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phyrestartr · 7 months ago

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Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils.

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him.

Piss off, runt.

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.”

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.”

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper.

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo.

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket.

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails.

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful?

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him.

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him.

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing.

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces.

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud.

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.”

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature.

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him.

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make.

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you.

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape.

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you.

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace.

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for.

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all.

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes.

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?”

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible.

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.”

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.”

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted.

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.”

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?”

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it.

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?”

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him.

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else.

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted.

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight.

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding.

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent.

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard:

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful.

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal.

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it.

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world.

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you.

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine.

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.”

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.”

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.”

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.”

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?”

“Of course.”

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you.

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events.

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck.

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder.

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted.

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down.

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him.

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.”

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.”

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–”

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit.

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges.

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it.

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained.

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale.

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.”

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.”

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun.

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow.

“Another?”

“Kiss.”

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.”

“Oh?”

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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thekeystothebasement · 2 years ago

Note

REQUEST!! Head empty just thinking about throwing the 141 guys on their back to ride the living soul out of them till they're babbling non sense+ including König and graves these boys are to die for🤤🤎🤎🤎

A/N: I'm slowly making my way through the requests, This one took me a bit longer than I expected. It was quite challenging writing similar prompts for different characters without sounding repetitive.I went hard on Captain Price and Ghost's parts but I sort of felt like the quality went down after that :(

Let me know what ya'll think!

Check out my post: WIPS and Requests if you're interested in what I have planned or curious about the rules I set for requests.

Captain Price:

You've been needy all day and Price hasn't been giving you the attention you've been craving.

He was constantly pacing around the base, in meetings, and never having an opportunity to be with you until you found one.

After wandering around the base like a lost puppy looking for its owner, you found Price at his office, sitting in his big leather chair.

You could hear him sigh out of frustration, rubbing his temple, you could see the exhaustion on his face.

Normally you would leave him alone or even convince him to rest but you were so fucking needy.

The ache between your legs only seems to grow by the second.

Seeing him lean back into his leather chair, legs spread and letting out a sigh of frustration you finally decided to pounce.

"Daddy" you whimpered as you bounced on his dick. You were riding him eagerly, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. Normally Price would be so rough with you, pounding you against his desk and calling you a whore, his little slut. But Price couldn't even form a coherent sentence. Any words coming from his mouth were slurred as he looked at you with hooded eyelids.

"I'm a good girl, right?" you asked as you kept your relentless pace. "I'm taking care of daddy." you giggled as you felt him throb inside of you. You rocked your hips against him as you leaned closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"C'mon daddy, let it out." you whimpered. You gently nipped at his ear earning a throaty moan from him. "Let your baby take care of you. Be a good boy for me."

You let out a gasp at his weak attempt to thrust up into you, his nails leaving marks on your hips.

"Princess..." he whimpered

"Yes, sir?" you were smiling down at him, feeling him tense under you before shuddering as his cum shoots deep into you. His body goes limp on the leather chair as you continue to ride him, not satisfied with the amount of cum he gave you.

"Giving up already?" you pouted. You could feel his semen run down your burning thighs, leaving you even hornier.

"C'mon old man, your princess wants more."

Ghost:

Ghost never liked to relinquish control.

Whenever you tried to take the reigns you were always put in your place

On your back with your legs over his shoulder as he pounded into you, desperately trying to breed you.

Despite how good he made you feel, you always had the fantasy to be on top.

You wanted Ghost to be the one left quivering and begging.

You wanted to be the one in control. You wanted to be the one to be able to hold's Ghost pleasure over his head.

You wanted Ghost to beg you to let him cum, which is exactly what your ears are hearing.

"Fucking hell, don't do this to me, baby..." Simon pleaded. The rope tied around his wrist wouldn't budge no matter how hard Simon's hands tried to reach out to your body. He couldn't remember how many times you kept bringing him to the edge of pleasure, riding his cock and squeezing your warm wet cunt around him, to only pull away when you feel the familiar throb of his cock ready to burst his semen inside you.

"C'mon lieutenant..." you whispered into his ear as your fingernail traveled from his neck down to his chest. "I know you can beg better than that. How much do you want to cum inside this wet pussy." You teased.

You can see how red his tip was, practically ready to blow his load inside you with the slightest touch. His breathing was labored, his chest rapidly rising and falling. The rope tied around his ankles kept him from bucking his hips into you, as you hovered over him. Your pussy is just a few mere centimeters from his cock.

"c'mon princess..." he choked out, completely frustrated in the predicament he woke up to. "Please ride me..."

You couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on your face as you looked down at Simon. As soon as those words left his mouth you bounced down onto his cock earning a whimper from the man below you.

"As you wish lieutenant."

Soap:

You and Soap had made a bet after a heated argument in front of the 141 task force.

Somehow the topic landed on Sex

Soap had begun to brag that he could last hours to the point he'd outlast his partner which earned a snort from you.

All eyes landed on you at your reaction, Soap didn't take it lightly and thus started your mini argument

The argument ended when you and Soap agreed to have sex with each and see who would last the longest.

The group was astounded at the interaction and decided to stay at the bar longer than they planned as they watched you and Soap leave.

They did not want to be around you both as the bet took place.

"Johnny..." you panted as you looked down at the male before you. His eyes were squeezed shut as he roughly panted below you. "Admit it. You can't outlast me. My pussy is about to put you to sleep."

Soap could only whimper as you continued to bounce on his cock, vulgar wet sounds emitted by your actions. A ring of white can be seen in the base of his cock, the ring getting thicker and thicker as you continued to ride him. His hips would lazily try to meet yours, missing the rhythm you had set.

Your giggles echoed in his room as you felt his body stiffen, knowing his semen was about to be freed from their chamber. You could hear him babble nonsense as your cunt squeezed around his cock, squeezing the last bit of cum he had. Hissing as he nutted in you.

"you're a fucking minx..." he panted out. His hand tapped the inside of your cum covered thighs.

"Tapping out, Johnny?"

Gaz:

You and Gaz were the youngest members of the task force.

Because of this, you two got along well.

A little too well for everybody's comfort

It was no secret you two were fooling around with each other

Every member has their own experience catching you two in the act, mortifying all who were involved

But that never stopped you and Gaz from doing it again

The bathroom, kitchen, and even the sparring room were not safe from your lewd acts

Hell, you could imagine Price's shouting already

You were riding Gaz on Price's favorite couch, the worn-out fabric couch by the coffee table

"You got issues Gaz,"

Gaz was leaning back on the couch, 'coincidentally' the very spot Price sits on every day. He watched as you did all the work. Watching as your breasts jiggled with every bounce on his dick. He leaned further into the couch as you continued to belittle him.

"You like it when we get caught," you teased. "Pervert."

Gaz felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head, you were breathtaking, you looked so beautiful riding him. Your hands settled on his shoulders as you raised your hips and fell down on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass.

"Hurry up and cum Gaz," you gasped out. His fingers tightened around your hips as he edged closer and closer to the height of his pleasure. "Don't want the Captain to walk in and see me riding his favorite sergeant?"

"...fuck..."Gaz moaned. His eyes squeezed shut as he imagined your words. "...baby"

"Sick-fuck..." you teased. You quicked your pace, moving your hips in a circular manner. "You want the Captain to see me milk your cum from your balls?"

"shit..oh god..." Gaz cried out. You felt his body stiffen as he chanted 'yes baby' He could feel your walls squeezing around him, desperately trying to milk him.

As you feel his cum dribble down your thigh, your next set of words had him running through a list of emotions, his limp dick twitching inside of you despite his consciousness telling him how wrong it was to be getting hard in the situation he found himself in.

"Hi, Captain. Enjoying the show?"

Konig:

Konig's eyes followed you everywhere and you noticed for quite a bit of time.

You never really held a conversation with the tall male before.

He was too anxious to talk to you but whenever you approached him and try to converse with him, he could only reply with one-word responses.

Despite the lack of conversations, you enjoyed his presence.

You would be writing in your journal across from him and he would sketch on his sketchpad.

You've seen his sketches before, he was quite skilled and you rained compliments on him.

He would awkwardly laugh at your compliments, his mask hiding the big smile and blush on his cheeks.

Konig's body would soon stiffen under your next question, his hand harshly gripping at his sketchpad, and his pencil snapped in the other.

"Have you ever done nude art?"

You already knew the outcome when you suggested he draw you nude.

The devious smile on your face as you led him to your room and rid yourself of your clothes.

You admired Konig's self-control when he actually did try to sketch you nude but you had other plans.

"Mesmerize every square inch of my body." you panted. Konig was sprawled on the floor as you used his body for your complete and utter pleasure. His sniper hood was discarded in the room as his forearm covered his eyes, tears streaming down his face from the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing his overstimulated cock.

Whimpers and breathy moans escaped his throat and released into the room. Wet sounds resonated in the room as you bounced on his cock and scratched and clung to his chest.

"I'll remember..." Konig breathed out. "I'll remember...Scheiß...your curves..and...tight pussy"

You laughed at his weak attempt to reply to you, his sentence broken each time your ass landed on his balls earning whimpers and curses from the male. You could feel Konig's dick throb inside of you and his moans becoming higher and more frequent.

"Cum inside of me..."You begged. "and then you'll be able to draw me full of your semen."

Graves:

As soon as you got a glimpse of his eyes, you knew you were going to fuck him into submission

The way his eyes would shined when he stepped into the dinner and noticed a cute young waitress looking at him with a soft smile

He'd sit in a booth and pray you'll be his waitress for the night

He'd subtly flirt with you but you knew what you wanted and aggressively flirted right back at him

His eyes would follow your figure as you'd walk away, his eyes focusing on your ass

When you returned with his food you sat in the chair in front of him and kept him company as he ate his meal

Eventually, your boss yelled at you to get back to work, leaving Graves smirking at the small pout on your face.

You would lean down to his ear, his eyes gazing at your cleavage, your hand squeezing his shoulder as you whispered into his ear, "I get off at 10. If you'll wait for me, I'll make it worth your while."

You stood back up, dusting your skirt and sending him a wink before getting back to work

Despite the car having tinted windows, the rocking of the car and the smudged handprints on the windows gave away what was happening inside.

Phillip was sprawled on the car seat that was set all the way down, you were sat on his clothed dick, rocking your wet folds against the wet fabric of his briefs. His briefs stained with his cum and your arousal.

“C’mon baby….fuck,” Graves whined. “Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”

You gave him false hope as you lifted your hips up and pulled down his briefs. You continued to rock your hips, your wet folds spreading your arousal on his red tip. You felt him shudder under your teasing, his eyes squeezed shut as his hands tried to grip the leather seats.

“Please stop teasing me, baby.” He begged.

You grinned at him, lining yourself up with his dick before you slowly eased him inside of you. Your eyes closed shut momentarily before the were snapped open, feeling Grave shoot his cum inside of you.

Your laughter filled the car as you began to bounce on his dick, whimpers and moans escaping from Graves.

“Was my pussy that good,” you questioned. “Fucking nutted just by being inside of me….Pathetic”

Graves couldn’t help but enjoy the way you degraded him, feeling your warm walls hug his cock, and the way yours eyes looked down at him. Your eyes looking at him as if he was a toy for your pleasure. Disregarding how sensitive he was from all your teasing, not caring how many times you made him cum inside of his briefs, his cum and your arousal mixed with each other, wet sounds emitted each time you lowered your hips all the way till his balls were tightly pressed against your ass.

“Shit….gonna fuck myself on your cock till the sunrise…”you said as you felt him throb inside of you once again.

“ if you can even last that long…”

10K notes · View notes

a-ikuoliver · 11 months ago

Text

honing your kickboxing skills with pro hero dynamight can lead to a) insane improvements of your skills, becoming the best version of yourself with each critique you get, b) a crush like no other you’ve ever had in your life, or c) all of the above?

pairing: pro hero!katsuki bakugou x f!reader w/c: 9.3k warning/s: fem!reader (“girl”, “cunt”, “pussy” used) slight age gap but not a main plot point, a lil bit of violence, making out, brattish reader, choking (ish), hair pulling, dry humping, slight edging, public sex, unprotected sex, panty stealing, implied use of birth control notes: this post was fucking me up man, uh also ik bakugou is cracked in hand to hand, just have a fun make believe moment where this seems realistic LMAO also apologies for how long my sentences are :// im a yappy girl crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

sucking in a deep, controlled breath, you let the air slowly escape your lips as your head fell back, gently leaning on the mirrored wall of the elevator; nearly impossible to hear the ding of your arrival onto the gym floor over the blood still pounding in your ears. you always took this moment to yourself at the end of a patrol, deep meditative breaths to relax, to ease yourself into the mindset you needed for your evening training, clearing your head and trying to focus on your muscles instead of any unpredictable thing that happened on your patrol. tonight was different, the last time you would train without your favourite hero; it was impossible for you to calm your heart rate down, your body buzzing in anticipation, and you couldn’t even lie about why. excited, borderline desperate to work beside the one hero who had your cheeks flushing before your workout even began again. you were always happy to see some of the other heroes you admired, the high-end gym attracting plenty of rookie heroes like yourself, and even more pro heroes, but none catching your eye quite like him. tonight, it was empty, the timed lights flickering on the moment the elevator doors opened, revealing the long wall of mirrors, bouncy dark grey mats lining the floor, red punching bags hanging from the ceiling beside the free-standing ones, and weight racks further up in the room and a floor and cardio section around the corner of the wall.

the clean, structured gym reminds you of your high school gym where you first fell in love with kickboxing, although that had a far smaller blue ring for you to spar with your classmates in. much like the agency leader, you worked every spare moment you could to climb your way to the top of your class, never once missing a chance for training in high school, refusing to fall behind in your dream to become a hero, your reflexes and quirk growing stronger in the three years you trained there, your favourite teacher once reminding you they had needed to changed the worn down mats so often he’d lost count. smiling to yourself, you followed the wall and entered the showers just past the rowing machines, slipping out of the hero costume and into your comfortable gym wear, the dynamight agency logo embossed on the chest of your loose, airy shirt, one of the best agencies japan had to offer.

aside from the top-of-the-line gym being available to you at any time with your staff key, the best part of the dynamight agency gym was who frequented the gym. when you were first hired, the gym was crawling with fellow rookie heroes destressing after their first patrols as full fledged pros, all of your class scattering to agencies around japan right after graduation, some of your classmates joining you here in your first year, now, two years later, only a few of them remained at the same agency, and fewer staying on the same schedule as you. you still saw a few here and there, mostly while you were patrolling; but now your schedule finished your patrol at the quietest time in the agency, especially its gym, passing red riot only once as he was in the elevator going down, dyed hair still damp from his shower and dressed in a casual shirt that clung so tight around his forearms you wondered if he bought his shirts one size too small. you’d cooled down on the treadmill three times so far next to the cheerful chargebolt and cellophane, both of them egging each other on, hearing one bet the other on who could do more pull-ups every single time they were in here, the competition fairly even last you remembered.

but the one that kept you coming back night after night, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you every time your eyes locked onto his carnelian ones, was the agency’s namesake, dynamight. you saw the hero at least once a week, always with sweat plastering ash blond to his forehead, his lower lash line smudged with leftover black face paint (he’d demanded you stop calling it his makeup despite his brand of eyeliner being the same as yours) and his shirt clinging to his skin if he kept it on, happening so often now your heart would stutter and your smile falter if you didn’t see the explosive bakugo.

you’d be lying if you tried to say seeing him didn’t do twice to motivate you, the ease with which the hardened hero consistently got you into submission had you working out for double the time you typically would, fixating on the way his thighs would pin your shoulders to the mat while he held your hand to his chest, forcing your head down until you gave up wiggling and would tap twice wherever on his body you could reach. you hated to admit it, but he had you submitting so often, you’d usually start complaining about his victory the moment you recognised the movement of his legs coming to wrap around your body, knowing without a doubt it would end with you panting, pressed to the mats and usually trying to get any sort of advantage over him that you could. he was the only one you lost to every time, the idea of one day having his body pinned beneath yours keeping you infinitely motivated, pushing yourself further and harder. you made your way home most nights with his glowing red eyes burned into your mind, his teeth bared in a crazed smile each time he got you underneath him, memories replaying in your head of the times the god-like man would joke with you, “who’s the best? who’s the king, sweetheart?”, waiting for you to agree before he’d release his strong hold on you, just to rub salt in the wound, always that stupid, arrogant smirk on his face.

god, he was addictive.

your determination to reverse the roles had you beating into the punching bag with everything you had, your hits landing in quick succession, the weighted bag hardly having enough time to swing back into place before you’d land another blow on it. you were distracted today, not being able to shake your longing for a proper spar with bakugou while swinging your fist forward again, pouting slightly when you connected with sand instead of muscle. you hated the way the bag couldn’t fight back, defend itself the way he would, hating that the bag didn’t stare down at you the same way he did, blond hair blocking the fluorescent lighting bearing down behind him, leaving his features hidden in the shadows; his ruby gaze all that was discernible. most of all, you hated that the punching bag didn’t keep you on your toes, no strong legs to sweep your own feet out from beneath you, no hands to catch your punches, the sand-filled bag made for nothing except taking the force of your punches.

with a grunt, you kicked the side of the punching bag where his muscular thigh would be, knocking it to the floor with an echoing thud, letting out a breathless laugh, imagining bakugou’s gorgeous face in its place on the ground, smug grin wiped off of his face, criticism dying on his lips in place of his submission. you felt your body flush with heat at the picture in your mind, looking forward to seeing him again, longing to hear the heavy panting and his echoing grunts whenever you landed a jab on him.

having gone without hearing or seeing him for nearly six weeks now, you were becoming more and more desperate to prove yourself and claim your victory over the one person you’d never beaten hand-to-hand, and just maybe, to hear his wolfish laugh and smell his addictive mix of spicy cologne and sweet sweat.

standing the weighted bag back up on its base, you flexed your hands before going back to hitting it with your all, the bag barely stabilising when you hit it again, your knee landing with an echoing thump moments before your fist connected in the centre of the bag, right where bakugou’s solar plexus would be if he were the one standing in front of you.

you watched the bag bounce back, waiting for it to settle on its base before you glanced up to the clock to see 3:02am blinking back at you. already here an hour later than you’d usually stay, you took a deep swig from your cold water bottle, deciding to stay one more hour before you’d go home, rationalising you didn’t need a full eight hours of sleep until you had bakugou beneath you, your thighs wrapped around him until he tapped your knee in submission like you’d had to do to him countless times before. the thought of beating your boss had a surge of adrenaline and endorphins pumping into your blood; your foot planted on the mat while your other swung forward, forcing the punching bag skittering several feet back across the floor. you finished your rotation, landing back in your defensive stance with your feet planted and your fists in front of your smiling face.

“that was better,” smiling, you breathlessly muttered praise, the same way bakugou would if you’d landed that hit on him.

you jumped, your head whipping around to face where a deep voice had echoed your words, the tone more matter-of-fact, compared to your high, excited one. you kept your fists high and just beneath your squared shoulders, elbows beside your ribs. your eyes narrowed to search the darkness near the edge of the room, worried the noise was simply part of the low, fast beat playing through the speakers scattered across the ceiling.

“settle down, extra, ‘m not here to hurt you.” his voice was rough, and thick with sleep, becoming more apparent when he stepped into the white lighting of the gym and you saw his mussed hair and slightly puffy eyes, dressed in loose, comfortable clothes and holding a plain black canvas bag in his left hand. your heart jumped into your throat at the sight of him, relaxing only as much as your thrumming veins could let you, a whole new electrical current surging through you not letting your shoulders slump or your thighs mirror his casual stance, his proximity already having your mind grow foggy despite the older hero still standing metres across the room.

almost as if he wanted your heart racing, he made his way to you across the room, his vermillion eyes dropping from your gaze to rake over your body, taking in your stance, “lazy, keep your fists in line with your shoulders, always expect ‘em to fight back.”

his voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he criticised you, muffled while his virile hands rubbed over his tired features, clearing his throat, his voice grew a touch in volume, “what are you even doin’ here at three in the morning?”

you ignored his question momentarily, fixing your fists to be in line with your squared shoulders, raising your eyebrow in a silent question of approval, dropping your arms and adjusting to a more casual position once he nodded, “gotta beat you somehow,”

bakugou laughed, no cackled, at your confident tone, not in a condescending way, but a more surprised laugh, your response seemingly catching him off guard, expecting a typical “i wanna crack the top 20!” rather than a personal mission to best him. returning his smile, you turned around to throw on your loose top, the fabric clinging to your slick, hot skin, figuring your boss was about to tell you to go home and rest and start some hypocritical lecture about burning the wick at both ends without any sleep. as soon as the shirt was pulled off your face and your eyes met him again, you continued, “what about you? did you get home last night?”

he nodded instead of speaking at first, his fiery red eyes tracking your every movement while you packed away your equipment scattered around the grey floor you were moving around between, keeping only your towel on top of your bag, your water bottle beside it and your phone next to that.

“just got back, was gonna drop some shit off,” he lifted the bag in a gesture to it, before placing it on the ground beside yours, the canvas rustling but no other noise coming from it to indicate it was heavy, the blond hero seemingly only dropping it because he planned to stay rather than follow his initial plan, “saw the lights, n’ then i heard that fuckin’ music you’re always listenin’ to.”

feigning offence at his distaste for your music, you held a still-wrapped hand to your heart, sure your eyes gave away the lovesickness you felt with him recognising the song instead of the faux venom you were aiming for. you turned back around after brushing off his insult, sliding the punching bag back across the grey mat to its spot between the countless others lining the wall, missing the way his tired eyes dropped to stare at the back of your thighs in your workout shorts, watching the way your muscles twitched when you planted your feet to push it the final foot into its place. his reflexes still fast enough to flick back to your face when you turned to tease him over your shoulder, “that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, i never knew jet lag would make you such an angel.”

the blond hero barked out a too-loud laugh for the time of night it was, but it had you smiling widely, the look in his eyes a mirror to your own, all trace of sleep replaced with the easy playfulness you fell into together; the teasing, tension and challenge swirling in the air whenever you two were drawn into each others gravity. your stomach flipped at the look in his eyes, trying to ignore your carnal need to let your eyes roam over him after so long, wanting to commit the look of him so comfortable and relaxed to memory, much like how the view of his sculpted, muscular back was imprinted in your mind. somehow, the way he was dressed had you nearly drooling, his attire nearly as sinful as when he was half naked with a sheen coating his exposed skin, hair darkened and sticking to his face, gym shorts hanging low, but you were sure he could make anything look borderline lewd.

you loved when you were alone with him, not having to hold back your impish jabs to stay professional in front of fellow heroes who didn’t understand the friendship you’d built with the explosive hero; but it did come with its downsides, it was impossible to sneak glances at him when there was no one else to distract him from your drifting eyes. you especially loved the exasperated look he got when he was grappling in the ring with you and someone interrupted him, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes glaring at whoever announced dynamight had an “urgent” phone call, typically it being his pr team readying some statement for him on the other end.

he never looked at you that way. carnelian eyes always swimming with something else you could never place your finger on, but it was far from the disgruntlement he looked at everyone else with.

“you really think so?” his husky voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts, your eyes meeting his gaze boring into you once again, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the look. could he hear your thoughts? did he know the way you looked at him when he wasn't watching you? your mouth was bobbing open and shut with these questions swimming in your mind for a second before you found your voice again to innocently question him, “think what?”

“that you can beat me.” he quoted back to you, ruby red eyes staying on yours even while he dropped himself onto the weight-lifting bench beside him, his thighs spreading as he tilted his chin up at you, challenging you, “i already had to fix your stance, extra, you think you’ll ever land a hit on me like that?”

narrowing your eyes you spun on your heel to stalk towards the cushioned mats, the ring you were both all too familiar with, your fingertips buzzing at the challenge hanging in the air, “try me.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time,” bakugou teased, watching the way your wrapped hands twitched at your sides, fingers flexing to confirm the red wrap wasn’t going anywhere. you rolled your eyes in response, knowing his idea of a good time was kicking your ass.

he stayed on the bench, his nonchalant posture betrayed only by his eyes tracking you like a hunter, not a single movement you made went unnoticed by the seasoned hero, every single twitch, every breath caught by his expert gaze. you stood your ground, quirking an eyebrow in a silent challenge, not showing your tentativeness at what might happen if he did decide to stalk over to you; you’d been working your hardest in the past four weeks to try and shock him with your skills, who’s to say he wasn’t working, all the same, to be even less predictable in the ring with you?

“you scared?” you retorted, returning the smirk that was glued to his face when he did exactly what you hoped he would; standing straight from the bench to pull his shirt over his head, tearing his eyes from your hungry ones only for the split second the fabric shielded his face from you, throwing the black cloth to the ground beside his bag while he took long strides over to you. you’d never admit it aloud to a single soul, but your heart skipped a beat the moment he was in front of you again, standing to his full height, predatory eyes always observing. he was closer to you than before, the scent that was so him was radiating from him, invading your senses, any plan of attack clouded by the way you’d missed him. not even within a foot from you and he already had you mesmerised like that was his quirk, all your excitement of seeing him again twisting into nerves, your attraction to him hitting you like a brick wall.

you shook your head, trying to clear your mind, fixing your fists in line with your shoulders while bakugou circled the mat for a few moments before stopping again in front of you. with his heels planted and standing in a defensive stance, he waited for you to make the first move, he tauntingly stood still, looking like a carved statue, or maybe like the muse for one, perfectly still while artists chipped away to recreate his likeness. you took in one last calming, deep breath, willing your crush to subside for just a moment, just long enough to fulfil your craving.

with the older hero poised and waiting for your first attack, you decided not to keep him waiting any longer, jumping at him faster than you could dream of being capable of a month ago, catching a satisfying flash of shock across his features mere milliseconds before you landed your first blow; your fist connecting with his arms in front of his face in a block, forcing a grunt from his lips, the blow harder than he was used to from you.

bakugou tried to hide his admiration for your determination to prove to him that not only could you beat him, but you would. you landed one more hit on his stomach with a strong fist while he was lost in his thoughts, his elbows not swinging down fast enough to protect himself from your fist connecting.

any trace of apprehension you had disappeared after successfully knocking the breath from the fiery blond, stepping back with renewed energy, blowing on your fist to rub salt in the wound at landing a hit on him so quickly. he laughed wolfishly at your joking, his demeanour minutely switching, biceps flexing when he moved as he retorted, “oh, sweetheart, you’re in for it now.”

your smirk faltered, your swollen ego deflating like a popped balloon when he lunged at you, lifting your arms in a block when he was only inches away, landing punches on you every chance he got. the blows were little more than love taps, not exactly soft, but not enough to put you out of commission, serving more as a lesson that he would always be the king of kickboxing. you blocked another hit aimed at your face, baring your teeth as you finally remembered you could move, swinging your leg up, landing the harsh kick to the side of his thigh with a roundhouse kick, having just finished your rotation around before you kicked again, this time your heel landing squarely in his chest before he could recover enough to block you.

your kicks knocked him backwards, giving you only seconds to stalk over to him before he’d recover and have you half regretting the decisions that led you here; you landed only a few more hits to his chest and face, bakugou parrying and dodging nearly all of them, his vermillion eyes locked on you, watching the way you watched him, trying to predict the way he’d defend himself. he noted the way you weren’t focusing on landing one type of hit on him, evenly balancing kicks and jabs at him, one thing he was constantly pointing out to you, his biggest criticism was always your predictability.

inches away from the edge of the ring, you retreated only slightly, thinking for a split second before you decided to spin around with your elbow ready to strike, hoping when your elbow connected with his cheek he would be dazed enough for you to get behind him and get him to the floor. instead, your body jolted, being met with six feet of pure muscle, warm hands gripping your elbow, keeping it a mere inch away from connecting right beside his hypnotising eyes, you sucked in a surprised gasp, knowing his bicep would be around your throat in the blink of an eye, his mischievous eyes clear he thought he’d won.

“what was it you said?” you growled, swinging your your arm back with more strength than any of your previous blows, your free elbow landing into his solar plexus; the hulking man grunting more with shock than you knocking the breath from him and knocking his balance, but you took your chance to escape his grasp while you could. you whipped around once more, staring down at bakugo’s kneeling frame with an insane smile growing on your face, planting your heel to land your finishing kick to his chest.

“always expect them to fight back?” you were getting cocky now.

katsuki’s eyes widened, not having quite enough time to stand back to his full height and slip past you, choosing instead to block your blow, not pushing you aside but catching it; sliding one warm hand up your ankle, tugging you closer with a strong grip until your ankle was beside his hip and his other hand reached up in line with the centre of your chest, a powerful strike from his palm knocking you completely off balance and onto your back. winded, you landed with a grunt, staring up at bakugo’s ever-smug face hanging right above yours, his hips between your own, still keeping a tight grip on your ankle in his left hand, his free forearm pressing down across your heaving chest. you were effectively pinned beneath him, his entire body weight bearing down against you, preventing your free leg from kicking him off you, and your arms unable to reach high enough to land a punch with his muscular arm keeping your shoulders hard to the mat.

it was an undeniable win, even without having you in a chokehold.

“you’re so fucking–” you whined like a child, thrashing as much as his body would allow, wanting him off you before his gloating started and you’d have nowhere left to look except his soft, smirking lips.

“strong? mighty? the king? feel free to stop me when i’m right.”

“annoying.” your head fell back onto the cushioned mat in defeat, avoiding his garnet eyes, not wanting to see the addicting, animalistic look he got in his eye whenever he won. the hero still above you laughed in response to your childish whines, his chin falling to his chest and his body shaking with the rumbling laugh, your heart clenched at the sound. he readjusted his weight while still laughing, his hips and forearm lifting off your skin to leave you cold for just a moment.

long enough of a moment for you to blindly try to buck him off you again; your right leg still in his hold, but leaving your left leg free to kick his shoulder, doing little more than slide you backwards on the mat a foot or two, not nearly enough for you to stand up and attempt to disarm him. millions of thoughts were running through your head, every one a different strategy for your escape, to get behind bakugou and circle your bicep around his throat.

you lifted your leg again, your thigh flexing with the movement, about to kick out once more to free your ankle still trapped in his hot grip; interrupted by the blond diving on you, looking more like a panther catching its fearful prey in its claws than a human man sparring with a friend, his teeth were bared, pointed canines poised to tear you to shreds. landing back on top of you, he had his thighs between your hips again, the soft fabric hiding the pure muscle beneath it, the strength in his legs keeping you from moving again, and your legs caught beneath his arm, calves pinned to his ribs, immobilising your lower half. his thick fingers were looped around your neck, his chest so close to yours that if you took a deep enough breath, your chests would touch.

“you think you can get away from me that easily?” you held your breath, his voice the softest you’d ever heard it, deeper than when he barked orders or laughed like a crazed man, hot fingertips twitching against your racing pulse. his breath was fanning across your face as he whispered, his narrowed eyes flicking back and forth between your wide, shocked ones, your mouth dropping open to try and retort in the same second your thighs tensed around his body, pulling him closer in the most minute way. his heaving chest and stomach were pressed to yours, body heat becoming one, the only part of your bodies not joined were your heads, yours still resting against the mat, and his inches away, reading your face. without another word, bakugou’s face split into a signature grin, his head cocked to the side when he leaned impossibly closer to you; his muscular frame keeping you trapped under his heated gaze, whispering right to you, “is that what it is huh? never wanted to beat me, you jus’ wanted this?”

you stared dumbly up at him, unable to force your vocal cords to defend yourself in any way when his intoxicating, spiced scent was clouding your mind; trying to formulate a thought that wasn’t about the feeling of his warm abdomen against yours proving impossible, “tch, dirty girl.”

your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath hitching at his words, you closed your mouth, well aware that whatever sound came out of your mouth was not going to be something that would help your defence. his tongue darted out to wet his lips, your eyes flicking down to watch the way the muscle swiped across his pink lips before returning behind his teeth, eyes tracking his every movement while he tracked your stare. you tore your eyes away from his mouth, trying your best to harden your gaze when you looked back up to his eyes, your attempt to appear indifferent promptly failing when his sharp chin twitched, his lips only a hair's-breadth away from catching yours.

your chin twitches, desperate to close the space, to know what his lips would feel like pressed to yours with a fierce passion.

any attempts to close the space between you were dashed by his grip just tightening around your throat, keeping you at his mercy, unable to escape the way his blood red eyes bored into yours, as if he was reading your thoughts so clearly you may as well have shouted them from the agency’s rooftop.

his voice was husky, breathy, when he spoke again, “i fuckin’ knew it.”

it was a barely audible mumble, followed by him ducking his head to fill the tiny distance separating you, finally joining your bodies together entirely with his lips pressing to yours. he kissed you with the same ferocity he fought you with, something you eagerly returned, the feeling of his lips and exploring tongue had you nearly ready to snap, your body already wound tight from the last few hours already, his soft lips doing nothing to dull the electricity zapping between your bodies. he kept his smiling lips pressed to yours until he felt your taped hand snake around his wrist to hold him close, and your groans vibrated against his lips.

“i fucking knew it.” bakugou's deep laugh rumbled in his chest, repeating himself, his tone more relieved, more confident than his mumble before, although still breathless. his calloused hands still kept you under his control, glowing eyes staring down at your closed ones, your lips still parted and breathing heavily, your heartbeat fluttering beneath his fingertips whenever they tensed at all. you opened your glazed eyes to meet his hungry ones, only just catching the flash of his sharp smile at you again, your mind empty except for the need to feel him against you again and again.

ignoring the way his fingers dug into your skin to keep you still, you leaned up at the same time you reached your right hand up to bury it in the blond spikes at the back of his head, pulling him down to meet your lips in the middle again, not caring for the way you messily kissed him; lips bruising, spit mixing and teeth clashing. this time, you had him groaning against your lips when you nipped at his bottom lip, sucking it between your own, your hips jerking against his at the guttural sound.

almost as if your hips squirming against his brought him back to reality, he loosened his grip on your ankle, a warm hand gliding up your leg to roam over your thigh, abdomen and hip, roughly squeezing your hip in his hand, while the one around your throat caressed the delicate skin at your pulse point. moaning softly against his lips, you let your head fall back with your eyes squeezed shut, pressing your hips to his while sucking in deep breaths, kissing him was knocking the breath from your lungs more than his strikes did.

staring at the older hero with half-lidded eyes, you unabashedly admired him, addicted to the sensation of his fingers sliding down your chest, between your breasts, to rest at the hem of your shirt, flicking it off your hot skin, watching the way your muscles jumped at his every move.

closing your eyes again, an idea flashed in your mind, the mischievous thought cutting through the fog to land in the forefront of your mind; wasting no time, you took the opportunity to bring it to life while he was distracted by the feeling of your warm body pressed against his.

without wasting another moment, you tighten your loose grip in his hair, just enough to make him hiss in response to your fingertips scratching his sensitive scalp, his head falling backwards with a yank; your right hand reaching from his wrist to his shoulders with lightning speed, shoving him back with enough force, and with his distraction at your advantage, he lost his balance. he landed on his back with a quiet thump on the soft mats, his strong grip on your hips dragging you into his hold before you had the chance to adjust your body entirely, leaving you with no choice but to tighten your hold and land above him with your knees on either side of his hips. hastily, you slid your hand from his shoulder to pin him down with a forearm pressing at the base of his throat, pinning his shoulders, the same position you were in moments ago, this time your strong thighs either side of his hips and your forearm at his neck immobilising him.

you stared down at bakugou with a hungry look of your own sparkling in your eyes, leaning closer and closer to press your chest to his, your deep breaths mingling with his. any anxiety you felt about ruining the friendship you built fading with every passing second you stared into his carnelian eyes, fear pushed aside by the need to keep your lips pressed to his, and hands exploring each other's bodies, but you always made room in your clouded mind for one more snarky comment; “i always knew you’d look this good once i got you under me.”

the blond barked out a sharp, condescending laugh, your arm across his shoulders doing little to prevent him from reaching one of his hands up to grab you by the back of your neck, bringing your greedy lips to his again, pausing just before they connected to retort, “you haven’t done a thing i haven’t let you do, extra.”

a growl reverberated through your chest, your lip pulling back to snarl at him; his words had no bite but they still had adrenaline bubbling in your chest, any grumbling cut off by his lips slamming against yours in a rough kiss, sharp teeth dragging over soft lips, nearly cutting the plump skin. bakugou pulled your hips down to meet his bucking ones with strong calloused hands digging into your skin to keep your hot skin against his, guiding your movements while you sucked his tongue into your mouth. you revelled in the way his heart thumped under your touch, goosebumps erupting on the forearm you kept hard against his chest, refusing to let the experienced hero steal too much control back from you, the tight pectorals flexing under you giving you little reassurance you had any to begin with, aware he’d have you winded, several feet across the floor if he really wanted to show his strength.

tugging at his hair once more, you unceremoniously dropped your hand from his hair to glide down his body, dull nails dragging down his neck to the sweaty muscles of his chest, dipping into every defined divot of his abdomen you could reach, desperate to explore every inch of his body. reaching the elastic of his waistband, you paused, breaking the kiss but keeping the sensual, slow pace of your hips against his while you both gulped in deep breaths from the passionate kisses, your head lolling back with a high-pitched gasp when the seam on your gym shorts bumped your throbbing clit with a well-timed roll of your hips on his.

you had little power to stop katsuki from tightening his hold in the hair at the base of your neck, pulling you back to meet his lips with his teeth bared, your parted lips stopping just above his own when you caught yourself, your hand slipping from his throat to land beside his head with a slapping sound, keeping you only an inch above falling entirely onto him. as ravenous as you, he craned his neck to meet you halfway, his swollen lips latching onto your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, uncontrollable, breathy moans slipping from your mouth when his pointed canines grazed against your tender pulse points.

“that all it takes to get you moanin’?” he asked sarcastically, glassy, dark garnet eyes staring into yours when he dragged his teeth over the same spot once more, smirking against your skin when another sweet moan escaped you, the rhythm of your hips stuttering when he sunk his teeth harder into your skin, indenting your skin with his bite. your lust-filled eyes flashed with a playful glimmer, shoving his shoulders back until he was lying back on the mat, the bigger hero grunting at your show of force, half surprised by it, but mostly hard at your display of strength and determination to make him submit to you, even if he knew it wouldn’t happen.

“shut up,” you mumbled, your voice dropping lower and lower the closer you got to him, mirroring the kisses he’d placed on you; first pressing your lips to his adam’s apple, then another, harder kiss to the side of his throat, licking up the side of his neck until you reached just beneath his ear, sinking your teeth into the salty skin, the sound of his breath catching in his throat making your eyes turn to hearts. you opened your mouth against his skin, wanting to make your mark on his flawless skin.

“don’t even think about it, dumbass.” katsuki tried to sound venomous, threatening as to what would happen if you drew any blood to the surface of his skin, but his panting betrayed him, his glaring eyes lacking any meanness behind them, only lust reflecting in his blown pupils.

“oh please, katsuki, all your blood is rushing far from your head right now, i couldn’t get a drop out of you–”

your teasing and giggling were interrupted by the feeling of your weight shifting once again, his agile movements too quick for you to catch, unconcerned about restraining himself if it meant having you pinned under him again. once more, you were in the cliche position; your slick back on the stuffed mats, and the seasoned hero leering over you, this time he had your wrists pinned to your thighs with his knees holding them on either side of you, having torn them from his shoulders amidst flipping you off of him. thrashing again, you planted your feet and raised your hips to try and buck him off, stretching your neck off the mat, prompting him to pin your cheek back down to the mat, his warm hand holding your jaw to the side, while the other was sliding up the divot between your thighs, leaving tiny goosebumps in his wake until his thick fingers grazed over the heat radiating at the peak of them, “rich comin’ from you, i can already feel how wet you are n’ i’ve hardly touched you.”

his warm breath tickled your ear when he gloated, the hairs on the back of your neck standing when a shiver passed through your spine. noting your reaction to his gravelly voice, he pressed harder to your cheek to hold you still while he toyed with you, lazily circling his fingers over your clothed cunt, admiring the wet fabric beneath his fingertips. without even glancing up at the hero, you could picture the smug grin clearly on his face, crimson eyes monitoring every jump of your heart rate, every twitch in your hips, every flutter of your eyelids, lust-blown pupils honed into the way your bit at your lips, holding a deep breath in your chest to keep yourself from moaning salaciously.

“like you’re any bet-ter, i can feel your dick through those t-tiny shorts,” stuttering with every brush against your cunt, you tried to mimic his mean tone, your body revealing your true need to reach for him when your hands twitched against his muscular legs, desperate to dig your nails into him until he was melting into your touch, desperate to brutalise him with your affection.

“you get this hard with everyone?” you mocked his tone once more, trying, and failing, to keep your tone even as possible with your eyes mapping what the inside of your skull looked like at the euphoric feeling of his fingers exploring your skin, paying no mind to the fact you were entirely at his mercy. your hips bucked into his touch, betraying your attempt at indifference, a quiet moan escaping from your plush lips at his skilled ministrations, lightening jolting from his fingertips every time the pad of his thumb pressed against your clothed clit. sucking his teeth with disapproval, katsuki tore your shorts down your thighs in response to your restrained noise, the stitching of the garment straining to stay attached in his rough grip. shifting his knees to adjust your pinned hands, he cleared the way for the fabric to be yanked finally your ankles.

the moment your shorts were torn from your body, his strong hand returned to your wrists, snatching them and holding them above your head, taking advantage of your delirious, love-drunk state to manipulate your body exactly where he wanted it; knees knocking apart your own, his hand drifting from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head to stare back up at his sculpted face. he caught your lips in a searing kiss again, the tip of his nose pressed hard against your cheek while his hand fell from your face entirely to trail down your body, calloused fingertips sending electric shocks straight to your heart with every inch they travelled, only stopping once he reached the waistband of your panties. the older blond slipped his fingers between your burning skin and the elastic, flicking it against your skin to elicit a tiny gasp from you, taking advantage of your parted lips to let his tongue slide against yours.

he had you mewling within seconds, his two fingers rubbing your clit over your underwear getting you closer and closer to cumming without the satisfaction of his fingers even dipping inside the soaked fabric, already too sensitive from his barely-there touches and the feel of his tongue. stubbornly, you held your breath, tensing your thighs around his, refusing to climax after only a little petting and kissing, determined not to let him see what his skilled touch did to you. bakugou pulled away from you, your mouths connected for a moment longer by a string of shared saliva before you broke it with a garbled cry, his fingers pressing into your dripping pussy through your panties, the rough feeling of the fabric and his hard fingers pressing just inside you driving you crazy, the hero nearly succeeding in making you cream before he even had your panties off.

“i don't know why you’re trying to hide those pretty sounds, sweetheart, your pussy isn’t holding back about how bad she wants me.” you stared up at him with glassy eyes, the bright lights behind him haloing his head, leaving him looking like an angel despite his sinful words making your pussy clench. his ruby eyes locked on the way your cunt quivered the second he pulled his hand away to tug down the waistband of his gym shorts and briefs in one motion, leaving only your panties still separating the two of you. your gaze dropped from his face, watching instead the way his cock sprung from the confines of his cotton underwear to bob against his scarred, tanned skin, the moans you’d been holding in spilling from your lips at the sight. without another thought, you lifted your hips, rubbing your still-clothed cunt on his cock, his eyes squeezing shut with a deep moan of his own at the sensation of the cotton separating you rubbing over his sensitive cockhead.

“hurry up and do something worth screamin’ about then.” your voice hardly above a whisper when you pleaded, the blond smiling wolfishly, snatching at the challenge you dangled in front of him like it was a five-course meal served on a silver platter for him to savour. despite the arrogance radiating from him, he was squeezing the base of his cock staring down at you, trying to regain some semblance of control over himself while you writhed and sighed beneath him; ready to cum at the way you keened into his touch when he tore the waistband of your panties down your hips swiftly.

“not even a “please, katsuki”?” he bullied, tucking your plain panties in the pocket at his thigh while you were distracted, not wanting to hear your teasing at his perverted actions, he’d controlled himself for two years, he wasn’t going to give them up now. katsuki adjusted himself between your thighs, languidly fisting his thick cock, while inching closer to you, ending with your knees either side of his hips and your wrists still trapped above your head. your hard eyes were boring into his burning red ones, your mouth opening to retort with another insult, bratty words dying on your lips in place of a yelp when he bumped the head against your sensitive clit, teasing you once more, “what was that, baby?”

glaring up at him, your hips bucked again, growing more and more desperate for his dick inside you, “fuck you, kats–”

he had his cock bullying deep inside you in one easy, swift motion, cutting you off before you could finish spitting out his name. his laugh morphed to a deep groan the deeper he got inside of you, a quiet sigh escaping you both when his sensitive head jutted the lewd, spongy spot deep inside your cunt. with his hips flush against yours, your loud cry drowned out bakugou's own grunts at your tight pussy fluttering and squeezing his still dick.

true to your word, you lost yourself in your climax, with no hope of silencing your cries of pleasure, hips stuttering up against his, your cunt trying to suck him impossibly deeper. your head was swimming at how he felt buried in your guts, the sensation infinitely better than what you’d spent your days dreaming about since your first day at his agency, your fingers nothing compared to the way he had your endorphins pumping through your veins.

bakugou drank in the sight of you lost in your climax beneath him, your hair mussed and escaping from the elastic hairband desperately trying to hold it all still together, your shirt riding up to expose your sweating, heaving chest, your back arched perfectly, and a bead of sweat winding down your body like a road leading right to your dripping cunt, cream spilling down his veins to gather in a milky ring at the base. swearing, he adjusted himself, bumping your sensitive g-spot again, unable to wait any longer when you wiggled your hips further down onto him.

pulling his hips back, he sank slowly into you again, his gaze locked on your face for any trace of discomfort on your features, your pussy certainly wet enough for him to fuck you with ease, but still making sure you could handle the stretch of him in your tight pussy before ravaging you. he found nothing but undeniable pleasure swirling around in your eyes, clearly not enough to make you dumb yet.

“are you gonna fuck me properly, or just sit there staring at me?” you tried to sound apathetic, bored, to the feeling of his thickness stretching your cunt most deliciously, your voice cracking when he snapped his hips, your cum making it far too easy for the hero to reach an impossibly deep spot inside you.

with only a snarl as a reply, he released your hands above your head to grip your hips with both hands, pulling your hips up in time with his thrust forward into you, the sound of his hips slapping against the skin of your thighs muffled by your rhythmic, breathless squeals, barely having enough time to catch your breath before you’d be gasping out another moan. lost in ecstasy, you dumbly left your wrists above your head, oblivious they were unrestricted until his warm thumb swiped at your swollen clit, your hands launching to drag your nails down his bicep, revelling in his quiet hiss in your ear.

you'd never been more grateful for the soundproof walls of the gym, the main purpose for the music the heroes loved to play loud enough to deafen everyone else in the building, nonetheless thankful that anyone on the other floors would be oblivious that stoic, pro hero dynamight and his newest sidekick were wrapped around each other, lost in pleasure, your squeals growing louder and louder at every bump of his cockhead to your cervix, every agile slide in and out working you closer and closer to cumming around him again.

“god, katsuki, i’m so fucking close!” you mewled, your voice impossibly high and loud, echoing back from the mirrors for you to hear the debased way you sounded for him. your eyes were squeezed shut, muscles wound tight, mere seconds away from cumming on his dick, needing the slightest stimulation for the tight band inside you to snap, certain that if bakugou just blew his warm breath against your clit, you’d cum with a scream. groaning low in your throat, you dragged your hands down his chest, scratching gently at his abdomen, reaching between your bodies to swirl your fingers around the sensitive bud.

the same time you reached down, he stopped.

your hazy eyes snapped open, already glaring up at him, your voice little more than a whine, “you’re such a dickhead.”

“oh, were you about to cum?” he mocked with a saccharine smile, digging his fingers into your plush thighs, lifting one up and onto his chest, your ankle dangling over his shoulder forcing you to lie on your side with your sticky cunt spread and on display for him, positioned perfectly for the hero to watch you take him. he kept one hand on your thigh, bringing the other up your spine to bury in your hair, squeezing once to force your mouth open in a gasp, watching the way your features morphed from annoyance with him to borderline desperation, unable to grind against him the way you wanted now with his strong grip on your thigh and hair.

as if taking pity on your need to cum, he lined himself up again with your soaking pussy, fucking your slick back inside you, even deeper than you felt it before, feeling more like his dick was fucking into your stomach, reshaping the organ around his cock. clutching your trembling thighs, he grunted when your pussy hugged his cock like a vice, your soft walls fluttering around him, the new position forcing only short puffs of breath from the both of you as you grew closer and closer together.

“god, ka-katsuki,” your voice was nothing short of a squeal, “feels so good, ‘m gonna cum.” the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could have a second thought about it, your mind void of any thoughts other than how his twitching dick felt stretching you, shaping your cunt to be a perfect fit for him; the feeling of his sweating body sliding against yours, his fingers dipping between your bodies to finally have you seeing the blinding white you’d been chasing since he first spoke to you, your breathless squeals and moans drowning out any dirty talk he might’ve been murmuring back to you.

your hard breathing turned quickly to a soundless scream, his determined fingertips still circling your clit as you tried to twist and buck away from him, tears nearly welling in your lash line when you failed to escape him. you only felt relief when his hips jumped, rutting against yours. he pressed his chest to your side, dropping his hand to your thigh in a bruising grip, keeping you still and at his mercy while he tugged your hair, digging his fingertips into your scalp so hard you weren't sure if he’d broken the skin.

effortlessly, he had you seeing white in time with him, breathlessly moaning your delirious, cock-drunk praise, your pussy swallowing him deeper, until his warm cum was spilling in the innermost part of you, making your toes curl; his cum mixing with your own on his cock as he lazily, shallowly thrust into you once, twice more. you could already feel the mix sliding down your thighs, the only intelligible word falling from your lips being a weak, “wait,”

bakugou complied, nodding with his slick forehead pressed to your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to ignore the way your cunt was still spasming around his tender cock, as if trying to impossibly squeeze more cum out of him, a deep groan rumbling in his chest when he finally had to pull himself off of you when you nodded moments later. you tried to hold the whines that threatened to escape your parted lips, crying out at the loss of his body weight against you, and shivering at the cold air hitting the skin his body heat was burning before. you couldn't silence the whimper when he slid his thick cock from inside you. feeling full and stretched out in the best way, your body slumped, your muscles like jelly in his hands while he admired the perverted way your pussy looked used by him, gaping and sticky with cum, unable to stop the way his cock twitched again against his thigh at the sight. clearing his throat, katsuki mumbled an apology for leaving your skin cold, before placing you gently onto the mat, treating you far more delicately than he was minutes earlier when he was drilling into you, chasing his orgasm and unfalteringly working you to yours.

laughing, you muttered a quick response, dismissing his concerns; you sounded dreamy, nearly delirious, your voice still high and wavering, cracking at the end of the sentence, the smile on your face apparent in your voice, even with his back turned as he reached behind him to find your towel discarded nearby. you followed his movements, his body a magnet for your own, heart eyes zeroing in on his. together, you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, careful hands cleaning up the shared mess between you two, your head lolling to the side, your once tense bodies like goo on the floor.

bakugou shamelessly stared at you while you lazily searched for your panties, patting the mat randomly around you, your thin shirt still crumpled and creased above your navel, exposing even more skin to his hungry eyes, giving up quickly and turning your accusatory gaze on him. your face looked warmer, glowing, your eyes shining and glassy staring back into his, knowing the answer about your missing clothes before you could ask it. he looks similarly debauched, leaning on his elbow beside you with gym shorts haphazardly pulled up his hips, panties hardly obscured in his pocket, his sweating chest shining in the harsh white lighting, his abdomen tightening as he sat up entirely, stretching to lean over you, “i didn’t know you could look better than when you tap out under me.”

“just wait ‘n see how much better i look on top of you.” you jabbed his naked chest with your finger, not missing the way his eyes flashed with the need to feel you riding his cock, to let you take everything you wanted from him with every grind of your hips.

you sat up on your elbows, narrowly avoiding smacking your forehead against his at your speed, hissing quickly at him when you spotted the flashing clock over his shoulder, 4:48am blinking on the clock face, nearly obscured by the sunrise's reflection “c’mon, we need to get dressed before someone comes in here.”

you reach a hand up to smack his shoulder playfully when he doesn’t move off of you, his reflexes startling you again when he catches your wrist before you can even disturb the air beside him, the same fiery twinkle in his eyes proving his incredible abilities to you again and again.

“this is my agency, dumbass, no one’s comin’ in here if i don’t want ‘em to.”

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#banners/dividers by me #k-atsukibakugou #「mercury writes」#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo smut #「kat <3」

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spdrwdw · 10 months ago

Note

Could you possibly do a dbf (dads best friend) miguel.? nsfw Ty!😋

Ps. I love your stories

While I am okay with doing age gaps, both parties must be of legal age. I hope headcanons are okay! I had too many ideas and couldn’t narrow it down lol

♡DBF!Miguel Headcanons♡

Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, age gap, smut, nsfw

A/N: If any other writers out there are interested in using any of my headcanons for a fic, please let me know! I wouldn’t mind as long as you credit me. I would turn this to a fic myself, but I already got my hands full with other wips. ❤️

DBF!Miguel who you met for the first time at your dad's country club. You couldn't help but to steal glances over his way, and unbeknownst to you, he was doing the same.

DBF! Miguel who went to your house one day to hang out with your dad, they were going to watch a game on tv. While your dad was outside firing the grill, Miguel couldn't help but stare at you as you lounged around by the pool in your swimsuit, soaking up some sun. You could see him staring at you through your sunglasses, a slight smirk lifting your lips. DBF! Miguel who came over to your house one day while your parents were away to fix something for your dad. You were upstairs in your room studying for your college exams when he passed by, seeing you in nothing but a tank-top and panties as you laid sprawled out on the bed. You turned around and noticed him just staring at your by the doorway before he quickly left. This made you want to make him notice you more. So, you started wearing the most revealing pieces of clothing you had.

DBF! Miguel who came over again for another game night with your dad. You did your hair and makeup and wore the most revealing dress you had, making your way downstairs over to the kitchen. You swayed your ass as you walked, making you he would notice you, and he did. That was the first time he had made his way into your room. DBF! Miguel who would come over more often while your parents weren't home, and not because he was going to fix something. At first it was a little awkward between the two of you when you were along with him, but, he was always gentle with you. It was rather sweet. However, as your private encounters occurred more frequently, you wanted him to not be as gentle with you.

DBF! Miguel who would by laying on your bed, his large frame taking over the majority of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge because of how big he was. He would help you with any homework that you may have, even help you study for tests. After you were done, he'd eat your pussy out as a reward. His tongue practically swallowed your folds, he usually didn't even need to use his fingers to get you undone, but when he did, your body would be quivering and flailing as you begged him for release, which he always gladly awarded you. DBF! Miguel who's cock was just so big that the first time you had intercourse, you honestly thought he was going to break you. But, he didn't. He filled you up rather nicely and after that, you had gotten addicted to him stretching you and pounding into you, filling you with his cum. Of course, he'd ask if you were on any form of birth control first. DBF! Miguel who will shoot you a pointed look whenever you tease him from under the table. You'll be sitting across from him and slip off your shoe, reaching over and rub his crotch with your foot. He would have to bite his lip from letting out a groan, and you could feel his cock growing hard underneath his pants.

DBF! Miguel who would give you a lift to and from your University, sporting his shiny sports car. The some car in which he would fuck you senseless in while parked in some secluded area. The windows would be tinted so no one could see what was going on inside. DBF! Miguel who'd call you a 'good girl' whenever you take his cock into your mouth and suck him off. He loved it when he came in your mouth and would see streams of his cum drooling from the corners of your mouth because it was just too much for you to swallow it all.

DBF! Miguel who secretly loves it when you call him ‘daddy’ while he rails you. It puts him on edge and he knows it won’t be long until he is spilling himself inside you. DBF! Miguel would you let you ride him on your bed. He's be surrounded by your plushies, which was actually pretty humorous to you. Here was a big man getting fucked by you while surrounded by all of your cutesy plushies.

DBF! Miguel who would low-key be your sugar-daddy because he would always be buying you things, no matter how expensive it was. He would take you on his yacht and fuck you either in the cabin or out on the deck.

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neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

Text

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 6

summary ;; This is the reality of Jake Sully: the father and Olo'eyktan of the People cannot coexist, Eywa teaches her lessons in the toughest ways. PART 5 | NEXT (wip) pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; well this took a hot minute. am back on my bs WARNING for violence and t0rture, reader discretion is advised. Please excuse my mistakes if you see any!

Jake moved on pure primitive instinct, unbridled arctic rage honing all his senses into one laser point of focus. It wasn’t survival, and it surely wasn’t prey running from predator, there was nothing noble about what he was trying to achieve.

That avatar was going to die today, and Jake was going to make it hurt. No fair game. No warrior’s death. No respect.

Devoid of the shape of humanity or the ties that bound him to it, he was the embodiment of a creature’s killer intent, body taking over and consciousness disappearing to the backseat as he catapulted his tomahawk at the avatar, taking advantage of the miniscule opening provided by a magazine change needed after emptying all of his bullets to a Jake luring him into wasting his resources away.

The dull squelch of the hand-carved ax’s head plunging into flesh couldn’t be dampened by the avatar’s choked and short shout, and Jake was jumping out of cover in no time, a bull to red, advancing towards the man, footsteps not hidden out of having no concern for it at all, let him panic or try to struggle for all Jake cared.

Opposite of what he expected, the rifle wasn’t picked up or fumbled to aim at him. The avatar, pale in the face and pupils having devoured the yellow, fear trumping the pain of his arm almost sliced off from shoulder, crawled away on his back from Jake in full speed, getting up before Jake could reach him, and started staggering into the forest, dropping the tomahawk in the process.

Jake stopped in his tracks for a moment and picked his weapon up, the dark liquid glistening purple in the light of the Tree of Souls, droplets of blood making the moss light up as they hit the ground. His chest heaved in controlled, loud breaths, mouth pulled back in a snarl, watching the pathetic son of a bitch trying to get away.

He was one of the lot who’d shot you, hurt you, tortured you — simply to get a reaction out of Jake.

He was the one who pulled Jake away before he could fix his mistakes, undo the damage they had done, and get you back.

Jake was so close. So close.

You were there. You were right there. He could still feel you in his arms, his shoulder imprinted with your tears, shiest of smiles at a better future he could build with you from the burnt soil of your relationship.

If it hadn’t been for him…

That man was your murderer.

He deserved the hell of a father’s making.

This avatar was a marine — and the fucking idiot was running into the oblivion blind worse than a normal civilian would in this situation, had all those years of training evaporated in one second? Jake’s steps were determined, yet lax following after the guy, nose picking up the trail of blood left behind, eyes watching the red splatters. This was all Hansel and Gretel for him, playing follow the breadcrumbs.

The sound of thumping, frantic running, bumping into obstacles, crashing into flora, all was distinguishable from the natural song of the forest Jake had gotten so familiar with in these fifteen years. No response came from the avatar, but Jake wasn’t hurrying. He would have him. Let the bastard tire himself out first — but he wouldn’t let him die. No. He could smell the fear, the blood, anger at bay, all ice, knowing the trees would carry all the sounds he needed to Jake. He could hear exactly where the avatar was. and If he was hoping he’d bleed himself out faster than Jake could reach him to save himself from what was going to happen, well…

He’d better start praying for mercy to whatever deity held his worthless faith, because Jake had none of it. They had no mercy for you, his sinless, innocent child, all but wails and yelps and blood, and apologies for it.

Every time Jake thought of you in that tremendous pain to the brink of delirium, he burned in his heart’s ice until he was black and purple all over. Your smile was so real, your embrace was tiny and warm in his arms and he had a chance, the only chance no parent could ever get in this life. Jake had dissolved together with that mirage.

The part of him engulfed in flames wanted to end this quickly and painfully—to burn it all, break that man in, scream his lungs out, the other part of him, frozen fury that scalded over in the loss of you, wanted to draw it out, wanted to inflict never-ending pain, to bring the avatar back from the brink of death over and over again just to repeat it in a cycle.

His child. His baby.

The ties that held Jake together were getting pulled tight, the pressure building like deep water currents, thinner threads snapping and crackling, body being pulled to all five directions from all five limbs. Awareness went out and barged its way back in hot flashes, he couldn’t comprehend the passing of time and how long he let your murderer catch the delusion of shaking Jake off his tail — but, his instincts knew to reveal himself before the avatar could be claimed by blood loss.

Dangling hope right in front of his face just to snatch it away wasn’t enough. It could never be enough compared to you who had dragged your own corpse back home, muted to your own pain cocooned between those who should have meant nothing but home and safety to you. Torture. You had lived torture in your last hours with help just one step, one word away.

Nothing would ever be enough.

Jake emerged from the thick flora like the grim reaper himself who would always be waiting right at the spot of the reaping wherever the soul ran away to, detached and unimpressed, blank face not reflecting the scorched soul inside. The almost passed out avatar jolted awake when he smelled the smoke from Jake’s shadow falling on him, and could only press his back further to the body of the cluster of big rocks he had taken shelter against as if somehow becoming one with it could shield him away from Jake’s wrath.

The man’s breathing was getting louder and shakier the more Jake stood there motionless. “C’mon then,” he said between clenched teeth, spasming hand dropping from his mutilated shoulder, squaring up the last drops of his courage. “Get on with it.”

Jake’s whitened fingers were making noise against the handle of his tomahawk, but his voice was hauntingly hollow, unfeeling now that he had the man right in his palm. “Thought I should let you live what you did to my daughter first.”

The avatar began to scream. “Fuck you, man, we didn’t do none of this shit to that kid—”

Jake’s tone didn’t change, but it cut worse than a knife. “You killed my kid.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching, the reality of what was coming to him finally sinking in and Jake witnessed every panicked second of it. “Fuck…” His gaze wildly alternated between Jake and the tomahawk, raising his better, trembling hand up for feeble defense. “Look, look, listen, we didn’t kill her, alright? We patched her up, okay, she was going to be a prisoner, what happened happened because you engaged in battle, we wouldn’t do that to a—AGH!”

He was interrupted by Jake sharply shoving the head of the tomahawk into his injury, just putting it in there, not moving it further down. “Do you have children, marine?”

The man palmed at the weapon, fingernails digging into the wood, but no matter how much he pushed, it didn’t budge one bit. “Stop, stop! Fuck—”

Jake repeated again, firmer. “I asked you a question, do you have children?”

“No!— No, god, argh!”

He spaced out for a while, watching him squirm and trash to get away with defeated, half-assed attempts, also unable to because of how much of an immovable object Jake was making the weapon buried in the open wound be. It would hit the bone if he used more strength.

With a fixed, stony stare, Jake removed the tomahawk, waiting for the man’s deplorable whimpers to recede before breaking him the news like reading it off a doctor’s report. “You won’t get to have any.”

He didn’t look like he cared about something like that, but the man knew his fate insinuated by the words. Nevertheless,it didn’t mean he could be free from the survivor’s instinct’s mood swings his body was putting him through. Denial to bargaining within minutes. “Just kill me already, you deserter piece of—”

“Oh, no, no no,” Jake reassured, the only flicker of emotion he had shown since he’d cornered the avatar. “You won’t get to die for a long time, either.”

The avatar grunted, head falling down before he started to shake it. “Please just let it end—man, just let it end, I’m sorry, okay, please!” A whole body-trembling begging shifted to anger the more Jake remained non-responsive. Watching. Just watching. The hole in his chest getting wider the more he fed this man’s suffering to it — it wasn’t enough. “Just fucking do it! Pussy ass bitch! Come on you blue motherfucker, kill me! Kill m—”

“Are you the one who shot my daughter?”

“What?”

“Are you. The one. Who shot my daughter?”

The avatar’s face twisted. “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t—asshole, you already killed the guy, I didn’t fucking do anything!—”

“You... didn’t do anything?”

A beat. The forest fell silent in Jake’s ears. Just like how the noises you made had abruptly died down as he was putting pressure on your wound.

And like that, the thick haze that had Jake desensitized blew over, unadulterated anger rushed to his body, acidic and nauseating, soul stitching back to his limbs by a million needles and he began to shake, face contorting, teeth showing itself, the hiss that lacerated his throat was the most terrifying one of his life yet, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a sentient being, twisted by a grieving, demented animalistic horror. The avatar’s breath hitched, whatever protest and voice he had escaping deep inside his body, ears pinned back to his head.

“Of course,” Jake glowered, swallowing the scorching stones blocking his throat. He closed his burning eyes, and was greeted by the image of you, opening them back again, and shaking the ax as if it was an accusing finger.

And without a word of warning, his hand shot down and grabbed the avatar from the neck of his tactical vest, hurling him over the chest-level array of big rocks forming a pointy bed above, ignoring the cries of pain as the abused, torn open flesh of the wound dragged through the sharp teeth of the gravel, dousing them in blood. “Please, please, stop!—I’m sorry, I was wrong, that wasn’t right, shit, shit!”

Jake snatched the man’s dominant arm that was coincidentally the same one dangling by fractured bone and tendons from the shoulder. His soul had known what he wanted right from the start before his brain had processed it. “This hand,” he spat, holding it from the wrist, gnashing his teeth. “that pulled the trigger at me…”

Murdered his daughter for a second time.

All a soldier’s worth for. One hand to hold the stock tight against the body and one to fire. All that to take a single life.

Leaning the hand down against the rock in a sudden move, Jake slammed on the blunt, pointy end of the tomahawk on it like he was hammering a nail, the sickening crack of the bones breaking got followed by the avatar’s fractured scream.

Jake saw you hunched, cheekily laughing in the blue and purple of the creek, freckles glowing because of the eclipse, silhouette illuminated by the floating bioluminescent bugs.

Spinning the tomahawk in his clammy hand in a full 360 turn, he smashed it down once more, stronger. The metal broke skin and sank into spongy muscle. His ears were buzzing, ringing from how the shrill yells.

Jake was hugging you after what seemed to be years, and your little arms were clinging to him for life — you were sand slipping from his fingers.

Jake hammered again.

You were telling him how mean he was to you, your voice suppressing the avatar’s.

He brought it down one more time and felt the tomahawk recoil from hitting rock.

You were bashful as you repeated how Jake would always love you.

Guttural breaths getting louder with effort each hit, he kept slamming it down until everything was his beautiful little sweet girl.

Again.

Again and again and again and again and again until there was no resistance from the limb anymore and the man had gone silent and it was all mashed meat he was pounding—

And then he almost plunged it to your bleeding, battered corpse, your stomach covered in reddish brown from the dried brown, body ashen blue, and Jake cried out in terror, jumping back and losing strength in his legs as the tomahawk flew from his hand and he fell over.

His lungs constricted, refusing to take any breaths in and his heart ricocheted around in his ribcage, he was gaping at the wall of rock now washed red as if it was some white rose painted red in Alice in Wonderland.

Jake sat there for the longest time, dissociated.

In those moments, he wasn’t Toruk Makto, he wasn’t Olo’eyktan, he wasn’t the pillar of a family of seven. He was simply Jake Sully.

However, he wasn’t allowed to be stripped down to the bone until all that’s left was a mourning father. That was Jake’s reality.

He had to cast the crippled man aside, the tragedy of his child away, and bring the leader of the People out right as your ghost rippled in his vision, watching spitefully within the forest — because all you wanted was for him to be your father, and he couldn’t even fucking do that after your death.

This avatar was a valuable asset, a hostage to question. For the sake of his people.

He wasn’t allowed revenge.

A single drop of tear rolled down expressionless face. When he looked down, Jake’s hands were still stained with your blood.

The only instance a child should be covered in blood is when they come out of their mother’s womb, little lungs being burned with existence for the first time, crying from the pain of being separated from Eywa’s arms, birth mother a complete stranger to them.

The gore of you barely clinging to life, unmoving, drenched in your own blood, wiped and wiped to the point Neytiri had to change buckets of water until it turned light pink was overlapping with the joyful image of your newborn self she had lovingly and gently cleaned of the remains of labor with wetted mothsilk, skin too sensitive for water for the moment, the blue coming alive as the blood and other clotted bodily fluids were cleansed.

It wasn’t the broken, ice-cold, lithe body of a young girl Neytiri had cleaned in the torment of her excoriated, unraveling mind, it was her baby’s. Her baby, her poor baby with a gaping hole in the middle of your body, memories marauding Neytiri’s lucidity.

She lived the moment of your first cleansing over and over again.

You were a particularly indomitable cryer, Neytiri had known you would be infamous for your battle cries right as she was brought back from the blackout of post-birth by your overly-healthy wailing — or perhaps you would best Ninat as a singer when you’d unapologetically blossom, but one thing was ascertained: her first daughter was a fierce, fiery blue ball of ardor compared to Neteyam, who was almost shy and reluctant in disturbing people around him in his weeping that a collective worry for his health had plagued the whole clan.

As you squirmed, smeared in chunks of her flesh and blood, as if you wanted to jump off from her arms and start walking already, Neytiri had smiled up at her Jake, your father, unable to take his eyes off you, stuck between awe and laughs that came and went. “She has your heart,” she’d told him, spent and hurting, but wonderfully alive. “Strong.”

He’d traced his thumb through her drenched hairline. “Lungs, you mean?” His scent, wind and hearthfire, had enveloped Neytiri when Jake had leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I think they’re yours.” The teasing about how you had made Neytiri scream in labor wouldn’t have gone unpunished if she wasn’t on the edge of sleep held up only by your crying, so, he’d gotten a light hit on the side of his face instead. But Jake knew how to apologize, he’d always been spectacular at it. “I’d say she takes after me in appearance, look at her little ugly face.”

To Neytiri, you were beautiful, face dark purple from how strong you were screaming, and a mini-village elder with the wrinkles, swinging those little fists — things that made you lovely in her eyes. Her first daughter.

She had learned motherhood from Neteyam, but she would learn to understand her mother and her choices through you, someone she thought couldn’t be more different from her — Neytiri, all Mo’at could have been, and Mo’at, all Neytiri might have become, once. She prayed you would love her as much as she’d begun to love you the second you were in her arms.

To think the enormity of her love hadn’t reached you — it was one of the greatest failures of Neytiri’s life. If it had, you’d be wounded, but perfectly conscious and well in her mother’s tent. If it had, you would have been beyond comfortable telling those demons had hurt you.

In that all-consuming devastation, the woven towel she was using to wipe the thin sheet of sweat that formed on your body slipped from her uncoordinated hands and fell on your chest, and Neytiri had to hold back the breath that spiked to become a hiccup by covering her mouth, and immediately, her curled hand was engulfed in a smaller, five-fingered one. She came eye-to-eye with Kiri after raising her head, putting her other hand on hers at the girl’s more disheveled and messy self, heart dropping to her stomach at the fatigue varnishing an extra layer of moisture in her daughter’s drooping eyes.

“Oh Kiri,” Neytiri mumbled, caressing her cheek and brushing the tangled hair away from her face.

“Why don’t you go get some rest, mom, hm?”

“Even if I somehow agreed to that, I could never agree to leaving my daughter alone in this.”

“I’m fine.” Stopping to take a breath, she sighed, collecting the towel and starting to fold it. “Well, not really fine, but don't worry about me. We’re all miserable here. And that’s natural.” Fiddling with the corners of the cloth, she leaned in a bit and lowered her voice, light reflecting from the yellow of her irises making it look like they shone from within. “I… I know she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Eywa has bestowed us a gift she has never given to anyone before and it’s for a reason. I feel that everything will be set right.” She shook her head up and down, determined. “Dad will do it. I know he will.”

Neytiri trusted Kiri with her intuition and understanding when it came to the inscrutable intentions of Eywa, she was closer to the Great Mother than any Tsahik was — so close that she would drift away too much from her family. And deep down, Neytiri was heartsick by this invisible line that separated her from her daughter, any parent in her place would be unsettled like this.

She was also hog-tied to close the distance growing between them because of the human boy Spider and how she would find camaraderie in him in their ‘orphan’ status as she called it. Kiri was already faraway in her obscure existence and unwittingly separated herself as if she didn’t see herself as a real part of the family some days, and Neytiri hated that the ‘kinship’ she’d formed with Spider was planting these ideas into her head when she was her and Jake’s daughter, no more, no less. To overwrite those feelings, she tried so hard to reach Kiri, but was unsettled by the feeling of being hated sometimes, again, more or less for her stance in placing Spider at the outskirts of their family.

But oftentimes Kiri would express her affection through small, otherwise unnoticeable actions, just like this one, a caring touch and reassurance that could melt an ice cube — and Neytiri basked in the babiest of steps between them. And maybe this was how Jake had it with you, too, she had never thought about it like this before.

Taking in Neytiri’s solemn silence, Kiri grumbled, suddenly agitated about something. “I just… I just wish I had isirka resin and xhikul seeds for this paste and cover her wound with it. Grandmother’s extract isn’t enough to stimulate the bone marrow and ugh—” The girl groaned with the obvious guilt at groaning in the first place, as well. “I’m sorry, mom, I don’t know what—”

“It’s alright, Kiri,” Neytiri said, weariness blending with tenderness, knowing you’d agree too. You would have probably told her to not waste her energy and wait around when there wasn’t anything left to do anyway. “Maybe it’s you who needs some rest. You’ve worked hard. Harder than any of us. You do need rest, too.”

Kiri was quick to refuse. “I’m trying something new, I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sure one of your brothers—”

Her earpiece buzzed alive. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

The unexpected timing of it caught her off guard, her hand flying up to the device, drums of alarm going off in her head by the croaky, despondent note to his voice. The impact of their previous argument evaporated from existence just by hearing his distress. “Jake?” She focused on you, not observing any difference, and frowned in worry, her pulse picking up pace as Kiri also locked her attention to her the moment she heard her father was on the line. “What happened?”

“I have here one of Quaritch’s dreamwalkers—whatever they are.” Neytiri’s mouth opened and closed at the reveal, forehead creasing. “Alive. Somehow survived to get to the Tree of Souls.”

Her hand instinctively descended to touch your cool and clammy arm closest to her. “Tree of Souls…? But you were—”

“Yeah. Yeah, he… I couldn’t. I couldn’t…”

She stared at your face, all thoughts draining from her mind. “What are you saying, Jake?”

Silence.

“Jake,” Neytiri implored, her voice snuffed out towards the end. She tried again. “Jake, I don’t understand. What does this mean..?”

“Son of a bitch pulled me out before I could… before I could finish talking to her.” Kiri reached for her when she let out an incoherent, disbelieving voice, getting more panicked as Neytiri clawed at her tightening chest with his next words. “I failed, Neytiri. I couldn’t… She…”

Neytiri was physically helpless to respond, and Kiri couldn’t hold back from inquiring seeing the state she was in. “Mom? Mom! What’s wrong?”

“This man, if it wasn’t for this man, I had it.” Jake kept talking at an increasing speed the longer Neytiri didn’t say anything. “I had her right in my arms, making future plans, smiling, everything was perfect, and then he—” His breath quivered. “He fucking—” And he stopped the sentence abruptly to get some semblance of control back because Eywa knew Neytiri was losing it ever so slowly. “I need you here with me right now, please. Please, I…”

Neytiri refused to acknowledge what Jake couldn’t say out loud. You were still breathing, she felt your chest rise and fall even if the pattern was weak. You had life left in you. Jake saying he failed made no sense to her, she didn’t believe it.

“Neytiri, I need to question this… this filth, need to learn all I can about what’s going on, but I can’t do it on my own. I’ll kill him. In a heartbeat. I want to squeeze the life out of him with my hands right this moment and I— I can’t… We have to know how they could have gotten this far, what they’re planning—and now right to the Tree of Souls too, and…” The rambling that got chaotic and disconnected faded off eventually, as if he’d lost his voice. “Shit.”

And throughout all that, Neytiri had gone from confused, in denial, at the threshold of grief but not nearly in there anchored by your pulse, and lusting for blood within minutes. Kiri was taken aback by the anger radiating from her. “Bring him here!”

“I can’t. He could have a tracker on him—they could have put it in his body. I can’t risk that.”

Neytiri stood up with only one thing in her mind, and it didn’t match Jake’s. “Where are you?”

“You gotta let me pass, buddy, come on! You wanna take my head off or something? Why are you being like this!”

Hands up and quick on his feet, Lo’ak was trying to negotiate.

With an ikran of all things. Not even his.

Yours.

Mom storming out like a wronged, vengeful spirit had been the perfect chance for him to do a quick supply run sneak off, but your overgrown big bird with the exact same attitude as you was getting in his way and blocking Lo’ak off by snapping its jaw at his head and opening its sunset fire tinged wings every time he attempted to cross over to his own ikran. They were basically at a standstill and he had no idea why.

Lo’ak just wanted to help. Help you.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Shit.

Neteyam. Making his way to him with such speed that got his braids swinging and of course he’d sniffed Lo’ak out like a nantang. Followed the odd silence, probably. Eywa, he should have thought this out better.

“Skxawng, do you not remember what dad said?”

“I do,” Lo’ak hummed and hawed, and that was the problem. He’d never felt this guilty about disobeying dad’s orders before, it was making him squirm. “But look, Kiri said she needed isirka resin and xhikul seeds or whatever to treat her, I’m going—”

Neteyam’s jaw had flexed when he said whatever, but there was no visible agitation after he gave a sharp breath through his nose. “So let’s call mother or—”

“They’re busy with some sky person dad caught—”

“I know. The same ones who did this to our sister. I know, Lo’ak.” Neteyam aggressively gestured to the exit of the cave system, shaking his arm while speaking. “What do you think will happen if you go off on your own and land yourself in bigger trouble than she did? Huh?”

Lo’ak threw resentful looks at your ikran. “I can’t stay put like this. I have to do something.”

“This again? There is nothing we can do.” He hadn’t said that in his normal drilling of dad’s orders — Neteyam had the same pain of acceptance that were Lo’ak’s bruises etched onto his face.

And that made Lo’ak want to throw up all over the place. He’d experienced countless sicknesses his siblings had fallen to over the years, none of those were as fatal as this and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. What was he supposed to do when his sister was dying? What did one do when a family member was in this situation anyway? Nothing seemed right to him.

And something was finally, finally within his power — and Lo’ak would of course rise up to the challenge without hesitation. He wasn’t just going to sit down and let that possibility of your salvation slip by. “But there is. Kiri said—”

“Lo’ak if you leave right now and somehow get caught dad will never trust you again. He was the most open he’s ever been, don’t betray him like that.”

He was getting annoyed that Neteyam was ignoring the whole point, though it wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t know. He was fully aware, and that’s why this was supposed to be a secret. Dad couldn’t be hurt by what he didn’t know now, could he? Not only were you getting Kiri’s remedy, which he was sure as his name was Lo’ak that would end up most effective, but he also wasn’t breaking his promise to dad when the tiniest thread of trust in his son was knotted by the man just recently.

Neteyam grabbed him by the top of his head in a brotherly manner but his hold was of steel, the boy tried to grumpily push him off but he didn’t budge, staring right into his soul. “Use what’s in this for once and just tell dad or mother, they’re down in the forest already anyway.” When he let go, Lo’ak stumbled back, rubbing the sting off, and the semi-playful older brother was back. “And one of them will actually know what to look for.”

His immediate response was refusal. “I know what I’m looking for—”

“What does isirka look like?”

The sounds your ikran was making was eerily close to laughter and Lo’ak felt heat rush up to the tips of his ears. “It’s a tree.”

Neteyam didn’t have brow hair like Lo’ak did, but the way he raised the lines was always more expressive than how he did it. “Xhikul, then?”

“Flower, skxawng.”

“Wrong.” Lo’ak’s tail started beating the air at the condescending tone. “Kiri is talking about the fruit. Xhika is its flower.”

He rolled his eyes, turning away. “Whatever—”

“Is it whatever?” Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulder and spun him around so rough that he got dizzy. “Are you calling my sister’s life whatever?”

Lo’ak was going to explode from how wrong this was going and how insistent Neteyam was to twist his words. “That’s not what I meant bro!”

“You are so careless.” Neteyam’s tail had shot up ramrod straight, the little bush of hair at the end of it all puffed up, ears perking in all directions. He wasn’t necessarily yelling but was tense all over, something he did whenever they were playing back in the day and he was about to pounce after staying still enough to implant a false seed of safety. “You don’t even think about what can happen if you were to bring a completely different ingredient! You don’t think!”

“Sorry that I’m trying to help! What are you doing?”

“Keeping us safe. Keeping you safe.” He pressed his lips together on a thin line, but couldn’t hold back whatever was bubbling inside. “I’m not losing another sibling, Lo’ak!”

Only a small gasp escaped Lo’ak when he opened his mouth in retaliation. He couldn’t have found his voice even if he found something to say to that rawness in return, anyway.

The gut-churning guilt doubled.

“Hey… I—”

“Go,” Neteyam whispered, tilting his head together with the lone word. “Since you’re dying to help, help Kiri. She’s exhausted. I don’t think grandmother will refuse.”

“What about you?” And there he goes again. Wrong words. Neteyam was looking more closed-off than before. “I’m not accusing or anything—”

“I can’t go in there.”

“What?”

“I can’t,” Neteyam took a deep breath and loudly let it go, tail deflating, the arch of it depressing as hell for some reason. “I can’t look at her.”

Neteyam just gave a forlorn smile in return to Lo’ak’s heavily concerned looks demanding he continue but not knowing how to word it, his back looked weirdly lonely as he was tending to your significantly calmer ikran to join back the horde.

Buried in negative thoughts all the way back and ignoring the pitiful looks from the rest of the clan, he met Kiri outside of the healing tent talking to Spider, and he could see Tuk’s back covering the view to you in his peripheral.

They were whispering about something and it was obvious even from a distance where they were nothing but stick figures. At least try to look less suspicious, Lo’ak thought.

The only part he caught from the conversation was Spider saying, “Just describe them to me,” — Kiri was really leaning in towards him.

“What’s going on?”

The two looked like they were caught in the middle of scheming, and it clicked almost immediately.

If Lo’ak had thought of going off on his own, so had they.

“You aren’t going anywhere, bro,” he said, draping his arm across the human boy’s shoulders. “Neteyam’s literally patrolling.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Spider groaned, visibly disappointed. It warmed Lo’ak’s heart to see he was totally down for sneaking off the camp for you. “You said your dad told him to rest.”

“Yeah, he did. Except Neteyam never rests. He has a dancing glow worm up his ass.”

The conversation couldn’t continue because Kiri did a double take at something.

“Tuk!” Kiri took a few steps aside, squinting as if she didn’t think she was seeing it right. Then her expression burst into panic, her hands flying forward as she ran to the tent, Spider and Lo’ak could only stare, baffled. “Tuk, oh Eywa, what are you doing!—”

“I’m giving her water, she’s thirsty.”

“What?”

He actually rushed to the entrance of the tent, nearly falling headfirst in, having stumbled on some rock. Your mouth was actually open. And Tuk was really trying to get you to drink from the bowl she was holding against your mouth.

You choked at one point, still unconscious, but it was a sign of life. Lo’ak didn’t know if the shocked screech came from him or Kiri.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 3 months ago

Text

Female Reader!

Impromptu smut killing my friends led to this so enjoy me ignoring my WIP list and asks... I am not editing this... It's pure rough draft smut again 😂 I'm being tortured rn to post it lmao...

Alastor x FReader.

CW: P in V sex, lots of talking from Alastor, radio broadcasting. No editing; no beta; we're going in raw, WE DIE LIKE ADAM!

(See male reader version here)

Here's...

Scream For Me.

(Fem Reader!)

Alastor's eyes gleam with excitement as he obliges your request, to act like you're in a broadcast as he fucks you on the control panel.

His voice taking on the smooth, seductive cadence of his radio persona, the radio overlay seamless as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

"Welcome back to the airwaves, my dear listeners. We have a very special guest in the studio tonight - an exquisite Sinner! Who's been brought to her knees by the Radio Demon himself. She's got a mouthwatering pair of tits, a luscious ass, and a swollen little clit that's just begging to be played with."

He reaches up, tweaking your nipples as he continues to describe your body to his imaginary audience, his voice dripping with sarcasm and lust.

"But the real treat here, folks, is her tight little cunt."

Alastor grunts as he buries himself inside you, his fingers digging into your hips as he picks up the pace, his voice growing more urgent with each passing second.

"She's soaked, practically drowning in her own juices. And the sounds she makes, oh the sounds... They're like music to my ears, a symphony of lust and desire that has me on the edge of sanity."

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

"You're mine. My personal plaything. And I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever have before, right here on the airwaves for everyone to hear."

You moan, body trembling cunt spasming, as you cling to him desperately while he takes you without mercy.

"I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't take it anymore."

As Alastor continues to narrate your intimate encounter, his words become more explicit and crude, pushing the boundaries of decency and fueling your mutual desire.

"Look at you! You're a mess. Your makeup's smeared, your hair's a tangled mess, and you're covered in sweat and cum. But you're still so fucking beautiful, so incredibly sexy. I can't get enough of you."

His thrusts become more erratic, his movements more aggressive as he approaches his peak, his voice rising in volume and intensity.

"I'm going to fill you up, Princess. I'm going to flood your cunt with my seed, marking you as mine for all eternity."

Alastor's words send a surge of pleasure through you, and you moan loudly, your body writhing under his relentless assault. The thought of being 'broadcasted' to an unknown number of listeners adds a thrill to your encounter, pushing you further into the realm of ecstasy.

"Oh god... yes... I'm yours... I'll do anything for you..." You pant, your voice filled with desire and submission.

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. The sensations build within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

"I'm going to cum... Alastor..."

"And those tits... So perfect for playing with while I'm balls deep inside you... Scream for me."

Alastor's words push you over the edge, and you cry out in pleasure as your body convulses in an intense, shattering orgasm. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to pound into you relentlessly as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over you, cunt clenching hard, vision going white with pleasure.

His grip on your hips becomes almost painful, his movements rough and uncontrolled as he chases his own release, driven by the sight and sound of you, the feel of you clenching around him making him make his own delicious sounds.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, he releases his seed deep inside you, filling you up, flooding you.

"And there it is, folks! The sweet sound of this sweet sinners surrender. Her body convulsing, her voice screaming out in ecstasy as I claim her yet again. And now, I'm now painting her insides with my seed, branding her as mine for all eternity."

As Alastor continues to speak into the microphone, his words grow more ragged, more primal, reflecting the intensity of his own climax.

"Feel me, Darling. Feel my cum filling you up, making you mine."

His thrusts become slower, more measured as he savors the sensation of release, his body still convulsing with aftershocks of pleasure.

"That's it, my dear. Take it all. Let every last drop of my seed fill you up, marking you as mine."

As Alastor finally stills, his body spent and satisfied, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his voice softening as he addresses you directly once more.

"You were amazing, Sweetheart. Truly breathtaking. And remember, no matter where this journey takes us, you will always be mine."

He withdraws from you slowly, his semen trickling from your sated cunt as he moves aside to allow you to rest and recover from your intense encounter. As he does so, he reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust, affection, and pride.

"Thank you, Alastor," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from moaning and your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. "It was... incredible."

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth and love radiating from him. For the first time in your life, you truly feel seen, understood, and accepted for who you are, flaws and all.

"I love you," you murmur, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation or fear.

Alastor's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with joy as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, Dearest Heart," he whispers against your mouth. "Now and forever."

(unbeknownst to you, he had actually been broadcasting the whole time, not just pretending.)

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runa-falls · 1 year ago

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steven would cum untouched when you sit on his face<3 nd if you play with his tits he cries n moans into you<3

ANON WHAT 🤯 HOW R U IN MY MIND??? ok ok, i guessss i can take a break from wips and write a lil something....

awwww sad little hopeless stevie can't catch a break :(

NSFW [18+] under the cut (obviously):

completely bare and sprawled out on the bed, steven is thrumming with need. your eyes lower to drink in the delicious view of his cock twitching with desperation, cherry tip slowly dripping silky precum onto your pretty pink sheets.

he's been like this all night, throbbing for your mouth, your touch, anything, but you deny him. instead, you sit up against the headboard, thighs straddling his face, hungrily watching as he falls apart for you.

his cock bobs as he involuntarily bucks into the air, hopelessly seeking out any type of attention as he lasciviously sucks you into his mouth. you watch how his abs tense when you ghost a hand over his chest, how his whole body shakes from the mere feeling of your skin against his.

sometimes you forget how muscular your little stevie is. though it makes sense, he shares a body with marc: the man who uses the gym as his therapy.

steven drinks from you feverishly, making a complete mess of himself. he's drenched in your slick from his lips to his collarbones, but still, he begs for more, eagerly laving over your satiny lips, attempting to draw you to the edge.

his whines against your pussy quickly turn into whimpers and groans as you start to roll your hips over him. he loves it when you take control, when you use him to get off.

the mattress shifts under you with sharp movements as his thrusts get more aggressive -- more needy. steven is hopelessly fucking the air at the same pace as your hips roll over him.

as much as your body urges you to close your eyes and bask in the feeling of his mouth, you can't help but stare at the beautifully broken specimen under you.

you could argue that his moans against you are almost as enticing as his slick tongue, but it's the combination of the two that ignites your orgasm. he flicks over your clit and suckles until your head is thrown back and thighs are trembling around him.

you almost collapse on top of him as he groans deep vibrations against your pulsing clit, but you catch yourself, careful not to suffocate him (though you know he wouldn't mind it). your hands grip his chest for support and you find yourself softly digging your nails into his skin as you ride out your high, so overwhelmed by everything.

you don't expect the sharp cry that rips from his throat as you grind your cunt against his tongue or the stuttered gasps that follow, puffing sweetly against your slick skin. your eyes lazily open to see steven writhing on the sheets under you, cum splattered all over his stomach, cock glistening and still hard.

you sit up from his face, laying your flushed body over his to get a closer look. your finger delicately traces a sticky trail from his stomach to his cock before you wrap your hand around his shaft.

he throbs in your hand like he didn't get the memo that he came a mere minute ago. you squeeze and he yelps, desperately gripping your thighs to keep him from cumming again.

words slur from your lips, hoarse and dark.

"c'mon stevie, gimme another."

*throws this at you and runs away*

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #stevie my love :3 #anon my love :3 #anon #sub!steven #sub!steven grant

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my313 · 7 months ago

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wedding gift 💍 choi beomgyu [wip preview]

mdni 18+ only / cw: degradation, mentions of collaring, implied filming and photographing, humiliation, husband!beomgyu, dom!beomgyu, wife!reader

lmk if anyone wants to be tagged for the full thing!!

with beomgyu fully-dressed and lounging comfortably on the vanity chair, twisting the strap of his camera on one hand and drinking in the most vulnerable sight of you — you’re like prey handed over prettily on a silver platter, for him to pick apart and devour.

“crawl to me.”

“w-what?” an absurd request. something that should have rung the alarm bells in your mind and have your gears turning the other way around. instead, your thighs clench together in effort to hide your growing arousal. you’re washed over with both desire and shame

the corner of beomgyu’s lip quirks up seeing your face contort into nothing shy of a pet being scolded by its owner—bashful, blushing, quivering—in spite of doing nothing but talking down on you.

beomgyu throws his head back, throat deliciously protruding for your viewing as his laugh resonates in the gap between you two.

the sight of you shrinking into yourself, embarrassed to admit that you enjoy his orders, all his humiliating demands, has him throbbing painfully in his slacks. if you weren’t so adamant on avoiding your husband’s watchful gaze, you’d have noticed his own arousal by now. he tries to appear as controlled as he could, trying to ignore how constricting his underwear felt against his length, or the mess threatening to ruin his dress pants.

“maybe we should’ve brought the collar,” another tsk. your unmoving figure has beomgyu moving to the edge of the cushioned seat, legs spread and foot tapping expectantly. “did my baby want to be dragged crying instead? you like being a bitch on a leash, sweet thing?” pressing your buttons as he probes further.

his lips purse mockingly, brows scrunched and eyes squinted in disagreement. “aw, don’t get all shy on me now!” his pitch goes up, exaggerating reactions in favour of seeing you crumble. “be a good little wife..” he flicks his chin towards you, gesturing for you to move.

“..and crawl.”

#313.beomgyu #313.wip #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader

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justanerdy-gal · 10 months ago

Text

"Do You Resent Me?" (Astarion x Tav)

-> pairing: Astarion x Tav -> content: fluff/angst -> summary: In which Tav wonders whether Astarion resents her for convincing him to choose to reject the Black Mass ritual and not Ascend. Full of angsty fluff.

-> notes: The finished version of the WIP I posted yesterday. Astarion & Tav draws all the angst and cheesy fluff out of me 🥹

——————

“Do you resent me?”

Astarion looks up, wearily, from the corner of the Elfsong Tavern room that they had been staying in for some time now.

“Darling….what would I have to resent you for…?”

You slowly walk over to his corner of the room, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed. You observe him as he turns his gaze over to the hands in his lap.

“It…just feels like…you may have made your choice because of…me.”

Astarion turns his head to look back at you, betraying nothing in those crimson eyes at the moment, but listening.

“If I wasn’t around….you would have been free to make the choice you always wanted,” you continued, your eyes glassing over as you ponder the thoughts that have been plaguing you since the moment Astarion made his choice in the Szarr palace.

“The freedom that you always craved… did I take that away from you?”

Astarion’s eyes widened as you made your declaration.

“You… think it wasn’t the right choice?”

“Not that,” you tried to clarify. “Maybe… maybe I don’t know what the right choice is. But what mattered is… your choice.”

“You trusted me. You trusted me with a choice that, in the end, goes back centuries…” your voice starts to shake. “A choice with consequences you must live with for…eternity.” You look up at him as tears finally threaten to pour from your eyes. “What right did I have, to ask you to sacrifice yourself to the shadows?”

Astarion stares at you as he ponders your statement. He looks away from you as he stares at the cracked, drying paint on the wall of the old room.

“I think about it every minute, every moment.” Astarion speaks slowly, softly. “I think about the colours of the city. The warmth of the rays at dawn, beckoning me towards the next day. I think about the sanguine hunger I have suffered for over 200 years, and how I could be free from that pain. Free from all limitations. And how that will never be now… once the parasite is destroyed.”

You look up at him in despair as your body threatens to let out a sob.

“And I think about… how it would never be enough.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. His gaze had softened as his fingers move to entwine in your own.

“I see the colours through your eyes, through the stories that you tell me of your adventures. I feel the warmth through your skin as you lay beside me every night.”

“And your blood can sate me better than any power can.” You giggle as he smirks, softly wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Before you, before this nautiloid fiasco … I had no reason to want anything else but freedom and power. I only lived to escape what I was. I had everything to gain. And nothing to lose. So ofcourse, this Ascension seemed like an obvious choice.”

“But everything changed,” Astarion said breathily. “From the moment you wormed your way into my heart…you became a complication that I never expected. Suddenly, I had everything to lose.”

“I would have stayed,” you say thickly.

“I know you would,” Astarion says sadly, “but would you have been happy?”

“I probably would have been happy…happier than I was, for sure.” Astarion stares distantly at the wall as he speaks. “But where would that happiness end? What would sate me, if my happiness was dependent on power? I would have to take more, control more, be more…it is surely the fate that befell Cazador, that befalls all with power…more power than they know what to do with.” Astarion winces as he utters his late master’s name. “The need for power, for control, can never be sated. It would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.”

“But you, with me, here? That is enough. You are enough. We are enough.”

You pause as you ponder his words for a moment.

“Am I?” you whisper weakly as you stare at your entwined hands.

You feel the chill of his hands as they move up to hold your face tightly, and tilts your head up to look at him. The intensity in his eyes at that moment was like nothing you’ve ever seen on him before.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, staring fiercely into your eyes, as if he was speaking through to your soul. “There is nothing in the world that I wouldn’t sacrifice to remain here by your side. You are my eternity. My mad love. Besides,” Astarion smiles as he stares into your eyes. “I still think it was the right choice, regardless. If I could go back and do it all over again, I’d make the same choice. Every time.”

Astarion’s words cause the tears that you were holding back to creep up to the surface, as your body begins to wrack with heavy sobs, as you let out the doubt and fear that you have been holding since you both learned that the Ascension was a thing – since you have contemplated that potential decision every minute of every day, since the moment Astarion asked you to help him, and you convinced him to give away that power, to save those souls, to save himself. Astarion pulls your head to his chest and holds you tightly as you shake against him.

“My darling, why do you weep? Don’t sell yourself so short. No one else has a heart like you. You’re the only one,” Astarion whispers into your ear.

“I love you,” you declare into his shirt, tears still staining the soft, white material.

“I love you too,” Astarion says, leaning backward, pulling you down with him until he was laying on his back, with your head resting on his chest, hands softly caressing your hair. “I can’t imagine another way I would want to spend the rest of my days, my love. I’m not afraid – not anymore. And especially not of our future.”

And that is how you both fell asleep, with the two of you in eachother’s arms and your dreams of the future in eachother’s hearts.

——————

My AO3 and Twitter 🙂

MASTERLIST

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion fluff #tav fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

Text

Follow You Anywhere 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: yuhhhhhh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Gulls flap across the cornflower sky. Thin wisps of cloud crest beneath the gemlike sun, shining at you with a blinding gleam. You shield your eyes with your hands as Sy steers along the crooked backroad around the cliffs the face the coast.

Aika pokes her head out between the seats as she sits in the back. She is your only comfort on the long journey to a beach you’ve never been before.

You don’t ask where you’re going. You wouldn’t know the difference, you only know that most people head to West Cove. You jostle with the truck. The sun reaches its apex. It’s a bit late to just be getting to the beach then.

Yet, he doesn’t stop. He keeps driving. Around the rocky crags and cliffside, on and on, through the scatter of trees, and past that. You can still see the water but the clock ticks on.

You sit up, more rigid than ever. You haven’t been able to relax but you’re on edge as you realise how far you’ve gone. How long he’s been at the wheel.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” He asks.

“Y-yeah. Um... does Aika need to go?”

“She’ll let us know, don’t ya worry,” he chuckles. “Pretty, ain’t it? The water?”

You peer around him as the water now stands at his shoulder.

“Shouldn’t we be going towards the coast?” You ask.

“We’ll get there, sweetie,” he assures you. “Just a little further. Didn’t I mention I got a surprise?”

“Erm, no. A surprise?”

“Don’t wanna spoil it,” he smiles and runs his hand over his beard.

You shrink down and go silent. You don’t want to push him. You can’t help but hear the echo of his booming voice and the crack of plaster around his head. No, you won’t do that again.

You come in sight of a house. The siding is beaten wood, the blue paint chipping away, and there’s a crooked shed around one side. The pillars of the porch are dusted with dirt and the old windows boarded up. A tickle creeps up your spine as Sy steers toward it.

“Surprise,” he blusters excitedly.

“Surprise?” You squeak and stare at the house.

“It’s a beach house,” he proclaims proudly. You don’t have the heart or the courage to extinguish his excitement. Does he not see how decrepit it is?

“A beach house?”

“Oh yeah,” he shuts off the engine. “Just us.”

“Wow,” you breathe.

He laughs so loud it makes you flinch. He slaps his hand down on your thigh and squeezes, “don’t be so nervous. We’re gonna get it all cleaned up. Won’t take much.”

“Mhm,” you hum as you look down at his large hand. You gulp and he lets you go.

He gets out and you look at Aika. Her wet nose touches your cheek. Sy whistles and she hops between the seats and follows him out the open door. You climb out on your side and peer up at the house in dread.

“Sy, it’s... it’s gonna be dark in a few hours though.”

“Well, we won’t be driving back now,” he scoffs. “We’re gon’ be here a while. Just you and me. Like a honeymoon or such.”

Your heart sinks. This man took over your life barely two days ago and he’s talking like you’re married. Worse, you let him bring you out to who knows where. Why hadn’t you been paying attention?

“I’ll just get it opened up and air it out,” he says as he marches up to the porch.

You watch him. Stunned. You really can’t believe this. It can’t be real. You scratch your scalp as panic razes through your skin. Aika sits on the steps and you turn back to the truck. You don’t understand...

You go around the bed of the truck. It’s covered. And locked. You can’t pull it open.

You hear him stomping before he appears. You quickly move away from the truck and pretend that you’re admiring the wooden bench amid the patchy grass. He calls your name and you turn to him, swallowing your fear down deep.

“Wanna come see? Got a flashlight.”

He wiggles the yellow plastic and clicks the button. He hits it to make it turn on. You blow out a breath and nod. You go to him, choked of your voice.

He waves you ahead of him. You enter as he shines the flashlight around you. There’s furniture draped in sheets and an old cross stitch hung over a chest of drawers. There’s a fire stove that could be a century old and a carpet with fraying edges. You don’t know if this place is forgotten or condemned.

“Get the boards down, get the dust out, and it’s perfect. Isn’t it?” He purrs as he comes up and puts his arm across your shoulders.

You wince and nod. He guides you along as he aims the light into the kitchen and the stove that looks right out of a mid-century advert, well maybe if it got a fresh coat of paint. He squeezes you closer and stops.

“You alright, sweetie? You quiet?”

“Yes,” you sniff, “y-yeah. Like you said. It’s a surprise.”

“Now I know you wee probably looking forward to the beach today but we’ll get this place nice and cleaned up and have a good fire. I brought stuff for smores. Heh, another surprise. Then tomorrow, we’ll have the whole day in the sun.” He waves the flashlight around, “you know, it’s not ten minutes walk to the shore. I know a shortcut.”

“That’s... great,” you eke out. How does he know this place?

“I’ll get the windows open. How about you pull them sheets off the furniture?” He suggests.

“Okay,” you agree softly.

You turn and go back down the hall. Aika watches through the door. You’re trapped here with this mad man and his trained dog. There’s no way out, even if you did know where you are.

All you can do is distract yourself for as long as you can. Take your time, stay busy. It’s once you have nothing to do that he’ll be able to do anything he wants.

You work at uncovering all the furniture. Then you find a cloth to dust the surface. Sy tosses the boards from the windows in the yard and you take the straw broom form the corner to sweep the floor. The sky ripples as the sun sets and you work in the dimming haze.

Sy lights an old lantern, struggling to catch the wick. He leaves it with you as he takes the flashlight. He mutters something and continues into the shadows the hallway. There’s a clatter and Aika taps through the open door with breeze. She stops as her snout points after her owner.

Thump, thump, thump, thump... the noise whittles off and you look down as you hear noise beneath you. There’s a basement? You wait as Aika keeps vigil, unmoving. You scratch the floor with the bristles as you try to get up as much dirt as you can.

There’s a crackle and some more creaking. Sy thunders back up the stairs and you look up as he searches the wall. He twists a switch and shuts off the flashlight. The tinted bulbs on the wall light up.

“Found the generator,” he says. “Look at you. Looks good in here.”

“Um, yeah,” you continue to brush the floorboards.

“Should I make up the bed?” He asks coyly.

You put your head down as you move with the broom, “well, I am getting tired.”

“Tired...” he mutters. “Mm, sure, but we’re still gonna have a fire, huh? It’s a nice night.”

You nod, “if that’s what you want.”

He sighs, “hm, I’ll... I’ll go fix up the bed then.”

You know he’s disappointed. You’re trying to play along but you’re terrified. As the crickets buzz louder and you hear the forest cracking and swaying, the desolation sets in. Your hopelessness cannot be staved off much longer.

Mistake after mistake, you can’t help but blame yourself for this. He might be the villain, but you set yourself up. You started that Instagram, you didn’t pay enough attention to security, you spoke to him at the grocery store, and you let him take you home. You let him invade your life and when you finally tried to get him out, it was already too late.

It is too late.

You still the broom and squeeze it. You stare at the window. You're lost. Entirely.

He comes back out and you flinch. You try to shake off your despair. It clings but you make yourself smile. You lean the broom against the wall.

“Can I help?” You ask.

“Help, er, sure.” He accepts, “I got some fresh stuff in the truck.”

He ushers you ahead of him. You go outside and he’s close behind. The keys jangle as he comes up next to you and you walk with him to the bed of the truck. He unlocks it and you nearly collapse. He drags out a large plastic bin. What is all this? It’s like he’s moving...

How long has he been planning this?

You step back and blink. You’re woozy with horror. All this stuff, you don’t think he’s planning on leaving.

“Ah, this one,” he drags out another container. “Got the sheets in there.”

He lifts the big blue bin and you take another step back. You shake your head as you stagger around dumbly. He doesn’t notice as he hauls the container in his arms toward the porch.

“Be a sweetie and get the door,” he says.

“No,” you wisp and clear your throat. “No,” you say loud as you stumble back. “No, no!”

You shake your head as he turns to you, his face contorted in confusion. You spin and nearly trip over your own feet. You burst into a sprint. You’re not thinking. It’s purely your body moving on fear alone.

You pump your arms and lift your knees, heading for the spatter of trees. They aren’t thick enough to hide you completely but you might be able to weave around fast enough to lose him. And then...

Then...

You don’t know. All you know is that you have to keep going. You can hear him. His footsteps crush through the twigs as he hollers, “Aika.”

He whistles as you puff shallowly through the pain in your chest. Go, go, go. It isn’t fair. It’s two against one.

You get past the first few trees as you hear his next order but don’t understand it. It’s in that other language. You’re hit from behind, a toppling force that sends you onto your stomach. You land painfully in the dirt as Aika stands on your back and growls in your ear.

“Aika, please. You’re a good girl,” you plead, “Aika, off! Aika--”

“She don’t know English,” Sy snarls as stomps up behind you and kicks your foot.

You whimper and drop your head down. Your stomach, knees, arms, hands, legs, even your cheeks are scraped from your fall to earth. And fall you did. Back to reality.

“Please,” you snivel. “Please, Sy. Take me home. I’m scared.”

He sighs and snaps his fingers. Aika quiets and hops off of you. She turns as she stands by your head and Sy approaches you from behind. He pulls you up and turns you to face him.

“You are home, sweetie,” he grits through his teeth.

You pout and shake your head, “no, Sy. Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?” His forehead wrinkles and his eyes dull. “I’m takin’ care of ya. What do ya mean?”

“But... we can’t stay out here.”

“Why not?”

You stare up into his eyes. They’re empty. Like before. Like when he went rabid. You squirm and grab at his thick fingers.

“Because,” you exclaim. “I don’t know you.”

He winces and blinks. His throat bobs as his head tilts back and forth. He squeezes your shoulders and huffs, “no, no, you know me.”

“I don’t,” you whine. “I don’t know you.”

“You do. You do.” He insists. “You spoke to me. You smiled at me. Every night.”

Your lip quivers and your tears overflow, “Sy,” you sniffle, “Sy, you... you... you’re not a bad guy, you’re just confused. Please, I know you don’t want to hurt me so take me home.”

He closes his eyes and sucks in through his nose. His chest rumbles and he his breath out slow. His lashes lift. His pupils swallow up his irises. You shiver at the pools of black.

“Captain,” he snarls. “I am your Captain.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #follow you anywhere #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sand castle

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