#work permit Kitchener

[owlyflufff]

bokuto being a clingy partner in the morning and akaashi being a clingy partner in the evening

[badolmen]

🖤❤️💚🤍 🥹🥹🥹 you know?????

[wekillitwithfire]

good morning within not even ten minutes of me being awake i go into the kitchen and shatter a glass. everywhere. beautiful day

[princessbrunette]

people often ask if rafe is ever nice to puppy!reader. of course he is. he just has to be in the right mood.

it wasn’t any kind of behaviour from you that he wasn’t expecting — you were a pogue for gods sake, and one that acted like a stray dog at best — so when you come running into tanny hill after falling out a nearby tree with a bloody hand, rafe is far from surprised.

“the hell did you do now?” he drawls, instantly lifting you under the arms and walking you like that to the kitchen sink as you sob. it had scared you more than anything, and he could tell straight off looking at it that it wasn’t broken or sprained — just all bloody which made it look a lot worse than it was. rafe had his fair share of accidents growing up, especially getting into fights with guys from your side of the island, so he was used to patching up his own hands and wrists.

he places you infront of the tap, listening to your whines and sniffles as you run your hand under the cold water, watching the red slowly wash away as rafe rummages in the drawers for the first aid kit, exasperatedly opening it up on the kitchen counter. he dabs at your hand with a paper towel, drying it off before rustling around the kit.

“the fuck were you thinking, huh? could have knocked yourself out. maybe that would teach you.” he lectures, but he’s not particularly in the worst mood so there’s no real threat behind it. “keep your hand still, alright?” he mutters, quietly in concentration as he begins to wrap it with a bandage.

but the tears keep coming, so unlike your usual happy silly ways. once you’re all bandaged he lets you snuggle against him there in the kitchen, getting tears and snot all over his polo as he sighs, shaking his head and rubbing your back. when you don’t stop crying, really working yourself into a state he feels he has no choice but to lift you, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and burrow into his shoulder.

“alright— okay, it’s over, it’s done kid— just quit crying. you’re fine.” he bounces you anyway and you calm slightly, feeling better now that he was holding you. he was coming to learn that sometimes that was all you needed and a little bit of kindness and warmth went a long way with him. he told himself he’d work on it because it did not come too naturally.

he’s not sure what else to do in terms of physical comfort, so he does what he knows best and snakes his hand under your denim skirt over your ass where he’s holding you. you quiet down a little more, permitting him, drooling and chewing on the collar of his polo.

“yeah… that better?” he asks once he starts rubbing you over your panties and you let out a loud shaky breath, nodding against him. “m’talkin’ to you kid, speak.”

“yes feels b’tter…” you hiccup and he deflates a little, relaxing into it there and then in the tanny hill kitchen as he continues stroking you, listening to your breathing calm.

soon, he’s fucking your clit with his thumb, knuckles deep with your legs still pinned around his waist, voice cracking and breaking into his shoulder. you let out a particularly loud sob and he tsks.

“hey, don’t start this shit again on me alright? just take it… thats right.” he manages to bounce you a little, forcing his fingers deeper and you go limp, body weight dropping against him even more. “uh-huh. got what you need, don’t i?” he mutters as you groan, unable to speak.

say what you want about rafe, but he’d always help you out when you need it.

[scarlethexelove]

Hey are to taking requests I’m think about g!p Wanda where reader lost her job and feels like she’s good for nothing but Wanda reminds her that she’s good for everything and what it starts very soft ends up being in rough s*x reader ends up being pregnant

Perfect Little Housewife

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2934

Warnings: Poor Reader gets fired, a little bit of depressed reader, crying, comfort, Smut, Wanda has a penis, soft sex, rough sex, Mommy kink, breeding, Wanda calls reader slut once, obviously unprotected sex, a bit of choking, reader gets pregnant.

A/n: I love the request but as a note Anon I would like it if you didn't use the term g!p it can be offensive to some and I try my best to be respectful. So in the future you could either say intersex or just plainly that she has a penis thanks 😊 But I hope you like it cause I did enjoy this one.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

A tear slips down your cheek as you set the box full of your things on the kitchen island. Fired is what just happened to you. Well they said you were being laid off but it is essentially the same thing in your mind. You're so useless that you can’t even keep your job. How are you supposed to support yourself and your wife if you lost your job? You loved your job and were good at it, so out of all the employees why did it have to be you. 

A few more tears fall as you let out a sigh. Your hands are gripping the counter on either side of the box as you look down. On top is a picture of you and your wife on your wedding day. Bright and happy smiles at the prospect of a great future but where is that future now. Tears land on the glass and roll down the front. How are you going to tell Wanda? What is she going to think of you? You're a failure. 

You don’t hear the door or the soft footsteps creeping towards you. You’re so lost in your thoughts of failure that you missed the fact that your wife is home. Wanda walks into the kitchen seeing you hunched over a box and the sounds of your sniffles causing a look of worry to cross her face. “Detka?” Wanda calls out to you. You quickly stand up straighter and wipe furiously at your eyes to clear the fallen tears. You turn around hoping that you have composed yourself enough. “Wanda.” You're a bit shocked to see her home so early. “What’s wrong moya lyubov'.” She rushes over to you having seen your red puffy eyes and the slight shake of your hands. Her hand reaches to gently cup your cheek, her thumb rubbing against the skin tenderly. “N-nothing.” You try to sound more assured of yourself but the slight stutter doesn’t fool your wife. 

Wanda pulls you into her, wrapping her arms around you tightly. You can’t help but let yourself break in her arms. A sob you didn’t know that you were holding in escapes from your lips. You grip the front of Wanda’s shirt tightly as you cry into her shoulder. You can’t help as you cry harder because of how pathetic you are right now. First you lose your job and now you're crying like a baby. But Wanda is soothing, her touch brings you comfort. Her hand gently rubbing at your back as she kisses your head, quiet shushes as she gently rocks you. You don’t know how long you cry for but they eventually calm, Wanda not stopping her menstrations to calm you. 

Once you had completely stopped crying Wanda pulled you back far enough so that she could get a good look at you. She wipes the tears with her thumbs as she cups your face in her hands. “Moya lyubov’ please tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice is soft and so reassuring, but there still is a voice in the back of your head that screams that you are a failure. You let out a shuttered sigh. “I was fired … Well laid off b-but that still means I’m nothing.” You thought you were all done crying but more tears shine in your eyes. “Oh Y/n/n you're not nothing. Detka we will be just fine.” You shake your head pulling away from her grasp. “I’m useless. I can’t even keep my job to help provide for you.. For us. What kind of wife am I? Then here I am bawling like a fucking idiot because of how useless I am.” Your sorrow turns a bit bitter, but not at her but at yourself. 

You're now muttering and pacing around at how bad of a wife you are and how pathetic you are. Wanda hates to see you so down on yourself. “Detka.” Wanda tries to get your attention but you don’t even acknowledge her. “Y/n/n.” She tries again but it's still the same. “Y/n!” She is louder and more assertive which causes you to stop in your tracks. Wanda takes this as a chance. She grabs your hips and turns you, pressing your back against the island. “Y/n, sweetheart you are not pathetic or a failure. They were stupid for letting you go.” She gives you a kind and reassuring smile. She helps calm you down with her soft voice and soft touches. 

Wanda leans in kissing your lips softly. “You are beautiful, kind, and amazing. I love you so much. You can stay home or you can come work for me if you really want to.” She pecks your lips constantly throughout her words. She knows just how to soften you up to bring you off of the ledge. “Okay.” You breathe out. Wanda kisses you again pouring all of her love for you into that single kiss. 

You two slowly make out in the kitchen. A need for comfort turning into a need for one another. Wanda easily lifts you onto the counter. You let your legs fall open and Wanda slots herself between them. She smiles into the kiss at your action before she is licking at your bottom lip asking for entrance. You gladly allow her access. A moan escapes your throat as Wanda’s tongue meets yours and she grinds her hips into yours. You can already feel her growing bulge. 

Your hands move down and start to fiddle with the button on Wanda’s pants. You struggle to focus on the kiss as you try to undo her pants. “Please.” You whimper against her lips as you fidget. She smirks, moving to push your hands away and undoing her pants swiftly. But she lets them sit around her hips revealing the top of her boxer shorts. You try to push her pants down but she stops you. Clicking her tongue. “Not yet detka. Mommy wants to see you.” You whine but nod. Wanda reaches to take off your shirt which you help by lifting your arms. 

Wanda’s lips meet yours again in another soft kiss. Her hand reached around your back and unhooked your bra. She doesn’t break the kiss as she pulls it down your shoulders and completely off. Her hands now take their place kneading at your breast. You moan in her mouth as she works you up. Gently kneading before her fingers pinch and twist at your sensitive nipples. “Ahh Mommy.” Your hips buck against hers feeling her cock straining against its fabric confines. “Please.” You whimper. 

Wanda moans as you buck into her. “Since you asked so nicely detka.” Wanda’s hands move down and hook into the hem of your pants and underwear. You lift your hips slightly allowing her to pull them both down in one fell swoop. She steps back to pull them all the way off and toss them to the side with the rest of your clothes. She can already see your wetness smearing on your thighs making her groan. You reach out for her wanting her close but she doesn’t move. Her eyes meet yours before she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the side before she reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra letting it fall from her shoulders onto the floor. You so desperately want to touch her and for her to touch you that you let out a whine giving her grabby hands. Wanda clicks her tongue at you. “Patiences moya lyubov’.” She smirks at your neediness. Wanda then pushes her pants down her legs. You can now see her strained cock and the small wet spot of precum that has stained her boxers.

It takes everything in you not to just jump off the counter and rid Wanda of the rest of her clothing. But not soon after Wanda is pushing her boxers down to meet her pants around her ankles. Her cock slapped against her lower stomach. She kicks her clothes from around her ankles off and slots herself back between your waiting legs. Wanda pumps her cock a few times before swiping through your folds stopping to gently nudge at your pulsing clit. You both moan at the action. 

“Fuck malyshka you’re so wet for me.” Wanda groans as she teases your folds. “Mommy please.” You wrap your legs around her waist pulling her closer. Wanda’s desire finally wins over as she presses the tip against your entrance. She slowly pushes in. Your walls stretch to accommodate her size. Your body's desire to be stretched and filled by your wife. She keeps pushing until she is all the way in your warm walls eloping her length. Both of you moan when her hips meet yours. 

You wrap your arms around Wanda’s shoulders lacing your fingers through her hair pulling her into a kiss. As you lips meet Wanda begins to gently thrust into you. She begins to fuck you at a steady pace. Each thrust deep and precise, hitting the spongy spot deep inside of you. Whimpers and moans being swallowed by Wanda’s mouth. 

The sensual moment between the two of you as Wanda doesn’t just fuck you but makes love to you. No matter where you are in life you will always be the most important thing in Wanda’s life. She wants you to feel all of that. This isn’t about being horny it is about showing you how much she loves and cherishes you. All you can hope to do is reflect the same amount of love that she has for you back to her. 

Wanda’s hips keep their steady pace as you continue to softly make out with one another. It’s messy but filled with love. Her arms wrap tightly around you and pull you impossibly closer to her. Your mutual moans being swallowed by the other as you grind back. Your fingers gripping her hair as you break to catch your breath. She leans her forehead against yours. Her eyes looking down to where your two bodies are joined. Small pants as she thrusts perfectly angeling herself every time. “Such a good girl for Mommy. I love you so much detka.” Wanda mumbles against your lips as she gives you a kiss. “Lo-Love you too Mommy.” You mumble breathily. 

Your walls tighten around Wanda’s length as the knot in your lower abdomen tightens. Getting closer to the edge of release. Wanda right there with you, her thrust becoming a bit more sloppy. Your walls clamp around her as her length twitches inside of you. She grinds into you as she thrust in, pleasure shooting through you as you grind back. Your walls are squeezing her perfectly. Your moans are growing as you let your head fall forward onto her shoulder. She gently kisses your other shoulder as you squeeze her tightly. 

Wanda can tell you close. She wants you to finish with her, to feel you release all over her cock. She lightly nips and sucks at the skin around your neck and shoulder, sure to leave marks behind. “Cum detka. I wanna feel you fall apart.” She mumbles against your skin. Her thrust never having turned more than a steady pace continuing to drive into you. You moan as the knot snaps, letting go. Your legs tighten around her waist as your walls spasm around her length. Your cum coating her cock as she grinds into you. Her cock twitches as she releases inside of you. Your walls are being coated by her white sticky liquid. 

Feeling you cum and your walls sucking her in, greedy to milk her dry flips a switch inside of Wanda. She starts to speed up her thrust as spurts of cum coat your walls. She wants to fill you full. Feel you grip her cock like a vice. So instead of bringing you down from your high she starts to build a new one. Her hips now pistoning into you, her cock quickly disappearing in and out of your sticky hole. 

“Mommy.” You whimper confused. “Shhh detka, let Mommy use you now.” She grunts and with a particularly hard thrust you moan. That desirable flip switching inside of you at the change of your wife. You love how she can be soft one moment but rough the next. 

Wanda pulls out of you but before you can even complain about being empty she has manhandled you into a new position. She pulls you off the counter and turns you around. She presses in the middle of your back making you lean over the counter before she grabs your hips harshly and swiftly thrust her full length back inside of you. “Mommy!” You moan out loudly, her thrust at a fast and brutal pace from the start this time. She jackhammers her hips into yours, bouncing off your ass. Her fingers dig into your hips as she grunts. The force of her thrust moves your whole body. 

Your moans bounce off the walls of the kitchen as Wanda continues to thrust into you from behind. She slaps her hand down on your ass causing you to clench around her. “Oh you like that you, you little slut.” She smirks leaning over you, her breast pressed against your back. All you can do is nod your head as another slap connects with your ass cheek. Another loud moan falling from your lips. “Fuck so perfect for Mommy moya lyubov’.” She kisses your shoulder. “M-Mommy’s.” You mumble in agreeance. 

Wanda thrust in and out of you perfectly with each stroke. “Fuck. What if Mommy gets you pregnant baby hmm. You don’t need a job. Mommy will take care of you. You’ll be my perfect little housewife.” You close your eyes, nodding as you moan. “You like that detka? Mommy filling you with her babies.” Wanda grunts as she continues to thrust. Her hand that was left on your hip moving up to your throat and gently squeezing. She pulls both of your bodies up as she never falters her thrust. Her other arm wrapping around your waist keeps your body close to hers. “P-Please!” You moan, your hands gripping her arms wrapped around you digging your nails into her flesh.  

You and Wanda have leisurely talked about kids but nothing solid but her words play in your head. Now would be perfect and she is right she makes enough to support all of you. She can support not only the both of you but all the kids you could ever desire to have together. The door to a career may have closed but another door to a whole new life has opened. One that you are willing to risk it all for. 

“Mommy’s going to fill you so full of her cum. I’ll keep filling this perfect little hole until you're pregnant with my child. Fuck.” Wanda grunts, her thrust becoming sloppy as she draws nearer to her impending orgasm. Your walls are desperately sucking her in just begging to be filled even more. “Want you babies Mommy. Please fill me.” Your words are breathy as Wanda’s hand around your throat tightens.

With Wanda’s hand on your throat and her thrusts you're soon falling over the edge. Your walls clamp hard around her shaft as your head falls back. Silently screaming as you fall over the edge. Your cum once again mixes with hers as your orgasm washes over. Your body trembling in her hold. Her thrust is sloppy as she grows near. The power she has over you in this moment has thrust hard one more time before unloading inside of you. You don’t know how it is possible but she unloads more cum inside of you than the last time. The prospect of getting you pregnant and starting a family with you exciting the other woman. 

Wanda’s thrust slows down as she helps ride the both of you through your highs. If she wasn’t holding onto you so tightly you know your legs would have given out under you. She holds you tight, slowing her pace to a stop when you whimper from a bit of overstimulation. She kisses the side of your head gently as she pulls out of you. “You did so good for me moya lyubov’.” You let out a content sigh as you relax back into her arms. “Thank you Wands.” You mumble with your eyes closed. “Anything for you my love.” She kisses your shoulder gently before she picks you up bridal style. She gently carries you to your shared bedroom and places you on the bed. She quickly gets both of you cleaned up before she slides into the bed next to you. 

You snuggle into Wanda’s side as she wraps her arms around you tightly. Her one hand laying to rest on your stomach. You look up at her seeing her smiling back down at you. You giggle and blush. “Whatttt.” She just chuckles. “You’ll be pregnant. I’m sure of it. We'll have a perfect little family before you know it.” She kisses your lips gently. “How can you know that?” You ask her. “I just know it detka. You’re going to be pregnant with my babies and you get to be my perfect little housewife.” You hum at her words knowing that your wife is never wrong about these things. Snuggling close into her as you let the thoughts of your future take hold. Your eyes sliding shut with a wide smile on your face as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

[rafesangelita]

Rafe visiting sweetheart pogue reader after knowing her better at her little bake shop she works at and they get to talking and she confesses its her absolute dream to open and run her own bake shop and he buys her a little cute shack to start her business off !!! 💕💕

warnings: super sweet fluff, sexual tension that rafe has to force himself not to act on

a/n: this came out longer than i wanted it to, but i loveeee writing for pogue!sweetheart!reader so much, pls send reqs for her if you’d like <3

it was a rather slow day at the icecream shop, so when you heard that little ding! indicating that someone had walked in, you were more than happy to see none other than rafe. “hey!” you chirped, adjusting the pink apron that currently hugged your waist.

“are you the only one working?” he walked up to the counter, your bright smile making his heart beat wildly in his chest. “yeah..” you trailed off, looking over to your manager’s office, “maybe i could ask for a quick break so we could talk?” rafe nodded. “i’d like that.”

he waited until you disappeared before he flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned the small lock on the door, so you two could converse without any interruptions. “okay!” you walked back up front. “favorite flavor?” rafe’s mind went blank as you reached for something, your skirt riding up your thighs as you did so.

“uhm- uh, rocky road is good.” you finally grasped the cups you were looking for, beaming at rafe’s response. “i love that one, too! but strawberry cheesecake has been my go to for a while now.” rafe didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring hard, but he found that it was rather difficult when you were around him.

he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone so sweet and bubbly and charming as you are, could also be so unintentionally sexy at the same time. “rafe?” you snapped him out of his trance, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “here we are.” you walked around the counter, placing the cups of icecream down on a nearby table.

you reached behind you as rafe took a seat, your nails not allowing you to untie the knot you made in the strings of your apron. “what’s wrong?” he looked up at you in confusion. “my apron is a little stuck..” you turned, backing up until you stood been his legs. “can you untie this for me please? i just got my nails done and i did it a bit too tight.”

rafe was going insane. here you were in a mini skirt, potentially giving him a full view of everything that was underneath as you coyly waited for him to ‘help you out’. “sure, yeah-” he cleared his throat, hands coming up to fiddle with the strings that stopped just above the curves of your ass.

once he had it off, you sighed, taking the seat across from him. “where are you coming from?” rafe was still flustered when you took your spoon in your mouth, his eyes following the way your lips wrapped around the damned thing. “work, actually.” he blinked away, zeroing in all his focus elsewhere.

“really? what do you do?” now it was your turn to watch him, the veins on his arms making you lick your lips. “construction. it’s my dad’s business.” you nodded, trying to push the image of rafe all hot and sweaty from working outside, out of your head. “so you’re a handy man?” you teased, unintentionally tapping your foot against his leg.

“i know my way around.” you caught rafe looking at your lips, a shy smile taking over your feautures. “i wish i had those skills, it’d make things so much easier for me.” you raised your eyebrows. “how so?” he leaned forward. “well.. it might sound dumb, but it’s my dream to open my own little bakery. the problem is; i don’t know where to start, i don’t know who i have to get in contact with for licensing and permit stuff, and i definitely don’t know how to install any kind of kitchen appliances.”

rafe thought for a moment.

“do you have a certain location in mind?” he asked. you hummed, shaking your head. “no, i don’t care where it is. i’d just like a bigger space.” rafe nodded. “that doesn’t sound dumb by the way,” you looked up, “i think it’s neat that you want to open up your own business. the entire island will be over the moon once they find out they can get those chocolate chip cookies whenever they want.”

you had never shared that information with anyone, but by the way rafe responded, you were glad it was him that you spilled it to. rafe saw the small flash of sadness pass through your eyes before you shook it off. “one day..” just as you were about to check the time, your manager walk out of her office. “closing shop early today, do you mind helping me out real quick?” without hesitation, you got up from your seat.

“wait for me?” you gave rafe your icecream and apron to go outside with.

“of course.”

-

over the next two weeks, you found yourself by rafe’s side, whether he was following you around while you made sales, or helping you bake, you two seemed to be attached at the hip. “are you working tomorrow?” rafe currently sat on the floor of your camper, leaning against the lace-trimmed cushions of your pull out couch. “nope!” you offered him a spoon of buttercream to taste test, watching as he took his digit in his mouth.

“goddamn, that’s amazing,” rafe gave you a thumbs up, “but anyways— i was asking because i have a surprise for you.” placing the bowl of frosting on the counter, you turned. “oh?” you sat down, his head resting against the side of your knee. “i think you’ll really like it.” rafe kept his eyes down in his lap. “can i guess what it is?” he shook his head, “i won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

sighing in defeat, you and rafe spent the rest of the night decorating cookies and taking turns shuffling songs until he was ready to head back home. “i’ll be here to pick you up in the morning, ‘that sound okay?” he was leaning against your doorframe, your fingertips itching to reach out for him. “mhmm, thank you for all your help today..” you stepped closer, swallowing thickly as he rested a hand in the curve of your neck.

even though rafe wanted to kiss you and feel your lips on his, he settled for a peck on your temple, which you were more than happy to receive. “goodnight, y/n.” he waved before getting in his truck and driving away. locking the door shut, you couldn’t help the pout that graced your lips at your now empty, quiet, camper.

eager to know what rafe wanted to surprise you with, you were quick to get ready for bed, forcing yourself to go to sleep before having to wake up and get ready.

“promise you’re not peeking?” you giggled, your hands resting on top of rafe’s as he guided you to some unknown location. “i promise!” finally, rafe came to a stop, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his body pressing against your backside.

“okay, go ahead and open.” you were buzzing with excitement, your mouth falling agape once your vision cleared. there, in front of you sat a perfect little shack, the word ‘sold’ on a red banner adorning the front. you blinked, slightly confused. “this is so cute! did you buy it or something?” rafe nodded, his mouth falling to your ear.

“it’s yours.”

you took a minute to process his words, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “rafe..” he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. “a couple weeks ago you said it was your dream to have your own bakery but you didn’t know where to start, this is your starting point.” your eyes were watering now as you looked up at the man in front of you.

“i don’t think i can accept this.” you laughed, butterflies swarming your tummy when rafe wiped your tears. “you can, and you will.” you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around him. rafe wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest, but he knew it felt right.

“it still needs to be renovated, but i talked to my dad and he agreed cameron development will cover everything.” you pulled away, dumbfounded. “i- why?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “why not? you deserve it.” sniffling, you looked back at the shack, already envisioning the place up and running. “i can’t thank you enough, rafe.” you couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that rafe, let alone anyone, would do something like this for you.

“we’ll get to that later,” he winked, making you laugh, “should we go pick out a paint color?”

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖��

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

[chiikasevennn]

Heyyy I saw you were writing for sung jinwoo and I was wondering if you'd be up to writing one where reader is his girlfriend and they are together somewhere and he is all soft and mushy with her without realizing there are other hunters around bc he is just so focused on her only

⁠✷—C is for Clingy

THIS IS BADLY WRITTENNNNNNNN, eng is not my first language. I hope nobody criticizes me like I write for a living 😭 also, not proofread. Kind of suggestive. I have no idea what I'm doing or writing. I hope I got this correctly!

Slow movements were made as another lazy Sunday morning was being spent in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with your boyfriend hugging your waist from behind.

You felt like drifting on the edge of consciousness, Jinwoo could say the same. Once the pancakes were finished and ready to be savored, you made every effort to plate them with him securely encircling your waist.

Jinwoo grumbled, half-asleep, eyelids heavy as he couldn't resist the mesmerizing aroma emitting from you. Should you permit, he would hold onto you forever.

For some odd reason, his sense of smell became more acute especially in the morning when you were around, or maybe it was simply your sweet, sugary scent that was so appealing and irresistible. He just had to approach you.

So, as the clingy man he openly acknowledged himself to be whenever he was with you, he just trailed closely along behind you, his head buried in your hair and breathing in its faint sweetish scent.

"—inwoo, Jinwoo," you began to tap his head; slowly, he woke up from daydreaming.

He hummed in response, holding you tighter which made you grumble.

"Pancakes are ready. Do you want syrup?"

He nodded his head against your hair. You did your best to remove his hold around you, to which you succeeded barely.

"Woo, we're going to eat." The dark haired man's face etched with lines of discontent at how he had to let go of you.

The sight of pancakes you made on the table brought a little smile to his face though, a tower of golden goodness waiting to be devoured. Each pancake was a work of art, perfectly round and fluffy, begging to be drenched in syrup.

He seized the chair adjacent to your seat and brought it close to you with such intimacy, eager to be near you as he prepared to enjoy his first meal of the day.

The two of you took a bite, it was a silent breakfast.

"Say, Jagiya," he said. "KHA's hosting a party in three days, may I ask you to come with me?"

You stopped eating after swallowing the last piece of pancake in your mouth. "Like, a hunter gathering? Am I needed?"

"For me, yes." He responded like a form of desperation. "I also want to show my girlfriend to the world. Will that be okay?"

Trying to negotiate with him was pointless. How could you possibly refuse when he asked so kindly? You were somewhat bashful around strangers, often preferring to take shelter behind someone taller. Jinwoo conveniently became that reliable barrier after his sudden growth spurt.

"Sure, does it have a theme or something? I don't want to look off."

"You'd look gorgeous in anything."

"I'm serious!"

Jinwoo chuckled. "A dress, maybe? I'll wear a suit. Should we go look for fits later? It's a day off, after all."

I hummed along with him, eating the rest of the pancake happily.

The dark haired man looked at the necklace around your neck. You were still donning that budget-friendly heart necklace, huh? Back then, it was the only thing he could offer as he didn't have much. It had been his initial present to you upon making things official, and ever since then, you hadn't removed it.

Jinwoo smiled. The littlest things do make him happy randomly. Maybe it was the [Name] effect.

By four o'clock, you and him stepped out to shop together. Although your intention was to sleep through the day, how could you possibly debate with your boyfriend who was eager to be with you at a luxurious event?

✯

"Is this really okay?"

As she descended the staircase, the V-line neckline of her dress accentuated the slender curve of her neck. It was commanding Jinwoo's attention and he couldn't look away although he'd already seen you in that dress.

He was determined to hold onto you once more, and he did, though his breath hesitated as he realized how easily he could grab your waist.

Jinwoo buried his face into your styled hair, reddening like a teenager. Oh, Jinwoo, your charming Jinwoo who kept showing this cute side of him just and only for you.

"Woo, this is the seventh time you've grabbed my waist. I might be giving you too much privilege."

"Mm," he was silent, before suggesting something. "You're so grabbable, so small… You know, we still have thirty minutes lef—"

You ended up smacking the back of his head with a wide smile, a tick mark appearing. "Nope, the last time we did that, I couldn't walk properly!"

You bestowed a kiss upon his hair, being cautious not to disrupt the expertly groomed locks that adorned his handsome face. Of course, this man was not only your significant other, but also your partner in each craziness you start, and you, too, were keen to flaunt him proudly like the committed partner you were.

✯

The formal party was a gathering of elite individuals, a sea of tailored suits and elegant dresses filling the large room. Every detail of the formal party was meticulously planned, from the ornate decorations to the impeccable service as it would have distinguished guests.

For those in attendance, the formal party was more than just a social event—it was an opportunity to network, to solidify alliances, and to climb the ladder of success.

The air was thick with anticipation as guests awaited the arrival of the most awaited guest, a figure of utmost importance in the world of hunters.

When you and Jinwoo arrived, it was obvious that every set of eyes was fixed on the both of you, holding you in their gaze, clearly observing your every move.

They didn't know an inkling of fact about you, but they knew you were his secret other, thanks to the rumors and candid photos fans took of the two of you, dubbing you as Hunter Sung Jinwoo and his hidden girlfriend.

Indeed, you were gorgeous, but some of their corrupted minds thrived for more than that. They wanted connection, power, influence—

I got nervous for no reason… You sighed.

You had envisioned the gathering to be calm before the storm, but surprisingly, it was actually like a walk in the park! Initially, you had anticipated being swarmed or judged by random people nearby, but they were actually quite polite.

The discussions you engaged in with people were polite, formal, and brief, to say the least. You also noticed how tense some of them appeared moments after approaching you… Or maybe you were kidding and it was just your imagination? You had initially thought of hiding behind Jinwoo and using him as a shield, but surprisingly, they were composed and respectful.

You were unaware of the fear gripping their souls, as each time you greeted them with a gentle, tiny smile, a certain dark-haired hunter would send them glaring looks from a distance behind you; Jinwoo knew their intentions, and they weren't dumb to not realize that he was pointing right exactly at them.

"Jagiya," He spoke softly by your ear before planting a kiss on the tip of your ear. Wait. "Did you use another perfume when we arrived?"

The sudden weight of pressure hugged your hands, leaving you undeniably certain that he gripped it tightly as if awaiting something eagerly.

"No…? Wait, do I smell—"

He knew what you were going to assume. "No, not bad. Just different. Like candy or something similar."

You kissed his lips. "Good." Jinwoo couldn't resist smiling, a sight that, unbeknownst to both of you, resulted in many spectators widening their eyes at the sight of the two of you.

His concentration was solely on you, those gray eyes looking down at you with so much adoration. He never objected to public displays of affection, perhaps the two of you simply preferred to keep your intimacy private, until now—at least, for Jinwoo.

It made him feel giddy.

"Kiss me again?"

"What? We're in public…"

"So? No harm in doing it again. You already kissed me. Plus, we literally had a quickie weeks ago at a restau—"

"Shut!" You whisper-yelled, a flush of embarrassment spreading across your face up to your ears. Jinwoo chuckled. "That is not necessary!"

….? Did he just… Laugh?

That was the thought of the woman afar, Hunter Cha Hae-In. Plagued by an unsettling and cumbersome sensation, she observed something she didn't think she'd see.

So those pictures of them taken at a beach were true? The blonde hunter tried to swallow down her drink.

The hunters scattered throughout the room, especially those who had witnessed Jinwoo's prowess in battle, look mostly in disbelief as they witnessed something that surpassed their wildest dreams. They had never considered that such a brutal man on the battlefield could be so tender... And it seemed like he had no problem showing it, too!

.

"Wait, what do you mean you kind of drove them away?" You whispered closely to your boyfriend's face, brows furrowing. "So that guy Mr. Kim was actually gonna piss his pants because you continuously looked at him like a mosquito???"

"Your hair smells great." He deliberately changed the subject with a kiss. "Let's go to dinner after this."

"Hey!" You whisper-yelled.

ples comment something D:

[finalgilmoregirl]

omg I loved your grumpy x sunshine Mike and reader work - could you please do another scenario where the sunshine! reader is the one who has a bad day and it’s up to grumpy! Mike to comfort and help out in his own way? :) thanks for sharing your work!

a/n : i'm glad you enjoyed it, thanks for the request. fem!reader, she/her pronouns, mainly just fluff

☆ bad day : grumpy!mike schmidt x sunshine!fem!reader

mike knew something was wrong the moment he closed his door behind him and was greeted with silence has he entered the house.

you were always rushing in to greet him as soon as the sound of his keys against the door knob signaled his arrival, but today that clearly wasn't the case.

"hello?" mike called out and a moment later was met by the sight of abby creeping out of the hallway.

"where's y/n?"

"well hello to you too" the young girl rolled her eyes, walking past mike and heading for the kitchen.

"sorry" he sighed, catching her arm before she got too far and pulling her into his arms for a hug, earning a groan in response. "how was your day?"

"it was okay, but i think y/n/n's sick."

"sick? what do you mean?" mike thought back to when he last saw you just that morning. you were fine, your normally bubbly self despite the early hours, yawning between giggles as you and abby got breakfast prepared.

abby shrugged, "i don't know, she's been in bed since we got home."

mike knew you better than abby to know that you couldn't be sick. even if you were sick, you would protest and continue your daily routine as usual. something had to have been seriously wrong for you to defy from that routine and lay in bed for hours, especially with abby home. you hated to leave her alone and always tried to find something spontaneous and fun for the two of you to do if time permitted.

he warily walked into the direction of your shared bedroom and slowly opened the door that was left ajar. the lights were off and if it wasn't for the glow of the hallway light, he wouldn't have been able to see your figure on the bed in the dimness of the afternoon darkness.

but there you were, laying on your side, facing away from the door. mike could tell you weren't sleeping by the way that you were scratching at the loose threads of the faded colored duvet.

"hey" he called out softly, nearing your spot on the bed where he then took a seat on the edge, softly placing a hand on your shoulder. "you okay?" he asked, trying to gauge your emotions. that quickly cleared up however when he heard a sniffle come from you, followed by a small hiccup. you were crying.

mike leaned over to look at your face and was met with wet eyes and puffy chapped lips. his eyebrows furrowed, "hey hey hey" he said softly, moving you so you were now laying on your back, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to will the tears away. you hated crying, and you knew mike hated to see you cry. "what's wrong? what happened?"

you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, clearly trying to control yourself. "just...had a bad day." you sighed.

"well, talk to me about it." mike wasn't always the best at dealing with emotions, but he was good at comforting you and abby, always wanting you to open up to him, even if he had trouble doing the same sometimes.

you took in another deep breath and nodded, preparing yourself to tell mike about the worst day you'd had in a while.

"i fell off the front steps after you and abby left this morning. but it was okay" you started, "i laughed, realized i scraped by knees and had to change my pants but that was okay." mike nodded along and listened, rubbing your side as you spoke. "but then i got a flat tire on my way to work." you continued, sighing as you felt the emotions building up again. "that was fine, it took me a while to get it fixed but i mananged and that was taken care of with no problems. but i was late, and usually my boss would let that kind of thing slide, but we had some hire ups there to oversee us and when one of them called me out for not being "better prepared", instead of changing the subject or at the very least, defending me after everything i've done for him, he agreed! then she basically told him that i should either be fired or have my paycheck cut." you finished with a huff and let the fresh tears that had built up in your eyes fall down your face.

mike felt a pang of hurt in his chest as he heard you recount the unfortunate events of your day. you didn't deserve to go through all of that. "why didn't you call me?" he asked, brushing the tears away from your face and attempting to flatten the hairs that had become out of place.

your hands came up to cover your face as you let out a sob. "i forgot to charge my phone!" you cried, earning a soft aww honey from mike as he kissed your temple, allowing for you to let your feelings out. after a minute of you gasping for air through your cries and furiously wiping away tears that just kept coming, you started to relax. you sighed and turned your head to your partner.

"i'm sorry you had to see me like this, how was your day?" you asked, still sniffling. mike shook his head and scoffed a laugh, even in the middle of a breakdown, you still want to talk about him.

"no don't worry about me, it was fine." he said, "how can i help you?"

you shrugged, looking down and beginning to play with mikes fingers where his hand now rested on your stomach.

"come on" he insisted, "you always help me when i'm having a bad way and i want to help you now. do you want a snack? do you want to watch a movie, or go for a drive? anything you want, i'll do it for you."

you let out a small laugh at mike's dedication, causing him to squeeze your side. "i'm serious!"

you looked back up and into his eyes, cracking a small smile. "maybe a movie." you said quietly.

"okay, i can do that." mike spoke, starting to get up from his seat on the bed until he was stopped by your hand on his arm.

"but first can you just hold me for a bit. please?" mike looked down at you with a kind of softness that he ever only reserved for you.

"yeah, i can do that too."

the end ☆

[arminsumi]

★

Satoru's lazing in his bed, white cat curled up by his side as he scrolls through his socials. And he's really lazing; there's his clothes on the floor. It started with just boxers, now it's become a pile.

"Hey, she's coming over in five." Suguru knocks on his door and tells him this.

"HUH? WHY?"

And Satoru's no longer lazing in bed. The cat startles at his swiftness. He's off the bed and frantically hopping to the pile of clothes, then hurtling them into the hamper in the laundry room.

His room's a mess, but he's more of a mess than it is; hair unbrushed because he never really bothers with it unless he's going out the house, and today was meant to be a lazy day spent indoors.

Suguru's not helping, he's just observing his best friend talking to himself under his breath as he hurriedly stuffs things into drawers, his closet, and kicks shoes under the bed.

There's a knock on the door.

"DON'T OPEN THE DOOR YET! I'VE GOTTA — "

Suguru waits.

Satoru picks up a stray sock and sticks it in a kitchen cabinet without thinking.

" — Okay. Alright. Nice. Everything's clean." Satoru claps his hands together proudly. "You can open the door."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE | PART THREE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

[troublesomesnitch]

The Devil You Know

Aemond x Septa!Reader - Pt. 2

Little follow-up to this, but hopefully works OK on its own! There might be a third and final part also.

Contents: Book!Aemond, filth and depravity. Coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, medieval fuckboy Aemond. Just the tip...

Words: 3200

Full disclosure - possibly a bit unpolished because I wanted to get it done before S2.

-

You left the grand sept just days after your investiture. 

At noon on the first day of the new month, a royal courier came to fetch you, loading your meagre belongings onto a cart to bring both that and yourself to the castle. To your new home and abode: a chamber with one bed, one table and one little chair, one sconce and one seven-pointed star on the wall. Naturally in the servant’s quarters, but on the highest floor, along with the ladies’ maids, far away from the damp cellars and busy kitchens.

The queen’s household is large, and you are somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy; expected to follow orders, but able to give them, too. You are a septa now, a woman grown, and for the first time in all of your life you have no Mother Superior to answer to, no Septon Alester, and no other girls sharing your bedchamber - which is both a blessing and a curse. It is nice and quiet to be by yourself, free of prying eyes and Sister Sybella’s snoring. But no one pays notice when you slip out at night, and if you run into a maid or steward, they naturally assume that you are headed towards Her Grace or Princess Helaena’s chambers. 

Luckily, Prince Aemond’s rooms are in roughly the same direction. 

When others are near, he is perfectly honourable. Really, his performance is quite impressive. Not too eager, not too distant, perfectly measured when he greets you in the halls, or sits with his mother in her solar. But at night, at night he is different. When the hour grows late and the royal family say their goodnights, he will find a chance to strike, to brush past you and squeeze your wrist, or run his fingers over the small of your back to let you know that he wishes to see you. That he wants you to come to him tonight. 

To his chamber, to his bed, to his arms. 

It is a humiliating plight, and you climb the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast with all the enthusiasm of a convict walking to the scaffold. Weighed down by the guilt of your actions, terrified that someone should know. And resentful, of the prince for making you dishonour your vows, and of the gods for cursing you with beauty - had they made you ugly, Prince Aemond would never have spared you a glance, and you would not be in this predicament. You would not be forced to indulge his lusts and endure the liberties he takes with your body. 

But most of all, worst of all, you feel ashamed. Of all the things you do together, and of the fact that you cannot deny it does sometimes bring you pleasure, too. 

You have permitted him to kiss your mouth, your throat, your chest. Wrapped your hands  around his member and stroked it while he fondled your breasts. Let him lie on top of you and rut against you, still fully clothed, pressing hard between your legs until both of you were sweaty and panting. And once, only once, you let him slip his hand up under your skirts and touch you there, and it felt more wonderful than anything else you have ever experienced. So wonderful that you have not allowed him to do it again, for fear that it should corrupt your soul and spirit. That you will always crave it, the warm press of his fingers, and the way your body suddenly shook and tightened with a pleasure so exquisite you could not help but cry out in ecstasy. 

But he has never had you. Never put any part of himself inside you, never even seen your naked body. It is the strangest thing - there are surely many ladies who would give themselves to him, wholly and fully, yet for some reason, he wants only you.

And he does not waste time with any sort of pleasantries. The joys of night are short, and he can only keep you for so long - you must be back in time to rest, and at the very least before the scullions and kitchen maids rise. You have hardly latched the door before he wraps you in his longing arms, laying you on his bed and parting your legs. The sheets are soft against your back, and his leathers are smooth and cool, and you do not protest when he lays on top of you. You have grown used to the feel of his chest against yours, the heaviness of him, and the hard and lean lines of his body, so different from your own. You have grown used to his kisses too. You like it when he pecks gently at your lips, and when he slides his tongue into your mouth and curls it around your own. When he strokes your body in all sorts of ways, to see what darling little noises he can coax from you this time. 

“Have you ever been touched like this before?” he breathes - a silly question, since he knows the answer well enough already. 

“No,” you whisper. “Never.”

“Say it again,” he commands, closing his eye and breathing in deeply, pressing his nose to your sweet-smelling hair. 

“No other man has ever touched me - only you.” 

It arouses him very much, hearing those words, and he groans softly when he takes your hand and guides it down between your bodies. Knowing what he wants you to do, you hike your skirts up, just enough to run your own fingers along the folds of your womanhood and hold them up for him to taste. Which he does with the most fervent passion, sighing as he licks them clean of any trace of you. He has asked many times to be allowed to taste your sweetness from its source, but you have staunchly refused, appalled at the mere suggestion. He should not press his mouth to such a dirty place. He should not lick something that serves only the body’s most revolting and shameful functions. 

Usually, once he has kissed you like this for a while, and pressed and rubbed against you, he will either reach his end from that alone, or he will make you pleasure him with your hands. But not tonight. 

“Let me feel you,” he pants. “Just this once let me put it inside - ”

“It is a sin,” you gasp, mortified, but nonetheless shivering when he pulls at your sleeve, exposing your shoulder to cover it with kisses. 

“As is this,” he whispers. “And this, and this - ”

His mouth is lovely and warm on your skin, and his teeth are gentle when they scrape along your throat, nibbling softly above your neckline, and biting down hard below it. Making your breathing uneven as you struggle to string your words together. 

“But it is different - you know that it is, please don’t make me do it…”

The prince lifts his head to look at you, propped up on his elbow. 

“It is the movements that are the most sinful part of the act - is it not?” he says, cupping your face and stroking your cheek in the tenderest of ways. When you nod, he adds, “and if I were to not perform them, would that not be a lesser sin?”

His tone is innocent enough, but you know that wicked look in his eyes, the self-assured draw of his mouth. He knows that he is right - it is the movements, not the insertion itself that makes the act of coupling so sinful. And if he showed restraint and did not move in any such manner, then you suppose it would be a lesser sin. Although they did not mention such possible circumventions in your training, naturally. And there are other issues, still. 

“But my maidenhead…” you mutter, looking bashfully to the side when the prince touches his nose to yours. 

“I will be gentle,” he breathes. “I will be so very gentle - my angel, my love - let me at least have you this way… ”

It never really is your choice to make. To be alone with the prince is to balance on a precarious ledge - you can deny him some things, but only so long as you can offer something else that might appease him. And though he never makes overt threats, you are painfully aware that displeasing him could have dire consequences. That he could hurt you in a multitude of ways if he so wished. 

You squirm under his gaze, riddled with so many conflicting emotions; fearful of his intentions, yet blushing at the terms of endearment. Who would not want to hear such lovely words from a prince?

“Just this once,” he whispers, his voice soft and amorous. Just this once…

All you give him is the faintest nod, a slight incline of your head, and his hands are already pushing at your skirts, bunching them up over your parted knees. His breath hitches at the sight of your womanhood, your most intimate parts that you have never bared to him before; wet and inviting, framed by soft curls. Lovelier than he had ever even imagined, that rosy colour of your innermost lips, that little pearl you will not let him touch. And most of all your maidenhead, the delicate tissue that partially covers your entrance, and that he will earnestly try not to damage beyond what is necessary. 

For reasons he could not say, you have quite enchanted him. So much so that he has lavished more patience and tenderness on you than ever before on a woman, and that despite seeing so little return on the investment. For weeks he has contented himself with just your hand and your reluctant kisses, the mere feel of your body beneath him. Many times, he could have taken you by force, and many times he wanted to, yet somehow he could not bring himself to do it, could not bear the thought that you should hate him for it. That your delicate limbs should be hurt in trying to fight him off. 

He has waited long for this, and he does not want to give you time to change your mind, so he only quickly shrugs off his doublet and unbuttons his breeches to free his manhood. Which is painfully hard and in dire need of relief.

It still looks so strange to you, that unholy appendage, with its swollen shaft and its fat, fleshy head. Like the poisonous mushrooms that grow in the Kingswood, though you always keep that thought to yourself - you doubt the prince would appreciate such a childish comparison. He strokes it slowly while his other hand disappears between your legs, brushing over your womanhood and spreading your folds to reveal your little opening. Untried, uncharted by anything or anyone. 

You grit your teeth when the tips of his fingers are replaced by - something else. 

Slowly, steadily, he begins to ease himself inside of you, and you feel your muscles instantly and unwittingly tensing up, startled at the sensation. At the pressure, and at the sound the prince makes when the tip of his member is enveloped by your body, the tight rim of your entrance squeezing its sensitive head. The rest of him will not fit, but he spits into his palm and strokes it along his shaft, and that makes things glide a little better, as do your slow, deliberate breaths. 

It hurts, it really does, only not in the way you expected. You do not so much feel like anything is being torn or ripped - rather, you feel stretched, forcibly split apart and opened far beyond what should be possible. Your insides burn from it, and you wince with pain when he adjusts his position, spreading your thighs wider and driving his hips forward. Pressing in until he is fully seated. 

And he moans from how perfect you feel around him. So soft, so tight. His seeing eye closes and his breathing is hoarse, strained from how badly he needs to move, needs to thrust; his arms trembling by the sides of your head as he struggles to hold himself still. It is a bizarre thing to do, you think, just laying together like this, one on top of the other, completely motionless. Your legs raised over his hips, his chin resting against your forehead. His manhood swelling within you, throbbing with need. You can only hope it means that he will finish quickly and release you from this chore, from the searing pain that scorches your core, and the feeling of being so trapped, so tethered. Much like one of the many-legged creatures on Princess Helaena’s wall; splayed out and nailed down, held in place by a foreign object piercing your body. 

But the prince likes it. You have never heard such heavy sighs from him as just now, never seen such utter bliss on his face. His forehead is damp with sweat, his brows drawn together, his upper lip subtly twitching. One of his hands trails up the back of your naked thigh, lifting your leg to curl it around his back, and he moans from that too, as the slight shift gives him a brief feeling of movement. It is not at all comfortable for you, but you are distracted when he seeks your lips, claiming your mouth with slow, deep kisses. His tongue rolls over yours, pulling back to lick along your lip before plunging into your mouth again, over and over, in a strangely repetitive way. A rhythmic way. As if he is making love to your mouth, since he cannot make love to your body. 

It feels lovely, so lovely that it makes your insides twitch. Which in turn makes the prince curse, and a violent shudder run through his body. 

“Do it again,” he moans, and like always you do your best to please him. Clenching your muscles, squeezing tight around him, then releasing again. Very slowly, and each time feeling his breathy gasp against your face, and the thrum of a heartbeat inside of you - whether his or yours, you cannot say. It is painful with your already sore muscles, and it must be a poor excuse for what it is supposed to mimic, but it is still better than nothing, judging by how the prince moans. How he bites his lip and furrows his brow as your insides twitch and contract, so tight and slick and warm. 

How strange to think that now you have become one. Now you are as close as two people can ever be. Closer still when the prince slithers his arm underneath your body, pressing you hard against him and cradling your head. Your fingers are clenched in the damp material of his shirt, and he unfurls them gently to wrap your arms around his neck, around his shoulders; wanting you to hold him, to embrace him as a woman should her lover. 

It makes your discomfort somewhat more bearable, having something to cling and anchor yourself to. The closeness, and the intimacy of it, how his face is right above yours, your noses touching and breaths mingling. He drags his mouth against your own, from side to side, his lips brushing over yours, then over the rest of your face; your chin, your cheekbones, your temples. So, so gently, and like often before, you are stunned that he can be both so cruel and so tender with you. So selfish, and so soft. 

He has had countless chances to force himself on you, yet he never did. Even now he is keeping his promise, holding back, fighting hard to not succumb to that most powerful and natural instinct of a man, this urge to thrust, to copulate. You can feel that he is shivering with the force of his need, gritting his teeth, unable to keep completely still - there is a gentle, almost imperceptible swaying of his body that he cannot help, an impossibly slow rocking with each of his ragged breaths. 

He really is beautiful, you think, with his striking eyes and thick, silvery hair; pink lips parted in a breathy sigh. You could not say what possessed you to be so bold, but you find yourself reaching up to place a wet, lingering kiss underneath his jaw, right on top of the constellation of freckles that adorns his neck, swiping your tongue across it and tasting the sweat of his skin. To an almost immediate effect - at the feeling of your timid caresses, the prince curses loudly, clenching his fingers in the sheets, arching his back - 

“No!” you exclaim, “not inside me, not inside - ”

But it is too late; he has already shuddered once, and his manhood is already pulsing and spurting when he manages to withdraw from you. So stiff that it flops up against his stomach, a grotesque thing to look upon, the way it just hangs there, squirting out semen as he groans and gasps. At the very end of his rapture he grasps it with one hand, stroking it hard all the way from the base to the tip, as though wanting to squeeze out every last bit of fluid. And once he is spent, he rolls off of you and onto his back, completely unceremoniously. Leaving you raw and hurting inside, and with the sticky feeling of his semen trickling out between your thighs. 

“If it catches,” you whisper, afraid to even speak the words. “If I should be with child…”

The prince runs a hand over his face, panting and still too lightheaded to be thinking clearly, because he stupidly tells you that needn’t worry, he will have a tea brought to you -

“No! please no,” you shriek, panicked. “They would know I broke my vows - ”

“Then I will bring it myself,” he snaps, but rather than reassure you, his harsh tone only makes you tear up.

At the sigh of your quivering mouth, his face softens, and he reaches out to pull you into his arms, hold you against his chest, stroke your hair and rock you gently. Say forgive me, forgive me, I quite forgot myself, you mustn’t cry, my love -

“Why must you torment me,” you sob. “Sooner or later someone will know, they will shame me and ruin me - “

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. “I would not let them - I will cut off any hand that hurts you - “

You press your ear to his chest to drown out the sound of his voice, for he has said these same words many times before, and with the same fervour and poignancy. He adores you, he reveres you, he will cut off any hand that hurts you, any eye that ogles you, any tongue that slanders your name. 

You haven’t the courage to tell him - the only hand that hurts you is his own. 

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @ladythornofrivia, @blackswxnn, @hightpwer, @toodlesxcuddles, @arcielee

@targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost

And thank you @aemondsbabygirl for being a great one-woman focus group!

[scarlethexelove]

Growing A Family

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Milf!Reader

Word Count: 1451

Warnings: Smut, Intersex!Natasha, P in V, Nat really wants a baby, a bit of a breeding kink, Belly bulge, kitchen sex, Unprotected sex obviously, maybe other things.

Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4

A/n: Been sitting on this idea for a while. Just Nat being cute and deserving a family. This is just nice and cute and soft. Did I mention Nat is adorable.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Your soft hums fill Natasha’s ears as she enters the kitchen. She leans against the door frame admiring your form as you clean up. Your jeans hugging your hips perfectly, your plush thighs, and how they accentuating your ass deliciously. You haven’t even noticed her return as your mind stays focused on the task in front of you. Nat pushes herself off the frame and makes her way over to you. She tightly grips your hips as she presses her front against your back. You gasp in surprise but relax in her hold. “Mmm your ass looks delicious in these jeans.” Nat kisses your shoulder as she pulls you impossibly close. “Thank you baby.” You giggle as a blush spreads across your cheeks. 

Nat has just returned from dropping off your daughter at Yelena’s place wanting to give you a break and spend some quality time together. Setting her plan in motion. Her lips trail to your neck nipping at the skin as her hands slide up under shirt cupping your clothed breast. “Natty.” You try to swat her away but the moan you let out as she sucks harshly on your pulse point has you faltering. “Have a baby with me.” She whispers in your ear as she pulls your bra down causing your breast to spill out giving her access to squeeze them. 

A whimper falls from your lips but you try to compose yourself. “N-Natty. We talked about t-this.” You stutter slightly. You two have had this conversation before, no kids until she retires. You’ve been a single parent before and said you wouldn’t add another child to your family if you had to do it again. Nat understood this and accepted your conditions. She wasn’t ready to give up that life before but now she was ready. She wanted to settle down with you and raise a family together. She loves your daughter as if she was her own and wanted nothing more than to give her a sibling. 

“I had a meeting with Fury this morning.” Nat mumbles against the skin of your shoulder. You give her a hum, encouraging her to continue knowing she is leading this somewhere. “I’m done detka. No more missions, no more being gone for weeks on end. I want to be here with you, with Elizabeth, to grow our family. He offered for me to train recruits as needed, so I’ll only have to be there a couple days a week.” She kisses your shoulder softly as she speaks and softly massages your breast. You try to turn around in her hold, but she holds you tighter, pushing you further, pinning you between her body and the counter. 

“I’m going to put a baby in you.” Nat bites down on your neck. You can’t help the moan that slips past your lips wanting nothing more than to feel your wife filling you up. You can feel her already hardened cock pressing against your ass. “Please.” You whimper. One of Nat’s arms wraps around you tightly as the other moves down. Her fingers find the button to your pants and undo them, the zipper following soon after. Her fingers hook into the waistband of both your jeans and panties as she pulls them down. You help shimmy them down until they are around your knees. 

Nat then moves that hand between your bodies, pushing her sweatpants and boxers down to her thighs. She nips and sucks at the skin of your neck and shoulders. Her cock slaps against your ass before she humps you slightly. Her cock already getting coated in your arousal as she does so. “Fuck printsessa you're so wet for me already.” You nod. “Please Natty want you to fill me.” Nat groans. “Oh detka I’m going to keep filling you until you're pregnant with my baby.” She lines her member up with your entrance slowly pushing into you. 

When the head of her cock fully presses in, Nat moves her hands back cupping your breast in each hand. She tweaks your nipples the further she presses into you. Both of you moan at the feeling of her filling you up. “Always so tight for me printsessa no matter how many times I fuck you.” Your walls deliciously squeezing her the further she pushes in until she is fully sheathed inside of you. You let out a gasp at the feeling of being so full. 

Nat lets you get used to her size as she continues to massage your breast. “Fuck I can’t wait to see these grow. Your belly swollen with my baby. You will look so fucking hot.” Nat mumbles against your skin. You nod along with her words. “F-fuck, please Natty want it so bad.” You start pressing back into her letting her know that she can move. She starts to slowly pull out before pushing back in. Her thrust starts off at a slower pace as she builds up speed. You let out small gasps and whines as her pace builds. 

You let your head fall to the side giving Nat more access. One of your hands moves up and behind you as you lace your fingers through Nat’s hair as she litters marks on your skin. Her thrust finds a steady pace as her cock plunges into your hole. Your walls are sucking her in with every thrust of her hips. Your moans grow louder as they bounce off the walls of the kitchen. Your body is still pressed against the counter as Nat holds you up. “So good.” You slur your words as the pleasure courses through you. Your grip on Nat’s hair tightens, causing the woman to moan and bite down harder on your skin. 

As Nat thrusts into you, you press your body back into hers, matching her pace. Her cock reached depths that you didn’t know where possible. One of Nat’s hands slides down your stomach until she feels how her cock fills you up. With every thrust pressing lightly into her hand has her moaning loudly in your ear. She presses down on the spot causing a gush of arousal and your mouth to hang open in a silent scream. “Feel how deep I’m inside you. My big cock filling your tiny little hole to the brim.” You nod and moan. “Y-Yes, fuck.” She smirks. 

The closer you grow to your release, your walls squeeze and suck Nat in. Her thrust are starting to become more erratic as she chases her high. She presses down harder on your abdomen, causing your grip on her hair to tighten her scalp, burning with a mix of pleasure and pain. You don’t know how it is possible as her thrust speeds up. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, and so is Nats. “Mmm wanna cum.” You whine already teetering on the edge. Nat’s thrust are sloppy and you can feel her cock twitching inside of you. “Hold it printsessa.” She murmurs in your ear. 

It takes everything in you to comply with her words. You're so close to letting go that you don’t know how it hasn’t washed over you yet. Nat keeps thrusting as your walls clamp around her, desperate for release. It doesn’t take long before Nat is also on the edge. “Cum detka.” She presses down again on where her cock fills you causing you to let out a scream of pleasure. The pressure causes you to release all over her cock. Your whole body trembling in her hold as the powerful orgasm washes over you. Her hips stutter at the same time as she releases inside of you. She paints your walls white with her cum, filling you even fuller than you already were. She groans as your walls milk her dry. Nat ruts into you to prolong both of your orgasms. She slowly comes to a stop when you whimper a bit from how sensitive you are. She doesn’t pull out wanting to keep her cum inside of you for as long as possible. 

“Are you okay detka?” Nat asks as she holds you gently in her arms, keeping you upright as your legs shake. You hum as your head falls back on her shoulder and you relax back into her. She peppers you with soft kisses as you both calm down. “I love you.” You mumble tiredly. Nat smiles. “I love you to printsessa.” 

A peaceful bliss washes over you as your mind wanders to the future. Growing your family with the woman that you love seems to come at the perfect time. A new journey for you to take together, but you're both excited for it. To finally have all that you could have ever wanted with the perfect woman.

[soulc-hilde]

You’re my Favorite

Pairing: Eminem x afab!reader

Warning: Implied smut, mentions of sexual intercourse, cursing, body shaming, fatphobia

Synopsis: Caught in the chaos of ’06, Marshall falls into bed with one of the most influential actresses of the decade. Despite his desire to let her in and know who Marshall Mathers is outside of the bedroom, his insecurities always seem. Chasing away the love of his life, eighteen years of loneliness darkens his soul until he makes a slip up in an interview.

Based off of this request – speaking of, if you wish to request work from writers (free work, at that) please do not move to another writer and make the same request unless the first writer denies you or completely ignores you. It’s a form of respect, a lot of us writers are adults with working lives, especially in America’s economy. Unfortunately, things are not going to be done in that second. If this happens again, I will simply deny the request and/or close my inbox and strictly do fanfic series. Please, respect your writers.

He silently watches her, nestled into his side, head resting on his chest with arms wrapped around his waist. She was beautiful. So, unconventionally beautiful which was a surprise as not many highly rated actresses such as herself were permitted such grace to keep their natural features.

As her eyes lock onto the action-packed scenes of Snakes on a Plane – a quick joke he made knowing that the poor woman hated seeing herself on camera, her palm absently rubs at his stomach.

His heart thumps, nearly dropping to his ass. Since the death of Deshaun, Marshall had took to the shadows, hiding away surrounded by food and drugs. The only thing that kept the rapper from facing malnourishment was his drug-infused munchies; however, there was a downfall to this.

The once lean man transformed into a round, depressed version of who he once was. His face was constantly flushed and blank.He was the epitome of heartache. Although, his new weight gain didn’t really put off the groupies.

There were some who chased after him just because of his wealth and others who did it as a joke, snorting to their friends whether ‘Fatty Shady’ was better than ‘Slim Shady.’ He wasn’t fazed at first, not at all; bitches will be bitches, he’d mutter to himself.

That was until he was to meet her at a restaurant for some quick lunch before heading back to his place. Arriving first, the Detroit native settled in the back of the dining floor in a booth, looking over the menu when a few waiters – just teenagers, kept pacing around his table with their indiscreet attempts at trying to confirm if he was the man in their heads.

One had raced back to the kitchen, shouting, “dude, Eminem’s here. Right now, he’s here in that last booth.”

The others lean out, eyes darting with excitement only to drop at the sight of the slumped over fat man in the booth.

“Man,” one of them scoffs, “that’s not Eminem. That’s just a fat man who looks like ‘em. Slim Shady’s skinny.”

Returning to their jobs, Marshall sits frozen behind the menu. His face screamed unbothered, but his heart shattered. He wasn’t too sure how much more he could take of this. Losing Proof, himself, hell, maybe his career – it was all just too much at once.

And yet, she seemed to make it better. Whether in public or in private, she never cared for the Eminem side of things, she wanted Marshall. When they undergo their sexcapades, she’d proudly praise his body with innocent kisses that were enough to send shivers down his spine.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he mutters, watching her snap out of her own little world.  She looks up at him with scrunched eyebrows, “do what?”

His shoulders rise, imitating that of a shy child. “Pretend like this is ideal. Like, like I’m the man that you dream of when you lay beside me.”

She shifts, leaning on her elbow. “Are you, are you saying that you’re not Marshall Mathers?” The woman feigns horror, bottom lip trembling in despair. “Are you a clone?”

She pauses, “my God, you’re a clone.” She leaps out of the bed, bare naked. She points a freshly manicured finger at him, shouting, “clone! Clone!”

The rapper bites back a laugh, shaking his head. He could’ve slept with anyone, any actress; he just had to choose the goofy one. Finding it impossible, he breaks into a laugh, tossing a pillow her way.

Regardless of how cool she appeared on camera; she lacked a lot of that appeal. She was a klutz and though she was more of the silent, observant kind, it wasn’t the sexy one. It was like that one kid in your school that didn’t fuck with anybody or anything, they were a ghost.

She misses it by a hair, the pillow crashes into her knee causing her to stumble with a laugh. “Shut up,” Marshall laugh. “I’m not no damn clone. Hell, that might be better than looking like this fat fuck.”

This time, she throws the pillow at him. The humor in her eyes has disappeared and instead, replaced with a somber glare. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” she carefully scolds taking her place at his side once more.

“If you’re uncomfortable because you’re unhealthy, then that’s one thing, but being fat is not a bad thing nor is it unattractive.”

“You can stop fuckin’ lying to me,” he snarls, face burning with anger as his insecurities flush through his mind.

“No one’s lying to you, Marshall! Baby, you were handsome then and you’re handsome now. If you want to take care of yourself then so be it, but that doesn’t mean you have to harm your self-esteem.”

“Stop fucking lying to me,” he barks, “and just be honest. Can you really stand seeing my fat ass fucking you? You don’t ever stop and wonder if I’ll suffocate you? Is the dick that good or are you that much of a slut?”

“If I was such a fucking slut, Marshall, I would’ve already up and left months ago! Just admit that you care and we can go about this like fucking adults.” He continues to shake his head, “get the fuck out.”

But she keeps pushing. “You fucking care and that scares you, I get it, but that doesn’t make it right for you to fuck other people over.”

“Get out.”

“You’re so deep in your mind and the drugs that you forget that you still have family, people who care about you here and willing to support you! Don’t make Proof’s death into anything less than what it actually was. He died believing in you, wanting the best in you.”

“Get the fuck out!”

“You have daughters, waiting to see their father. Wanting more than just a few minutes of playtime, they want to be under you. They want to feel your presence, not gifts. Not texts or calls. They want you.”

“I swear to God, girl. If you don’t shut the fuck up!”

“I’m not gonna shut the fuck up! How about you act like a man!”

“Bitch, fuck you!”

“I love you!”

He glares at her, panting with blind rage. “I don’t. I never did. You ain’t shit to me, but another dick warmer. You ain’t shit to anybody in fucking Hollywood, but some fucking diversity hire with pretty tits and a fat ass. Maybe you should remember what you’re really here for.”

“You’re right. I’m the diversity eye-candy of Hollywood while you’re the drug addicted culture vulture. I guess we both forgot. I never wanna see you again.” He smirks, watching her storm around the room, dressing herself in a haste.

“Not a problem for me, baby. Not a problem at all.”

She storms out of the room without a look over shoulders. In contrast to his words, Marshall had a problem with this. He forces himself to watch her leave like several times before, playful kisses and phrases absent. As the front door closes, he collapse back into bed as sobs begin to rack his body.

-18 years later-

“It’s great to see you, Em, how’ve you been?” Sway asks. Marshall nods, “I’ve been good, man. Literally just working and spending some time with the family.”

The broadcaster nods, “I saw that. I saw Hailey’s wedding pictures on Instagram, congratulations. How does it feel now to see your little girl get swept up?”

“It fucking sucks,” he jokes as the Shade 45 crew laughs along. “Like, I did it before with Laney, cool. Cool, it stung like a bitch, but cool. Then Hailey comes through with her man and their engagement and I’m just like, what the fuck?! I knew I was getting old but shit man.”

Sway nods, “that’ll do it. At first, you know you’re aging, but when accolades are being accomplished then that’s when it really hits you.” As everyone else nods in agreement, he turns the conversation to a more professional piece.

“So, you put out Houdini for your Coup de Grace and it landed at number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100. Congratulations on that as well since that is the highest you’ve charted in the decade. What are your plans for the remainder of the year? Cause I know you have The Death of Slim Shady comin’ around, but do you also plan to make any public appearances, tours, or do you just wanna put the music out and chill in bed?”

“Cause you already did a surprise popout at a Detroit Concert Event, will there be anymore?”

Marshall shrugs, “the bed option honestly doesn’t sound bad at all. It’s one that I’d prefer, but fucking Paulina won’t let me. Instead, I’ll be in Texas this October to headline the Formula 1 Grand Prix Concert.”

“Oh, shit, really? That’s dope man.” Sway nods, “now are you big on racing? I’ve heard that it can be a crazy ass sport.” He shrugs, “kind of. Not into it as much as football, but I do look in here and there.”

“And there’s a list of other artists performing there as well?” Marshall nods, “yeah. I know Sting was confirmed to perform, I think the first night or the third because I’ll be the second. I’m not too sure who’s performing the first.”

A member of the crew leans over, “I believe it was y/n. Let me double check.” It was silent for a moment. Anticipation clutching at his chest, he leans forward with an interested gaze.

His face void of emotion, waiting for a solidified answer. He couldn’t understand if he saw this as a good thing, an opportunity to rekindle things or more so a badly moment of truth he wasn’t prepared for.

“Yes, it was confirmed last night that she’ll headline the first night.”

Sway looks back his way, “are you familiar with y/n?” The rapper nods, “uh, yeah. Yeah, I am, actually.” He gulps.

Marshall wasn’t one to prepare for an interview as he always knew what to say to keep things personal and who to give his time to. However, nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for questions about a lost love.

“We, uh, dated back in ‘06 for some months, I believe.” Sway’s eyebrows raise, “really?”

The former rapper may be a journalist, but he was an artist first who respected Marshall and vice versa. He knew the man basked privacy and wanted to be sure that this was the route he wanted to take.

“Yeah, we did. Things didn’t end well since, ya know, I was dealing with drugs and Proof’s passing. There’s not a lot of things or people I remember from back then, but she. She stays on my mind, always has.”

Sway leans toward him, whispering, “are you sure?” He nods, mouth drying.

“My comeback album, Relapse, in the song Beautiful… I’ve made a few references to her. Made it my moment to say things I couldn’t say to her face. Space Bound, Love the Way You Lie, and So Bad from Recovery were some, too.”

“Do you ever think that, maybe you’d want to see her again? Or is something of the past?” The rapper sighs, “I would prefer to see her again. Make amends, ya know. I see her in the media kicking ass, winning awards. I’m proud of her.”

Sway sends him a reassuring smile, “well, your folks at Shade 45 hope you two can make shit happen, man.”

—

If it was 2006 all over again, she’d swoon and make flirtatious quips at him through the media until he felt confident enough to approach her first. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that little girl again.

She has a couple years until she turned 50, two kids, a divorce under her belt, and a legacy. She no longer had time or the patience to paw at old flames, she wasn’t her ex-husband, for God’s sake. And yet, her heart pumped as if she ran a marathon all because the man who broke her heart eighteen years ago still loved her.

To make matters worse, the only way she had to contact him was through fucking social media. Did the old fuck even know how to operate the shit?

Great, so not only will she have to text him, but now take the chance of him not knowing how to reply. She knew her inability to live in peace was a forever thing, but the shit life throws at her is getting kind of ridiculous right now.

Um, I see you’re talking about me on the radio?

She hits send, fingers twitching with anxiety. She wasn’t some technical guru, but she wasn’t so out of touch to not understand that people take time to reply to things. However, this wasn’t a moment that deserved good virtue, so for fuck’s sake that dingy Midwest motherfucker better answer now.

Was it true? All of it?

She sends another text when a bubble appears, floating happily as it registers whatever the bullshit Marshall plans to spew. After a few minutes, the bubble has made itself at home and she was ready to gank the man by his neck through the damn phone.

Goddamn old man, don’t tell me arthritis got you? Long ass paragraph…

Doesn’t that mean you have a ghostwriter? Oh, scandalous

Finally, his reply comes in.

Shut up. And yes, I meant everything I said. Sorry, if you were uncomfortable.

She sits, staring at the screen in silence. Her fingers move faster than her mind could process.

It took you five minutes to text me that. FIVE MINUTES!

Shut up and just say that you’ll have dinner with me, tonight?

I’m in Charleston.

I’ll fly you out then.

I’m not one of your little sluts

Of course not, you’re my favorite. I’ll fly you out, tonight. Don’t bring anything but a change of clothes.

That’s why your dick’s small.

Tagged: @evasmlp

Sorry, it’s a day late and that it sucks! I fell asleep last night after writing the first portion, but I hope you like it

[sixosix]

ONE LOOK (MEANT JUST FOR YOU) | WRIOTHESLEY

700 words of wriothesley visiting your home and pure fluff ensuing

Moving swiftly around the kitchen, the clinking of glass plates and glasses left you no room to detect Wriothesley's stealthy entrance. You only noticed him when you moved to wipe the table, only to see a broad figure standing by your doorway, a fond smile on his face.

The moment your gazes lock, Wriothesley takes it as his cue to gently shut the door behind him and make his way inside. He moves with some difficulty—limping, almost, and if you had been anyone else, you might not have noticed.

Your eyes track each movement. “Feeling unwell, Your Grace?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” he grunts out.

Despite that, his tone has this playful chipper to it that brings a smile to your face. You swipe over the table with a wet rag, leaving suds. “Anything that needs immediate medical attention? …Anything that you’ve kept from Sigewinne?”

“Don’t worry,” Wriothesley huffs a laugh, sinking against your couch. He groans out in relief as he melts. You wince upon hearing a crack here and there.

Wriothesley pays visits to your home whenever his schedule permits. While there are days when work keeps him occupied in his office, there are more than enough occasions where you can see that nothing has changed. This is still the same Wriothesley who shared affectionate moments with you in the comfort of your home and who flirted shamelessly and endlessly in his office at the Fortress of Meropide. He was never reticent about expressing his intentions and words. Good times.

You wring the cloth and let clean water run over your hands to wash the remaining suds off. You feel Wriothesley’s piercing gaze follow you around. “Want some tea?” You cast him a glance over your shoulder.

He flashes a wicked grin, able to look all regal even when he has his cheek pressed against your sofa’s headrest. “You know the way to my heart.” He shifts, extending one free arm outward as if preparing for a hug. “Though, I need you more than I need tea at the moment.”

A snort escapes you, diverting his attention from your stunned surprise at his shamelessness. “I’ll make you your favorite.”

Wriothesley says something about you’re his favorite but you tune him out in favor of not slipping and splashing hot water all over the floors you’ve just cleaned. He calls for your name again, dragging it out and wilting in defeat when you shoot him a stern and disapproving glare.

“Don’t distract me, idiot,” you say, watching the water steam and boil. As it does, you rummage through the cabinets for the cubes of sugar you’ve been buying more often because of that guy. “It’s not every day I was bored enough to take it upon myself to clean. I was taken by the burst of motivation.”

Wriothesley chuckles and thankfully lets himself enjoy the silence. The only sounds are the gentle padding of your feet around the kitchen and the clinking of tea cups against the table, all enveloped in a comforting atmosphere. Wriothesley's mere presence has the power to make anyone feel secure and at ease. It might be the broad shoulders or his feared name and title, or it might be the fact that he swore he would protect you as much as you protect him in sweet moments like this.

You place the two cups on the coffee table before him. Wriothesley then pulls you into his chest, causing you to yelp and tumble right into his waiting arms.

“Your tea is getting cold,” you say.

“Your lips look colder,” he says, his breath hot on the shell of your ear.

You narrow your eyes. “Wriothesley…”

He snorts, placing a kiss on your temple. “None of whatever you’re thinking, sweetheart. I just need you close.”

And keep you close he did. He has you trapped in his arms, but you feel far from trapped. You shuffle until your head is resting on his bicep, and you can meet his eyes. He’s silent.

“...Wriothesley.”

He fixes his heavy stare on your face, his own unreadable. “Hm?”

You press your hand against his jaw. “Is there something wrong?”

“God,” he murmurs, cupping your cheeks, “you’re so cute.”

Your heart flutters and threatens to flee from your chest. “I—I know. You should feel fortunate that you’re the only one who gets to hold me like this.” You try to sound haughty. It fails miserably at the warmth quickly spreading all over your face and your heartbeat, making you trip all over your words.

“I’m the only one, huh?” A gleam sparks in his eye, turning somewhat dangerous—fierce. “What I like to hear.”

for @naosaki with the chibi wrio pfp

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 24th

leon kennedy x consensual somnophilia

it was never something leon would have ever considered.

sex was always something leon would do with you, not to you — and he wanted it that way. he loved making you beg for it, loved watching your reactions, loved watching you start off shy and end up a mouthy mess, barely making any sense. it was part of the fun.

he’d been coming home late as of recently, either called out onto some kind of ridiculous mission, or stacked high with paperwork that kept him back after hours working overtime. he was making great money, you couldn’t complain — leon using his overtime earnings to spoil you like you deserved, but it was stealing the most valuable thing of all from you, and that was him.

you were needy, needed his physical affection, his cock bruising your insides and strong arms wrapped around you grounding you — reminding you that he was here, and yours, and safe. it just wasn’t possible lately, only seeing him in the mornings before he’d leave. you tried really hard to stay awake when he’d get home, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you’d text him and tell him— but you’d usually get hit with the ‘You need your rest, baby. Go to sleep.’ text response and who are you to argue? you couldn’t if you tried, often falling asleep with the lamp on, sprawled atop the sheets. his tired frame would find you like that when he returns home, shaking his head with a tired chuckle and tucking you in. leon looks after you like that.

you’d awoken with a plan, waking up earlier than leon’s alarm and padding into the kitchen to make him breakfast before he leaves— making his morning easier by laying out his clothes, his badge, his wallet — really playing at housewife, which you both enjoyed.

he was smiling sleepily when he found you in the kitchen, serving up his food to go so that he wasn’t late.

“whats all this, hm?” he smirks as he approaches you, pulling you toward him by the hips and pressing a grateful kiss to the centre of your forehead.

“just wanna treat you right, i know you’re working hard and you’re tired… i miss you though.” you exhale slowly, still sleepy yourself as you burrow your cheek to his chest. his heart pangs a little at your sad tone, stroking down the back of your dishevelled head.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m sorry i’ve been so busy, works been hectic lately but things should be clearing up soon. then i can take some time off, spend time with my number one.” his sympathetic tone fades to a grin, running a thumb over your cheek when you smile with him.

“‘kay.” you seem satisfied, walking him to the door, watching him pull his fur lined jacket on to protect him from the chilly winter weather outside. the jacket makes him seem even bigger than he is, which makes you bite back a needy giggle as you hand him his brown paper bag with his breakfast inside.

“alright, baby. thanks for the food. i’ll be back later.” he pinches your chin affectionately. “wheres my kiss?” he tilts his head a little with a playful smirk, and you don’t wait another second before standing on your tiptoes and planting a kiss to his lips, savouring the feeling knowing you’ll miss him all day. it was then time to propose your plan.

you pull back, and he goes to step away but you speak, as casually as possible.

“oh, and leon. if you come home and you need me, you can use me whilst i sleep if you’d like. i don’t wear panties to bed.” you smile innocently, before pulling back fully. “see you later!” you usher him out as he stares back in shock, not giving him time to respond. you all but kick him out as you giggle, going about your day.

he’d thought about it a lot that day.

he couldn’t do that to you, right? use you whilst you slept. it was… degrading. inherently wrong. his sweet girl, unaware of his touch. and yet, you were so willing, the look in your eyes when you’d permit him access to you whilst you slept haunted him all day. you’d tried to play it cool, but leon knew you too well — knew that needy, neglected look in your eyes. you were practically begging to be touched. had it really been that long?

he’d arrived home late as usual, and by the time he did, with all the work that had been lumped onto him he’d pretty much forgotten momentarily about that morning, that was until he entered the bedroom.

it’s like you’d set the scene perfectly for him.

he puffs out his cheeks a little as he exhales, running hands over his cheeks like he was trying to wipe off water. you were there, fast asleep on the bed wearing just his t-shirt. the blankets had been kicked down to just cover one foot, bunching up on your other side — and your leg was cocked up as you lay on your stomach. he creeps further into the room, sighing at how beautiful you looked illuminated only by the bright moonlight. his tshirt had ridden up, revealing your plump ass and glistening wet cunt in the low light. poor thing, he thinks — you’d gone to bed all needy.

he’s surprised the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it doesn’t wake you, usually having a rather pavlovian effect on you to make you salivate whenever you hear it. he still feels slightly guilty despite the clear permission you’d given ringing bright and new in his memory. there was nothing wrong with just getting comfy and laying beside his girl, right?

he wedges himself gently behind you, still wearing his clothes, and in your sleep you habitually shuffle up closer to him, pressing your bare ass against his cock. he winces, hand coming up to caress the skin there. “fuck.” he murmurs, cock hard in his jeans.

maybe he could just jerk himself off, right here beside you. that wasn’t so bad, right? he pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees and quickly gets to work, the other hand carefully pinching the material of his tshirt and lifting it slowly to reveal more skin to him. he inhales, jaw slacking a little at the sight of your curves as he touches himself— and he feels himself getting more desperate. what’s the harm in playing with you just a little?

he slows his movements on his own cock, bringing his hand slowly to your ass again, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. his hand creeps from there to between your legs, his fingers experimentally swiping through your soaked folds. you must’ve prepared yourself before you slept. a wave of heat rushed through him as he wondered if you went to bed this wet every night since he’d been working so much and not pleasing you. without thought his fingers slide up to your clit, giving it a few affectionate rubs like he usually would. you whine sleepily and he shushes you.

“it’s okay baby, it’s me.”

you don’t seem to stir, and his blood is fucking pumping. he leans over you, using his strong arm to hold himself up and swipes his tip through your folds, coating himself in your slick. “so god damn wet.” he hisses, brows knitting. he gets himself into a comfortable position before pushing himself a little just past the tip.

you cry out a little into the pillow, and he hears himself shushing you again. “i know sweet girl, just me.” he sighs, pressing his forehead against your back.

he keeps you like that for a while, arm trembling a little whilst he holds himself up. you just feel so good, swallowing half of him — and he realises just how pent up he’s been since he’d been working overtime. he slowly bottoms out, letting out the most pornographic yet quiet moan, perfectly forming an ‘ugh’ sound in the air as you squeeze around him. he starts to grind in and out of you, and only then you stir — always the heavy sleeper.

you let out a disorientated yet pleased whine, clenching down hard as your consciousness comes to the surface. leon, mounting you still, wraps one thick arm beneath your stomach, effortlessly holding you to him as if you were a pillow or a stuffed animal — the other thick forearm wedged itself beneath you to work at your clit, light but slightly frenzied circles pressed against it. you let out a sleepy sob, drool painting your chin as your noises come out muffled to the pillow.

“you’re okay, pretty girl. s’just me remember. fuck. you still sure you want me up in here?” you feel his clothed stomach against your back.

“mhm!” you rasp, barely awake just drifting in and out of what felt like a perfect wet dream.

soon you’re clenching down hard again, almost trapping his movement. he lets you hump your clit on the heel of his hand as he tried his hardest to look round at you from his position. “you wanna cum on it, baby? yeah?” he cooes, slightly whiny and high pitched signalling he wasn’t far behind you. “such a good girl giving yourself to me like this. gonna treat you all fuckin’ night, make up for lost time.” he really is whining now, the soft sounds of his pelvis clapping against your ass filling the room.

you snuggle against him as best as you can, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself waking up properly to a hearty orgasm on your boyfriends thick cock.

but leon wasn’t done yet. needless to say, he was tired at work the next day.