen your face?” he gestures wildly, and you swear you can see steam rising from his ears. “you make it look way too easy!”

you giggle glancing up as you hear a faint creak from the door only to see geto strolling in and casually leaning against the door frame. you can tell that he just got out of the shower as he holds a towel drying his luxurious black hair. you part your lips trying to take a deep breath as you see his damp hair clinging to his neck in a way that’s... well, distracting, and you're not above admitting that. but as he shakes the water from his hair, your mind drifts back—against your will, mind you—to that moment from a week ago.

technically, it was a regular day. nothing special. just you trying on a costume in one of those annoyingly small fitting rooms. and of course, it had to be the tightest, most ill-fitting costume known to mankind. the zipper might as well have been laughing at your misery as you wrestled with it, stuck halfway like it had a personal problem against you.

after what felt like an hour of struggle, you finally managed to peel the outfit off your body like some weird victory over fabric. and that’s when geto decided to make his grand entrance.

“oh, uh... wrong room,” he said and in that split second, you swore your heart had leaped out of your chest, seeing his eyes go wide, flicking down clearly taking in the delicate lace set you had on and oh, the way he stares makes your cheeks flush hotter than the sun on a july afternoon.

you are friends. just friends. well, maybe more than friends. the three of you are getting along—maybe a little too perfectly, if you are being honest. it is in the small things like how geto always have a lighter handy for you and chuuya, even though he doesn't smoke. you have no idea why, but somehow he’d always flick it open when you reach for a cigarette. that, combined with the lingering glances and casual touches that seems far too intimate to be strictly platonic, says something about where things are heading.

chuuya, on the other hand, is... well, he is oblivious. not that you mind it. he is just so focused on the roles you are rehearsing together that he hasn't picked up on the fact that you’ve been flirting with him for a while now. hell, geto had caught on, but chuuya? the poor guy needs it spelled out. you are going to have to make your moves more obvious—or, in chuuya’s case, maybe drastic.

and if you think back to certain moments—like that night when chuuya got himself absolutely plastered. that redhead brat went from zero to blackout drunk in record time, and of course, it fell on you to drag his sorry ass home. you just couldn't see him stumbling out of a bar, half-laughing, half-cursing, completely out of it and do nothing. to be fair, this all came after his impulsive bank robbery—yeah, you heard that right. a bank robbery. apparently, after the whole boutique incident, chuuya decided he was tired of being broke.

so there you were, guiding this drunken menace through the streets, and contemplating how you could spring him from the charges he was facing. he was barely coherent, mumbling something about the "best wine ever" and how the stars were "calling his name." romantic, right? wrong.

by the time you finally got him inside, chuuya, in all his sottish wisdom, decided clothes were optional. without a word—no hesitation, no second thoughts—he started stripping. pants off, dress shirt shirt flung across the room, and he was about to lose the rest when you jumped in.

“whoa, okay, let’s maybe not do that right now?” you managed to say, trying your best to avert your gaze but also wondering why the hell the universe had put you in this situation. because, let’s be honest, as much as you didn't want to stop him... you really, really should.

and you did stop him, somehow managing to wrestle him back into some kind of decency before he could make things even more harder for you. needless to say, he was so out of it, that he passed out immediately after—half clothed, thank god.

and you thank heavens that he doesn't remember a damn thing the next morning about his one-man strip show.

you blink as the sound of geto’s teasing voice yanking you from your thoughts.

“what’s going on in here? i could hear chuuya’s desperation from down the hall.”

chuuya glares at him. “shut it, geto. we’re just—”

“rehearsing a kiss,” you finish, unable to resist the urge to jump in.

“exactly,” chuuya huffs, crossing his arms defensively and pouting—god he's so adorable. “just a stupid kiss.”

geto smiles softly and steps further into the rehearsal room, “well, it can’t be that bad. show me what you’ve got.”

chuuya rolls his eyes, obviously being tested by geto’s teasing and you can see him mentally gearing up, “alright, but don’t laugh if I mess it up.”

you try to flash him an encouraging smile to ease him a little bit. “just breathe. it’s literally just a kiss.”

he nods stepping closer, you notice his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. he gets within a breath’s distance and suddenly seems frozen, his confidence evaporating as he stumbles over his own thoughts. “uh... so...”

you can't help but chuckle softly, leaning in a little closer to coax him. “come on, chuuya. just focus on my lips. you can do this.”

geto—who had been watching from the side with a knowing smile—decided to step in. “you know, it might help to ease the tension. let me give you a few pointers.

chuuya blinked, caught off guard but quickly nodded. “yeah, sure. anything to make it look… believable.”

without uttering a response, he strides over and gently cupping your sweet pink cheeks, leaning in to press his soft lips against yours, and oh god, it’s perfect. the world fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you and the warmth of his lips. you let out a soft gasp as he slips his tongue between your puffy lips, tilting his head for better acess making your heart race as your mind wonders if you’ve just been seduced in a rehearsal. honestly you’re taken aback by how natural it feels, how perfectly his lips fit against yours.

geto loses himself completely in the kiss, his fingers brushing through your hair as if he’s trying to pull you closer, as the kiss deepens a low hum escapes his wet lips. you feel a rush of pleasure floods through your entire body, and just when you think it can’t get better, he pulls away, slightly breathless and blinking as he locks gaze with your lips for a bit before averting his gaze to chuuya.

well as for chuuya, the ginger stands there, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted as if he hasn’t fully processed what just happened. “uh… was the tongue really necessary?” he stammers, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of crimson.

geto chuckles, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “now you try.”

chuuya blinks again, still looking all flustered but still wants to get it right. he turns to you, hand sliding to your waist in a way that is awkward but endearing.

“fine… i got this.” his voice is hushed as his take your lower lip between his pink ones, trying to mimic what geto had done. it was just a kiss—chaste, careful, like he was still holding back. but then something clicked within you, the ginger's eyes snaps open before growling into your mouth as you slip your tongue into into his before twirling the two pink muscles together. you glide your delicate fingers through his messy strands, pulling him closer for a few seconds before he pulls back, breathing heavily.

“okay, that was… not acting right?” he says, his brows furrowing as he tries to catch his breath. “is that how it’s supposed to feel?”

geto sighs loudly, shaking his head in exasperation. “chuuya, how didn’t you notice? it’s been going on for a few months already. didn’t you realise it? because if you really want us to… you know...”

“ugh, thank you!!! finally someone who can read my hints,” you exclaim, shooting geto a grateful look.

chuuya blinks a few times, his brows knitting together as he processes what’s just been said. “wait, hold on,” he splutter, looking back and forth between you and geto. “are you both... serious?”

“god, i’m such an idiot. i thought we were just—” he pauses

“just friends?” you finish for him, giving him a playful nudge. “come on, chuuya. i thought i was dropping some pretty big hints.”

the redhead runs a hand through his messy hair, looking both at you and geto. “ so..uh..you really want us to fuck you?” he mutters, lips forming into a slow grin.. “like...both of us?”

“uh, yeah?” you say, biting your lip to suppress a smile watching chuuya and geto exchange glances more like a silent understanding seems to pass between them, and before you know it, geto strides over and lifts you off the ground effortlessly.

“wait, wait, wait!” you squeal, laughter bubbling up as you squirm in his grip. “what are you doing?”

“just a little detour to somewhere more private.” he says, glancing back at chuuya, who raises his eyebrows with a sick lustful grin plastered on his face.

“seriously, you guys, i can walk!” you protest, but the thrill of being swept off your feet makes it hard to sound convincing.

“good, ‘cause we'll make sure you won’t be walking straight for days.” chuuya says as he opens the trailer door, stepping inside with geto following suit.

the sound of a zipper being pulled down is the last thing you hear before you’re instantly pressed between the two men, their eager hands working quickly to strip you bare. the fabric falls away easily revealing more of your skin to their hungry eyes.

“damn,” chuuya breathes seeing your skin pebble once they hit the cold air. “you’re even prettier than i imagined.”

your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back on geto's shoulder and you relax for just a second before you feel chuuya's mouth encircled your nipple, his jot tongue swirling around your areola tasting your sweet skin as he groans softly against it.

“hngh—chuuya…” you whimper fingers tightening in his messy hair.

he releases your nipple with a slick pop, then brings his large palms to knead your pillowy breasts. as geto lifts you slightly, guiding your hips down to press against his hard cock. you open your eyes to glance down, breath hitching at the sight of him resting between your slick folds. you can't help but let out a soft gasp seeing how massive he is, tip coated with pre-cum and veins popping and soaked by your essence. you let out a soft moan as he peppers your neck with hot, wet kisses, goosebumps rise across the plains of your skin.

chuuya leans down easing you into geto's embrace and spreading your plushy thighs wider.

“look at her pussy—fuck s’pretty..” chuuya drawls as he spits on your swollen clit drawing lazy cut shapes on it, the warm fluid drooling between your puffy folds.

he then plunges his spit-slicked fingers past the swell of your plump lips, coaxing you to get even wetter for them as geto's large, gritty hands grip your ass, pulling you back and forth on his throbbing, leaky, fat cock.

“such a good slut, sucking my fingers so well,” your cunt clenches eagerly sucking on chuuya's long fingers, once he's truly satisfied, he pulls out of your cunt before smearing your juices all across your folds.

geto grips his cock in his palm, the leaky tip smearing your juices as he positions himself between your chubby cheeks. you never tried anal before and you never expected yourself to gasp that loud feeling the rush of spit pools against the pad of your tongue from him stretching your hole so perfectly. you cry out in surprise before chuuya swiftly plunges his tongue into your mouth swallowing your lewd noises.

“ffuck, i’ve been waiting for this, babe.” you hear geto's soft moans against the shell of your ear from behind, “... thinking of you in those lacy little things... mngh, you have no idea how many nights i couldn’t sleep, wanting to feel you... s’warm and tight around me.” he grips your juicy ass cheeks tighter, thrusting you down against him, as if he can’t wait any longer.

“ready for me doll?” chuuya breathes against your lips.

“yes ahh please chuu—mngh” you try to respond, but your words dissolve into a moan as you feel him slowly push inside your heated core. you had expected him to be gentle—just not this gentle. he languidly slides deeper and deeper, his head dropping forward to rest against your soft breasts, growling as he buries himself inside you.

you dig your nails into chuuya’s shoulders, forming delicate marks on his pale skin as you use him for leverage to push yourself back onto geto's cock. each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, making you shudder as chuuya fills you completely.

“god, you feel s’ fuckin’ good, doll,”

your moans get higher and higher mingling with their grunts and growling, chuuya finds himself thrusting faster than usual, his cock is pulsing from watching you nastily taking him and his friend's cock so perfectly.

“y-you okay doll?” chuuya breathes, his voice laced with awe as he watches your eyes roll back into your skull.

“ffuhmk—yes please more,” you cry feeling geto's pace starting to match chuuya's fast and hard ones, your body tenses up, pleasured from all angles, both with their girthy huge cocks filling you up to the brim, your vision blurs seeing through haze chuuya's eyes roll back, his fiery strands sticking to his face and neck, red hue blossoming under his skin and rapidly spreading to his chest.

“jesus f-fucking christ, you're so hot.” geto breathes against your skin tilting your head so that he can bite down your bottom lip gently before drawing circles with your tongues making the pair of you an even greater mess, both his hands reach up to cup your pillowy breasts squeezing them as they jiggle between the palm of his hands, “mmngh—sugu~ahh” the two of you moaning in unison.

before you can catch your breath, chuuya grabs your cheeks with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity in a sloppy kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth as his fingers roughly toy with your clit, drawing sharp, almost painful pleasure from the sensitive nub. “you gonna cum for us, mngh? gonna be a good slut and cum?” he growls, cupid's bows wet from your searing kisses as his fingers cut circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

the world around you blurs as you're finally pushed over the edge with the repeated brush of their cocks against your spongy spots—a blinding white light floods your vision, static crackling in your ears. chuuya watches in awe, like he's witnessing a miracle, as you cum, your body convulsing with pleasure. at the same time, geto spills inside you, his warm release filling your womb to the brim. the intensity makes you feel like you might pass out, a scream ripping from your throat as the knot in your lower belly unravels with chuuya's twitching cock inside you as he too rocks inside you multiple times riding out his sweet release with force that makes your body shake as he paints your walls with his hot shooting cum filling you up perfectly. you three reach your peak together, perfectly in sync.

the world gradually comes back into focus, as you three try to calm down from your release. geto is the first to pull out, and as he does, you feel his cum slowly drip from your body. chuuya follows, watching in awe your ruined holes leaking with their seeds as your legs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure.

chuuya chuckles breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, and gently rubs a hand over your thigh. “i’ll get the bath ready for ya doll,” he murmurs, voice still rough from the intensity of his orgasm, before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

you nod, watching his bare form head to the bathroom as geto leans in close, pressing gentle, reassuring kisses to your lips while his strong hands tenderly massage your trembling legs. “relax, baby” he whispers between kisses, his lips still deliciously sloppy, “you did so well. let me take care of you.” he strokes your skin soothingly, bringing you down from the high as you try to catch your breath.

you give geto a tired but grateful smile, your chest still heaving, “t-thank you, sugu,” you murmur softly, watching his lips curl into a satisfied grin, and he continues to massage your legs, his fingers easing away the lingering tension.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelovex @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock

[nymphoniah]

Hiiii! May i request training/working out/ sparring (idk😭) with logan and it ends up with us dry humping or something pretty please will all the cherries :)

indulgent desires | logan howlett

pairing: boyfriend!logan x afab!reader

AN: omg your mind... i know for a fact that logan is an absolute menace when it comes to working out. like have you seen his arms? i need to be squished to death by his biceps. they're just so!!! omg!!! you know that man loves hitting his arms.

written with xmen/x2 logan in mind, but honestly can be applied to any other ver. of him! (for once i'm not writing with old man!logan in mind? am i really me?)

content/tags: minors DNI (18+ only), dry humping, pet names (babygirl, princess, etc.), porn with a little bit of plot, cum tasting/eating/facial, hair pulling, teasing

logan practically spends every day at the gym. he always prided himself on his physique, not just for self-fulfilling reasons, but for the mere fact that he knows that his body riles you up.

he can tell when you would "sneak" glances at him, especially when he gets a pump right after his workouts. the way his muscles swelled after working out made you lust for him harder.

you could tell he hit his arms today; his biceps were more defined than usual, with your eyes tracing a thick vein that flows down his forearm. "you like what you see, princess?" he teases, flexing his arm as you continue to stare.

you blink hard and shake your head embarrassingly fast. "whatever, logan!" you shout, continuing whatever workout you were doing, losing track of how many reps you did.

you would tag along with him every so often, but only because he would take hours at a time at the gym. sure, you liked going to the gym, you had to stay fit somehow, but you lacked the stamina logan had; the frequency and duration of his gym sessions were unbearable for a poor little thing like you.

and logan acknowledged this, as he would often end his sessions a bit shorter so the two of you could go home sooner. you felt like a bother, and the last thing you wanted to do was interfere with his workouts.

"fuuuuck, im tired," you exhale, leaning forward, hands gripping at your knees as you try to catch your breath. pushing through your last set of bulgarian split squats had you absolutely winded. logan placed his firm hand on the small of your back, gently rubbing circles against your skin.

"let's go home, bub" he lulled, passing you his water bottle to drink from. nodding at him, you take a long swig, and the ice cold water rejuvenates your body. "let's..." you eagerly reply.

you couldn't bare being separated from him, lounging away at home any longer, so one day, you took matters into your own hands.

eventually you had the idea to buy at-home gym equipment; it was pricy to say the least, but it didn't matter to you, for as long as logan was home.

from the comfort of your own apartment, you had the view of logan all to yourself. whenever he worked out, he wore his plain white wife beater along with a random rugged pair of gym shorts he rotated through.

you'd wake up to his grunts early in the morning, getting up at first light to use the machines splayed out in your living room. the domesticity of it all made it so the early mornings never bothered you, as well as the occasional tsss or oomph he'd let out as he finished a rep.

and just like before, you'd join him. you had bought a yoga mat to do your stretches before your workout. even got one for logan, but he keenly insists on using yours.

this morning you had spot him on seated on the mat, legs stretched out. he splayed his torso out between his thighs, letting out a grunt as he felt his muscles pull as he reached forward.

a yawn leaves his mouth as he returns to an upright position. he glances over to his right to spot you sitting at the dining table, sipping from your mug, eyes focused on him.

when finished with his usual routine, he follows up with a couple of stretches afterwards to cooldown. his arms were thicker, more defined than usual. arms, you thought to yourself. he hit his arms, again.

“morning, sweetheart,” he chirps as a lazy grin slowly wipes across his face. he reaches his hand out, signaling for you to come over.

and so you do, sitting alongside him on the mat, slotting yourself between his legs. you rest your hands on his thick shoulders, tugging at the straps of his tank top.

he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “stretch with me, darlin,” he hums against your temple.

“i’d rather watch you,” you reply, playfully pushing him away. you’re about to return to your spot at the dining table before he snakes his arms around your waist, holding you in place.

“no, no, we gotta get you movin’, doll.” and oh how logan has a way of convincing you. just a simple pet name, and he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

he taps your hips, motioning for you to turn around, and you oblige. with a swift movement, your back is now pressed against his chest, your legs encaged by his own.

you could already feel that his dick was hard, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. logan had morning wood pretty frequently, and would often work out to relieve it, as he felt guilty if he were to wake you up so early in the morning.

but this time, it was different. watching you prance around the kitchen in those shorts that barely cover your ass, wearing a skin tight camisole that put your hardened nipples on display. how could he not get hard—or rather, not keep his hard-on for a pretty little thing like you?

logan rests his head on your shoulder, leaning close to your ear. “c’mon, get started already.” he whispers, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

and so you mimic the stretch he was doing earlier. you lean forwards, making your ass push into his crotch. the pads of his rough fingertips remain at your waist, gripping at your skin to bring you closer. you continue to lean forwards, and your back is now parallel with your legs on the mat.

his hands creep their way to the small of your back. “there you go, doll. just like that,” he lulls, tracing delicate circles where your back arches. logan shifts in place, now kneeling behind you as you remain spread out for him on the floor.

you attempt to rise from your position to sit upright, but a firm hand is planted on your back, keeping you in place. "y'look so pretty for me like this," logan teases, his calloused palm now slipping underneath your tank top.

his hands run up to caress your shoulder blades, pushing the straps of your tank top down swiftly. your tits were now exposed to the crisp, cool air, your nubs now even harder than before.

“logan…” you whine as his left hand keeps you in place, while the other roams to paw at your tits. you continue to moan out his name while he works at you, paying sweet attention to the way your breath hitches as he gently tugs at your swollen nubs.

“couldn’t help it darlin’,” he lulls, “how can i ignore a pretty little thing like you?” his hands move their way from your breasts to your hips. tugging at your legs, he manhandles you so you’re now prone on the yoga mat.

logan is still seated beside you, calloused hand now working at the globes of your ass, jiggling one your cheeks in the thick palm of his hands. “you got me so fuckin’ hard, baby…” he hisses, his free hand palming his erection through his shorts.

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the flesh of your ass, admiring how pretty you look spread for him. his face lingers for a second as he catches a whiff of your arousal pooling in your cunt.

“can smell how bad you need me, doll.” logan utters under his breath. “don’t worry, i’m gonna fill you right up…” you lazily turn your head around to catch a glimpse of the smirk forming on his face, and you flash him a coquettish smile of your own.

“ass up, princess,” he commands, pushing on the small of your back. and you obey, arching your back so that your ass is presented to him, your lacy panties peeking through your shorts.

“fuck.” he coos, molding your ass in the palm of his hand. logan is tempted to pop his claws out to rip the fabric, but the last time he did, you complained about him ruining your favorite pair of sleep shorts, so he refrains from doing so.

so he decides on something else. pushing his shorts down, logan remains in his boxers, his oh-so needy cock forming a tent in the tight fabric.

you feel him shifting around you, seating himself so he’s on his knees, his cock parallel to your ass. you try to push back to feel any friction against your needy cunt, but he keeps a firm grip on your hips, keeping you still.

“please, need you so bad,” you whine, attempting to wiggle your way out of his grip, but knowing him, knowing his strength, it’s useless to even try.

“you’re gonna have to wait for it, sweetheart,” he says cockily, pressing his pelvis against your clothed cunt, and the both of you hiss out in pain.

logan began to rut his cock against you at a steady pace, angling his hips to that the tip of his cock just about grazed over your clit.

“stop teasin’,” you purr, arching your back to try and get any more friction, but it’s no use. logan reaches over and presses your head into the yoga mat, your cheek squished against the foam.

“you get what i give you, princess.” he grunts, pushing your head further into the mat as his hips move faster, pressing harder into your ass. “gonna use you first, then i’ll stuff you with my cock.”

his hips sputter as he feels the way you bounce your ass against him, your bodies moving in sync, his thrusts matching the way you rut back into him. “fuck, you got me worked up doll, prancing around the house like that…”

you couldn’t respond to his words, only grunt in response. the pressure building in your core was too much, making your mind hazy. all you managed to let out was a little mmh.

“walkin’ around with your tits on display, actin’ all innocent,” he drones on, continuing to pound his hips against yours. he fists a section of your hair, tugging harshly so your face now meets his.

“the things you do to me, doll…” logan mutters, leaning over to give you a hungry kiss. your entangled your tongues sloppily, moaning into each others mouths.

he pulls away from the kiss hastily, and a thin strand of your saliva mixed with his pools from your bottom lip. you look fucked out already, and he’s only been dry humping you.

“dirty little thing,” logan teases, pressing a finger against your clothed cunt as he continues his thrusts. you feel yourself getting close, your panties were drenched with your own arousal.

the way your ass rippled with every thrust of his hips, combined with how wet you were getting from this sent logan into a spiral.

his movements became more erratic, his strained dick begging to be released from the confines of his boxers. he began to rub tight circles on your clit, pushing you further to your limit.

“gonna come soon, baby,” he grunts out, and you moan in response. “where do you want me, darlin’?”

spit dribbles out of your mouth as he continues his relentless attack on your ass, his hips pistoning as fast as he could manage. “o-on my face…” you barely manage to whimper out

and so his thrusts pause, and he manhandles you, now flipping you onto your back. he hastily pushes his boxers down, his cock springing back in protest against his stomach.

your mouth waters at the sight of his thick cock, his hands pumping him at a rapid pace, precum leaking all over his abs.

he hovers himself over your face, his knees caging your head. as he angled his cock at your mouth, he continued fisting himself vigorously. “gonna take my cum like a good girl?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. you nod your head yes, but this isn’t enough for logan.

“words, princess.” he quips, feeling himself close to his release.

“‘m gonna take it like a good girl, i promise lo” you whine, locking your eyes with his, your pupils blown with lust.

“‘atta girl…”

and after a couple more pumps of his dick, thick ropes of his cum coat your face. he’s spurting out more than you imagined—he was really fucking pent up. who would’ve thought that a sweet little thing like you had that much of an effect on him?

after he milked himself of all of his cum, he rolls over to your side. he glances over at you and wipes the mess off near your eyes. you chuckle a bit, licking off the cum that got on your lips.

you lean over and pull logan into a short kiss, allowing him to taste himself on your lips. “fuckin’ hell,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your nose. he sits up, looking around the kitchen for a spare towel to clean you up.

“soo… does this count as our warm up for today?” you ask cheekily, propping yourself up on your elbow as you watch him pace around the kitchen.

“shut up, kid…” logan replies, groaning at your attempt joke.

[loveydovey-leviathan]

"𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀, 𝑰'𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺!"

streamer! leviathan x gn! reader

summary: levi starts a stream right after you put lipstick on

cw: one mention of being eaten, he’s obsessed w/ you what can i say, ooc levi, also im 90% sure this should be tagged yandere lol

🍉 from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸. this account stands with Palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and/or support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. | credit 🍉

.

The embodiment of envy itself sits pretty on his gaming chair, looking up at you and following your movements in a daze. He doesn’t think he has the capacity to do anything right now, let alone start his weekly stream. His entire face is flushed with the cutest pink hue because of all the blood rushing to his face at your affections and every languid kiss you give turns him more and more into the demonification of jelly, but he thinks being eaten by you would be the best way to die. He’d be connected to you in a way no one else would, always with you forever and ever–

“Levi?”

He yelps in the most embarrassing way possible and he immediately wants to crawl down to the Underground Tombs so he would never have to see anyone again, but then you laugh and he realises he wouldn’t be able to see or hear or touch you if he did that. The thought of it makes his very skin melt, or maybe his face just hasn’t calmed down yet.

“Y-Yeah?”

Your smile is teasing, predatory even. Like you know something he doesn’t and you’re going to enjoy every moment of his ignorance. 

“You have a stream to start, don’t you?”

He nods, and your smile grows wider. You give him one last kiss– it’s longer than the others but shorter than he’d like, and he whines when your fingers lightly scratch his nape in the way you know makes him go insane for more of you. It’s over before he has the chance to beg and he sends a longing look your way as you make yourself comfortable in the spot you’ve claimed as yours in his room. Just out of sight from his camera but close enough that he doesn’t have to move much to see you’re still there when he gets nervous.

He takes a few breaths to try and calm himself down and get his head in the game, but thoughts of you linger nonetheless, like a part of you had permanently embedded yourself into his very being. Levi figures this condition is the best he can get before he’s really late, so he starts the stream as he is.

He doesn’t notice anything different at first, but he’s too focused on making it look like everything is normal and that he isn’t still obsessing over you to notice what his chat is saying. He plays through the game he’s chosen as usual for a good while, becoming invested in the gameplay before he finally has a chance to rest in-game. It’s only now that he realises he hasn’t looked at the live chat since he started, and what he sees makes him want to pass out.

@/lover-b0y: LMAOO HE STILL HASN’T NOTICED

@/sweeti3s: you need to check the mirror before you start your stream my guy 😭

@/crystal-empire: do you think he did this on purpose?

@/loneeerrrr: way to make me feel single 😥😥

Levi immediately ducks under the desk in a frenzy and pulls out his rarely-used camera app, and what he sees can’t possibly be him. His entire face is covered in lipstick marks– from his cheeks to his nose to his eyes– but it’s especially bad on his lips. It’s smeared like crazy and it’s glaringly obvious to anyone who looks at him that he just had a make-out session. 

He sits under his table as he struggles to figure out what to do– brain going a mile a minute but still getting nowhere. But then he feels you staring and he looks up to see you sitting right next to him with your head lowered to not hit yourself against the desk.

His mind struggles to register anything but you. You’re with him and you’re so close he can smell the very essence of you. He’s envious of the very clothes on your back, of your lungs and your ribs and your intestines because why doesn’t he get to be that close to you?

“I turned off your stream.”

Your voice tunes out everything for him, but he musters up a “thank you…” in response.

You look empathetic when you apologise. “I’m sorry, was that too much for you?”

It was too much but not enough at the same time. He wishes you hadn’t pulled this stunt but he’s ecstatic that you did. He wishes you kissed him on stream, he hopes you leave a mark every time he goes out but he also wants to keep this side of you to himself. Why should anyone else get to see the affection you’ve given him? It’s his and his alone but the other part sees this as you claiming him as yours, and it’s a title he wants everyone to know.

“Levi, you okay?”

“Will you kiss me?” he blurts out.

It doesn’t matter how many times he asks, but you always respond with a smile too soft for someone like him. It melts every barrier he could ever put up and he welcomes everything you do to him with open arms, but all he feels is lips so perfectly moulded to fit against his own that he knows you’re the only one he’ll ever want so carnally.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Normal People Things (dark!141 x fem!Reader)

Soap drags you to his place to meet with his lieutenant. It goes as smoothly as you can imagine. AO3 CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation

The ride is short – shorter than you anticipated. You don’t know if you wanted it to be longer if you needed more time to sort out the thoughts flying in your head – you feel numb, empty, hollow, all of those stupid words for stupid expressions because nothing can quite describe the dread settling in your stomach. 

Your throat burns, your makeup is ruined, you are shaking like a kitten left under a rain – you listen to some light music, something you could hear in the car of a guy you’d probably be interested in. Classic rock, some melodic sensations, if you squint and cover your mouth, you can almost relax and stop the desire to puke. You felt mostly sober when the Scot was pushing his dick in your mouth, the horror of the situation forcing your mind to clear up a little – but now it’s foggy again, blurry and messy every time you open your eyes just to see the same man on the front seat, smiling every time he catches you looking at him through the mirror. 

He broke your phone, obviously – snatched it from your hands and broke it in two with horrifying ease. He kissed you after this, cold lips on your forehead. You were crying, or so you think – you were crying this whole ordeal, your face feeling wet and burning as he was fucking laughing, trying to get you to talk to him. You wouldn’t, even if your throat weren’t hoarse and hurting from the fucking he gave you. 

“Want to grab somethin’ to eat, bonnie? I know a bloody lovely place, eh?”

You didn’t respond, the thought of taking something from a guy who eligibly kidnapped you made you sick. Besides, it’s not like food will do you any good – your stomach is spinning from a combination of fear and alcohol, and even though you’d love to ruin this pretty car, you don’t want to evocate even more negative feelings from its owner. He hasn’t hurt you too much yet – no bruises, no broken bones or blood, and you don’t want to provoke him further. 

“Don’t cry so much, I didn’t even fucked ye. I’ll get ye off later, aye?” 

You don’t want him to ever touch you again – despite that disgusting, burning feeling on your panties, the way your little cunt is fucking soaked because his voice is gruff, his face is pretty, and he almost touched you in a way that wasn’t making you sick – it all dropped now, thankfully, your mind is reminded of just how horrible he really is. “Just sit yer wee arse here, lassie. Lt and I will take care of ye” You almost fell asleep when he finally stopped in front of…a building. You don’t know what you were expecting – an evil lair, maybe some grimy base where monsters like him are being made. Not a rather normal apartment building, maybe a bit too scary and dark for your liking – you probably wouldn’t want to live here or even be around this place at night, but, ultimately, it doesn’t look like an evil base. 

This only makes your condition worse – you start sobbing again, useless and pathetic begging as the Scot drags you out of the car, supporting your wobbly legs and making sure you won’t fall down to the ground as he gently caresses your body. He is too fucking soft, too gentle – even his grip on your wrists isn’t bruising, he has one hand on your waist, gently pushing you towards the building. 

***

Ghost wasn’t expecting guests today. He just got out of another deployment, a few days from the previous mission, ready to get back any time if it weren’t for the fact they all deserved a little retreat – yet, he was planning to go with alcohol, maybe some lowly jerk-off sessions with Johnny and shitton of cigarettes to pass the day. What he wasn’t expecting is his sergeant spamming the 141 group chat – shitty idea, really, too much liability and security problems, despite all the measures Price took to encrypt everything – with pictures of cute, crying girl being all adorable, scared and fucking defenseless. 

No one in 141 is a good person – it comes with the job, really, if you’re willing to be a good guy with a gun, there will always be a moment when the lines become blurred. Dragging a civilian girl to their damp apartment isn’t a life-or-death decision made in the field, but they all deserve a bit of sweetness after a mission, right? 

They can be good for you. Simon isn’t sure there is anything in his heart that can still be declared as soft and fuzzy feelings, but he is willing to try and find it, even if for a night. They won’t be letting you go, obviously, Lasswell won’t cover their sorry asses in case you’re getting out with a marvelous surviving story, so you all would have a lot of time to get to know each other. 

— Thought you’d bring food, Johnny. 

— I did. Not my fault they gave up sweets as freebies. 

— How is she? 

— Quiet. Our lassie is a smart girl, eh? Didn’t even fight too much. 

— Fuckin’ hell. Thought they stopped making those a while ago. 

— Good thing I found her, aye? 

Ghost stands at the door of their shared apartment, staring at adorable scared you. You’re shaking in his sergeant’s hands, poor thing, too fucking terrified to even run – you have mascara smeared all over your face, drool and cum on your lips, and he drags a finger to your mouth, wiping it all away. 

You instinctively suck on his finger, the natural obedience coming with a very simple “please, don’t hurt me” plea – and he fucking knows you will be so good for them. He is dragging you inside, allowing Soap to push the takeout bag on the small table in the kitchen while Simon is dealing with all of those silly clothes you’re wrapped in. 

You beg him to stop, but, at this point, even you don’t think he will. All ounces of hope were destroyed already. You aren’t sure what you want anymore – maybe you want to just lay down and sleep, hoping that they will stop tormenting you. The ache between your legs only grows stronger when Ghost drags you to the bedroom, his strong, bulky hands holding you so perfectly – so firmly, you can’t even wish to move away. 

The mattress creaks under the combined weight of your bodies. You roll to the side immediately, your brain is foggy from alcohol again – you don’t even register his rough, firm hands as he is slowly dragging the ruined dress from your body, revealing the underwear you spend so much time choosing and buying. You liked the combination – you wanted to wear something nice today, even if no one would have seen it. 

Now you have this horrifying man in a skull balaclava and harsh hands tugging on the straps of your bra. You sob, head spinning and vomit picking in your throat. The man puts a hand between your shoulder blades, just enough pressure to make you grounded – to remind you that there is no way out, even in your mind. 

— Calm down, love. Won’t hurt ya. 

You choke on a laugh – they are literally going to fucking assault you, you were already forced to suck on Soap’s dick, and yet, this man is playing gentleman with you while undressing you at the same time. You cry again, your tears met with a soft hand on your cheek – checking on you. 

God, you want to drown in this affection, no matter how artificial it is. 

— L…let me go, please. I won’t tell anyone. 

— Too late for that, eh? Johnny don’t have any bloody manners. 

Scot screams from the kitchen, making you wince from the sound. 

“Bloody hell, Lt, I ken ye were fine with draggin’ our lassie here a minute ago!“ You sobs intensify, and you never felt more fragile than before – just one loud sound is enough to break you. The British guy drags you into an uncomfortably tight embrace almost immediately – you’d say you’re almost thankful for the moment of affection, but he snaps your bra a second later. 

— Sorry, love. Will buy you a new one. 

His fingertips are rough on your skin, a contrast that sends shivers down your spine. You whine, feeling stranded like this – feeling like you’re going to be fucking sick from the moisture in your panties. You hate yourself for being this touch starved, but the man is as rough as he is mysterious – and by the look of his figure, perfectly sculpted hands, and a healthy amount of tummy that doesn’t make him look any less intimidating, he might be up to your tastes. It's too bad you don’t have a choice anyway. 

— Don’t touch me. 

— Can’t help it. You’re pretty. 

You feel like you are going to have a fucking panic attack. This is too much – you feel sick, you feel mortified, you are getting your hands out of his hold with the power of surprise and dragging them closer to your mouth, trying to contain the involuntary bile collecting in your throat. You gag, finally feeling all the alcohol you took, getting back to bite you in the ass. 

Before you could say or try anything else, before you could even be bent over, trying to calm yourself down before you dirty everything in this fine-looking bedroom, Brit already dragged you to the bathroom, allowing you to look at the tile floor and white ceramics while you were vomiting your guts, cum, and anxiety out of your stomach. 

It took you a few minutes before you could get anything out – and another few while you were just holding the toilet seat, not even caring about how unsanitary it was. You feel like you’re going to die, the throbbing in your head only intensifying as you could almost feel dropping out of conscience. God, you will never drink again – even though it’s a promise that will break you right after you break it. 

— Bloody hell, love. Easy. Easy. 

— F…fuck you. 

— You will, love. Promise. 

The skull mask guy was rubbing your back the whole time, a motion you didn’t expect from a kidnapper, rapist and a fucking arsehole. He gently took your hair out of the way, he slowly rubbed calming gestures in your aching muscles, and you leaned into his touch, your state was finally reaching the breaking point – you were longing for the soft touch of your captor, not even caring that he is just as awful as his friends, rummaging through various bags somewhere in the other room. 

You cry, the depths of the situation finally getting to you – and he drags you into a tight hug after wiping your mouth with a paper towel, throwing it away before you could feel sick from the smell again. 

He talks you through it with his grovely voice and deep accent, and you can’t help but lean in and listen. 

— Calm down. Can’t have you panicking on my cock. 

— D…don’t touch me. Please. 

— You need this, love. We’re not the worst people who could have picked ya up. 

— You’re a bunch of fucking ra…

He stops you immediately – holds your hand, and drags you back to the bedroom almost too rough, dropping you to the bed before you can manage to scramble your legs and writhe away from his touch. You sob again, crying even more – you don’t have makeup now. Thankfully, everything was mostly wiped out by the paper towels and a mix of your tears, but you still feel horrible. Laying on the soft bed in your soaked panties made you feel like a slut, and this is not the feeling you were expecting out of this night. You just fucking wanted to go home and sleep the alcohol out, not…this. 

— We’ll take care of you. Be a good girl for us, and I will make Johnny pay for not getting you off, eh? 

You can hear the Scot again, emerging from the kitchen in an apron – to your surprise. He looks too domestic, too clean, his hair is a bit disheveled after your little attempt at breaking out, and you can see the resemblance between him and a very, very sad and polite dog. If he had a tail, it would be curled between his knees, a look of genuine guilt almost making you believe that he wanted to apologize for being so forceful. 

— Steamin’ Jesus, I tried to be a gentleman. Didn’t want to scare our lassie too much. 

— She’s shivering. Poor girl, was Johnny this scary? 

— It’s yer mask. Wee things always scared of those. 

They both laugh, clearly not taking your tears seriously. You curl into the bed, trying to protect your exposed breasts and midriff as much as possible. You don’t want to be touched, you feel dirty and used already, but their attentive gaze is making your skin burn and crawl from the feelings you never thought you knew before. It’s a horrible situation, but somehow, you are almost flattered because of how affectionate they both look for someone as insignificant as you. 

Maybe, it’s your brain trying to protect itself from further trauma. Maybe, if you’d lie to yourself long enough, you could pretend you want this. 

Ghost looks at you, drinking the drowning panic in your eyes. You’re so pretty, so helpless, he doesn’t even want to think of what could happen to you if Johnny weren’t here to pick you up. You’d be murdered in cold blood, left laying on the side of the street after a group of some perverts would be done with you. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you deserve a proper help and calmness of living with them – and he knows that once he is done with bringing his first orgasm with your body, you will learn to love it too. Maybe not at first, but the seeds would be there. 

He tries to be on his best behavior as he slowly drags his body between your legs, catching your ankles once you tried to kick him. You’re like a kitten, growling and hissing, clawing on his hands like it didn’t turn him on even more – he pins you under his weight easily, enjoying the audience of Soap already palming himself through his pants. Fucking pervert – he already came in your mouth not so long ago, but the lieutenant knows that given a chance, his sergeant will break this girl for another three rounds in a row. They can’t have that, right? 

— Calm, love. Don’t make it harder for yourself. 

— Stop…please, just…god, wait, I…

It’s such empty words, he knows you can’t calm yourself down – you’re a pretty girl, really, you’re cute and adorable, and you don’t deserve his firm hand taking off your lace panties, but he knows that you will love it after a few more times. You’re dripping already, a combination of manhandling and previous foreplay making you adorably weak for them. 

— Will make you nice and wet, yeah? Such a pretty cunt, bound to give it a taste. 

— W..wait, please, don’t, really, j…just let me…

— Quiet, love. You’ll fuckin’ love it. 

Ghost drags his fingers straight into your folds, spreading them as quickly as possible. He would love to give you more time to adjust, but he was hard ever since Johnny made that goddamn call, and patience isn’t his best quality when on leave – he needs you in all ways you can handle. On your back, preferably, he wants to see that pretty face of yours when he will bottom himself in your cunt and make you squeal. Maybe play with your ass for a little – if you’re going to be the team’s favorite girl, they need all of your holes ready to be used. 

You squeak from surprise when he drags his mask on the upper half of his face, revealing his mouth. Clean-shaved chin, a bit of uneven blonde stubble, strong jawline – he smirks because he knows he is quite the opposite of ugly, that even after all the burns and scars, he is still that rugged type of handsome that ladies in pubs just love to touch. He wonders if you’re more of a typical pretty boy type – he wonders if you’d like Gaz as much as you love Simon. And you fucking adore him by the sight of your wet pussy almost dripping on his tongue. 

You beg him to stop when he slides his tongue in, the feeling of his harsh fingers stretching you only making everything hotter, less bearable. You don’t want to like it, but he is handsome and strong, he is whispering sweet compliments into your pussy, sliding sloppy kisses all over your folds, not forgetting to pay attention to your throbbing clit. 

“Such a pretty cunt for us. What was the last time she got so much attention?” 

He kisses you down there sloppily, adding another finger almost immediately to really make you feel that burn. You’re crying from stimulation, it’s been a while since the last time you had anything so heated – you just want him to stop, to proceed, to let you go, and also to never stop kissing your pussy and collecting all the juice that’s been flowing from you. You make the bedsheets under your ass wet, and Ghost just can’t help but stretch you a bit more, enjoying the sound of your confused, almost pained squeals. 

“Stop crying, love. I could have taken your arse instead.”

He can only imagine how adorable you’d look, crying from his cock in your plump rear. He is by no means small, and the thought of tearing your pretty arse just a little, making you cry from being filled so much, makes him even harder. He needs to be patient, can’t break your rear before Captain gets here – but god, isn’t patience the hardest virtue. 

“S’good for me. Sorry, love, can’t wait much longer. Got a bloody lovely cunt f’ me” 

You cry even harder when Ghost finally slides his cock in you – one harsh thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours, is enough to make you sick again. You’re stretched, dripping wet, it wouldn’t hurt if only he had a normal-sized cock, not the fucking monstrosity he is showing in your underprepared pussy. Nothing would prepare you for this – he started moving immediately, with little regard for your comfort. The niceties he was whispering were falling on deaf ears as he slammed inside of you over and over again. 

You feel sick. 

— Fuck. S’ tight for me. 

You’re clenching around his dick, not allowing him to pull back. Such a pretty girl, he doesn’t know what he would do without that feeling – he wants to fucking devour you whole, to have you laid out for him so prettily. He bottoms finally, stretching you beyond any man could – you feel him somewhere deep, near your cervix, hitting your sensitive walls while all you can do is cry for him to stop tormenting you like this. You can only squeal under him, for him, he is hitting all of your special spots at the same time, and you don’t know if you could really handle him like this. 

His hand lands on your folds, playing with your clit – only making you more and more wet with each second, you almost feel like you are passing the breaking point already. He is stronger than you want him to be, and you feel like he is going to fucking break you, every attempt of squirming from under him is met with a fierce grip on your waist, dragging you back where you belong – moaning and crying on his cock. 

The intrusion stopped being painful after a few minutes, you’re open enough to allow his cock to slide in and out easily. He bites your neck, munching on sensitive flesh like he is going to rip a chuck off you, leaving marks as if he were a wild dog. You moan under him, the feeling of his teeth on your skin isn’t exactly horrible – but not too enjoyable either. 

You squirm softly, hoping he would at least cum soon. 

— That’s right. Dumb civvie girls should just relax for the ride. 

— N…not dumb. I’m not dumb. 

— Only a dumb girl like you would get in Johnny’s hands. S’ry, love, but you really are dumb. 

— I’m…

— It’s alright. We like dumb girls. 

He moans in your ear, biting your earlobe, engaging in a sloppy kiss that allows you to taste your pleasure on his lips. You hate every second, you want to loathe every inch of his body, but his hand is moving faster and faster, steady rhythm that makes you see stars every time he plunges his cock inside – and, oh god, you can’t help but feel your pussy throbbing around him, the tight knot in your lower tummy getting warmer and warmer as his movements steadily brings you to an orgasm. 

It hits you too fast to be prepared for – just a few minutes later, you’re panting under him, mouth open agape as he slides his cock even faster, abusing your poor, sensitive cunt. You’re milking him for cum, not even caring that you are not on the pill – you just concentrate on the head of his cock hitting your G-spot in the most perfect of timings and his rough fingertips caressing your clit in a way that makes you go wild. 

You cum with a cry, soft, squeaky sobs escaping your lips as you hiccup and moan, pressing your hips against his in an attempt to become as close as possible. You feel his hot cum filling you up, a slight bulge in your lower tummy becoming even more prominent. 

Ghost kisses you on the forehead as he slowly emerges from you, hissing as your tight walls refuse to let him go. You’re so fucking perfect, all flushed and panting heavily, neck covered in bite marks and outline of his bruises forming on your waist. 

He pats your pussy a few times, making you shiver from the feeling. 

— Such a pretty girl. Lay here, your cunt is goin’ to be a bit more visitors today. 

He smiles, kissing you on the lips again – you whimper, curling on the bed, feeling the hot cum dripping from your exhausted, sore pussy. You feel his hand affectionately patting your head as if you were a cat, and he hums in approval when you instinctively lean towards his hand, getting as much affection as you possibly can. He brings you a pillow and drags your head so it would rest more comfortably – and you already feel extremely tired, your eyes closing. 

You’re almost ready to sleep when you feel the Scot sliding in bed with you, slowly spreading your legs.

[hoshinasblade]

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building.  you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

[monst]

Commission 

Kakashi x Jonin! Reader 

Summary: Takes place after Shippuden during Kakashi’s term as Hokage. He asked you to house-sit for a few days. You're more than happy to help but you do end up snooping around. And to your delight, you find an unpublished book.  

Extra: Happy birthday Kakashi! Ahem… Sorry so.. F. Reader, Jonin reader, Reader is described as shorter than Kakashi. Nothing too salacious, very suggestive, but nothing really explicit. But just in case 18+ content (MDI)

Wc- 2.2k

    You were rifling through Kakashi’s things when you first saw it. The book was a blush pink, with beautiful Kanji decorating the front in elegant swirls. When you looked it over to see the author you almost dropped it. Jiraiya!? You could have sworn you’ve read all of his work. Despite what people had said he was a surprisingly good author, his penmanship getting you through despreate lonely nights. Why hadn’t you seen this on shelves? Why was the cover starkly different from his other works? You were absolutely going to find out. 

   With the Hokage in Takigakure for a couple of days, you figured he wouldn’t miss the book. You placed the novel in one of the various pockets of your vest. It was an unorthodox use of the body flicker but it served you in finishing the tasks he’d ask of you. Plants were watered, trash was incinerated and his letters tidied. Anticipation burned underneath your skin. So much that you waved Genma off when you saw him on your way home through the market. Eager to get to your apartment and leaf through your find. 

    Once out of your uniform you plopped onto your couch and turned the cover. You were a page in when you met the main character—the son of a distinguished samurai family. “Is this a self-insert” You mumbled, turning the page as the boy’s snowy locks were described, his eyes the shade of charcoal. The first two chapters were brief, mostly about the young boy's formative years when he trained and studied rigorously. His only reprieve was when he could steal away to play with the hounds. 

    In the second chapter, he meets someone who the book only refers to as the seamstress’s daughter. A young girl his age, with a missing tooth, her small fingers covered in bandages. She didn’t know how to wield a tanto, didn’t know how to play shoji, and she didn’t know why her mother was so concerned when she bumped into the young lord. A clueless girl is what the samurai in training called her and he spent the entire summer trying to teach her what he knew. Whenever she wasn’t sewing buttons, she watched him train or squealed alongside him as they played with the pups. 

     Their summer came to a close in the third chapter, after a training session landed her in the river, a weeping gash on her leg that left her in hysterics. They weren’t allowed to play together for the remainder of her stay. But the young lord would always sneak away to find her. Days before her departure he rushed into the workroom, her threaded needle dropped to the ground, and a gap tooth smile beamed at him as he showed her his new puppy. “Is that Pakkun?” You mumbled as the small pug was described. But soon he waved off his friend, clutching a lock of her hair. 

      You jumped at the knock on your window. Your heartbeat settled when you noticed that it was Kurenai and her little girl. You had a bad habit of dropping your guard in Konoha, especially in your home. 

       “Did you forget?” She asked once you opened. 

       “Yeah, sorry” She looked down at your hand and you pulled up the book sheepishly. “Got distracted.” She rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she handed Mirai over. 

       “Well don’t get too distracted, she already ate but if she gets fussy there’s a food pouch in here. I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s just an escort to Shukuba.” She hands you over a bag and wraps her arms around your shoulders in a hug, careful of Mirai. “Thanks again for watching her.”

    “Don’t even worry about it.” You smiled, bouncing the baby in your arms. “Take care!” You’re then left with the little Sarutobi, her tiny fingers hooked into the fabric of your shirt, as she blinks up at you, babbling incoherently “Eeeee you're so cute!”

    Your reading is put on hold as you watch the little one. And as the hours tick by you grow a bit impatient. You don’t know when Kakashi is due to come back, he said a couple of days, and you're heading into the fourth tomorrow. Will he notice his missing book if he comes back early? What if you don’t finish it in time? Maybe you could make a substitute? But if he picks it up? This time you sense Kurenai before she arrives, Mirai hadn't fallen asleep in the time it took for her to come back and you weren’t comfortable with taking your eyes off her while she was in your care. 

      “How was it?” You ask. 

      “Uneventful. Hello, my love.” Mirai laughs when you hand her over and after a bit of chatter and ‘thank yous’ they leave. You lean against the door after, wondering what it’d be like to be fully responsible for a child. You don’t think you want to be a mother but if…

     “And that’s enough of that!” You cut your thoughts off, not imagining a life where you are your Hokage’s wife. Nope! You're not thinking of him!  “Ugghh! So what?! Who doesn’t think Kakashi is hot.” You mutter, grabbing the pink book from your desk. ‘It’s not like I want him or anything!’ You head into the bathroom and prick your finger, summoning the smallest speaking snake of your summons kin. “Should have done this earlier. Can you read this for me?”

     “You know that’s not what we’re for.” He sighs.

     “I’ll give you Takoyaki.”

     That’s all you had to say. Your summon clears his throat as you peel off your clothes to shower. In the following chapter, after the girl’s departure, he fulfilled his duty by becoming a Samurai. He meets new people and fights great battles with her hair keeping him company throughout his travels. It's during an escort that he finds himself in her hometown. And while his comrades celebrate with drinks he slinks off to find his old friend. He finds her at the shop he remembers her telling him about. 

     She’s older he notes. “Obviously” You interrupt, lathering your hair with shampoo. Your summon frowns at you and you allow him to continue. The samurai is taken by her full smile, his heart racing when her arms bring him close. They reminisce about their childhood, trading stories he’s almost forgotten. He’s laughing, a bit embarrassed when she reminds him of when he jumped into a thorn bush to avoid being it. He had to meet the new Daimyo with torn trousers. 

     Their time together was short as it always seemed to be. He promised to return the next day. But when he does he does not find her. Asking around he’s horrified to hear the news. He finds himself in the pleasure district a couple of towns over. The samurai is more than upset when he sees her painted face, climbing up the window to ask why she hadn’t told him of her financial troubles. His clueless friend. His secret love had just been sold to a brothel to pay off her father debt. His gambling addiction had almost cost them their store. She reassured him informing him that her contract was only for two years. 

      He wasn’t pleased. If he’d have known she could have avoided this. He could have paid it off. He wouldn’t have asked for anything in return. Except perhaps a kiss. 

      “Oh, now I get it.” You stepped out of the shower, strands still wet as your summon held the book open. “He commissioned it. That’s exactly the type of cheesy trope he’d like.” Still in your towel, you made good on your promise and heated some left-over Takoyaki. “They’re so much better fresh.”

        After the snack your summon left you and you settled into your bed to keep reading. The Samurai expressed his feelings letting his friend know the extent of his care. He would buy her contract, but she would not allow it, she would not burden her dear friend. She couldn’t fathom him spending so much for so little. And, he couldn’t understand why she was being so stubborn. He tells her she can pay him back if it’s too troublesome. ‘You don’t mean’ she stutters. You grin knowing where this is going. 

      “Leave it to Jiraiya to find a way to get them to-” The next paragraph steals your attention, that is the exact color of your lips, skimming over the dialogue, your prediction comes true but you're not focused on that. You’re focused on the descriptions. And when the courtesan's clothes come off your jaw drops. It was like ‘staring’ into a mirror. She has your exact proportions, the Samurai ‘Kakashi’ your mind supplies, kisses down the expanse of her torso, down every dip and curve. And every scar, freckle, and blemish matches. 

      You should’ve known since the beginning of the story. And your face burns when you keep reading, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you read about Kakashi ravishing you. You don’t hear your window open. 

      “Ma~ That doesn’t belong to you.” You shriek, chucking the book at him before getting into a defensive stance. Kakashi’s dark eyes curve in amusement when he catches it.  

       “Shit! Kakashi what the fuck!” The wind from the open window picks up the fabric of his white robes. “Fuck! I mean lord Hokage! Um, W-what brings you here?” 

        He doesn’t answer, instead, he leafs through the half-read novel. “How far did you get?” You try to collect yourself, your fingers dig into the material of your towel as you grip it shut. Eyes flickering across your room as your brain tries to come up with something. 

        “Um… K- T-the Samurai just got to Shukuba town.” You stutter. 

        “Hm. It’s not called Shukuba in the book.” 

        “Did I say that? I misspoke.” Your voice is strained, and the tips of your ears are on fire. 

        “Did you?” He asked, stepping toward you. You can’t seem to focus on his face, your eyes dancing across his striking form. He’s closer now, so much so that you can feel the heat coming off his body. ‘Was he always this tall? And when the hell did he pull down his mask!?' ’ His fingers are cool against your cheek. And his deep voice saying your name snaps you from your trance. “I asked you something.”

        “What?” You’re breathless, and you look up at him clearly flustered. “Oh, No? I mean yes? What did you ask?” You feel his breath ghost across your lips when he laughs. His thumb comes under your chin when you try to look away. The vertical scar dragging down his left eye takes your focus and you steady yourself. You breathe out allowing Kakashi to take you in. You don’t know why you never noticed him looking at you like that. “We never um… That never happened when you came to see me in Shukuba town.” 

       “No. No, It didn’t but I wanted it to.” He replies. “The disguise suited you. This suits you too.” 

       “What this towel?” You snort. 

       “I wasn’t talking about the towel.” Your brows furrow in question. “This expression.” You don’t get to reply, your words dying in your throat when his lips press to your forehead. You’re sure he could feel your temperature spike, and you gasp when his thigh slots in between your legs. “Suits you.” 

       “Ka-Kakashi?”

       “Hm?” You can’t seem to concentrate under his intense stare. 

       “So… You’ve liked me this whole time?” Your voice wavers.

        “This whole time.” He parrots, his cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry?” You can feel that he’s about to step back and your arms loop around his neck to keep him close. 

        “Don’t apologize. I like you too.” Your grin is a bit shy and your heart is racing when his nose bumps against yours. Your mind is reeling, you can’t believe this is real but your thoughts are swiftly silenced when his lips press against yours. He’s barely pulled away when your brining him back, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your gasping into his mouth when his tongue licks into your mouth. His fingers are at the back of your head pressing you closer, his other hand trailing down your side. His fingers squeeze your soft flesh, swallowing your soft moans. 

       You tug at the zipper on his vest, and he pulls back his face flushed, pupils dilated. He lets you zip down the zipper, his hands on the fold of your towel. “Can I?” You nod allowing him to pull the fabric, letting it slide down your body onto the floor. He’s on you in seconds, your back making contact with the sheets of your bed. You're helping him pull off his clothes between kisses and you can’t help but ask. “Can.. Can I finish the book later?” 

      “Why?” He hums against your jaw. 

      “Mmm What do you mean why?” You sigh, when his calloused palms massage your breasts. “I wanna know how it ends” You finish your sentence against his lips, His soft chuckle causes them to brush against his. 

       “It ends like this.” he smiles, and his fingers send shivers down your spine when he trails them down your sides. His bare skin sliding across yours almost makes you forget to ask. 

       “Like wha-” 

        His next kiss is sweet, unhurried, and devout. And he pulls back to gaze into your eyes. “You’re so clueless sometimes.” His eyes are two small crescents “It ends with me and you.” He presses another fiery kiss to your lips with a sigh. “Together.” 

[nocturnowlette]

A fun hypnotic idea I've been using recently is the concept of a Mind Lock.

The concept is rather simple. There is a lock on the subject's forehead, and I have the key. I slowly insert the key, and when I turn it all the way to the right with a click, the subject becomes completely incapable of waking up while in trance. However deep they go is permanent until they either fall asleep, have an emergency, or I undo the lock.

This gives you a lot of fun routes you can take to mess with your subject.

You can do a count down, but occasionally start counting up, which doesn't work. However, when you start counting down from that higher number again, it keeps dropping them. Continue until they're knocked out, you're satisfied, or both.

You can suggest the idea that fluxuate in and out of states of trance constantly, and that since they can only go down and not up, that they will keep sinking down naturally.

You can tease them with the idea that trying to wake up takes effort despite it not working, and keep using the trigger to drop them deeper down.

However, my favorite use is just in a long term hypnotic teasing session.

I had a voice chat where one of my cute friends was playing the roguelite Balatro, and I used the Mind Lock on them with a simple rule: any time they used the discard button, they would drop a bit deeper into trance.

They kept stubbornly avoiding discarding any cards and eventually lost, and then I added another rule, that if they lose, I'll drop them much deeper than a discard.

They slowly had to concede, round after round, tactically choosing to dumb themselves down a bit in order to avoiding getting sent down much further by a loss. It didn't work. They discarded four times and lost, and I sent them down hard. I told them they had two chances left before I lock them down there for a long time.

Each game was shorter than the last. They were excessively drooling before the second game ended. I don't think they even wanted to win the third.

One last fun thing you can do, if you clarify that you turn the key to the right, is to do trance denial by turning the key to the left. When you do that with a click, someone cannot drop into trance at all, only rising up.

If someone is desperate for your control, you can mercilessly tease them by all their triggers and fun being taken away.

There's plenty more you can do with all of this too, but these are just some ideas. Happy hypnotizing! ^v^

[lovifie]

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), panic attack, mentions of guns and war (this is COD so), mentions of cheating but it just three idiots not knowing what poly is ❤️

Soap gets thrown into action ridiculously quick, barely passing the psychological evaluation and he is ready to go back to war. It had costed you multiple fights with Price, even with Laswell, to try and keep him from going back.

It didn't matter how many times you debated it, or how solid your arguments were. If the psychiatrist decided that Johnny was ready.... He was. 

Even if she contradicted herself, even if you said Johnny had forgotten half of his experience, even if you said he was still in physical rehab. 

All of that didn't matter.

And no matter how hard you fought it, barely a couple of months after you returned to base, Johnny was putting on his uniform to leave. 

Price wasn't the only one you argued with, the frustration of feeling like you were sending Johnny to the slaughterhouse caused you to be irascible and, even if you didn't mean to, to lash out at anyone who would disagree with you. 

Even if Johnny was the one who was opposing you.

"Lass, I don't want to go away being in a fight with you." He began to say as he strapped on his vest.

"Then don't leave." You replied from the door frame and your arms crossed.

"Baby... We've been over this, please.... I have to..." She said, hands raised and voice soft as if speaking to a frightened animal.

And that's how you felt, like a dog being promised by his owner that he's not going to abandon him as he walks out the door with a target on his forehead.

Just like Johnny, you had also had sessions with the base psychiatrist; but unlike him, you had not been given a pass. You were more than ready to be discharged, but if they clared you, then you would have the power to say that Johnny was not ready to return.

So the amnesiac who two months ago could not walk was prepared to return to the battlefield. And you, whose only psychological damage was to see him dead, were bound hand and foot as you watched him go to almost certain death.

"No! You don't have to, Johnny! Don't you realize what they're doing!!!?" You burst out, once again, uncrossing your arms to express your displeasure with the situation.

"Of course I realize! I have amnesia, I'm not an idiot!" He responded in the same tone as you, causing guilt to build up in your opinion. "I'm still capable of making my own decisions so you don't need to make them for me anymore! Don't you realize I need to feel useful!"

Johnny didn't want to yell at you, or lose control and say something he didn't mean; but he was still human and frustration had gotten the better of him too. 

Ever since he saw how Ghost had left you in your room, the fact that you had been together obvious; Johnny hadn't been able to help but compare himself to the blond. 

At first it was physical, the time immobilized had left him thinner. When Gaz showed him a picture from before the accident he doubted that he could ever be as wide as he was before... Almost the same as Ghost. 

But not now.

Now he was shorter, weaker, more inexperienced... He had nothing to beat him with, to compete for you. And Johnny knew it. 

Besides, he was sure that you must have felt him as a burden. A big baby you had to take care of so he wouldn't choke if you didn't cut his food. 

So when he was asked if he wanted to come back, he didn't think twice. Later, when he told you about it and saw how your expression changed to one of absolute panic, he regretted not asking you before agreeing. But his pride was hurt when he saw you arguing with everyone you could to keep him from going. 

This was not your first discussion on the subject, and every time it ended you both felt like idiots; for hurting the other indirectly and for knowing that you were not able to convey your own feelings to each other. 

And Simon has been the scavenger vulture that has taken advantage of each and every one of those discussions. 

As soon as he realized that you had argued, Simon would go from one to the other. 

"I'm worried about him too, love. But Johnny's still Johnny, nothing's going to happen to him, you'll see." He would say to you.

"I understand you, Johnny.... It's normal that you want to go back to the battlefield.... It's where you always shine the most..." I said to him.

And so on and so forth.

Simon wasn't looking to fuel any enmity between the two of them, it didn't make sense when he was the one who wanted to join the pair. But when he saw the small chasm that the argument created, he only strove to shape it into his own form; to pull the two of them into him once inside. 

It was a turning point on his relationship with Johnny. In no way enough for the blue eyed man to like him, but now he answered when he talked to him. 

He had managed to catch Johnny with his guard down a couple of nights ago, after what seemed like the biggest argument between the two of you. You didn't even let Simon in your room. But Johnny did. 

They spend the greater part of the night talking, it was obvious that Johnny has been wanting to rant and would rather have somebody to do it that simply talking to the void. He had to do his greater effort to not take more than Johnny was giving him, to not get closer as he spoke; even if he mumble and could barely hear him. Not to hug him when he saw his eye shine with unspilled tears when he talked about making you sad. Not to lay him over his lap and beat his ass black and blue when he confessed some of the things he had said to you. 

He pulled back, he stayed on a safe distance. And the next day he got his reward when Johnny finally spoke to him first.

“Morning, Lt.” 

Like a ghost of his life before the accident.

It was your turn now.

The night before the flight to his new mission. 

It wasn't meant to be a difficult mission, and even though he new there was always some risk, he wouldn't have allowed Johnny to tag along if he knew there was an actual threat. 

He also knew that you couldn't see that, and he understood perfectly why. He just neded to think about how much time you were alone with an unconscious Johnny, everyone would have gone crazy in your situation. 

Stranded, injured, taking care of an unresponsive person, that person being a loved one… he knows he wouldn't have been rescued. But you turned off that part of you brain, focusing on keeping Johnny alive and yourself by correlation.

Fear and despair are human emotions, and you can't have those if you turn yourself in a machine. And Simon knew that well.

He agreed with the psychiatrist up to a certain point, you had developed a link to Johnny during your stay that needed to be broken. Focusing on keeping Johnny alive kept you sane, when losing your mind or asking for help meant your death or Johnny's. 

But that risk was no longer there, therefore you should have let go of it; but the rope is already under your skin to do so and now you panic even at the thought of it. The suppressed feelings too mixed and too tight inside of your mind to make sense. 

That's how you found yourself now, curling on Simon's lap, hyperventilating as you cry your eyes out. The rope keeping you hanging over your feeling finally snapped, and you fell right onto his arms.

And if it weren't for the heartbroken way you were crying, Simon would have been happy to be the one you had looked to for relief. 

Simon didn't try to talk to you, knowing you wouldn't even hear him over the sound of your cries, he simply hugged you and stroked your head; while you cried on his shoulder, his shirt getting wet with your tears, drool and snot. Completely crumbling after finally facingyour long neglected feelings.

The fear of dying in the tunnel, the pain of injury, the anxiety of a possible ambush at any moment, the constant tension that Johnny will suddenly get worse. All out, back into the world. 

It's when you're choking on your own saliva, coughing and breathing tightly together causing you to gag, that Simon moves his hands to your arms, gently pushing you to see you better. 

But his heart shrinks when he notices your hands gripping his shirt tightly as a whimper escapes your lips. Still, and with as much willpower as he can, he pulls your trembling hands away from the clothes, with them quickly grabbing his hand instead. 

You are still hyperventilating, your head is lowered and Simon can only see the tears falling as your whole body trembles. 

"What’s that sound?" Simon suddenly asks, and your too-curious-for-your-own-good nature betrays you by making you fall for his trick. 

Because your cries gradually diminish in volume, to try and hear whatever Simon is talking about. But the short moment when you're just hiccuping, trying to breathe normally to hear better, is all Simon needs. 

He grabs the tissue from the bedside table, bringing it up to your nose to blow your snot. A confused expression comes over your face, would he really blow your nose? 

You take the tissue from his hand and do it yourself, asking him for a couple more before finally feeling your face dry from tears and so on. 

"I'm sorry" You whisper, with Simon quickly quipping to you before you can finish.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It was about time you got it out, love." He tells you, helping you to lean against him again. 

You snuggle into him, your head resting on his dry shoulder and your hands pressed to your chest, making it easy for Simon to wrap his arms around you. 

He knows you still have a lot more to release inside you, but he also knows it's not the pain you can vent in a single crying session. But the first step has been taken.

And more importantly, the next morning when you say goodbye to the two of them before they leave for their mission, you talk to Johnny again. 

"You be careful, okay? And no more head banging, Johnny." You mutter, moving Johnny's head so his forehead rests on yours. 

"Of course, bonnie. We'll be back before you miss me." Johnny replies, giving you a kiss on the cheek, right next to the nose wetting his lips with the single tear that escapes you.

In addition, once on the plane, Jonny watches him for a while before speaking again. 

"You talked to her, didn't you?"

"Yes, last night."

"Thanks.”

Once on the battlefield, Johnny's attention is once again focused on Ghost. On the intimidating, terrifying lieutenant who at every turn turns around to make sure Johnny is still behind him, without a scratch.

Johnny is aware of the void in his memory of the last few years of his life. But he remembers perfectly the years of his adolescence when he doubted so much about his sexuality. How his eyes would run after every pretty girl he passed in the halls of high school. And at night, when he can't sleep; he still remembers the awkward erection when the captain of his rugby team tackled him during practice, leaving Johnny pressed against the ground.

It has been many years since Johnny came to terms with the fact that he preferred not to put labels on something he didn't fully understand. 

So when in the middle of a surprise exchange of gunfire Simon grabbed his arm hiding Johnny behind him to make sure he didn't get hit and his eyes were fixed on the small space of exposed skin between the glove and the sleeve, and Johnny watched him for longer than would be considered normal.... He was not really surprised.

Johnny can see what you see in Simon. Especially because of the way he treats him, even if Johnny doesn't know. Simon cannot help himself. 

In his Johnny the one at stake. 

With anyone else, Simon wouldn't hesitate to let his nasty nature called Ghost, which he has cultivated to keep people away, shine through. But not with Johnny. Nor with you. 

At least not when his goal is to find his niche between the two of you. 

So Johnny sees for the first time, what if he were able to remember, he saw between the cracks of Ghost's mask after years. 

And just as it happened to him before the accident.... Johnny can't help but feel the butterflies when Simon looks into his eyes.

"You alright, Johnny?”

Against all odds, but still not surprising to either of them, the mission ends up lasting much longer than they both thought it would.

This ends up working to Simon's advantage, as it continues to push Johnny towards him. 

Their relationship continues to mutate by leaps and bounds, as the day before they boarded the plane Johnny could barely look him in the eye without hatred in his pupils. 

This is why, when they finally start to mobilize to return to base and the two of them are assigned to return in a single car with no one else; that Johnny deviates from the road and parks on the side of the road. 

"Can I ask you something, Lieutenant?"

And Simon questions for a moment if there really is anything Johnny could ask him that he wouldn't be willing to answer. 

"Go ahead."

"Before the accident... What was the situation?"

"Elaborate."

"Between us... and with her."

And Simon knows perfectly well what Johnny is referring to, the scotsman is neither stupid nor blind.

"What would it affect how things were before the accident?"

"Everything!"

"Give me an example, Johnny."

"Whatever." Johnny backs off, jerking his hand to restart the car. 

Except Simon is quicker and takes the key out of the ignition and out of Johnny's hand.

"Explain yourself, Johnny."

"No, whatever, we're late."

"Until I get there no one leaves, we can be as late as we want to be. Explain yourself."

Johnny puffs, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more if possible. 

"I feel at a disadvantage, okay?" Johnny admits, glancing at Simon for a second before looking ahead again. "I feel like everyone is aware of what's going on and everything that happened before the accident. And that everyone's talking over my shoulder as if instead of amnesia I was stupid. And I have feelings that don't make sense for me to have in such a short time, and the only thing that makes sense in my mind is that they were already there before the accident!"

The two remain in awkward silence for more minutes than is desirable.

"Do you have feelings for me, Johnny?"

"No!"

One more awkward silence.

"For her?" 

"...I don't know."

"You don't know or you don't want to admit it?"

"I don't know!"

Simon is frustrated with myself, and is aware that Johnny must be equally frustrated. Two grown men too stubborn to admit their feelings.

Simon huffs, pondering his next move for just a few seconds before removing his mask. The move catches Johnny's attention and he turns to look at him, just in time to see Simon grab his face to crash his lips against his. 

It's a peck. Nothing more.

But it's enough to make Johnny look at him like he's just grown horns on his head. Simon can practically see the smoke coming out of Johnny's ears, but he also sees his eyes stare for a millisecond at his lips again. And that's all he needs.

"Do you want to talk about feelings or do you want to show them to me, Mactavish?"

Johnny only needs a second to unbuckle his belt and grab Simon's vest to pull him closer to him. 

Johnny knows this isn't the way, that they should talk, clear out everything, lay the groundwork for the strange triangle they're excluding you from for now by doing it this way. 

But after the time spent together on the mission, every glance, every brush, every word exchanged. Johnny knows this isn't the right way to do it, but he knows it's the easiest. And for now, that's enough for him. 

Johnny moves over the console to reach Simon; it's an awkward position with the gearshift lever digging into his thigh. But when Simon's hands travel to the back of his thighs and he sits him on his lap it all fits together like puzzle pieces. 

It's an aggressive kiss, with both wanting to take the lead; teeth clashing, drool sliding down the corner of their lips and one's breath colliding with the other's. 

It's Simon who gives in, letting Johnny enter his mouth, savoring the taste of the cigarette he smoked just before starting the car. A horrible taste that tastes like glory coming from the blond's mouth. 

Despite the multiple layers of clothing, Johnny can perfectly feel Simon's cock harden under his weight. Johnny lowers his hand to Simon's belt, unbuckling it carelessly; parting the kiss to look down at what he's doing.

That moment Simon takes the opportunity to speak. "You're not going to let me fuck you, are you?"

Johnny laughs softly, shaking his head at the same time. "Didn't you ask me to show you my feelings, blondie? I'm going to show them to you, just as good as I showed her."

"Can't fucking wait." Simon declares pulling Johnny's hair to kiss him again once he manages to unbuckle his belt.

Johnny slips his hand into Simon's boxers, wrapping his hand around his member and pulling it out of the confines of the garment. Simon moans at the not very gentle maneuver, Johnny's calloused hand moving up and down against the dry skin making him groan. 

Johnny notices the lack of lubrication and spits a heavy blob of saliva onto his tip, Simon sighing in relief at the much desired wetness. 

"Now imagine if instead of my drool it was her pussy juices, Simon." Johnny murmurs, licking Simon's neck making Simon groan letting his head fall back against the headrest. 

"That's a fucking dream, Johnny." Is all he manages to reply. 

Johnny laughs, unbuckling his own belt with one hand as he continues to massage Simon's length with the other. When he manages to get his own member out he also positions himself as close as he can to Simon, cock against cock. Needing to use both hands to encircle both members as he moves them up and down, bringing them both fully to life; noticing how they harden between his fingers.

It is impossible for him not to move his hips against his hands, both moaning in unison at the friction between their cocks. The little droplets of cum that are born from their members helping to increase the mess of fluids.

It's only when Johnny decides that enough is enough that they change positions. Simon takes off his pants, limiting himself to removing one boot so he can stick one leg out; and Johnny tells him how he wants him to lie on the back seats. 

The man is too big for the car seats, with his head resting on the hand rest by the door and his knees bent to fit. Johnny kneels on his chest, trying not to drop his weight on it so as not to suffocate Simon. With the hand he has on the base of his member, he moves it so that he slaps Simon on the mouth. 

"Careful, Johnny" Simon warns him, trying to let Johnny know that he is in control for as long as Simon wants. 

Johnny smiles, winking at him. Perfectly aware of the danger but unafraid of the consequences. "We don't have any other lube, Lieutenant. Ye better blow me good."

Simon grunts, parting his lips so Johnny can enter his mouth. Johnny begins to move his hips, slowly so the Brit can get used to the width of his member. Johnny moans as he feels the warmth of his mouth around his member, the muscle of his tongue caressing the underside of it causing a shiver to run up his back.

Johnny looks over his shoulder, dropping his eyes to Simon's member, taking a moment to admire it in all its splendor. It's long, easily over 7 inches, uncut, lying flat on the part of his abdomen exposed by his wrinkled T-shirt, slightly tilted to one side by his own weight and with a healthy amount of mouthwatering veins that make Johnny's mouth water.

But today, Johnny has a different mission. He slips two of his fingers into his own mouth licking them as he makes eye contact with Simon while continuing to move his hips; driving deeper and deeper into his mouth. 

The hand that was at the base of his member moves to Simon's head, grabbing his hair and holding it still. The other, once satisfied with how wet his fingers are, moves it to between Simon's legs, brushing his member with his forearm as he does so and begins to press into Simon's tight entrance with his index finger. 

Johnny notices him tense up for half a second at the sudden pressure before letting his body relax under Johnny's caresses and he pushes in to the first phalanx of his first finger. Moving his hand and hips in tandem.

Simon's jaw soon starts to ache, especially when Johnny begins to thrust forward; Simon's nose brushing against Johnny's pubes.

And yet, Simon moans when Johnny slips a second finger into his ring of muscle. They are both aware that Johnny's fingers are not enough to accommodate Johnny's girth, but in their perverted minds it only adds to the kinkiness. 

Johnny finally pulls away from Simon's mouth, a trickle of drool connecting his lips to Johnny's member still. Mouth empty, Simon is free to moan as Johnny opens and closes his fingers inside Simon.

"I didn't know you were a singer, Lieutenant."

"Johnny... Shut the fuck up..." Is all Simon can reply. 

Johnny pulls his fingers out, making Simon sigh, and moves to stand between Simon's legs, as comfortable as he can inside the cramped vehicle. 

He thinks about it for a second before moving his hands under his officer's knees and moving them towards his head, easily folding him in half; the sergeant's strength taking him by surprise. 

But what really surprises him is feeling the sergeant's wet tongue at his entrance, making him moan pathetically at the contact. It's a couple of mere licks, nothing more, before Johnny breaks away licking his lips; then spits a fat glob of saliva at the entrance.

The sergeant lowers his legs, sitting back up and Simon slightly blushing at the ease with which he has moved him to his surprise. 

"I'll take it slow, okay?" Johnny suddenly says, a touch of gentleness amidst the strange scuffle that lets his true feelings show.

Johnny pushes forward slightly, both of them hissing at the tight feeling. Johnny's hand find their place on Simon's hips, with Simon's hand finding support on his wrists. 

“Fuckin' hell, Johnny…” Simon moans whe Johnny has barely gotten past the puffy tip. 

“You are going to choke my dick off, Simon” he moans, throwing his head back. 

Slowly but steadily Johnny bottoms out inside of Simon, feeling his insides pulse around his length in a vice-like grip. Simon has never felt this full, feeling the weight of Johnny's shaft all the way back on his column. 

Johnny slowly starts to move, painfully slow lo let the other finally adjust to the invasion. The moans and whispers growing in volume as Johnny starts to pick up the pace of his thrust. 

And is not long before Johnny as a steady rhythm, hip slapping against his, Simon's cock slapping slightly against his abdomen with each thrust. Is when Johnny starts to snap his hips harder that Simon needs to move one his hands from Johnny's wrist to the door of the car to avoid getting a concussion with the hits of his head against it. 

Simultaneously, and completely unaware of it, their minds travel to you. How would you fit in between them; would you ride Simon while Johnny rides him? Would you sit on Simon's face while Johnny rides Simon? Would they both fuck you senseless?

Johnny's free hand moves to Simon's shaft, grabbing it hard and tugging, forcing a whine out of Simon. “Shit! Johnny, that's- that's too much! Fuck!” Simon moans loudly, the double stimulation enough to make him throw his head back; hitting the door with the lack of strength left on his body. 

“That's too much for you, Lt?” Johnny asks between grunts and moans. “And how will you handle her riding you while I fuck you?” The mental image making both moan. 

“Once we are back… I'm destroying your ass, Johnny.” Simon manages to say through gritted teeth to avoid a moan from scaping his mouth.

Johnny chuckles at his threat. “Are you asking me on a second date, blondie?” He says, he bends down to kiss Simon again, and right before crashing his lips together he whispers “I can't fucking wait, Si.”

The new angle Johnny hits when bending down has Simon seeing white dots on his vision, and when Johnny tugs at his shaft again, thick ropes of cum spur on his abdomen pooling in his navel. He clenches down around Johnny's lengths, making him moan loudly and he barely manages to pull out before combusting over Simon stomach as well, the seed of both mixing together over his skin. 

The car windows are fogged up as Johnny sits in the seat opposite Simon. Grabbing bandages from the first aid kit in his backpack so Simon can clean himself. Johnny readjusts, putting away his dick and buckling his belt; watching as Simon does the same once he manages to pull his pants back up and buckles his boot.

“About… about how we felt before the accident…” Simon breaks the silent, looking ahead. “We were never together… and I can't talk on behalf of her or you, but for me… I knew I felt things for…” Simon sighs, struggling to choose the right words. “I knew I used to feel things for the two of you… I still do.”

Johnny doesn't say anything, being able to tell that Simon still has more to say but needs a moment to regroup his feelings. 

"Especially with you. The tunnel accident... It wasn't your first brush with death, Johnny. A couple of years ago, on a mission in Mexico, well, in Las Almas.... Things happened, and you and I got separated, we got... Uncommunicated... From each other and from everyone..." Simon narrates, recounting a mission that doesn't tug at Johnny's memory strings in the least. "On that mission I thought... I thought I'd lost you, Johnny. And it was in that moment that I thought I'd lost you that I realized they weren't just friends' feelings..."

Simon laughs dryly, rubbing his face with his hand before continuing. "I almost declared myself back then.... And several times after that but.... But then the tunnel thing happened and..."

The sentence is half-spoken, but neither Simon needs to say more nor Johnny needs to hear it. 

"And... And you think I loved you back, Simon?"

"I'd like to think you did, Johnny.”

Taglist: @waiting-so-long @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat  @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadowbat @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

[jarofstyles]

Teenage Dirtbag 5

Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.

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Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist

WC- 1.5k

Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual

----

Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again? 

The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely. 

H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll? 

Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched. 

Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left. 

H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it. 

H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;) 

Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon. 

The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days. 

H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby

Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned. 

His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was. 

H: fineeee. I’ll be good. 

For now. 

Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up. 

It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again. 

H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡

Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late 

H: oooo, a hot date? 

Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour. 

His smirk quickly fell. 

She was going on a date? With fucking who? 

That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.

It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him. 

And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.  

——

“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy. 

In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap. 

He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin. 

Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him. 

“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that. 

That sneaky little minx. 

“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?” 

It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.” 

He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”

He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid  hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?” 

“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!” 

“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought. 

“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where. 

Who knew those legs could run so fast?

He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so. 

H: Y/N can you please come back???

H: I didn’t mean to upset you 

H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would 

H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face 

H: can you answer me please????

H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :( 

H: y/n, cmon 

H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.

[girlkisser13]

dating wally west would include

• he ADORES making you laugh. he just loves hearing the sound of your laughter.

• whenever he makes a joke he always looks at you to see your reaction.

• you always make sure that you are stocked up on food. but sometimes, you hide your favorite foods so that he doesn’t eat them.

• wally loves to take you on thrilling dates where he runs you to different cities or countries in a matter of seconds. a quick lunch in paris or a sunset view from the top of the himalayas becomes a regular thing.

• he will literally travel anywhere and get you something to make you feel happy.

• his boundless energy means he’s always up for adventures and activities. he keeps you on your toes, whether it’s impromptu dance parties or late-night ice cream runs.

• as someone with a high metabolism, wally is a big foodie. he loves trying out new restaurants, food trucks, and cuisines with you. he’s always hungry, so snack dates are a must.

• despite his playful nature, wally is fiercely protective of you. he’s always quick to jump into action if you’re in any danger, using his speed to ensure you’re safe.

• he loves to tease and joke around with you. his sense of humor keeps things light and fun, and he knows how to make you laugh, even on your worst days.

• despite his laid-back demeanor, wally is quite the romantic. he often surprises you with flowers, handwritten notes, and sweet gestures that show how much he cares.

• wally is deeply emotional (surprisingly) and cares deeply about the people he loves. he’s not afraid to show vulnerability with you, sharing his fears and hopes.

• this man is CLINGY. he literally tries to climb and cling to you like a monkey, even if you are smaller than him (not that you’re complaining though).

• if you’re shorter than him, he places all of your things on higher shelves just so that you have to ask him for help, receiving lots of forehead kisses and giving him lots of cheek kisses mainly on your tiptoes.

• if you’re taller than him, him getting pouty if you put his things higher up, him having more reasons to be clingy and "surprising" you by jumping on your back for piggybacks.

• wally enjoys keeping fit and loves to include you in his training sessions. he’ll tailor workouts to your level, and you two often end up having fun races or friendly competitions.

• wally's a book nerd. he speed reads every single book he reads. he loves sharing his favorite books with you and will read them out loud at super-speed, making sure you both can enjoy stories together quickly.

• he has a knack for fixing things at lightning speed. he loves doing diy projects around the house with you, whether it’s building new furniture, fixing broken items, or redecorating.

• he’s a HUGE fan of movie marathons. given his super-speed, he can watch an entire season of a show in a few hours, but he’s more than happy to slow down and binge-watch your favorite series or movie franchise with you.

• you guys constantly engage in competitions, whether it’s video games, sports, or even who can eat the most. he loves the friendly rivalry and always lets you win sometimes.

• wally loves holidays and goes all out for celebrations. he’ll decorate, cook, and plan activities to make each holiday special, whether it’s halloween, christmas, or even lesser known holidays.

• his love for science often translates into fun experiments at home. he enjoys sharing his knowledge with you and conducting safe, fun experiments that sometimes lead to hilarious or fascinating results.

• wally’s ability to travel anywhere in seconds means you two create incredible memories from all around the world. You’ll have countless stories and souvenirs from the various places you’ve visited together.

• he loves to sing along to music. he often ropes you into singing duets with him. it doesn’t matter if you’re a great singer or not; the fun and joy of singing together is what counts.

• despite his love for food, wally isn’t the best cook. you two often have hilarious cooking sessions where you try to follow recipes, sometimes with comically disastrous results, but always with lots of laughter.

• he LOVES surprising you with spontaneous dates. one moment you’re at home, and the next, you’re at a concert, a carnival, or a beautiful scenic spot. his creativity keeps your relationship exciting and unpredictable.

• need to get somewhere in a hurry? wally’s got you covered. whether you’re running late for work or need a quick ride to a friend’s place, wally is always ready to zoom you to your destination.

• he’s your own personal chauffeur. <33

[pancake-breakfast]

As soon as Kabru said the elf who raised him took in shorter-lived races as a hobby, I thought, "Oh, no. She's treating them as pets."

Sure enough, when we finally get a glimpse of Kabru's childhood with her...

...she's hand-feeding him cake while insisting he makes cute sounds for her, despite him clearly being old enough and well enough to feed himself. She keeps him in a plush, soft child's room despite him likely being at least on the cusp of being a teenager. She treats him like an abused puppy she's saved from the street, one she wants to spare from all knowledge of pain or suffering, one she expects to gratefully put aside all thoughts of their past trauma and embrace a charmed, safe lifestyle where nothing is ever likely to hurt them again.

But Kabru is not a puppy. He is not a pet. He's barely a child.

I don't know about the other children she's taken in, so I don't know if Kabru's older than the ones she usually gets or if he just lived a more impoverished/jaded life before or if he's just very determined (or a combination of the three), but he's not someone who wants to forget. He's the type who's incapable of overlooking all that's happened to him and the people he knew and especially his real mother. He doesn't want to pretend none of that happened. He wants to do something so it never happens again to anyone else.

It's implied he got a bit scraped up here because he was training with swords, and she's using this opportunity to try and dissuade him from continuing that path, but he's having none of it.

He does manage to convince her he means what he says, but this also seems to drastically affect the dynamic between them (or, more accurately, the dynamic she's forced them into). From that point on, the training sessions aren't simply more serious. They're designed to scare, and perhaps even to punish. If her little puppy is going to insist on being a guard dog rather than a pampered house pet, then she's going to make sure he knows he's asking for the wrong thing.

It might seem like a bit of a kindness at first; after all, dungeon delving is absolutely dangerous, and it doesn't benefit one to train pretending it's not. But the fact is, Kabru comes out of it not being that great at dungeon delving. He learns this early on and does his best to try and partner with stronger teams, but he's not even particularly great at that, as we've already seen his party get wiped out multiple times.

Kabru's smart. He knows and admits he's not as strong as he'd like to be. But he was raised for a not insignificant time by the Vice Captain of the Canaries. You would think that would result in him having an edge on other adventurers. But she wasn't interested in teaching him. The lessons were, by her own admission, only ever meant as a deterrent. They were never intended to teach him the actual skills he might need to survive in a dungeon.

[mapiforpresident]

Hi, can you please do prompt 18 with Mapi x Ingrid x reader?

Late night baking

You were craving chocolate chip cookies. Mapi and Ingrid help you bake some.

mapi x reader x ingrid

~~~

You were currently laid out on the couch with your head in Ingrids lap and your torso over Mapi's lap as the three of you watched the men's Barça game that was about to end. Ingrid was carding her hands softly through your hair as Mapi kept yelling curse words at the TV almost knocking you onto the floor.

You had already eaten dinner. Mapi had picked up sushi on her way home from her gym session that ran longer than yours and Ingrid's regular training session.

"I want a cookie," you whined out once there were only a couple seconds left in the game. You had been craving a good chocolate chip cookie all day since Patri was talking about some this morning from this new bakery she found.

"We don't have any love, Mapi ate the last one before dinner," Ingrid told you laughing at the glare you sent your other girlfriend. Mapi immediately looked betrayed and pushed you off of her and ran to the bedroom.

You got up after her and ran to the bedroom door and started knocking on it loudly as Ingrid watched on in amusement.

"I'm sorry amor, please do not hurt me. I did not know you want it." Mapi said as you still pounded on the door demanding she open it.

"I bake, I make you more. We have ingredients. We bake some." Mapi desperately yelled in English trying to get her point across once you still hadn't accepted her apology.

You thought about it for a moment, you did have the ingredients and a fresh one warm out of the oven did sound good. Although you knew Ingrid would have to help with the baking process since you and Mapi were not allowed alone in the kitchen together.

"Fine, but if they don't taste as good then I will tell Alexia that you were the one that dented her car door and she will make you run laps for a week straight." you finally replied as Mapi slowly opened the door.

"No, no please not tell Ale. They will taste good. Ingrid will help I promise." Mapi said as she went over to ask Ingrid to help them bake some new cookies.

~~~

A couple minutes later, you and Mapi had made up and were standing in the kitchen tying each others aprons as Ingrid pulled out all the necessary ingredients.

"Can we please use the dark chocolate chips those are my favorite," you asked Ingrid as you finished tying Mapi's apron.

"Of course, let me grab them."

As Ingrid grabbed all the ingredients, Mapi finished tying your apron, turning you around and pecking your lips to let you know she was done. You pulled her in and kissed her again never getting enough of your shorter girlfriends soft lips. Mapi immediately kissed you back, deepening it and slipping her tongue into your mouth. A couple seconds later you felt a kitchen towel hit your ass.

"You guys are worse than horny teenagers, these cookies will not bake themselves and I am not doing all the work. Mapi preheat the oven and y/n come help me mix the dry ingredients together," Ingrid said as you rubbed where the towel hit you.

You frowned at her, but she just laughed at pecked your lips making you immediately perk up. Mapi did as she was told as you added the flour and sugar into a big bowl before Ingrid stirred the mixture.

After all the hard work was done, Mapi put the trays in the oven. While you waited the three of you rewatched an old Barca game.

Finally, the timer went off, and the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You rushed to the oven, pulling out the tray, and the sight of the golden-brown cookies made your mouth water.

“Are they perfect?” Mapi asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Let’s find out!” You took one out, letting it cool for a moment before breaking it in half to reveal the gooey chocolate inside. You took a bite, and your eyes lit up. “These are so good!”

“Oh thank god!” Mapi said as she grabbed a cookie for herself.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[mrchiipchrome]

Princess Treatment

W.C. - 2.4 k

a/n: if you've seen this before, no you haven't

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

Ever since Ella was little her mum had told her that she had a ‘princess attitude’, that she only expected the best and anything less than that was unacceptable. She was also told that no boy would ever keep up with it, lucky for her, she wasn’t even into boys. 

When you met Ella you were 14, and yet you were already more than a couple heads taller than kids four years older than you. It was no surprise that people were a bit scared of you, tall and rather buff. 

But Ella saw through it all, all the snide comments from the other girls and all the rumors, she saw that you only wanted love from people, to love people just the same as anyone else. So when she started dating you only a year after your official meeting it only surprised the ones still believing the rumors and the ones who were making them up.

Ella was already getting the princess treatment when you were strictly friends, being somewhat of a people pleaser might’ve had something to do with it. But nonetheless she loved you with all your flaws, just like you did her.

The lovey dovey attitude never disappeared, even as you transitioned from being immature teenagers to being mature adults, you were still acting like lovesick teens who just fell in love for the first time. 

And not surprising was that the princess attitude never really disappeared, she was still letting you carry her training bag for her and give her massages. It wasn’t like she demanded you do these things for her, you just did them like you knew exactly what it was that she needed. Though when she was cranky her mood definitely changed drastically, princess behavior turned up to the max.

The only thing that really bothers you about the whole thing is your teammates' excessive teasing. It made you uncomfortable and you felt as though you couldn’t properly express your love for your girlfriend without being ridiculed. Despite the amount of years you’d spent around your United teammates, you were still closed off around most of them, the only exceptions being Alessia, Mary and Ella.

And while the three tried their best to get you out of your shell, it was futile to even try, you could only work and be open with them on the pitch, where you were doing your job.

Your teammates obviously felt your absence, so in an attempt to get you to open up a little, they put team bonding at a bar, thinking that a few drinks would loosen you up. 

———

“How do I look?” It had been a while since you’d been at a bar, and you didn’t exactly know what the latest club fashion was, so instead of overcomplicating it, you just settled on a black button up tucked into navy dress pants and a brown leather belt. 

“You look good enough to eat baby, are you sure we can’t cancel and take the evening for ourselves?” Ella almost had you convinced, but when you remembered exactly how many team bonding sessions you’d missed just because of that reason, you stopped. 

“No, you already know how many team bonding outings we’ve missed, they’re going to think that we’re avoiding them.” Your shorter girlfriend’s hands come up to rest against your chest, her fingers fiddling with the upper buttons of your shirt, popping two buttons open before you take her hands in yours, pulling them up to your mouth, pressing light kisses to the backs of her hands.

“You look so gorgeous my love, but maybe you should go with other shoes? I know how you get after a while of wearing heels.” When she looks up at you with the slightest attitude, the little glare that shines through every once in a while, you put your hands on her waist and pull her body flush against your own. “Or I can stop being an idiot and let you wear whatever you want.” 

Ella hums at your response, lips resting featherlight against yours, her breath ghosting over your lips as she tells you to;

“Wear that navy suit jacket, it’s warm and your arms look nice in it.” And with that she pulls away, frustrated to no end. As you turn around to get the jacket from where it’s draped on the bed, a hand slaps your ass.

“How have I never noticed how good your butt looks in these trousers babe?” The fact that she’s a hundred percent serious is what amuses you, and even though she asked you to, Ella pouts when you put your suit jacket on, apparently not happy to not be able to shamelessly ogle your ass anymore.

“Come on love, Less is outside and I’m pretty sure that she’s going to get the wrong idea if we keep her waiting for too long.” You send the girl a wink before ushering her out of the house with minimal effort. You kept your hand on her lower back, leading her towards the back seat before you took the shotgun seat.

“One more second and I swear I was going to report you two missing.” Alessia rolls her eyes at the two of you, fake annoyance spreading across her face, and you both act like you don’t notice her huge smile.

Arriving at the bar fashionably late, you immediately spot the huge group of women standing around the bar, seemingly ordering their drinks. Ella pulls your hand to go in their direction, your feet drag against the floor in reluctance.

You listen as your girlfriend and your best friend greet the women, the best you can come up with is a meek wave. 

“A coke please. Oh and just make the sweetest and fruitiest drink you can for my missus.” Your teammates look on in confusion and slight disappointment as you order a nonalcoholic drink for yourself. It was clear that they barely knew anything about you, you weren’t a big fan of the taste or the loss of basic cognitive function.

“Y/n is our designated driver, me and Less are planning on letting loose tonight.” Ella answered their unasked question, the team nodding in disappointment.

Finding a booth big enough to fit the whole team, Ella immediately settles herself on your lap as soon as you sit down, your ice cold cola being set down on the table in favour of wrapping your arms around your soon-to-be fiancée’s waist, your hands setting in her lap. 

Everyone settles into comfortable conversations with each other, you’re content to listen to the voice of your girlfriend and Alessia, tracing shapes into her thigh and taking a swig of your now nearly flat and room temperature cola. 

“Baby, my feet hurt.” Ella stops her conversation to tell you, the tight shoes squeezing her and the high heel likely poking against her heel.

“I told you this would happen, my love.” You tell her lowly, acutely aware of a majority of your teammates' eyes on you, seemingly more engaged in your conversation than their own.

“No you said ‘I know how you get after a while of wearing them’ you never told me what would happen.” Your girlfriend sasses back, saying it as if it were fact.

“Alright, then we’ll do the usual?” Ella gets up from your lap to undo the straps of her shoes as you undo the knot of your laces, sliding your shoes off your feet and onto hers. They were a few sizes too big, despite Ella being known as the bigfoot of the team, and as she settles back onto your lap, most of your teammates look on in some sort of shock.

“Did Ella just extort you out of your shoes Y/n?” Maya asks, like she wasn’t familiar with your girlfriend’s attitude. Being put on the spot like that makes you more than uncomfortable as you shift in your seat, thankfully your slightly tipsy best friend notices it and helps you out.

“Have you seriously not noticed Ella’s obvious princess attitude? God, where are you when Y/n’s away and I have to deal with it.” Alessia joked with the younger girl, teasing her about her ignorance towards her friend and national teammate.

“So you just do what she asks you to?” Millie asks, and you look at her nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah, pretty much. Ella deserves everything in this world and if I can give her even a fraction of that then I’ll do whatever she needs me to.” You answer sincerely, there was nothing to lie about there, she was your everything. It wasn’t like they would remember it in the morning either way, they were all pretty wasted.

“Awww baby, you never told me that. I love you so much.” Ella smothers your face in kisses, seemingly forgetting the bright red lipstick she’d put on earlier. The red lip marks nearly blend into the skin of your face as you blush heavily at her actions, face closer to a beetroot than anything even remotely human.

“I think it’s time to round off the evening now before poor Y/n gets an aneurysm.” The women around the table laugh at your now significantly drunker best friend, both the blonde and the brunette being wasted by now.

Getting Alessia to pick up Ella’s shoes, you steal yours back for a more comfortable fit, Ella sneaking your jacket from its place on the chair. Turning back to see Ella basically drowning in the fabric of your jacket might be one of your favorite sights ever, she was just too adorable. 

Your hands slip around the back of her knees, the other clutching closer to her rib cage as you carry her in a bridal grip. Ella runs her hands over your flexed muscles, whistling to show off how impressed she was. Another dark blush covers your face at her drunken actions, clutching on to her legs a little tighter in an attempt to expel the embarrassment.

Ella keeps on babbling about nonsense as you bring her out to Alessia’s car, the blonde herself stumbling around behind you. She’d given you her car key at the start of the night to keep safe, and you had to shift your grip on the midfielder to be able to unlock the car.

Slinging Ella over your shoulders haphazardly, you make sure to keep a secure grip around her thighs in order to not drop her. Alessia giggles at the squeal escaping your girlfriend’s mouth, sounding almost like a creaky door.

When the car is unlocked, you carefully open the door and make sure you don’t bump the midfielder’s head, buckling her in and ignoring the way her hands travel over your body like they would at home. Making sure that her hands are inside the car so that she doesn’t get hurt when you close the door, you quickly move towards the passenger door, making sure to open it for the blonde. You were a gentlewoman after all.

After helping both the girls to buckle in, you finally get in the driver's seat, ready to transport both of them back to your house. 

They talk absentmindedly during the whole ride, light music floating through the air in its soft glow. Every once in a while you feel Ella’s hand moving up and down your bicep, seemingly entranced by the muscle. 

“Girls, we’re home. Less, the guest room is ready for you and there’s a pair of pajamas on the bed. I’ll come up with some paracetamol for you tomorrow, trust me you’ll need it.” The girl laughs at your words, exiting the car and walking up the driveway to the door of your house. 

You exit the car as well, unbuckling your girlfriend’s seatbelt and throwing her over your shoulder again. Alessia doesn’t seem to mind the wait, standing in front of your door calmly, picking at her nails.

When the click of the door being unlocked echoes through the calm night you rush into the house, leaving Alessia to close and lock the door behind you.

The blonde utters a quick goodnight before leaving you to walk up the stairs to your bedroom, the guest room on the bottom floor of the house. Ella grumbles when you place her back down on the floor, her feet likely aching still from her high heels.

“How about you take my advice next time, pretty girl? No stilettos okay.” Ella nods a little, her body swaying in an unstable way due to the alcohol still rushing through her veins, leaning against your body as you try your damned hardest to unzip her dress and get her into a comfortable pair of pajamas. 

She’s basically half asleep when you slip the oversized t-shirt over her head, the material reaching just above her knee. Pulling her into the bathroom, you make sure to brush both her and your teeth extra carefully, both of you having had sugary drinks that night.

You lift Ella up to sit on the bathroom counter as you get a makeup wipe out of her bag, carefully swiping it over her entire face, over her eyes and lips, all around her face. When you’re done, she puckers her lips for you to kiss, and when she tries to deepen the kiss even more, you pull away.

Taking out another makeup wipe from her bag, you pass it over your face, wiping away the red markings on your face. Ella frowns as her artwork is removed from your face, her pout quickly being kissed away.

Leading Ella to your bed, she quickly gets under the covers and then gestures for you to get in with her. She quickly forgets all about getting you under the covers when she sees you unbutton your shirt, mesmerized by the muscles of your stomach and arms. 

She gets up from the bed to run her fingers over them again, seeing goosebumps forming under her nails. But just as quickly as the naked skin appears, it gets covered back up again by a t-shirt, the shorter girl seemingly very disappointed with that.

She grumbles all the way until you’ve slipped in behind her in the bed, pulling her frame into yours. It fits yours like a puzzle piece, nothing more, nothing less.

Like always, Ella falls asleep in your arms rather rapidly, her drunken state impairing her ability to stay awake.

In the end, Ella’s mum had been completely wrong, she had found someone who willingly put up with her princess attitude.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x short!gn!reader (no prns)

request: i’m loving your works omgg sooo i have a request for vice captain hoshina! can you do one where soshiro and reader are holding a training session together and they’re sparring rookies and they’re both just staring at each other cause damn why’s my s/o so fine while fighting? fem reader who’s a captain or higher rank would be so cool hehealso bonus points if the rookies ask soshiro and reader to spar against each other and they do! 

warnings: rather small and short reader, i had written it with a fem reader in mind like you had mentioned but i realized there were no actual fem terms used (or prns) so i tagged it as gn! however the reader is described to be rather short with a small build, TYSM FOR THE REQ !! so sorry it took so long to get to !!!!

wc: 1300

It wasn’t like Hoshina to space out during work, but he knew this would happen the moment they assigned the two of you to help with sparring trainings together. Watching you spar, he just wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you— it was truly beyond his control, unfortunately.

“Uh, Vice-Captain,” the next one in line said, trying to get his attention. It was Iharu.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, snapping out of it finally and focusing on the officer in front of him. “Alright, whenever you're ready.”

Now, once he had started sparring, his full attention was on his opponent. He would never spar with anyone distracted if they wished for it to be serious— not even a kid. He'd move quickly and swiftly, precisely hitting Iharu wherever he showed any openings. When Hoshina sparred, it was usually over before the opponent knew it. Iharu would be on the ground and Hoshina would have his arm by his neck to show what would've happened if he had a sword. It was beautiful, to say the least.

Iharu’s eyes were wide in shock— he knew Hoshina was strong, but he thought he'd be able to do a little more.

“Iharu, you need to calm down a little more,” he said.

“I know, I need to think a few steps further and I just—,” he started to explain.

“No, I can tell you're trying to think ahead. However, you're stressing out over that way too much. I’m sure you're trying not to move only by instinct, which is definitely a good idea, but sometimes I think you can trust your gut a little. Calm down, I'll guide you a little more next round,” he said.

“Thank you,” Iharu said, grateful of the feedback and quickly moved to the back of the line again.

Now, his eyes were on you again. They always were. You were going against Aoi, and it was truly a sight to see. You weren't all that tall, rather short if anything compared to all these tall men, and definitely far shorter than Aoi, but that wasn't going to hold you back. Not one bit.

The way you'd move swiftly but confidently always made him beam. It wasn't like you were doing anything flashy, or insane, it was just every move you did had a purpose. With absolutely no unnecessary movements, your every move was precise.

It was rather obvious that Aoi had subconsciously let his guard down from the difference in your builds, even if he didn't mean to at all. Though that only lasted a few seconds. Immediately, he knew you were leagues above him. You'd observe so carefully— predicting his next move, watching for cues, reacting on time. There was so much thinking you did while you sparred, but it worked so well for you, and when you succeeded in such a method, it truly looked like magic from afar. Quick and precise dodges, a jab in the slightest opening, a swift hit where it was least unexpected (or rather, seemed impossible for do).

And Hoshina loved watching you spar. Because you looked so thrilled doing so. You seemed to be having just as much fun as he was excited to watch you fight. Of course, he loved the pure skill in your craft that you had acquired through loads and loads of effort, but he loved how you looked so excited sparring someone new. How you jumped around in seemingly glee and not just the calculated steps you made. 

You were so attractive when you sparred, he was afraid all these new officers would fall for you after this.

Your sparring with Aoi was over soon enough, and he finally realized how long he was spaced out for.

“Sorry, I'll get it together,” he said to the next officer in line, but they were all looking at your match too. Just watching.

Perhaps it was mesmerising to see someone with a smaller build show absolutely no disadvantages you faced, even if there probably were many. Or rather, inspiring, might be the word.

“It feels like I watched a magic show on one end,” Reno said to Hoshina. He was next.

“Doesn’t it?” Hoshina replied, rather smug, which perplexed Reno.

“Entranced by me, over there?” you teased from the lack of, well, sparring happening in Hoshina’s line.

“Bullseye, I fear,” Hoshina replied, to which you blushed a little. He wasn't one to reply so genuinely with so many people around.

“Oh, shut up, get to work,” you said, immediately feeling slightly flustered. “Next!”

“Is that how you talk to your Vice-Captain, Platoon Leader (L/n)?” he asked and you jutted your lips out in frustration. So now you were Platoon Leader (L/n).

“Apologies, Vice-captain,” you said.

“Hmm… what should I make you do,” he pondered out loud. You didn't think he'd actually make you do something. “You should spar with me.”

You blinked. “You could just ask normally, you know?”

“Shut up, you're no fun,” he said.

“Alright, I'll spar you later,” you said.

“Woo-hoo!” he said and that made you laugh. You were feeling rather ‘woo-hoo!’ about sparring him too. It's been a while since you had done so.

He was actually far more excited than he'd like to admit. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than watching you spar, it definitely had to be sparring against you. As soon as the training was complete and everyone had the advice they needed, it was finally time for you.

“Would it be okay if I watched?” Reno asked, and you grinned.

“Absolutely,” you said. “Make sure you go spread around that I absolutely beat his ass later.”

“Beat who now?” Hoshina asked, but you just smiled.

After all this time working and sparring with him, you had only actually beat him once. Perhaps today would be your second.

“Whenever you're ready,” he said and you sneered. You got the first move. You stayed low, keeping yourself small. Hoshina specialized in going against smaller kaiju, but they were all still larger than him. Even when he sparred, he wasn't the tallest nor the largest, so it wasn't often he sparred with someone smaller than him.

After a few seconds you jumped right back. You remembered to breathe. Hoshina was a horrible opponent for you because you centered your moves on openings you could observe, but Hoshina hardly had any openings to begin with, and the ones he did have were far too fast to deal with. You'd have to focus more than ever. You took another deep breath again.

“Okay, I'll go ahead then,” he said. You had to force yourself to relax. It was just human instinct to stiffen at the sight of him coming at you. Relax, but stay focused.

He knew you'd stay low so he kept his body rather low too, but everything was terrifyingly fast. However, as time went on you found yourself focusing better and finally you managed to land a hit on him. You both took a step back, catching the breath you didn't realize you had lost.

Again, without a word, the two of you started to spar again. This went on and on until finally your knees hit the floor and you didn't seem to have the strength to stand.

“Ugh,” you said, frustrated. You flopped onto the floor and lied down, the exhaustion immediately catching up to you.

There were still a few around who had stayed to watch, but it was as if he didn't remember. Or didn't care.

“Love,” he said, crouching down by your side to face you. His eyes were wide and he had a smile he couldn't hide. He looked absolutely in love with you, to which you had to blush at. “Wanna go again?”

You laughed. You could hardly even stand.

“Absolutely.”