#PLEASE enjoy my sticky thick dark love hearts

[philistiniphagottini]

Hiii! Anon here who asked

"2, 15, 21, 23, 42 and 65 smut prompts with Portgas D Ace, pretty please <3"

Can you just do: 2, 15, 24 and 42 smut prompts with Portgas D Ace and fem reader instead of everything else then? If no, that's also understandable <3

Also, have a lovely day!

p.s.: you deserve all the hugs in the world <333

be happy hooman :)

AHHHHHHHHHHH thank you for being so patient with my dumb ass, I really, really appreciate it. I'm going to assume that you meant 23 instead of 24 ((because that's what you asked for previously)) I hope that's okay! I hope you enjoy :D

Smut Prompts

Prompts 2 + 15 + 23 + 42

cw. smut, penetrative sex, body worship, light breeding kink, slight temperature play, squirting, creampie ((this is quite vanilla lol)), female reader

Ace’s body was scorching hot to the touch. It felt like you were going to suffocate beneath him, bare body stuck against the sweat soaked bedsheet and the sweltering heat of Ace’s naked skin. You could feel the perspiration dotting your brow as every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation. Your breath hitched as you felt warm, large hands roam the expanse of your body, your skin prickling with goosebumps despite being bathed in the naked flames of a burning forge.

A warm hum stirred in Ace’s throat as he languidly rolled his hips, burying his cock deeper into the soused walls of your pussy as you trembled beneath him. Warmth tickled your spine and pooled rapidly in the pit of your stomach, your hands clasping the back of Ace’s neck as your fingers curled and pulled at the baby hairs lining his nape.

"You look so pretty" Ace murmured with a husky purr of your name. "So beautiful."

His large palms smoothed over your thighs and hips, slowly crawling up your body as he continued to bump his hips into yours. Your eyelashes fluttered over your burning cheeks, eyes threatening to slip close as the hot coil in the pit of your stomach twisted tighter to each wavering breath. You could hear your pulse drumming loudly in your ears as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, close to leaping up into your throat as the tips of Ace’s fingers left a trail of fire in their wake as they danced along your body. They lingered between your sticky thighs, beads of slick rolling down the plush insides as he felt the place where your bodies were intimately joined in fervid rapture. Another soft hum stirred in his chest, the sound bordering on a delighted purr as his hands continued to roam your body. A spine-tingling shiver wracked your body when you felt a puff of hot air against the hollow of your throat as Ace dragged his bruised lips across your skin, lazily mouthing at your neck as he buried his cock deeper inside you.

"We fit together so perfectly" Ace breathed into the crook of your neck. "Like two puzzle pieces."

You whined his name as his hands squeezed the soft pudge of your belly, kneading at your flesh like a contented cat as your skin spilled between his digits. The tips of your ears felt hot as you twisted beneath him, his soft words of praise making your blood simmer hotly in your veins. His hands continued to paw at your soft stomach, thumbs dragging along the sensitive skin of your v-line as his teeth nipped at your jaw. Your hands tangled in his mop of dark hair, your chest heaving and soft tits bouncing as your pert nipples rubbed sensually against the hard muscles of his chest, your back arching as his cock carved a path deeper into you. You could feel the clap of his pelvis against the pearl sitting pretty at the top of your pussy, the bundle of nerves flushing to life from the delicious friction. Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to peel it off the roof of your mouth, throat bobbing as you swallowed thickly and tasted the desire in the back of your throat. You could barely think past the thick fog clouding your mind as Ace squeezed your belly yet again, his fascination almost maddening as another spike of pleasure left you feeling rather breathless. His voice vibrated against your skin when he spoke, tongue tasting the perspiration clinging to your skin as his pearly white teeth followed the path of his tongue.

"Want a put a baby right here" Ace said, the large palm of his hand pressing down on your stomach. "Will you let me?"

It felt like your insides turned to mush around the shape of his cock, plush walls fluttering around his girth as the pressure in your core started to bubble to the surface. You started to nod along to his words, fingers pressed hard into his scalp as you threatened to rip the roots of his hair out. A moan tickled the back of his throat as you mewled with bliss beneath him, legs loosely wrapping around his waist and ushering him closer as you dug your feet into the beautiful dip of his back.

"Please" you whispered hoarsely, voice straining at the edges. "Please Ace, put a baby in me."

You could swear the temperature in the room just skyrocketed and the blistering heat almost made you choke. Ace’s lips suddenly captured yours in a searing kiss, his tongue prying apart the seam of your lips as he whispered a litany of ‘thank you’ into the hot cavern of your mouth. His musky scent tickled your nose as you breathed deeply, a string of soft moans crawling out of your throat as he sucked your tongue into his own mouth. The pace of his hips only increased a fraction as he thrust into you, the tip of his cock grazing against the soft, gummy patch inside of you that made stars swirl in your vision. He jammed his thumb against your twitching clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight circles as he continued to worship your body, praises of your name muffled against your kiss swollen lips like a prayer.

Your feet kicked at his back as the smouldering fire in your stomach was stoked into fiercer flames, the pressure intense and threatening to break something inside of you at a moments notice. You writhed beneath the hot press of Ace’s body, your pussy slobbering filthily around his cock as you tried to suck him deeper, desperate to feel him pressed against the raw nerve inside you that was about to snap. You parted from his swollen lips with a heavy gasp, a hiccup of pleasure stuck in your throat as tears pricked the corner of your dazed eyes.

"Ace" you whined. "Gonna cum. Gonna cum really hard."

Ace gently hushed you, holding your gaze with his bright stare as he rubbed soothing circles against your belly.

"It’s okay, pretty baby" he reassured. "I got you. You can cum."

You threw your head back into the safe confines of your pillow, your lips parted around a loud cry that echoed around your stuffy bedroom as the coil in your stomach shattered. Your pussy spasmed around Ace, your clit twitching violently against his rough thumb as your veins were flooded with white hot relief. Your juices spilled forth in thin, translucent threads, drooling around his cock as he continued to rut against you like a dog in heat. Ace fought to keep his eyes uncrossed as he groaned, your snug pussy squeezing him so tight as he smothered the head of his cock against the most sacred part of you. Your body continued to twitch in the aftermath of your pleasure as the push of Ace’s hips came to an abrupt halt, cock buried to the hilt inside of you as he came with a loud grunt. His cock kicked with each rope of his viscous seed that painted your walls, the heat his body provided occupying your hazy mind as you were filled to the brim. Your nerves continued to zap you as he pumped every last drop of his seed into your greedy pussy, your snug walls milking him until he was completely dry. 

The warmth overflowed and dribbled down your quaking thighs, your pussy still clenching tight around Ace’s cock as it kept your centre plugged and stuffed full. His hard pants mingled with your own laboured breathing, his clammy skin sticking to yours as wisps of dark hair stuck to the side of his freckled cheeks. He trailed wet kisses over your chin, trying to coax you out of your stupor and draw your gaze to him once more. Your head eventually tipped as you gazed down at him through lidded eyes, head still swirling up in the clouds as your nerves had yet to settle. Your grip on his hair eased as you massaged your fingers along his scalp, teasing the knots out of his wild hair with a warm smile. He rubbed his hands against your full, round belly, a hum of content bubbling up your throat as his hands worshipped your body. He rested his chin between the valley of your breasts, a wide grin lighting up his features.

"Are you full? Do you need more?"

#my writing #one piece #one piece smut #one piece ace #one piece ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #x reader #fem!reader

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Masterlist✨ A03

Hi! I’m Jamie and welcome to my blog! If you’d like updates for my work, my updates page is @mermaidgirl30-updates. I mostly write about Pedro Pascal characters. Always looking to converse about music, writing, video games, Pedro Pascal, really just anything ☺️ I am always open for requests and asks and will do my best to answer them 🩵 Dividers and Masterlist main pic by @saradika-graphics

~I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANYBODY USING MY STORIES OR REPOSTING THEM IN ANY AI OR WEBSITE!~

✨One Shots/Drabbles✨

Comfort in His Arms: A little Drabble about enjoying the sunrise while you’re being comforted and held by Joel. Soft, gentle, warm. He’s your forever.

Dominate Me: dom! reader x sub! Joel. You dominate Joel in the bedroom, and he takes every demand you give him.

Happy One Year, Baby: You forget your one year anniversary with Joel and don’t remember until you see a dozen roses with a love note left on your doorstep. Since he’s away on a work trip, you decide to get all dolled up to give him a little show over FaceTime

Haunt Me: Joel isn’t all that he seems. He might be dead, might be a ghost, might somehow just be trapped in a curse, but you find him. You always find him.

I’ve Got You, Baby Girl: After suffering all day alone with cramps, Joel comes home from work to take care of you and gives you exactly what you need.

Jealousy, Jealousy: After having a bad breakup with Joel Miller, you decide you need a night to relax at the bar and find someone new. Little do you know, Joel is there and he’s not alone. Will you let your jealousy get the best of you or will you get revenge with another man at the bar?

Just Breathe: You find yourself in the middle of a sticky situation in the pouring rain, not to mention a large T-Rex stalks the area you’re in. Joel steps in and saves the day, and he’s the best at calming you down.

Love and Coffee in the Mornings: This one's just a short fluffy/smutty one shot that's filled with morning love between Joel and reader.

My Heart I Surrender: Feelings and words never come easy to Joel, but they come out slowly and surely for you. So much angst coming off the pages on this story, and it's all in Joel's POV.

My Paper Heart Will Fold: Joel fights himself over his feelings for you, not wanting to admit they’re there. He finally comes to blatant terms that he can’t lose you. He can’t ever lose you. Not ever.

My, My, Such a Sweet Surprise: When you stumble upon a cute little property with a farmer’s market, you get more than you bargain for when you meet the man with honeysuckle eyes and a thick Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

Run Rabbit: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

Soft: Just a little Drabble about Joel being in love. So very soft.

Stay in the Light: Joel gets injured after a raider attack, and he’s wishing he could’ve told you all the feelings he held back from you for so long

Take Me to Wonderland: You find yourself in Wonderland, but you think you’ve been here before. And the handsome stranger, Joel Miller, is someone that definitely seems familiar.

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpower all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.

✨Series✨

Can You Please Be Mine?: (Ongoing multiple part series)

No Outbreak!Joel x fem! reader

It’s a hot summer’s day in Austin, and you’re cooling off by having a cold ice cream cone while riding the carousel at the fair. You see a handsome, older man that you think is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and you just wonder what it’d be like if he took you home with him.

Captured in the Woods:

(Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Joel books a nice secluded Airbnb cabin out in the middle of Southwest Texas to get a little alone time with you for a weekend. Little do you know, you’re not alone. You’re being stalked by a deranged family, and you’re going to have to fight your way to make it out alive.

Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Moulin Rouge Joel x fem! reader

Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller: (Ongoing multiple part series)

dbf! Joel x fem! reader

After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long? The only problem is that he’s your dad’s best friend.

Dancing With Fire: (Ongoing multiple part series)

maintenance Joel! x ballet dancer fem! reader

You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York at a huge theater. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. One day you notice the hot maintenance worker, Joel, and you can’t seem to keep your eyes off him. Lucky for you, he can’t keep his eyes off you either.

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost: (Ongoing multiple part series)

pleasure dom! Joel x fem/sub! reader

After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Enchant Me: (Ongoing multiple part series)

soft! Joel x witchy garden fem! reader

Joel delivers a custom built table to a little house out in the middle of the woods, but he doesn’t realize he’s going to fall for the girl behind the doors of that small purple house. He falls head over heels for her special herbal tea, tarot card readings, and talks of nature and plants as he keeps going back to see her.

Just Breathe: The Dinosaur Diaries: (Ongoing multiple part series)

paleontologist! Joel x fem researcher! reader

After going under the wings of doctor Miller, the hottest paleontologist you’ve ever seen, he takes you on a little adventure as his research assistant. You’ll get more than just knowledge and dinosaurs, you’ll also end up getting the sweet scientist who can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Look for the Light: (Completed)

outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Aly finds herself trying to escape the Boston QZ. What Aly doesn’t know is Tess is pairing her up with Joel to go on a dangerous mission to find Tommy. Will Aly survive the brooding, moody Joel or will she find herself falling hard for him?

Love Amidst the Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Royalty Clad in Silver Armor: (Ongoing multiple part series)

knight! Joel x princess fem! reader

You’re the royal princess of Ireland and your parents are hounding you to find a suitable man to marry. Joel gets placed as your protector (knight in shining armor) and swears an oath to put your life before his own. But after meeting him for the first time, you don’t want to leave him alone. In fact, you can’t help but to pine after him, even though he is off limits to you.

Tear You Apart: (Ongoing multiple part series)

dark! Joel x fem! reader

Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

✨One Shots✨

Javi’s Playground: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

✨Moodboards✨

Colors 💜

Infra-Red ❤️

#joel miller #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #protective joel #joel x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #joel tlou #look for the light #soft joel miller #joel miller masterlist #dbf!joel #dbf joel miller #joel x oc #dom!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #pedro pascal fandom #masterlist #soft!joel miller

[dollwrites]

I want Rui to cum on my face

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )

oh and you just know how grateful he is for the opportunity, you can tell by the way his cheeks burn cherry and his golden eyes twinkle when he caressed your cheek. his fingertips, lithe and nimble, are surprisingly gentle and sweet, though they do have the tiniest tremble in them.

“You spoil me so much,” he purrs, content, “not only letting me make you my masterpiece, but begging me for it.”

and he was right, of course, because you had begged him, desperation dripping from your sultry moans as you worked him over with both hands— jerking him off with one and fondling his tender balls with the other.

“I need you to mark me.” you breathe out, inching close on your knees. you allow your breath, heavy and thick with anticipation, to fan the swollen, pinky tip of his cock and he mewls in delight, rolling his head on his shoulders, dipping his chin towards his clavicle. “Paint me, Rui, please. Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“S—so impatient,” Rui whispers, but it’s caught in his throat as his eyelashes flutter, and both hands grasp handfuls of the sheets beneath him. “Almost… a—almost there, love, just a little more…” you could see the muscles in one brow start to twitch, his face contorting in pleasure as you grip him, pumping the full length of his cock.

“Are you gonna paint my face? Make me pretty?” you tease, but your heart is pounding hard against your rib cage.

god knows you want it just as much, if not more than he does.

Rui’s blush deepens, but his playful smile attempts to tug at the corners of his open mouth as he pushes his hips forward, meeting your thrusting, letting his cock glide through the canal formed by your grip. “Mhm… S-so pretty,” he agrees, shifting his weight as his hips start to stutter. you know then, he’s coming undone. Rui let’s out a ragged, excited breath as he presses the tips of his fingers underneath your chin to tilt and angle your head towards him until he’s satisfied with his canvas’ position, before he moans and streamers of milky white adorn your cheek and your sealed couplet, “My sticky, little sweetheart.”

#doll’s dizzy drabblin’ ⟡ #rui kamishiro x you #rui x you #rui #rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro smut #rui kamishiro x reader #rui x reader #rui smut #hatsune miku: colorful stage #colorful stage x reader #colorful stage rui #colorful stage smut #project sekai rui #project sekai #project sekai smut #project sekai x you

[pinkopalina]

neeeeeeed eddieeeeee

#symbrock #veddie #venom 2018 #eddie brock #my art #god venom is so fun to draw #he's a little oil slick with opal eyes and i could not be happier #fun fact i also gave him opal teeth JuSt BeCaUsE #i love them SO much that movie was SO good #PLEASE enjoy my sticky thick dark love hearts

[munsons-maiden]

𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

This one was inspired by this request by the lovely @ravennevermorewitch as well as classical fairy tales. I hope you enjoy! - Love, Kiki  🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Loki x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 |  It’s the night of Halloween - Samhain, as it’s called in Asgard. The night when the veil between worlds lifts and evil spirits roam free. You’re one of the Asgardian priestesses guarding the realm in this night, and trapped in the woods, you quickly come to realize that not only the dead have come out to play between the trees. Someone is watching you. Someone with sapphire eyes and raven hair you thought you’d never see again, who’s been stalking your dreams and haunting your thoughts ever since a stolen, forbidden kiss you shared. And both of you are hungry for more. (Takes place after the first Avengers movie) 

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 |  a (slightly) creepy atmosphere (nothing psycho though), Red Riding Hood vibes, slightly possessive but sweet Loki taking reader’s virginity, a lot of filth because reader and Loki have been pining for each other for centuries 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 |  ~ 10 k 

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 |  SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (please be safe in real life and use a condom), dirty talk 

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡  

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤   

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

I still remember the taste of her lips against mine.

It clings to my mouth the same way as I can sense her scent still lingering on my skin, this saccharine mix of incense and herbs, sap and pine needles. The scent of the woods, the eternal green which surrounds Asgard’s golden city, its colour as vibrant as my own verdant cloak. It’s been centuries since she brushed her lips against mine in the flickering heat of a bonfire, shrouded by the secrecy of a starless night. A fleeting touch – and yet, when I close my eyes, I can still feel it, like the invisible ink of a tattoo imprinted on my lips.

Ephemeral, sweet, laced with a hunger that nestles deep in the crevices of a soul. Forbidden.

No matter how many centuries have passed since then, I still find myself craving more of it. No matter how many kisses I’ve shared with others, hers is the only one I crave, the only one I ever think of, the only one that ever made me feel more. The memory taunts me, fills my dreams and rouses me with a hunger nobody can sate. Nobody but her.

My thoughts are like moths caught up the sticky threads of her web, ensnared, bound to her with no means of escape, bound with the spell of a single, forbidden kiss that haunts my heart.

I want her to be mine.

***

When you glance up at the inky darkness of the skies, the full moon stares back, like a polished silver coin dangling from the heavens. It’s too early in the season for the dancing lights of winter to play over the fabric of night, to dance to the tune of howling winds and tinkling icicles clinging to the stripped branches of the trees.

You love it that your temple was built without a roof. It allows for you to watch the stars falling from the skies during warm summer nights when the air is filled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, to watch the dancing lights in shades of green and purple and yellow when the air is frozen and still and turns your breath into puffs of white mist. With a task as lonely as that of being a priestess, the sky and its twinkling stars are your only companions most times, the eye of the moon your only spectator.

Smoke rises from the incense you just placed in the bronze bowl in front of you. It curls into the air, tendrils stretching towards the heavens, thick and laced with the heady fragrance of spices and herbs, of wood and cinnamon. They weave around your body like playful little snakes as they ascend into the air.

Tonight is a special night, and the chill air is brimming with anticipation of what’s to come, of death and decay mingling with the green scent of the surrounding woods, the spaces between the trees already filled with an eerie, unnatural silence as if the forest itself were holding its breath.

Tonight, there will be no stars winking back at you like the faraway spectators of a play. Their light has been snuffed out like the glimmer clinging to the wick of a candle.

Tonight, summer ends; a maiden with flowers in her hair and wheat for her dress walking into her cold grave to sleep, taking the warmth of the sun with her to let winter rise with its freezing breath and unrelenting grasp.

Tonight, until dawn rises to herald a new day, the veil – the fabric between the branches of Yggdrasil – will lift and the gates to the Otherworld will gape open like the maw of a beast.

Tonight, the creatures of the Realm of Death will come out to play in the world of the living. In Vanaheim, this night is called the Time of Terrors. Midgardians know it as Halloween, as Day of the Dead. In Asgard, it’s Samhain. Same thing, a hundred different names.

You rise to your feet, the crimson fabric of your hooded cloak swishing gently around your ankles, grazing the sides of your bare legs like a lover’s caress as you slowly make your way over to the other bowls of herbs and incense waiting to be lit, their contents picked in the woods during the Midsummer Moon when summer was at its strongest; its power of sunlight and life conserved in the dried leaves to ward off evil spirits in this night of the dead.

The sconces mounted on the sand-coloured walls of the temple light your way like silent guardians, no sound erupting from the flickering flames as they dance in their confines as if even the fire were afraid to make a noise. There’s only the sound of your quiet footsteps, and the melody of rustling leaves in the woods all around.

It’s only your voice to fill the darkness, to tangle with the smoke in the fragrant night air to ward of the chill of winter awakening, of the vicious spirits already reaching for the living with their icy touch. The melody you hum is lilting and haunted, an old song sung by generations of priests and priestesses who treaded the sandstone tiles before you, their voices seeping through the night like honey, their steps treading the worn stones, their crimson cloaks brushing over the cold tiles.

A ring of temples around the golden palace and the city it looms over is the only protection Asgard will have tonight – the fires of each temple kept alive by exactly one priest or priestess, the flames and incense part of the oldest, purest form of magic forming invisible wards against everything that will try to cross the veil tonight.

Which means that, until the sun rises again, there’s no place more dangerous than the woods.

You stare into the flames of the sconce nearest to you, its warmth gently stroking your cheek, and a memory rushes to the surface of your thoughts, like the image conjured by a Rusalka’s song to lure you into a watery grave at the bottom of a shimmering lake.

A memory of eyes the colour of a sparkling fjord in the sunlight, of hair as black as the wings of Odin’s ravens. Of mischief playing on a smirk, and a dare turning into a fleeting, forbidden kiss – forbidden, because he was a prince, and you were already a guardian of the fire, a priestess sworn to purity.

Priests and priestesses are chosen when they’re children. They grow up to guard the temple fires in nights like this one. Like the king’s guards who protect Asgard in times of war, fighting physical opponents, you do the same – only with spirits and monsters which manage to crawl through tears in the veil. And to make sure to evade any distractions, they’re sworn to renounce all forms of love, the physical desires of the flesh as much as those of the heart.

It never stopped your own hands from straying, though, in the darkness of your isolated room, with the memory of the raven-haired prince’s kiss lingering on your lips. Your first kiss, and your last one.

A prince who, centuries later, tried to steal the throne, destroy a world, and conquer another before he was defeated and locked away in the dungeons beneath the palace’s gold-plated walls.

Considering these facts, it’s probably for the best that you’re to stay a virgin, a small voice chimes up in your mind, and you smirk to yourself. Excellent taste in men. Who cares that he’s a criminal if that silver tongue of his is as skilled in other matters as it is in weaving lies and forging gilded deceit.

And yet, despite it having been nothing but a brief, forbidden kiss, despite his heart being as vicious and cruel as the things which will roam the woods tonight if the rumours are to be trusted, Loki still haunts your dreams.

A howl tears you from your thoughts, the sound far away, coming from the direction of the mountains which loom in the distance, their snow-capped peaks tinted silver in the light of the full moon. It could be a wolf, but the pitch is too forceful, too high to come from an animal. You shudder, grateful for the guarding glow of the temple fire warming your back.

With the incense burning and the sacred bonfire in the centre of the temple eating away at the fresh birch tree logs in its brazier, there’s nothing for you to do than wait until the sun ascends over the horizon to paint over the silver of the night with streaks of blush, for dawn to seal the veil between realms for another year.

With a sigh, you settle on the steps at the temple’s entrance. The stone’s cold seeps through the heavy velvet of your crimson coat, but the fire is still close enough to ward the chill of the night off your skin.  

Your temple was built on the top of a small hill, like a crown of copper and sandstone adorning the head of a queen, and from here, you can see the flickering fire of the other temples – far away, the flames nothing but tiny fireflies in the distance, shimmering dots between an ocean of the green of the woods which unfurls all around you.

Your eyes scan these tiny dots of the other temples, all twelve of them sending out their pulsing light to protect Asgard.

Only…they’re not.

You rise back to your feet, squinting as you count the lights a second time, then a third one. Your heart seems to plummet to the ground as dread sinks cold claws into your chest.

One dot of light is missing, has gone dark like the stars in the sky above.

Something is wrong. Horribly wrong.

Because if one of the sacred fires has been extinguished, something must have happened to its guardian. And if the flames have died, there’s a rip torn into the fabric of the magic meant to shield Asgard tonight from the evil beyond the veil, the evil crawling in these very woods.

It takes only a split second of hesitation – should you really leave your own fire now, unguarded? – but your mind is made up quickly. Your own fire doesn’t matter if another one is extinguished. Somebody needs to set it aflame again.

It’s a walk through the woods. If you’re quick, you can make the way there and back in under an hour.

Though the woods…your eyes scan the darkness waiting between the trees. It’s an unnatural blackness, as if every light has been sucked out of it. And it’s quiet. The silence carries a threat far more unnerving than the darkness – because the darkness can be breached by the light of a candle. The silence, though, is testament to the danger lurking between these trees, a danger which silences even the beats of prey that usually stalk these woods and prowl through the undergrowth.

But as a priestess, you’re a guardian of the fire. Your people depend on it. There’s not really another choice.

“I should have become a Valkyrie instead,” you mutter under your breath and bend down to grasp one of the flickering candles lining the steps at the temple’s entrance, black wax dripping to the ground like spilled ink as you do.

You throw a last glance over your shoulder at the dancing flames behind you and pull the red hood of your cloak up to shield you from the cold as best as possible.

With a trembling inhale, your hand finds the dagger strapped to your thigh, fingers curling around it, the cool gold like a soothing touch to ward off the fear curdling in your stomach like the black smoke of a bonfire.

Then, you step into the darkness of the woods, letting it swallow you whole.

***

I should have come to her the night after the bonfire.

But then, I was sure I would only be chasing a foolish dream. That kiss was a stolen moment, one I should forget – so I tried to. For centuries, I tried to forget her, this beautiful creature which could never be mine.

Since that night, I’ve been a king, and my throne was stolen. I fell into death and yet was ripped from its claws, just as victory in my attempt to conquer Midgard has been ripped from me – and yet, there’s nothing, no throne, no crown, that I crave more than her forbidden kisses. Everything of her.

These damp stone walls cannot contain me, and Odin is as much of a fool as Thor if he thinks they could. Asgard’s dungeon is no match for my magic and wit.

I know how to get out.

And what better time than tonight, when the veil is lifting?

It’s time for a little stroll through the woods.

One dark thing more to roam the night won’t be noticed. Not until it’s too late, anyway.

***

Silence engulfs you as soon as your feet carry you into the darkness of the woods. There is only the sound of twigs snapping beneath your feet, of fallen leaves crunching under your steps and ferns rustling as your crimson cloak brushes against them

It’s not a peaceful silence. It’s menacing, devious, as if the forest has turned into a beast itself, devouring you in its dark maw with every step that carries you further into the thicket.

The chorus of crickets has stopped its tune, the birds have ceased their song. No crow fills the night with its requiem, no owl hoots as it chases vermin in the undergrowth.

Tonight, there are no faerie flitting through the branches of trees like fireflies, no Rusalka frolicking in the woods as they twirl around to the haunting melody of their violins, no Huldra filling the air with their laughter tinkling like windchimes.

It feels as if time has frozen around you, the forest holding its breath.

The woods are watching, hungry eyes following your every step.

Gnarled branches reach into your path, grasping for strands of your hair as you pass by. You carry on, as fast as you dare without losing care and falling over a root or a stone in your path, your grip around the black wax of the candle squeezing with your fear.

A gust of wind makes the flame of your candle flicker precariously, and you’re forced to release your soothing grip around your dagger’s hilt to shield the dancing candle-flame with your palm.

The only source of illumination besides the golden glow of your candle, nearly useless against the devouring dark, are beams of dull silver moonlight which occasionally filter through the thick green canopy of the trees, casting patches of moss and leaves into their eerie half-light.

Then, something drips onto the back of your hand. Something warm and sticky. It takes all of your willpower to suppress the ear-shattering scream of horror which has built at the back of your throat, begging to be set free as your eyes lock on the droplets running down your hand, glittering red in the light of your candle. Blood, dripping onto you from a spot above your head.

A second glance above, though, reveals that it’s not blood. It’s only sap from the trees, sticky and sweet.

A snicker tears from your chest, a trembling exhale as you stay frozen in your spot, waiting for your racing heartbeat to calm down. It’s not going too well.

You can’t tell how much time has passed since you left the protection of your temple to venture into the woods. You’re not even sure you’re still on the right path, you realize with growing terror.

A sudden sound from behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, though when you whirl around, there’s nothing there beyond the light of your candle. It was probably the wind, ruffling the dried leaves of a wild mulberry tree.

Or…the sound of another person moving through the thicket.

No, you chastise yourself. The wind. The wind, the wind…

You don’t intend to stay long enough to find out.

Thorns tear at your billowing coat when you break into a run, as if the woods were trying to trap you in their hungry depths. The rustling sound is back behind you, and it’s closer now.

And then, the flame of your candle dies, leaving behind only the useless black wax in your clammy hands.

With a hissed curse, you let go of it, give yourself to the darkness as you dart through the dense undergrowth. It’s been dark before – but now, with the soft glow of the candle gone, the darkness is impenetrable. You blindly stumble along, praying to the Norns that you’re going in the right direction – though the right direction right now is any direction away from the sounds tearing through the silence as something follows you.

The pace of your steps accelerates along with your pulse, adrenaline shooting through your veins as if there would be any way of escaping the things which could be lurking beneath the trees alongside you right now, shrouded in the inky darkness – while the red of your cloak is like the beam of a lighthouse. Faster and faster your feet carry you through the thicket of low hanging branches. The hood is whipped from your face, but you don’t stop to pull it back up.

A branch slaps into your face, and a sting of pain shoots through you as the sharp woods tears a small cur into your cheeks. Still, you don’t stop until the sound behind you is finally gone.

You skid to a sudden halt as you break into a small clearing where the canopy of trees above is not as dense, allowing moonlight to seep through the leaves. Body frozen, you listen.

The seconds tick by as you strain your ears, brimming with silence which seems to wrap around you like the smoke from the incense earlier, and your attention is drawn to a patch of dried wildflowers growing at the foot of a nearby tree trunk, barely visible in the circle of dim light the full moon casts on the forest floor. Their petals have died, the vibrant colour leeched away to leave behind a withered brown. Another reminder that summer has ended.

You stay like this. Waiting – for what, you can’t exactly pinpoint. For the sound ringing through the quiet air once more to reveal its source? For the creatures of the night to start their inevitable hunt on the only living thing that dared to breach the woods tonight?

Your free hand rises to the clasp holding your coat in place, fingertips brushing over the cool copper shaped like a flame, before you tug the thick crimson fabric tighter around your shoulders. It’s the rich dark red of rubies, of freshly spilled blood, a symbol of life. That’s why it’s the colour of the priests and priestesses, an honour to wear – though right now, you wish your ancestors had chosen something less vibrant, something less calling out ‘here I am, come and eat me’.

That’s when you feel it again, the prickle of a gaze locked on you. A presence other than the darkness and the silence.

The hairs at the back of your neck rise with the sensation of being watched, of eyes following you.

This time, you know it’s not your mind playing tricks on you. Not merely the woods watching you. No. It’s something else. Or…someone else.

“Look who strayed from the path,” a voice drawls from behind you, dark and smooth like the softest silk as is seeps through the night air, and you whirl around towards the source of the sound. Your heart seems to freeze alongside the blood in your veins.

There’s a looming dark figure prowling lazily towards you through the undergrowth. You can’t see their face yet, with the darkness shrouding your surroundings, but you don’t need to.

You would have recognized this voice everywhere.

It haunts your dreams every night, it’s the lilting melody that summons the memory of a fleeting kiss to your mind, lures your hands to roam to the spot at the apex of your thighs to quench the hunger this memory rouses in you.

You watch the flames of the bonfire as they dance, sparks ascending into the air. It’s still cool, but it carries the promise of warm nights beneath a sky that weeps falling stars, the promise of stalks of wildflowers swaying in the summer breeze as it caresses the petals, of bees buzzing through the air and trees blooming with the anticipation of their branches laden with fresh fruit to harvest.

Beltane has always been your favourite celebration, heralding vibrant days of summer.

All around you, the people of Asgard dance around the bonfires, all clad in white, their twirling steps guided by the melody of cheerful harps and flutes while they weave the most cheerful tunes to fill the air, as if they’re beckoning summer to join them in their revel. The melody makes you think of sunlight warming your face, of fruit so sweet and ripe that its juice dribbles down your chin when you take a bite.

It’s your first Beltane celebration as an ordained priestess, the first time you finally were allowed to help build the bonfires which are now blazing all around the palace, casting the gardens and courtyards in their orange glow. The first time you’re allowed to participate the festivities instead of only watching from the side-lines along the other acolytes.

Only then do you realize you’ve been staring at a couple, the two of them having stopped the twirling movements of their dance to share a kiss that’s so intimate that it makes heat creep into your cheeks, making you feel like an intruder. You quickly avert your gaze, turning your back to them. Beside the embarrassment stirring in your belly, there’s something else, a curiosity rearing its head that’s all too familiar to you.

You’ll never be kissed like this, with such fierceness and hunger, will never know what it feels like, to have lips pressed against yours or hands tangling in your hair in the throes of passion.

It’s the price you pay for the honour of being priestess which has been bestowed on you, chosen as you made your first unsteady steps as a mere toddler. Though right now…it feels like a burden rather than an honour. Bitterness weighs on your tongue.

It’s not as if the Norns personally descended to declare the priests and priestesses serving Asgard to stay virgins. It’s a law forged by the kings and queens of ages past, forged simply to ensure there are no distractions. Because the priests and priestesses are the ones guarding the Realm from the dangers of the Otherworld. You can’t afford to be distracted, not when there’s the safety of a whole kingdom at stake.

“For someone participating in a revel, that’s a rather deep frown you’re wearing, my lady,” a voice tears you from your gloomy thoughts – a deep, rich timbre which reminds you of the sensation of fingertips brushing over silk.

There’s a man standing in front of you. He can’t be much older than you, the shadow of the childhood he’s left behind by crossing the threshold of adulthood still clinging to his eyes, his pale features, just as it still clings to you.

His smile is mischievous, his eyes – blue like the waters surrounding the Bifrost – sparkle with mischief as your gaze locks on them, the firelight dancing in their stunning depths as he regards your red cloak, the deep crimson colour marking you as one of the priestesses. His hair frames his handsome features, as black as the night sky above.

Your heart stumbles over its next beat, and for a few seconds, you only manage to stare at him, stunned by the beauty inherent in his features, the mesmerizing spell of his eyes.

Then, you reply drily, “Are you demanding me to smile for you?” Your tone is more indignant than you intended, but he only chuckles.

“I wouldn’t dream of commanding anybody to smile. Smiles are something to be earned.” His grin widens, and you feel as if there was a thread tied to your chest, pulling you towards him, a gravity that draws you into his orbit like a moth drawn to the flame of a candle.

“Command”, you echo with a snort, “That seems to be a choice of words arrogant enough to be reserved for royalty.”

A spark of amusement crosses the stranger’s face at your reply, smile turning roguish, and he drawls, “Don’t I look like royalty to you?”

“You look like trouble to me,” you deadpan.

“That’s sounds terribly as if you were opposed to trouble,” he snickers in feigned indignation.

You can’t help the corners of your mouth tugging into a smile at his playful charm.

“And how would you earn a smile from me?”, you inquire, your tone a mix of scepticism and playfulness.

“I would ask you to dance with me.”

“I’m a priestess,” you reply, a little taken aback by his brazen flirtation.

The stranger cocks a dark eyebrow. “You’re not allowed to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. Not of life in general.”

“So you didn’t ask me to dance to steal a kiss because it’s too tempting not to try?”, you tease.

He extends a hand towards you. “I didn’t intend to steal a kiss.”

“Good,” you say, placing your palm in his.

His eyes glitter with his smirk as he leans towards you and whispers, “I intended to steal way more than only one kiss.”

You know you should let go of his hand and leave, because dancing with this beautiful stranger will bring you nothing but trouble…but you don’t. Because Norns, you want him to kiss you. Desperately so. So instead of pulling away, you let him pull you close, let him guide your steps into the moves of the dance, let him cast his spell over you and ensnare you in his trap like a hare in the grasp of a hunter.

“Don’t let the council hear that, or we’ll both be punished,” you reply as nonchalantly as the quiver in your voice allows, careful to keep your features trained into a mask of amused indifference to disguise the heat that crawls up your neck and blooms in your cheeks, the way how flustered he’d turning you with this mischievous gleam in his stunning eyes.

The way he makes you want to break the rules.

One grave mistake, and the council will strip you of your role as priestess, cast you out…

“What makes you want to be a priestess, with a life ahead so full of rules and dire consequences if you break them?”, the stranger asks, and as he notices the shadow crossing your face at his words, he quickly adds, “It’s not my place to criticize – I’m merely curious.”

“You’re not the first to ask this question,” you say, giving him a smile.

“What do you usually answer?”

“That it’s an honour to protect my people the way I’m able to as a priestess.”

A dark eyebrow quirks up as his gaze scans yours, scrutinizing, before he asks with surprising seriousness in his tone, “And what’s the truth beneath the pretty brushstrokes of this answer?”

You bite your lip, taken aback by how easily this stranger has read you, how easily he saw through the pretty little lie, and decide you want to be honest with him.

“I didn’t choose it. It’s the path chosen for me, by the blessing the Norns have bestowed on me. And it’s not my place, or any other’s, to question the fate the Norns have written for me. I can view it as an honour, or as a cage. Both is true – though the way of acceptance is what makes the difference.” Your tone gets more light-hearted again when you add, “I could have it worse than guarding a beautiful temple in the woods while Asgard honours me for it. If there were no priests and priestesses, who would keep the monsters from your doorstep?”

You wink, though the expression of the stranger turns thoughtful, his voice void of the previous tease and amusement when he offers, “Not all monsters need to get in. Some of us carry them in their heart already. No sacred fire in the Nine Realms would suffice to slay those.”

His words tug at your heartstrings, the truth of them as imminent as the smoke suffusing the night air around you.

“All monsters can be beaten,” you say softly.

Something sparks in the blue of the stranger’s eyes, like a shooting star streaking through the firmament, there and gone in a heartbeat. Too fast for you to dissect the meaning of it.

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you – not awkward but calm, infused with a strange harmony as you get lost in the tunes of the orchestra and the flowing, graceful steps of the dance, soft blades of grass caressing your bare feet.

“I just realized I don’t even know your name,” you finally breathe, breaking the silence between the two of you.

“Well, I know yours, Y/N.”

You frown up at him, tilting your head in surprise.

“Did you stalk me?”

“I’ve seen you in the library many times,” he shrugs, though the gleam in his ocean eyes tells you there’s more to it.

He guides you into a small twirl, and when you face him again, he’s even closer. Close enough to smell the leather of his attire which wraps around his lean body, leaving you to wonder how he looks beneath, if his muscles are as well defined as the grace and strength he exudes give rise to the suspicion. It’s a place where your mind shouldn’t wander, and you yank your thoughts back. Though the look in the handsome stranger’s eyes tells you that he knows exactly where your thoughts have wandered, and he obviously relishes it.

“Enjoy the view?”, he drawls, and your own reply comes as a saccharine quip, “Don’t pretend you didn’t already imagine what I look like underneath that dress.”

It’s revealing, with a neckline that plunges low and slits cut into the sides of the white silk of the skirts, letting the bare skin of your thighs flash beneath the crimson cloak whenever you spin – which is quite often, considering spinning is part of the dance.

His grin is wide. “I can’t deny I’ve allowed my imagination to wander,” he concedes without a trace of embarrassment in the smooth tone of his voice. He leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your hair, the side of your neck, as he croons into your ear, “I wondered if the body beneath is as beautiful as the witty mind that sparks in your stunning eyes.”

“A shame you’ll never find out,” you drawl, and the rasp in your voice, the trace of arousal laced there, is a mirror of the desire sparking to life in your chest, oozing to the apex of your thighs.

“A shame, indeed,” the raven-haired stranger whispers – though he doesn’t pull away. No. He inches closer, letting his lips hover inches above yours. You don’t need to tear your gaze away from his intent one to scan the crowd of revellers dancing around you – nobody pays the two of you any attention, despite the vibrant scarlet fabric shrouding you. The darkness hides the two of you from prying eyes, a black veil hiding a stolen moment like a silent friend to keep your secret. The mead which has been flowing freely for hours now does the rest to blur wandering gazes. It’s Beltane, and the Gods and Goddesses of Asgard aren’t known for their reserve. Though you didn’t drink a single drop of mead tonight, and the stranger’s gaze is sharp and clear to tell you he hasn’t indulged in the drinking, either.

His closeness makes you feel intoxicated, drunk with the warmth that builds in your core like another bonfire, the way every single nerve in your body becomes hyperaware of the warmth that radiates from his body, as if every cell of you was begging him to inch even closer. To touch you.

You realize that the two of you have stopped dancing, caught in each other’s gazes rather than in the lilting tunes floating through the smoke-layered air.

Until the music stops, and a voice booms over the crowd, summoning the princes of Asgard to join the king and follow the tradition of lighting a bundle of herbs to ward off evil spirits that could rot the harvest.

“Prince Thor and Prince Loki are summoned by the King to take their places at his side for the ritual!”, the voice repeats, and the music fades, getting lower and lower.

The two of you, though, are still caught in this moment, the possibility sizzling in the tense air between you, faces mere inches apart.

Ocean eyes lower down to your lips in an unspoken question.

Your heart races with the speed of a swarm of birds taking flight.

Both of you close the distance at the same time, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss is fleeting, the brush of a feather, but it’s infused with a hunger that seems to thrum through the blood in your veins, to make heat sear through your body and your heart stop for a few beats, the taste of this stolen kiss sweeter than the nectar of any summer fruit.

So that’s how it feels like.

It’s better than anything you could have imagined.

It’s not enough. Not even close. Greed roars to life in your heart, green-eyed and feral, a sleeping thing you never knew was nestling between the cage of your ribs. The raven-haired stranger has roused it, and you can feel that you’ll never be able to put it back to sleep again.

It will only demand more.

When he pulls away, the blue of his eyes has darkened with desire, and he whispers with a wink, “They’re calling for me. Farewell, lovely maiden. May we meet again one day.”

Your mouth falls open in shock as the crowd parts for him, watching as he descends the dais erected at the centre of the courtyard to stand beside his golden-haired brother and the king.

It’s then that you realize that he’s never told you his name.

The raven-haired stranger who stole your first and only kiss – he’s Loki. Prince of Asgard.

These same cerulean eyes, churning with mischief and wit, are now locked on yours again – centuries later. Though there’s a flash of something else now glimmering in their depths, something devious, like the scales of a sea monster shimmering beneath the rippling surface of a lake. A viciousness which can’t be disguised by the sly smirk playing on his lips.

I intended to steal more than one kiss.

Well, he’d made true of his word. That night, Loki had stolen not only a kiss, but your heart as well. Though is it stealing if you gave both so willingly to him?

Then, the raven-haired prince has been shrouded in mystery, whispers trailing him like a cloak of shadow wherever he went. The God of tricks, shapeshifter, weaver of illusions and lies, watched with wariness and suspicion, the gossips at court feeding off him, rumours sprouting wherever he went. So different from his brother with his golden hair; a loner keeping to the shadows.

Now, Loki is none of these things anymore. He’s a monster, a villain caged in the dungeons to keep his evil contained. The rumours which sprouted from the rotten seeds of Loki’s evil deeds have grown into a thicket of their own, suffocating vines creeping through the palace’s plated walls. Rumours about his rotten soul, the frost in his heart, the death clinging to his hands like your crimson cloak clings to your shoulders. The lies he spins to ensnare everyone who gets too close, a puppeteer drawing the strings from the shadows, his loyalties as fickle as the shapes of the moon, his mind as vicious as the abyss of Helheim.

You’ve refused to believe these whispers for so long, have tried to piece them together with the charming stranger from the dance around the Beltane bonfire – but the blood on his hands isn’t a lie spun from bored court gossips.  

And however he’s done it, Loki escaped the dungeons. He’s free.

Of all the monstrous things you could have encountered in the woods tonight, he is the most dangerous one.

Your dagger is in your hand in the blink of an eye, muscles guided by the invisible strings of instinct, though the cold weight of the blade clutched in your hand does nothing to quench the fear that’s constricting your chest.

Before his name can fall from your lips on a gasp of surprise, before you can utter a scream which would go unheard anyway, swallowed by the looming woods around you, he steps into a patch of moonlight seeping through the canopy of leaves overhead like liquid silver, spilling over him, painting a halo around his raven hair. It makes his eyes gleam like the surface of a frozen lake as they flit to the bronze dagger clasped in your hand, before they lock on yours.

The centuries have taken the softness of youth from his features, have sharpened his cheekbones, his smile, the look in his eyes like a carefully honed blade. Then, he was beautiful. Now, he’s ethereal.

An otherworldly beauty, like the pretty colours of a poisonous plant – luring its mindless prey in for the silent kill.

Your breath catches in your throat, and fear – raw, powerful fear – courses through your veins, grips your heart like a vise with talons made of ice.

“Hello, Y/N,” Loki drawls into the silence, his voice lilting and low, while he leans casually against the trunk of the tree beside him, arms crossed in front of his chest. “It’s been a while.”

Moonlight catches in the bits of gold adorning the leather of his attire – though the metal is tarnished, scratches scarring the once smooth surfaces. A perfect mirror of the soul lurking behind these mesmerizing eyes which follow your every movement, every breath.

“How did you escape?”, you breathe.

The wicked smirk widens. “I’m the God of Tricks.”

“They’ll search for you. They’ll scour every square inch of this realm for you.” The tremor in your limbs has crept into your voice, cracking it like the shell of an egg beneath the prince’s scrutiny.

“They will,” he agrees, his voice as smooth and low as the rumbling purr of a mountain lion, “Though I will be gone by then.”

Your heart sinks as he tilts his head, a cat biding its time to pounce on its feathered prey.

“Don’t you want to attack?,” he drawls, gesturing to dagger in your grip. The menace dripping from his voice, sweet and smooth like rotten honey, makes chills race up and down your spine, “To use that blade of yours on me, little dove?”

The pet name conjures the image of a bird to your mind; white feathers tinted crimson as it thrashes against the jaws of a black fox.

“That depends on what you’ll do next,” you reply shakily. “What do you want from me?”

“So happy to meet me again after all these years,” he quips, “How very unfortunate that the day of our reunion is a little different from what I imagined it would be.”

“Likewise.”

“Ah,” Loki purrs with delight, “So you imagined seeing me again?” His eyes flash. “What was it like, that little daydream?”

He takes a step closer towards you, a hunter stalking its prey, circling closer. You raise the dagger, let the blade catch a beam of moonlight as you hiss, “Stay away from me.”

Loki chuckles, and the sound makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Your grip tightens around your dagger’s hilt.

“Why so scared of me, little dove?”, he croons.

“You tried to kill Thor.”

“I did.” He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you as his words seep through the air. You mirror the movement, taking a step backwards, a twig snapping beneath your foot.

“You wanted to destroy a whole Realm.”

“I did.” Another step backwards as he prowls closer. The ferns tickle the exposed skin on your ankles, the soft silk of your flimsy dress beneath the cloak catching on the feathery green leaves.

“And you tried to conquer another.”

“Again, I did.”

“You’re a monster,” you add on a trembling whisper. The frost lacing the air of the eerily silent woods all around you, biting the exposed skin where the pearly silk of the dress and the heavy fabric of the cloak offer no protection against it, are nothing compared to the cold of fear that creeps through you right now.

The flash in Loki’s eyes is dark, devious, as his lips twist into a cruel sneer. “I am.”

For a few heartbeats, the two of you just stare at each other. But you refuse to be the prey in this game.

“There are other monsters which need to be kept at bay tonight,” you finally say, tone carefully calm.

“Oh yes, I forgot. You need to re-light a sacred fire, right?”

You frown at his teasing tone, but there’s no chance for you to inquire on how he knows when he gives you a sly grin and croons, “Look closer, little dove.”

And finally, you see it, in the distance over his shoulder. A flickering little dot of light, like a distant star winking between the leaves. The sacred fire you though has been snuffed out.

“How…?”

“An illusion,” Loki shrugs. “I needed to lure you out of your temple somehow.”

You continue to shrink back, away from his looming presence, the darkness he radiates, the wickedness of his rotten, villainous heart which seems to seep into the air around him. One careful, subtle step after the other as you hold his intent gaze with your own.

Then, you feel it.

A whisper of wind tickling the side of your neck. Warm as it fans over the strands of your hair, soft as a lover’s caress.

Only that it’s not the wind. It’s the breath of someone, something right behind you, close enough to feel the physical presence prickling at your spine.

“Boo,” a dark voice whispers into your ear.

This time, the scream you’ve managed to hold back for so long rips from your throat and echoes through the darkness of the woods as you whirl around, dagger raised and slicing through the air as you come face to face with –

Loki.

The blade of his own dagger meets yours with the sound of metal clashing as he parries the blow to his chest in a flourish. Your mouth falls open, breaths shallow as your chest rises and falls rapidly and panic curdles in your guts.

You whip your head around, just in time to see the perfect copy of the trickster which has stepped out of the thicket ripple and dissolve in a burst of green, and the dark rumble of a laugh coming from in front of you makes you snap your eyes back to his, blades still crossed.

He’s only a single step away from you now, and the grin on his lips is wolfish.

“Prick,” you seethe, panic and rage warring for control in your mind.

“I’ve been called worse,” he drawls.

Before you can reply, before you can react, he moves as quick as a bolt of lightning as it sizzles through the air, a second dagger materializing in his free hand, blade whirring towards you –

And over your shoulder.

You turn around just in time to see the golden blade lodge itself in the eye of a shadow, a wolfish jaw gaping open to release a roar that sounds like a myriad of voices screeching in terror, fangs dripping with black saliva as they stop only inches away from you.

The creature’s last breath carries the scent of rot, of death and decay, of flesh wilting away from bones and dried blood, making bile rise in your throat as you watch in horrified fascination how the monstrous thing collapses to the forest floor, mottled black fur turning into black dust as it dissolves into the air, its stench of rotting flesh trailing in its wake that makes you flinch until the breeze rustling the leaves carries it away.

Then, the creature is gone, leaving behind only the golden dagger glinting beneath the feathery leaves of the ferns covering the ground.

“The shadows seem to have fangs tonight,” Loki states light-heartedly, “You’re welcome.”

“I would’ve noticed it,” you snap lamely, and the prince snickers.

“Of course you would’ve. When its jaws had closed around you to tear the pretty flesh from your bones.”

One monster prowling the woods tonight is gone – though you feel the more dangerous one is still very much alive, his cunning cerulean gaze stalking your movements, biding his time, teeth flashing in the moonlight with another mischievous, wicked grin. More dangerous than any creature crawling from the veil could ever be.

You turn to leave, striding away from him before terror freezes you in spot once more, but once again, Loki is faster.

In a shimmer of green, he materializes right in front of you, blocking the narrow path, and the smirk is gone from his face.

“Stop that. Stay away from me,” you seethe, repeating your earlier command, dagger’s tip pointed at the frozen heart beating in his chest. A caged beast lashing out in a last attempt to save itself.

The trees watch in silence, the darkness looms, seeping through the woods as if it were alive. There will be no help, nobody to hear your screams. Screams of terror…or screams of an entirely different origin. Because despite everything Loki has done, you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame, its ravenous heat singeing delicate wings and still, he draws you in.

“A simple ‘Thank you’ would have done it,” Loki taunts.

“I wouldn’t even be out here in the woods tonight if you hadn’t tricked me”, you hiss. “And for what? To toy with me? To threaten me? To hunt me and play your twisted little mind games?”

“To talk to you.” Loki’s voice is calm, his eyes sincere as you scan them for the lies lurking in their abysses. “I might be a monster, but I’m not monstrous.”

“Get out of my way,” you seethe, but Loki only cocks his head.

“Make me.”

It’s a challenge, a threat, and yet, it makes chills race along the curve of your spine for a whole different reason at the smoothness of his low, dark voice, they way it seems to weave strings around you to pull you towards him.

He only keeps watching you. Toying with you. A predator who knows he doesn’t need to hurry because his prey won’t get too far, anyway.

Though while you watch him, there’s something else awakening beneath the fear that surges through you. A hunger you have only ever felt once, a greed only his stolen kiss was able to stir awake in your heart and your body.

Loki’s eyes roam down your form, trail the crimson velvet of your cloak as he takes in the way it plays around your bare legs where the white silk of your priestess’ dress has shifted with your movement. You can feel his gaze on your skin where the slitted sides of the dress reach up to the curve of your rear, your bare legs on perfect display for the prince’s wandering eyes as they travel upwards, clinging to your form like dewdrops to a spider’s web.

You can feel Loki’s gaze singeing your skin like an invisible caress, leaving burning trails in its wake that make sparks of desire sizzle at your navel and dribble down to the aching spot between your legs at the ravenous expression in the prince’s eyes, which have wandered to the plunging neckline that reveals far too much of your breasts. You curse the ancestors who thought a priestess should wear as little as possible to honour what nature has given her.

With a glare, you tug your cloak tighter around you, the crimson colour of the velvet as vibrant as blood spilled over freshly fallen snow.

“Enjoy the view?”, you hiss, echoing the very same words he once purred in your ear, when the warmth of his breath had mingled with the heat of the bonfire – and rivalling the heat stirring awake in your core right now.

Loki snickers, and his eyes snap up to lock on yours. “It’s the most beautiful in all of Asgard. Though I can’t help but wonder if your thoughts are as innocent as the white of your dress is meant to symbolize, little dove.”

Another step, and this time you don’t shrink back. Instead, you let him close the distance between the two of you. The warmth of his body seeps through the thin silk of your dress beyond the cloak, scattering goosebumps all over your skin – chills which have nothing to do with the freezing air.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you hiss into the stillness, when everything in you is screaming for him to do just that. To touch you in all the places where you need to feel him. You try to ignore this carnal need, the way the fabric of your panties has dampened with it already.

His eyes scan yours, greed darkening the blue of his irises like storm clouds over water. As if he already knows what his proximity is doing to you.

“Go on then,” Loki challenges with a low purr. “Run away from me, little dove. I won’t touch you. I won’t chase you. Run back to your temple. You have nothing to fear from me. You never had.”

Sincerity seeps into the darkness of his voice, revealing the truth of his words as he keeps watching you, silver moonlight playing over his pale face where it seeps through the leaves rustling at the crown of the trees above, casting over the sharp lines of his cheekbones as he waits for you to do just that – to run back to the safety of your temple and the warmth of the sacred fire you’ve sworn to protect.

You don’t run.

You’re rooted to the spot, frozen in place not by fear, but desire, every of your senses heightened to Loki’s intoxicating scent as it wraps around you and fills your nostrils, a heady mixture of herbs and magic and leather which rouses the desire to taste him, to savour the salt of his sweat on your tongue and learn exactly which sounds your touch is able to conjure from his lips.

“That’s what I thought,” Loki breathes with the ghost of a smirk playing at his mouth when it’s obvious you’re not going to flee.

“Why are you here?”, you demand, voice low and hoarse with the spell of his proximity, the way Loki is close enough for his breath to prickle on your lips like the ghost of his kiss which still lingers on your lips, even after all these centuries which have passed, a restless spirit haunting your heart with longing for him.

Your fear is gone, you realize. Burned to ashes that scatter in the wind. Burned by the longing you’ve been feeling ever since the night he stole your first kiss.

When Loki speaks, his voice is a whisper, coarse with the desire which darkens his mesmerizing eyes that are boring into yours. “I’m here because for the past centuries, since that night at the Beltane bonfire, all I can think of is you. You’ve stolen into my dreams to haunt them with the memory of your kiss, ensnared my mind in your spell. There’s not a single day that has passed in which I didn’t crave your company and the sweetness of your lips on mine. Wondering if the rest of you would taste as divine as your kiss. Wondering what sounds I could summon from these lovely lips. What it would feel like to have your skin pressed against mine, writhing with pleasure while I’m buried deep inside of you.”

The images he conjures up in your mind are nothing but sinful, as are the sensations racing through your body.

Norns, you crave him.

You ache for him – his kisses, his touches, his cock. And, most dangerous of all – his heart. You don’t only want him to want you, you want him to give you everything. And you might be willing to give him your everything in return.

“What about you, little dove?”, Loki drawls, his voice so dark and sultry that your breath hitches in your throat as it wraps around you, the lure of a siren’s song which promises everything you want – and everything that’s forbidden. “Tell me, did you lay awake at night, thinking of me?”

Whatever flashes in your eyes, it makes Loki’s lips curve into a mischievous smirk before he continues to rasp, “Did you reminisce in the memory of our stolen kiss and wonder what it would have been like if we had done more that night?”

Every night since that Beltane celebration.

“Did you let your hands wander and imagine how it would feel like if it were my fingers tracing your skin, Y/N?”

You have. More times than you could possibly count.

“Did you moan my name when you came undone beneath your own straying touches?”

Every single time.

“Because no matter how hard I tried to forget it, ever since the night we met, there has only ever been one name falling from my lips. And that’s yours, Y/N.”

This time when he reaches out for you, you don’t shrink back. Excitement skitters down your spine when he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, the soft tug at your scalp feeding the flames in your belly, making you crave more.

“Is that what you want?”, you breathe, daring him to speak the truth, “To corrupt me and prove to yourself that you’re able to, because that rotten heart beating in your chest will find a twisted satisfaction in it?”

Another chuckle rumbles through Loki’s chest, dark and sensual, as he purrs, “Corrupting you is merely a nice little side effect.” He lets go of the strand of your hair before he adds on a hoarse whisper, “As rotten as my heart might be, it belongs to you ever since the night we danced around the bonfire.”

“What if I don’t want your heart?”, you murmur, the playfulness in your tone only spurring Loki on.

“I see how your eyes have darkened. I’ve heard how your breath hitched at my words,” Loki purrs, and reaches out, your eyes nearly fluttering close at the sensation as he gently traces his index finger over your cheek, over the dried blood which has seeped from the cut and to the side of your throat before he lets it rest against the point where your pulse is thrumming beneath your skin while he adds with a slow whisper, “I feel how your pulse is racing beneath my fingertips. If you don’t want my heart, there clearly is something else you want.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear when Loki rasps, voice heavy and dripping with arousal, “Feel free to take whatever it is you want from me, little dove.”

There’s a beat of silence, a stillness in the tension-filled space between the two of you, with your breaths mingling in the freezing air, the darkness creeping through the woods surrounding you with their unnatural silence, lips mere inches apart.

It’s the moment you should turn, run, escape the evil crawling between the trees and the evil right in front of you, the words he’s spinning like a spider its web – no matter how true they might be.

In this moment you realize it. Something else has come alive tonight, in the haunted woods not around you, but those in your heart – a ravenous beast rearing her head, roused centuries ago with a stolen kiss in the dancing light of a bonfire.

Nobody has ever asked what you want, nobody has ever given you a choice. Nobody but Loki. No matter how cruel his heart might be, how vile and rotten his soul, he’s always been the only one seeing through the lustrous white silk and the crimson velvet – not a servant of the Norns, not a priestess, not a symbol of purity and protection. Not the role you’re fated to play. Only you, your truths and desires.

You don’t care that it’s dangerous to remain here, in this clearing tonight, don’t care about the blood on Loki’s hands, the evil deeds in his past, because you know he won’t hurt you. And you know you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

For the first time, you listen to that inner beast and heed her greedy wishes.

It’s you who closes the distance this time, capturing Loki’s lips with yours. There’s no hesitation, no shyness. Only a raw desire, spilling through your body, setting you ablaze from within as it makes your pulse hum and your bones sing, blood searing through your veins.

The movement of Loki’s lips against yours mirrors your own desire, your own despair after so many centuries of longing for each other. The ties of the rules and constraints that bound you to the priestess’ oath snap one by one, each movement of your lips a swipe of a dagger severing them for good. You couldn’t care less if you’ll be punished for this, couldn’t care less if the Norns themselves will see the blatant disobedience to your sacred oath and let their wrath pour onto you.

All you care about is the sensation of Loki’s kiss.

A moan tumbles from your mouth as he tangles his hands in your hair, gently grabbing a fistful of the strands to tilt your head and deepen the kiss – a moan Loki echoes with a growl of his own, the possessiveness and despair of it stoking the fire in your core.

There’s a throbbing sensation between your legs you’ve only ever known from your sinful little daydreams, a pulsing need each of his touches fuels until you feel like you might burst with it. Loki’s teeth graze over your lower lip, coaxing your mouth open for him before his tongue swirls over your own, allowing you to savour his addictive taste. It’s a drug coursing through your bloodstream, heightening your senses to his every movement, ever brush of his skin against yours that makes sparks of lightning sizzle through your nerves, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours, his palms hot as they roam your skin, combatting the numbing cold of the woods better than the fire at your temple ever could.

You press closer against him as he walks you backwards, leaves rustling beneath your feet, roots and thorns grasping for the billowing hem of your crimson cloak, both of you caught up in the scalding kisses you share. There’s a soft thud, a rustle of fabric when your back meets the trunk of a tree, the crimson fabric of your cloak scraping against the rough bark as Loki pins you against the trunk with his own body.

Norns, you never want this moment to end. You’ve waited far too long for this – and reality is so much better as the daydreams ever were, the sensation of Loki’s firm body pressing flush against yours, the taste of his kiss…it’s so much better than any imagination your mind could have conjured.

Just as this thought crosses your hazy mind, Loki pulls away – just enough to gaze into your eyes and whisper, his lips nearly brushing yours, “What do you want me to do, little dove?”

A smirk tugs at your lips, as devious as his own, before you utter the demand on a breathless whisper. “Corrupt me. In every way you can think of.”

The wolfish smile Loki gives you in reply nearly brings you to your knees.

“I never wanted anything as much as I want you,” he rasps, the tip of his nose brushing against your jaw as his hands, tangled in your hair, gently tip your head back until it’s met with the trunk of the tree to give him access to the feverish skin of your throat.

“From the night I met you,” Loki continues to rasp, his words accompanied each by a lingering, open-mouthed kiss when he traces the column of your throat with his lips, lets his teeth scrape gently over the sensitive skin above your fluttering pulse, “I knew I wanted nobody but you. And it destroyed me to know I could never have you.”

“Maybe that’s exactly because I was the one thing you couldn’t have, your majesty,” you croon, voice strained with your arousal, with the sensation his lips elicit in your body as he starts to nibble at the skin at the crook of your neck, making you arch into the sensation.

“No,” he simply breathes, making you shudder with the glorious feeling of his breath ghosting over your already sweat-drenched skin, “That’s not the reason why I want you. Not at all. Though I must admit it helped to know, even if I couldn’t have you – nobody could. Because the thought of you in another’s arms…it would have turned me insane with jealousy.”

His words wrap around your thundering heart like the most warming of cloaks, and you sigh at the sensation of Loki’s lips tracing your throat, your collarbone – though your eyes fly open in astonishment as you feel him shift, only to watch as he slowly sinks onto his knees before you with the most seductive of smirks gracing his kiss-swollen lips.

“What are you doing?”, you gape in surprise, but Loki shushes you softly.

“Nothing you don’t want me to, little dove. Say the word and I’ll stop.”

Never. All you want is for him to go on with whatever way he’s planning to pleasure you.

His fingers graze the sides of your legs as he hikes up the flowing fabric of your dress, further and further, the white silk caressing your skin while he trails hot, heavy kisses and bites over the inside of your exposed thighs that make you squirm with the building need between your legs, the pulsing sensation at the apex of your thighs that feels as if liquid fire was burning in your core.

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance down to take in the sight of this beautiful dark prince, kneeling between your legs – kneeling for you – while his attentive eyes burn into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless all over again. He’s observing every flutter of your lashes, every parting of your lips as you react to his touches while his hands continue their path up to your thighs, hiking the white silk of your dress upwards to bare you before him, hunger gleaming in his eyes along the moonlight which paints his raven hair with a silver sheen, tints his long lashes with its pale light.

With a mischievous smirk, he lifts one of your legs and hooks it over his shoulder, and your eyes widen at the sound of fabric being ripped apart when he tears away your panties to bare you before him.

“So wet for me already, little dove,” Loki coos with delight flashing in his lust-darkened eyes. “I can’t wait to have your taste on my tongue.”

You don’t have time to become self-conscious, to feel exposed – your breath is knocked from your lungs when Loki eagerly buries his face between your legs, his breath hot against the arousal pooling between your thighs, and a low moan is spilling from your lips as his tongue darts out to trace your dripping pussy.

Loki’s name tumbles from your lips in a whimper of pleasure when his hot tongue finally brushes over the swollen bundle of nerves where you need him most, your hips bucking against him instinctively to gain more friction, but his hands shoot up to your waist, pinning you against the trunk with a low chuckle that sends a wave of bliss-inducing vibrations against your aching clit, making you moan once more with the sensation.

“So needy for me,”, Loki purrs, his words accompanied by another achingly slow swivel of his tongue over your soaking folds as he keeps teasing you, making you go crazy with want. “And you taste absolutely divine.”

“You don’t know how many times I imagined this,” you breathe, voice broken with lust, and Loki’s reply comes in a delighted purr.

“Let’s play a game then, shall we, darling?”

“What game?”, you pant, gyrating your hips against his lips, but he’s pulled away far enough to be out of your reach. A frustrated whine tears from your throat, and it makes him chuckle again, tongue darting out to lap your glistening juices from his lips. It’s the most filthy sight you’ve ever beheld, and Norns, you want it to etch itself into your memories.

“I can’t wait to pleasure you in every way possible, to claim you in every way I can imagine – but I want to know exactly what you imagined with me. So as long as you keep talking, as long as you keep telling me every dirty little thing you envisioned me doing, I’ll use my tongue on you. And if you stop talking –“ his grin turns rascal, teeth a flash of white in the moonlight like the fangs of a wolf “ – then I’ll stop my work as well. So if you want me to continue to fuck your beautiful little cunt with my mouth, you better start singing, little dove.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice.

“I dreamed of how you’d make me yours,” you moan, and it takes every last ounce of willpower to bite back the cry of pleasure as Loki’s tongue sweeps over that sweet spot, starts swivelling around the swollen bud of your clit – but you can’t be loud if you don’t want to alert every single vile creature roaming the woods tonight to your presence.

“I imagined you ripping that crimson velvet from my shoulders.” Your words are broken, filling the air on a soft groan as you relish the sensation of Loki’s tongue caressing your clit in slow, blistering strokes, letting your fingers thread through the silken black strands of his hair, wet from the mist rising from the forest ground that stretch towards the starless skies.

“I imagined you to stain the white satin with sweat and scatter your marks all over my skin so I’ll look at them and know it wasn’t just another sweet dream,” you moan, and the words leave you for a moment when Loki hums against your aching clit, drawing his tongue over that sweet spot again, languidly, feasting on your arousal and the soft, sinful sounds which tear from your lips. This time, you can’t hold back the wanton cry. It reverberates through the darkness of the woods, and Loki croons, “I wish you could see how ravishing you look, all flushed and unravelling for me. So beautiful, my little dove.”

His mouth descends on your clit again, sucking softly, and you let your head fall back against the tree trunk behind you, certain you’d faint on the spot if Loki didn’t hold you up, your hips moving in time with the languorous flicks of his tongue, raven hair tickling the insides of your thighs.

He gently sucks on that spot again, and your muscles tense, body going rigid with the white-hot sensation of bliss bolting through you as his skilled tongue keeps playing with your clit, his strong hands still holding you in place as he builds up your orgasm – as he worships your body with the fervour and devotion you only ever saw the other priests and priestesses dedicate to their temples.

Your grip in his raven hair tightens, dragging him closer to your throbbing pussy, to keep him right there as you chase your relief with his name falling from your lips before your voice shatters with pleasure.

Sparks burst in your vision as you come undone, filling the blankness of your mind with dancing stars as your cry of pleasure tears through the cold air of the woods and your hips snap against Loki’s tongue one last time, his nails digging into the skin at your waist as he guides you through your climax, greedily lapping up your arousal. It’s different, so utterly different from all the times you’ve desperately worked to find relief at your own hands. So much better.

None of these times could ever compare to the way Loki makes you unravel with his mouth alone.

When your noises of pleasure have faded and the waves of your climax have morphed into ripples leaving your legs weak and trembling, you collapse against Loki who rises back to his feet, strong arms wrapping around you, his lips coming down on yours while your hands grab the leather of his collar to drag him closer.

You can taste yourself on his lips as he deepens the kiss, and you feel yourself getting wet all over again, walls clenching not for his tongue but his cock to fill you.

You don’t need to tell Loki that you need more, need everything of him, to feel him in the most intimate way possible. He senses it from the fierceness of your feverish kisses, the way you moan softly into his mouth as his tongue dances around yours to taste you once more.

Loki’s hands roam down to your rear, and you groan with lust when he lifts you up against the tree’s trunk, your legs hooking around his waist with a rustling sound as your cloak scrapes against the bark, and desire fills you anew when Loki presses himself flush against you; at the feeling of his clothed erection pressing against the bare skin of your thigh where the soft silk has ridden up.

Somewhere in the distance, there’s that eerie, unnatural howl again, but right now you couldn’t care less.

The woods might be the most dangerous place to be tonight, but as long as Loki is with you, you know that you’ll be safe. The thought only feeds the greedy flames of need that burn through you, the knowledge that even though he might be as devilish and villainous as the gossips claim, to you, he’s none of these things. With you, he’s nothing but gentle and protective.

“I need to feel you,” you breathe into the string of sensual kisses, bucking your hips to meet his, and the motion summons a soft groan from his lips that only spurs you on. “Now. Please.”

“We’ve waited far too long,” Loki agrees on a strained whisper.

But instead of just taking you against the tree, he takes a few steps backwards before slowly placing you on the floor of the forest, the heavy crimson fabric of your cloak fanning out beneath you like a blanket to shield you from the glittering frost which crawls over roots and moss and the feathery leaves of the ferns covering every inch of the forest floor like the softest of blankets, cushioning your back.

Your hands stay locked at the nape of Loki’s neck, silken black curls tickling your fingers as he gently lays you down.

His gaze, brimming with dark longing, never leaves yours as he settles between your legs, ankles still locked at his lower back.

The leather of his pants presses against the exposed skin of your thighs as he shifts, clothed erection meeting the slickness pooling at the apex of your legs, and your lips part for another lewd moan.

“Are you sure about this?” Loki’s voice is heavy with his arousal, yet impossibly gentle as he murmurs the question.

“I don’t care for the rules,” you reply with a trembling whisper, “All I care for is that you deserve to break them for you.”

The smile tugging at Loki’s lips is sincere as he murmurs, “Every single beat of my heart, haunted with the memory of your kiss, the thoughts of you, is a melody meant for only you.”

He reaches down, freeing himself from the restraints of his leather pants.

Your heart hammers against the confines of your ribcage – with want, with nervousness, with anticipation for the daydream finally becoming sweet reality.

Your back arches as Loki drags his tip over your dripping folds, teasing your entrance. He feels hot and heavy against the slickness of your arousal, against the cold that’s creeping along the feverish skin of your spine even through the red velvet of your cloak. The whine that falls from your lips is needy, impatient as Loki keeps teasing you with his tip.

Your drag him closer, using your legs which are still hooked around his waist, and Loki chuckles as he watches you squirm with need for him, the devilish grin flashing on his beautiful features full of savage delight.

“You’ve lusted centuries after me, little dove,” he croons, dragging his tip along your dripping entrance once more, filling the air with slick sounds and making your pulsing walls clench around nothing “And now you’re getting impatient?”

“I don’t intend to wait another few centuries until you finally had enough of teasing me and start giving me what I want instead,” you quip with a growl, and the trickster snickers.

“I should make you squirm and beg beneath me for the next hours,” he groans, but you pull him closer still, gyrating your hips against his throbbing length, letting his tip tease your clit to wring out every ounce of pleasure you can get. This time when you moan, you make it sound as lewd as possible, not caring for the beats you might attract to your little clearing.

You keenly take in the way Loki bites his lip at the sensation, at the sound of your pleasure while you keep rolling your hips against him, and you know the last thread of his patience is snapping under the weight of his own lust, fuelled by your languid motions, the noises you keep making to spur him on.

That’s all it takes. With your low groans tangling in the freezing air, lacing through the eerie silence of the looming darkness between the trees, Loki sinks into you, burrowing himself slowly, carefully scanning your face for any signs of pain.

“Don’t hold back,” you plead, “Please don’t hold back.” There’s a twinge of pain as he sheathes himself in your throbbing walls – but it’s brief, drowned out by the pleasure flooding your every nerve and every sense until the looming woods are blurred from your mind, until Loki is all that fills the crevices of your mind.

He heeds your plea without hesitation, making stars spring to your vision as he begins to move, bottoming out of you until he thrusts back into you, and a needy noise rips from your throat while your back arches. And you know you’ll never get enough of this, the pleasure and intimacy of your bodies melting together.

“I want you to be mine,” Loki moans. “I want my scent to linger all over your body, my taste to be the only one on your tongue. My name to be the only one on your mind. I want you to mark me with your nails, your teeth. I want to pleasure you in every way you crave. I want to give you my everything.”

Your eyes flutter close at the flood of pleasure cascading through you, his beautiful words drowning you in its depths.

Ferns tickle your cheek as your hips snap up against Loki’s to drive him deeper, his name spilling from your lips with every time he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to this precipice of raw bliss.

His raven hair tickles the skin on your collarbone as Loki leans down to pepper kisses over your throat, to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin and leave his mark on your body, a beautiful bruise on display as he claims you with quickening thrusts, heart and soul and body.

Your muscles shudder and clench with ecstasy as he drives you to the edge, grazing that spot inside once more to finally topple you over, following suit with a groan that echoes through the inky darkness around you as your walls flutter and clench around him in the throes of your orgasm, his hot cum spilling inside of you like another beautiful mark of him on your body.

Your second climax of tonight is even more forceful, stealing control so thoroughly from you that you don’t even notice which words are ripping from your chest along with your outcry of bliss, which noises tumble from your lips alongside Loki’s as he rides out your climaxes together with ragged movements – as if your body were a lyre, and his touches stealing the loveliest melodies as he’s so perfectly pulling your strings.

All you know is that you want to feel this again. With him. Only ever him.

When the currents of his own climax ebb, Loki collapses to the floor of the forest beside you, lips finding yours in another breathless kiss, this one sated and filled with the bliss of the things you’ve just done together.

For a few panting, ragged breaths, you stay there, drench in sweat and legs tangled, moss and ferns feathery at your back, mist weaving through your hair, through Loki’s lustrous raven strands while frost glitters all around you as if the stars which are amiss in the sky tonight have fallen down onto this clearing, their light rained down upon the two of you like droplets of the skies’ silver blood.

“I could go on with this for the rest of the night,” you pant, and Loki gives you a mischievous grin.

“So could I, little dove.”

But when he leans on one elbow to hover above you once more, leaning in for another kiss, there’s that creepy howl again – closer this time. Much, much closer.

Loki stills, dark brows drawing into a frown as he listens.

“Though I should bring you back to your temple,” he adds as an afterthought. As much as you’d like to argue – he’s right.

There’s only so much time you can spend out here tonight without straining your luck.

You let Loki help you get up and escort you back to your temple, fingers intertwined like the branches of the trees all around you, and your heart sinks with every step the two of you draw closer to the flickering sacred fire in its brazier.

Its aura of protection is gone – all you feel upon gazing at the flames is the fire in your own heart, blazing and alive for Loki. And the dread of knowing that you’ll have to let him go now, that the things you did in the woods will become another memory to haunt you when he’s gone.

“Don’t frown, little dove,” loki speaks softly as if he can sense the tears that already sting your eyes at the thought. He cups your face with his palm, thumb gently grazing the cut on your cheek, before he reaches out to pull a stray leaf from your hair.

“I’ll come back for you, Y/N. I promise.”

The sincerity of his voice takes you by surprise.

You’re not naïve. There’s still a part in you that’s filled with doubt, like the darkness filling the looming woods. Doubt about the truth in his words when he told you his heart belonged to you – but the expression in his stunning cerulean eyes is fierce and serious, sunlight dissolving the last dregs of uncertainty.

“When will I see you again?”, you breathe, swallowing against the lump that has formed in your throat.

“Tomorrow night,” Loki murmurs with a tender smile, “And the night after that – and the night after. Every night you want to see me, for the rest of our lives. You didn’t think I’d chase you through the woods tonight if I wasn’t the love-sick fool I am, did you?”

The teasing tone makes you smile, and the truth in his words, the confession, makes your heart sing.

You don’t need to remind him that the whole Realm of Asgard will start scouring the streets and woods for him. Loki is clever enough to evade them. Trying to catch him will probably be more difficult than carrying water in one’s bare hands. The thought makes you smile.

“I want to see you every night,” you say.

I might even run away with you. You don’t say it, but the rascal glint in Loki’s gaze tells you he read the thought from your own expression.

He leans in to kiss you good-bye for the rest of the night, fingers weaving through your hair, lips hot and heavy on yours, the traces of sweat and your arousal lingering on his skin.

“You better be well-rested, little dove,” Loki whispers, and shivers race down your spine, “Because I still did neither rip away that cloak nor the flimsy dress beneath, and I fully intend to make up for it tomorrow night.”

***

Rays of sunlight tickle your cheeks as your eyes flutter open.

The silence is gone from the woods – birds are singing in the trees again, the leaves are rustling in the first breeze of winter. The veil has closed. The embers of the sacred fire smoulder in the brazier behind you, smoke filling the cool morning air.

For a horrible heartbeat, you wonder if the events of last night have been nothing but another sweet dream – but when you rise from your place on the hard stone steps, the pleasant soreness between your thighs, alongside the missing fabric of your underwear, wipe out any doubt if it has been real.

Which means you’ll see him again tonight.

It takes a few moments for you to recognize the radiant feeling which glows in your chest like a second sacred fire, one that’s not kept alive by yourself, but Loki.

Happiness. The cage has burst, shattered into a million pieces, setting you free.

You can’t wait to be in his arms again. To hear him laugh, to see his smile.

To leave this life behind and run away with him.

♡ 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭)

♡ 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢

Feel free to send in Halloween requests! 🖤

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[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier. 

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears. 

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock. 

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway. 

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser. 

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you. 

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information. 

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him. 

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you. 

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground. 

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor. 

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too. 

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice. 

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed. 

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours. 

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit. 

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat. 

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules. 

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard. 

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock. 

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you. 

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine. 

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag. 

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all. 

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss. 

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched. 

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality. 

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you. 

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms. 

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room. 

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima. 

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him. 

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming. 

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want. 

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move. 

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance. 

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again. 

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin. 

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain. 

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good. 

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat. 

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you. 

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands. 

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center. 

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

[uncouth-the-fifth]

Happy 100 followers🥳🥳🥳

Can you write a fic w the prompt 371 with Robin and a shy shy VERY SHY s/o??🥺🥺🥺

I like that most of your fics have an of confidence to y/n but I'd rather have her extremely shy pls

371. "You have a voice and body like an angel. I'd fuck you from behind, but then I wouldn't get to see those pretty eyes," with Damian Wayne.

ugh, i never realized that before! almost all of my readers are super confident, so i should try and mix it up more. thank you for the prompt!! happy 100 🥳 some sex pollen fun for u!

After hours of blood testing, surveillance, and fear, Damian was finally released to go home with you. Poison Ivy was officially in custody. Though Damian was confident that she hadn't dosed him fatally during their latest battle, Dick and Tim had coaxed him to take the precautionary tests anyway. Ivy’s usual toxin came up, which they had dozens of cures for in the cave. Bruce let him return home after being dosed with one, but asked that you keep an eye on him - not like you wouldn't already.

You could sense how tired Damian was. The fighting had lasted through the night, so the testing had brought you both to morning. The moment you shut the door of your apartment, you touched Damian's back. "Tell me if you feel any different, okay? I'm worried about you."

"I'm immune to hundreds of varieties of poison, beloved," Damian scoffed, shoving off his coat. He planted a soft kiss on your temple. "You don't need to worry."

"...I'll do my best," you replied, wary.

You had some things to do around the house, so you asked Damian to crash in the living room instead of the bedroom to keep him in sight. The night's events had apparently rattled him, because he twisted and turned under his blanket, grunting to himself. An hour passed with this routine. Damian would sigh and struggle to fall asleep, and you'd pause your tasks to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. He was only relaxed with his head in your lap, curling his cheek into your touch and blinking slowly at you.

"Talk to me," he murmured.

"About?"

Damian closed his eyes under your hand. "Anything. I... like your voice." He hummed to himself, brows gently furrowed, "...And your hair... your eyes..." he swallowed, "...your body."

Rendered bloodless by the compliments, you couldn't help but comply with Damian's request. It was always hard for him to fall asleep, and even harder for him to sleep well, so your heart ached for him. You talked about anything you could think of. What chores you had to do this week, how little you wanted to do them - bland things, like the dishes and clothes shopping. When you got to the part about the bras you were thinking about getting, Damian perked up.

"What kind?" He cleared his throat.

"Something cute," you shrugged. "You, um, r-ripped my favorite lace one, so I'll have to find something more durable? Something that looks just as nice."

"Mmn..." Damian's voice was thick with something dark. He sat up suddenly, turned over on his hands, and faced you on his knees. One broad palm squeezed the softest part of your thigh. “I adore you in lace,” he panted, pupils huge and black as the night sky, “the way those tiny panties wrap around your hips... I-I can’t resist myself. Just thinking about you in those cute little clothes makes me want to fuck you like an animal...”

“D-Damian!” You yelped. He’d never said anything like that to you before. Stunned words popped into your mind, but his hands caressing under your waistband made it impossible to speak.

“Say my name like that again,” he hissed. Damian crawled over you like a panther, dark and sexual. One huge hand viciously pinched your jaw and squeezed it. “You have the voice, the body of an angel - I’d fuck you from behind, but then I wouldn’t get to see those enchanting eyes.”

You braced your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his nude back. It was embarrassing how wet you were at just a little praise. “Damian... t-the toxin, it could be—”

All the energy in the world seemed to surge into him. Damian’s plump mouth kissed and nuzzled your neck. “I took the antidote already. Don’t worry, my love.” The fingers playing with the edge of your pants suddenly plunged in, cupping your damp, clothed core and practically singing, “This is only a side effect...”

His warm tongue drew and sucked circles into your throat, which instantly melted into his touch. You should be trying to be reasonable, but the power of Damian’s voice washed over you like a spell, and the slow, methodical press of his fingertips to your clit sealed the enchantment over you. Damian had you  captured.

“Won’t you be a good girl and help your boyfriend feel better?” Damian drawled, wetting his fingers in your cunt. “I need you, Y/N... p-please, I’m so hard for you...”

He wasn’t lying. As your dance slowly reclined deeper into the cushions, you could feel his cock hardening against your leggings. Damian pulled himself out only when he knew you were watching, and pumped himself slowly, poorly, like he couldn’t bare to do it without you. Your cheeks burned with heat. You knew from experience how good Damian’s cock felt in hand, the weight of it meant for your touch and your touch alone. You drifted your fingers around him and Damian mewled, thrusting so hard into your touch that his sweatpants fell around his legs.

“C’mere,” you relented, and Damian crashed his lips so deeply to yours that it flattened you to the couch.

He tore down your leggings so you could wrap your legs around his middle. Damian pulled your bodies flush and curved his back, giving you both room to enjoy how you jerked the other off. With a throaty moan against your tongue, Damian sawed his cock between your folds and into your fingers, wetting the fabric of your panties. A boiling wave of heat locked your legs in place. Madly, Damian rolled his thumb around your clit, his voice keening into your ear with every circle, “So fucking beautiful... So fucking good for me...”

His enthusiasm made you desperate. Spitting a foamy circle of drool into your palm, you coated Damian’s sensitive shaft and lathered him as best you could. Damian’s jittery hips did most of the work, bucking his cock into the soft, sticky tunnel of your hand. You kissed like you were fighting, biting at the other’s lips and claiming each other's mouths with wide swipes of your tongues.

If you upped your pace, Damian would meet it. When you pumped him faster, Damian snapped your panties to the side and melted his fingers inside you. That was as coherent as the touching got. Everything else was primal instinct, wanting to touch and wanting to be touched. Damian’s free hand caressed your belly, grabbed your thighs, groped your breasts through your shirt, spasming for every inch of skin it could find. His mouth was the same, wildly claiming your moans until his lungs burned.

You came together, laboring for breath and trembling from head to toe. Damian pushed your shirt over your belly and came across it with unrestrained bliss, and you squeezed around his fingers, wound up like a toy box until Damian set you free.

But just as soon as his fingers drew away from your cunt, they closed around your thighs, pushing your knees against your chest and spreading your legs for him. The toxin’s side-effects had a greater hold on him than you thought - Damian was still rock hard, his girthy, wet tip playing with your pulsing folds.

Before he filled you, Damian uttered a single low order: 

“Moan for me.”

#damian wayne/you #damian wayne/reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne smut #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne #user uncouth

[kimnjss]

finger painting | jjk

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader // jungkook focus. ⇢ genre: smut. // pure unedited filth. ⇢ word count: 5.5K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, masturbation, nipple play, noona kink if you like squint, oral sex (m. receiving), cum shot, face shot, light dry humping, jungkook finds a new canvas, over the pants handjob, unprotected sex, slight possesion kink, fingering, morning breath just doesn’t exist, okay... ⇢ A/N: i am very tired. so sorry if there’s crazy mistakes, enjoy! let me know what you think x

It's hot underneath the blanket, the strong tattooed arm wrapped around your waist only adds to the heat. His nose is pressed gently into the side of your neck, soft snores tickling the back of your neck. Your back sticks to his bare chest bodies sweaty from the heat emitting from his heated blanket.

Falling asleep in Jungkook's arms was high up on your list of favorite things. He was always so warm and smelt nice. No matter how the two of you fell asleep, you'd be shifting into the spooning position, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

And any other day you'd be all for it, but this morning? When it felt like a sauna underneath these blankets and on top of that, all his body warmth was surrounding you. You couldn't help but shift away from his sticky, only to have his grip tighten around your waist – instantly pulling you against him.

“Koo..” You groan softly, hand reaching down to wrap around his wrist. “Are you awake?” He's instantly shifting closer to you, face pushed closer to your neck. “No...” The thickness of his morning voice has a smile pushing onto your lips.

Almost making you forget about the heat penetrating your skin. He's tugging you closer, incoherent murmurs leaving his lips as he shifts. Only settling once he's found a comfortable position, arm still wrapped around your waist. Not as tight so you're able to turn in his hold.

He's fallen back asleep, lips slightly parted soft snores passing through them. Much quieter than the loud snores that shake the room when he's in deep sleep. Lashes gently dusting over his cheekbones slightly pink from the pressure of sleep. He looks cute, which has your hands raising to grasp his sharp jawline.

Nose twitching from the feeling of your hands on his skin, but he doesn't stir other than that. Not even bothering to fight the urge to press light kisses to the tip of his nose, giggling softly at the way it scrunches. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, widening when he sees how close you are to his face. A sleepy grin stretching his lips.

“You don't want me to sleep?” A slight pout pushes your lips out, thumbs swiping across the apple's of his cheeks as you shake your head from side to side. “It's hot,” You complain and despite the way he nods in agreement – his wraps tighter around your waist, pulling your body into his. “And you look cute,” Sentence punctuated with another light press of your lips to his nose.

His eyes fluttered closed at the light touch of your lips, body seeming to relax into the warmth of the mattress. It's when your lips stray a little lower, just barely catching his upper lip is his body shifting into full alert. Thoughts of where he could take this moment if he played his cards right.

Soft lips are catching yours when as you lean in, his hand lifting to tangle his fingers in your hair holding your head to his. Jungkook kisses you slowly, eyes falling close as he tilts his head to get a better reach of your lips. Instantly, you're lost in him. In the feel of him, how he manages to make your heart flutter with such little effort.

It's not long before his kisses are becoming harsh, teeth tugging at your lip as he grips the top of the blanket. In one swift movement, he's rolling his body over yours while shoving the warm covers off of your bodies. Caged underneath him with an arm on either side of your head, he's pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth without a second of hesitance.

The softest of moans fall from his lips, dying on your tongue. Legs hitched up on either side of his waist, you can feel the push of his hips onto yours perfectly. And his body is reacting quickly to the friction, cock jumping at the slight brush of your lace-covered core. The thin material of his boxers starting to strain against his crotch as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth.

“Noona,” He moans quietly, an arm lowering from the side of your head, his hand slipping underneath his large t-shirt you threw on before climbing into his bed. Pleased to find your bare breast underneath the fabric, his large hand squeezing at the flesh.

You get a glimpse of his dazed expression when he pulls back from your lips, lust-filled eyes searching yours only for a moment before he's ducking his head back down. Sharp teeth graze over the clammy skin of your neck, sucking the salty skin into his mouth. His tongue rolls over the marks his teeth leave behind, hips forever rolling into you. A wet patch quickly forming between your legs.

“You smell so good, Noona.” He whines cutely.

It boggles your mind how this man could still manage to be cute, even right now. Moans slipping from his soft lips as he sucks hickeys into your neck, cock pressed firmly into your core just begging to tear through the lace; so you can feel him the right way.

There's no holding back the whimpers that fall from your lips, body squirming underneath him desperate to feel more. His teeth catch a sensitive spot on your neck, causing your hips to buck into his. “That feel good, Noona?” There's just something about the way he called you 'Noona', so soft and innocent while the things he was doing was anything but.

Breathless, your head is bobbing in a nod. My hanging open as forced breaths shake your chest. “F-feels good, Kookie. Keep going,” Fingers reaching to tangle in his hair, tugging his head into your neck, and he groans. Hips lifting to press his cock into you, settling into a steady rut against your core.

He always liked it when you played with his hair.

Jungkook lays there, humping against your covered pussy while marking up your neck. His desperate moans fill the boathouse, fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples underneath your shirt. Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist, holding his body to you so you're able to feel every inch of his shaft.

It all feels so good, and you can tell by the sudden uptake of his thrusts; it feels as good for him too. Right, when his eyes begin to roll, the movement of his hips becomes sloppy he's pulling back. Crazed eyes looking down at you, “I want you to suck my dick,” His hips are slowing into a stop, cutest of expressions morphing his features.

“Please, Noona.” He adds as if you'd deny a request like that. Jungkook had a beautiful cock, long and thick. Pretty veins wrapped around the length when it was hard. The tip a pretty pink, often glistening with either your saliva or his precum. No way would you turn out an opportunity to have that down your throat. “Okay, Kookie.” You're saying with a smile.

If he was any happier, he'd be punching the air with joy. Jungkook is quick with rolling off of you, placing a soft kiss to your lips before laying flat on the mattress. His tattooed hand reaching up to push his hair back on his head as you shift between his legs. You had felt it when he was grinding against you, could imagine the bulge that had formed in his boxers.

But seeing it? Fuck, seeing it was ten times better. Half hard when he had woken up with you in his arms, so it's no surprise the way his cock is fighting to break free from the mesh material.

You take your time with dragging the elastic band down his hips, marveling in the pretty patch of dark curls that are revealed with its descent. Always neatly shaven but never bare. Felt manly to keep a bit of hair down there and you couldn't help but agree. Teasing yourself, you slowly uncover his cock inch by inch. Loving the impatient pout that pushes at his lips.

His hand is lifting once his boxers are low enough, cock swinging upward and he's catching in his large hand. The single stroke against his shaft has his eyes rolling and your mouth watering. Quickly noticing your fascination with the movement of his hand, he's repeating the action eyes staying focused on your face.

Soon getting into it, head cocked back as his hand squeezes at the mushroom head. Soft cruses falling from his lips, hips bucking into his palm. Almost afraid that he's gonna burst before you have a chance to feel him in your mouth. But you can't take your eyes off him.

Jungkook's free hand reaches forward, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. “Open, Noona.” He mumbles in the deepest of voices and your mouth is instantly falling open for him, eyes lifting to catch his dark gaze.

He's guiding his shaft past your lips with his hand, watching with hooded eyes as his thickness disappears into your warm mouth. A hiss of a moan falling from his lips when you're closing your mouth around him, hands lifting to grasp his thighs. “Oh, fuck!” He sighs, head falling back into the pillow.

Both of his hands reach up to push his hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to watch your mouth move on him. With your grip tightened around his thighs, you're easily able to swallow him down your throat. A breathy groan falling from his lips when your throat constricts at the intrusion. “Just like that, Noona. Take my cock,” His encouragement comes with a large hand tangling in your hair, tempted to push your head down further onto his length.

It's only a moment of contemplation before he's doing just that, hips lifting as he uses his grip to push your head down. Throat fluttering, a rough cock sounding from the end of it. Forcing your head to lift from his shaft, slobber, and precum keeping your mouth attached to him. He moans at the sight.

You're diving back in without a moment of hesitation, urging your throat to calm the fuck down, so you can swallow your boy the way he deserves. Jungkook takes for gripping your hair, much slower with the way he guides your mouth down his length. Hissing loudly when your nose is pressed into his pubic hair.

“Fuck, Noona. You look so pretty like this,” There's no helping the way your body flushes at the slight compliment. Tongue pushing out against him, forcing more of his shaft down your throat. Wanting to please him, hear him moan for you, compliment you. Hands gripping at his hips, lips wrapped tightly around him, your head slowly begins to move back and forth.

Sucking him down harshly, the sounds of his groans vibrating against the wall, sending pangs of arousal between your legs. Positive you're dripping through the fabric of your panties and the wetness your fingers find the moment their fit between your legs proves you right.

Easily finding your clit, your fingers rub gently against the sensitive bud while you suck him down. His eyes are quickly catching the movement of your hand, a drawn-out moan falling from his lips at the sight of your wet fingers rubbing into the soaked fabric. Cock twitching against your tongue, thick dribbles of precum sliding down your throat.

The hand he holds in your hair tightens, guiding the movement of your head with much force now. Hips rising to meet your face until he's full-on fucking his cock into your mouth. Setting his own pace, moving as if it's your pussy that he's buried in. And you let him, whimpered moans leaving your throat and hitting his cock. That only eggs him on.

Your fingers match the thrust of his hips, eyes rolled back imagining that it's his long fingers between your legs rather than yours. “Your mouth feels so good, Noona.” He's whining, lower belly constricting as his orgasm nears. The firsts of his cum mixed with your spit dribble out the corners of your mouth, and you're sure you look a mess with your teary eyes.

Jungkook thinks you look hot, though. Always thought you looked hot with his cock stuffed down your throat. The mere sight of you enough to push him over the edge. It's when he notices your legs begin to shake, eyes fluttering as your orgasm washes over you. The squelch of your fingers between your legs growing louder as your cum soaks your panties even further.

“Shit, shit, shit.” His movements are hurried, pulling his cock from your mouth. Frantic stroke of his hand over his shaft, tip aimed at your face and you hold your mouth open waiting. A long whine falls from his lips as the cum shoots from the tip of his cock, painting your cheeks and lips with streaks of white.

His lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowed, and cheeks hollowed. He looks so good over you, emptying his cock onto your face. Body tense from the power of the orgasm that racks through his body. You don't move, mouth wide open until his body is relaxing. Rigid breaths lifting his chest.

“Mmh, you're so perfect Noona.” He sighs, using his cock to smear his cum against your skin. So concentrated as if he was painting a pretty picture with his seed and you can't help the giggle that falls from your lips, tongue pushed out to swipe over him each time he's close.

Jungkook's two seconds from pushing his cock back into your mouth when the door of his room is being pushed open. Hoseok stepping in without a second thought, not even surprised to see his youngest member with his cock pressed against your cheek. “Go wash up to eat, Kook.” He speaks in nonchalant, hand reaching out to grasp the back of your neck.

Gently, he's tugging your face toward him, capturing your lips in a wet kiss. The taste of Jungkook heavy on your tongue but he doesn't seem to care. “Good morning, baby. You look pretty,” He's mumbling against your lips, a soft laugh falling from them.

Hoseok is lifting himself further onto the bed, deepening the kiss between you. And you're almost certain he's going to lay you down and have his way with you while his youngest watches. But he's pulling back after a moment, a small smile pushing onto his lips.

“Let's go get you washed up,” His arms are sweeping under your thighs, lifting your body from the bed. Jungkook is right behind him leaving the room, chatting along with his Hyung about what they're planning on doing today.

Head finding Hoseok's shoulder, you listen along to their plans. The smile never falling from your cum stained face.

“Are you guys just going to game all day?” Arm crossed over your chest, hip popped out as you stare at the three men huddled in front of the computer screen. Jin weighing in on Yoongi's skills, while Jimin plays quietly beside them.

You, Hoseok, and Taehyung are ready to go. Dressed and set to go pick up burgers, inviting the others at the forefront of Taehyung's mind.

“Let's just go ourselves,” Hoseok says with a nod of his head, realizing the other boys have no plans to get up from their spots in front of the computer. Taehyung nods quickly, arm snaking around your waist as the three of you make toward the cars.

Hoseok is slipping into the passenger's seat while you climb into the back, Taehyung taking the driver's seat beside him. A grin is sent to you through the rearview mirror, from Taehyung. Anyone else would've taken this as a cute innocent smile, but you sense the mischief behind it – as well as the conversation you had been having prior, you know it's anything but.

“So when you gonna start waking me up with blowjobs?” He speaks casually, foot stepping down on the gas as he drives forward.

Jungkook was definitely one to brag, the first thing out of his mouth when you were sitting down for lunch was how you had just got done sucking him off. Hobi, who had witnessed the aftermath of it was nudged to confirm his words.

It's not unusual, so the other members don't even bat an eye at their younger member's detailed description. Only half listening as they shovel food into their mouths. Taehyung hangs on to every word, though, even adding questions as the story goes on.

You're sat beside him, filled with pride as he groans about your ability to blow his mind. Marveling about how pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around his cock. The technique of the bob of your head.

“When you gonna start waking me up with head?” You counter, with a smirk.

Hoseok's head is perking up at your rebuttal, “It's the only right way to wake you up,” He says with a grin. And you're returning it. Almost every morning you've woken up in Hoseok's bed, you were waking up with his head between your legs. The type of morning call that you weren't rolling your eyes at... well you were but in the best way.

The car is skidding to a stop after a while, Taehyung hopping out after pushing it into park. He's quick to move to your door, tugging it open for you with a wide smile. He watches as you slide out, thanking him with a kiss on his cheek. And when you're a few steps in front of him, his arms are wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

Walking beside the two of you, Hoseok is slipping his hand in yours. Fingers laced together as the three of you walk down the trail admiring the pretty scenery around you. It's peaceful where you are, fresh air tickling your lungs as easy conversation flows between you.

There was something about being out in the open like this, with them. Such a feeling of healing, being able to talk and relax, and just enjoy yourself. The sound of Hoseok's laughter fills your ears, in response to something Taehyung has said – his proud grin taking over his features, happy to have had made his Hyung laugh. Not a single lull of awkwardness as your walk continues on, you and Tae plopping down in the meadow to smell the pretty flowers. Taking pictures with Hobi in front of the creative looking buildings. Until you're piling back into the car to get the burgers you had set out for in the first place.

Taehyung pays for the food, before driving off to find a quiet place for the three of you to eat. He's handing your food back to you once you're parked in a nice spot, sat in the trunk part of the car watching the scenery in front of you. Hoseok is leaned back in his arms, far enough into the trunk where you're able to sit between his legs. Taehyung beside you.

It's so easy with them, nice. Comfortable. The happiness in your heart grows with the more time that you spend with them.

You find Joon and Jungkook sat on the porch painting away when the three of you arrive. The dotted painting Joon started the night before closer to being finished, behind him Jungkook has started an unbelievable image of the mountains out behind you. Cheeks dusted pink as loud compliments come from Hoseok, followed by assured praise from Taehyung and Namjoon.

They're joking around and laughing with each other but your eyes are trained on Jungkook, watching as he paints away with this sexy look of concentration on his face. He always gets like that when he's focused, his mindset on one task, careful to meet the perfect outcome he's planned.

It's undeniably attractive and you're all but drooling watching him work. His head rolls, sweeping the growing strands of hair out of his eyes. In the movement, he's catching your gaze, instantly reading the look in your eyes. But he doesn't say anything, aside from the little smirk that takes over his features, he acts as if he hasn't noticed.

Turning his focus back onto his painting.

You stand there watching him as Taehyung moves to stack the beanbag chairs, calling Hobi over to show him his new style of art. Joon heading over to check out what they're laughing about, quickly joining in on their laughter.

“You having fun eye-fucking me, Noona?” He doesn't even lift his gaze from the painting, just continues perfecting the reflection of the mountain in the water. Despite the confident sexy drawl, there's a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Obviously feeling some type of way with your undivided attention. You're moving to stand a bit closer to him, gentle fingers twirling his freshly washed hair. “You look sexy when you paint,” You're cooing, sure to scrape your fingers against his scalp the way he likes.

All at once, his back is straightening, eyes blinking before he's setting the brush down onto the palette. “Think I'm gonna take a break, do something else.” With the way his eyes drag over your body, teeth nibbling at his lower lip, you're quickly putting together exactly what else he wants to do.

He's standing to his feet with a slight huff, bending forward to pick the paints he had been using off of the floor. Silently, you follow him into the kitchen. Attempting to keep up with his hasty steps, eager to clean his mess so he can have his way with you. You watch as he turns the water on, your bum sat up on the counter; as Jungkook starts shaking the paint from his brushes in the sink.

The sleeves of his hoodie are rolled up, revealing the dark ink that decorates his milky skin. Disappearing underneath the fabric, but you know just how far the markings go. Somehow grown addicted to adding more, always rushing excitedly to show you the new tattoo on his skin.

Without thinking, you're reaching your hand out, tracing the large lines on his arm. Dark eyes flicker down to your finger on his skin, watch the way your nail traces over his tattoo. It was no secret between the two of you how much you liked them, nearly found every excuse to touch them, kiss them, lick them.

Not that he was complaining.

Your fingers are warm against his skin, soft. And he enjoys the way they feel, shamelessly allowing the image of them wrapped around his cock enter his mind. The blowjob you had given him this morning still fresh as he could still see the streaks of cum dirtying your face.

And the look on your face right now? As if you were physically forcing yourself from jumping him right now. How turned on you were just from watching him paint? Unless you were thinking about something else?

You were. Scenarios gone crazy in your mind about the two of you together. As if you couldn't reach over and make all of your fantasies a reality. There was just something about Jungkook that always had your mind reeling. And because he could read you like an open book, he doesn't hesitate to move from in front of the sink so he's now standing in front of you.

Stood in between your legs, fingers covered in the green and yellow paint he had been washing off, making fingerprints into your bare thighs as he tugs you closer. “What are you thinking about, Noona?” There's tease in his voice, could guess what dirty thoughts are running through your mind.

You play coy, though. Legs easily wrapping around his waist, pulling his body against yours. Arms lifting to wrap around his neck. “Oh, nothing special...” The tips of his fingers dance over your thighs, painting streaks against your skin. The paint is cool against your warm skin, the colors shining underneath the bright kitchen light.

“Yeah? You weren't thinking about how good I could fuck you right now?” Much closer now, his words mumbled into your ear. And he doesn't have to pull back to see your eyes flutter, knows exactly the effect his words have on you.

His teeth catch your lobe as your hips press into his, flinching away at the intense friction only to press further into him moments after. “Should I fuck you right here, Noona? Let everyone see how well you take my cock?” Despite the twitch of his cock at the mention and the frantic nod of your head, he maintains the nonchalance.

Fingers drawing faint hearts into your thighs, seem to be paying a lot more attention to his work than to the movement of your hips. Suddenly, pressing into you, reaching forward to dip his fingers into the paint he hadn't quite finished cleaning up. The yellow color bright on his finger and he takes his time to draw the hooked letter at the top of your thigh.

The J is large and clear, much like the K he's painting on the other side. Claiming you as his with each stroke of his painted fingers. The movement of your hips doesn't let up, causing him to lift his palm onto your waist to keep you still. Determined to get the lettering just perfect, before he's pulling his hand back.

“My Noona.” He's mumbling to himself more than anything, head dipping down to bury in the crook of your neck. The litter of bruises he left this morning meet his greedy eyes, only resulting in a grin that pushes on his lips. Proud of himself. And he sucks an unmarked bit of skin, determined to cover you with him.

A chorus of moans slip through your lips, eyes fluttering as his mouth works on your skin. The fistful of his shirt that you had clutched falling as your fingers drag down the front of his body, not stopping until you're meeting the crotch of his pants. His entire body flinches when you're cupping him through the material, hissed swears vibrating against your neck.

You smirk, pleased to see you have the same effect on him he did you. Squeezing him in your palm, you enjoy the tiny whines that fall from his lip. Stroking him slowly as he forces himself to keep focus on the painting he's creating on your neck. “Hm, you're getting so hard for Noona.”

“For Noona,” He repeats with a nod of his head, hips beginning to roll into the palm of your hand. All concentration went out of the window when your hand begins to match the movement of his hips. Palm closed to create a bit of tightness as he fucks himself into your palm, breathy moans hitting the wet skin of your neck.

His fingers press into your skin, leaving green and yellow marks that will more than likely bruise later. Tongue swiping over the skin of your neck as he pants, hips rotating into the palm of your hand. Quite literally putty in your hands, and he's almost embarrassed with how quick the twist in his stomach comes. Whining and ready to cum when he hadn't even touched you properly yet, unacceptable in his eyes.

Jungkook is able to muster up all the composure that he can find to slow his hips into a lazy thrust. Clearing his mind enough to slip his hand underneath the fabric of your biker shorts. He's groaning when he finds you're just as wet as he had thought, panties sticking to your pussy lips. Playing with him was always the easiest way to rile you up. Much like how you did this morning, his fingers are finding your clit through the fabric of your panties.

Rolling the little bundle of nerves between his fingers has your hips jolting, a gasped moan slipping. He smirks, speeding up the movement of his fingers as his eyes flutter. Jaw parting, your hand stills at his crotch, head tilted back as the pleasure he's giving you has your limbs growing heavy.

“How's that feel, Noona?” He mumbles softly, searching for reassurance. As if the twitch of your legs wasn't enough answer. “S-so good... don't stop,”

He does you one better, fingers slipping from your clit, lowering themselves further into your shorts. The tips of his fingers rub against your folds through the fabric, seemingly teasing himself before he's pushing your panties to the side. Little to warning is given before he's pushing two thick digits past your entrance, head rolling back as a loud groan bounces off the kitchen walls.

Your walls flutter and stretch around the intrusion, protesting when he pulls his fingers back. A scream of his name tickles his ears when he's quickly pushing his fingers in, has done this a thousand times he doesn't even have to try to brush against your most sensitive parts. It's become a sixth sense to him, pleasuring you.

“Always so wet for me,” Soft lips brush against the skin underneath your ear, fingers quickly dragging against your walls. There's no holding back the gasps that fill the room, fingers pressed into his shoulders, desperate to have him closer. “Who makes you this wet, Noona?”

His head lifts, eyes flickering to yours. At the same time, his fingers curl inside of you, pressing firmly into your soft spot. And you're crying out, hips angled in search of his fingers, “You,” Panting, your body moves in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. Jungkook grins over you, thumb lifting to swirl around your wet clit.

“That's right, Noona. Only me.” He's proud of himself, you can tell just from the tone of his voice. His thumb circles over your clit quickly, fingers pushed deep inside you and you feel the snap of pleasure in your stomach. Hips bucking uncontrolled as squeals of his name fill the room. His fingers don't let up until your body is falling slack against the cabinets, aftershocks of your orgasm twitching your legs.

You feel the spill of your release when he's pulling his fingers from between your legs, a hurried kiss landing on your lips. Tongue licking over your lower lip before entering your mouth. Wet fingers curling over the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs, carelessly tossing them onto the kitchen floor.

Teeth and tongue clashing as you fumble to tug his shorts down his legs. Grinning against his mouth when his cock springs out, hard and nearly pulsing ready for you. He's just as turned on as you, eyes dazed and expression fucked out. Heavy breaths shaking his chest as his hand wraps around his shaft.

Eyes focused on the way he guides himself to your entrance, free hand wrapped around your thigh to lift it onto his hip. “Fuck,” He groans as he slowly sinks deeper inside of you.

Mind still foggy from your orgasm, the fullness of having him so deep inside feels ten times better. Legs secured around his waist, holding him close once he's bottoming out. It only takes a few draw backs of his hips for him to fall into a steady pace, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass, moving you against him.

“Mmh, Noona's pussy swallows me so well.” Jungkook whines face buried in the crook of your neck. His hips buck into you harshly, the sound of slapping skin and your cries the only thing to be heard in the room. “F-fuck, your cock feels so good, Kookie.” You gasp, fingers flexing at his waist, gripping his shirt in your fists.

Your back bounces against the wall, lashes flutter as another orgasm begins washing over you. His cock ramming into your gspot, pelvic bone brushing against your clit so perfectly. Like he was made for you. Walls tighten around his length, squeezing him tighter each time he pulls back.

That has his muscles pulled taut, needy groans falling from his lips as the movement of his hips begin to become sloppy. Cock rutting into your heat so deliciously, it makes you shudder, back arching and legs beginning to vibrate at his sides. “Gonna cum again, Noona?” He's panting, whiny moans filling your ear.

Head bobbing in a nod, a loud cry of his name falling from your lips as your orgasm washes over you. He's not far behind you, hips pistoning into you as he reaches his peak too. “Holy fuck,” He groans, hips becoming stiff. Large hands set on your hips, to hold your body in place.

Sharp teeth scrape against your skin as his cum fills you, the warmth of his cum pulling a loud moan from your lips. “So good, Kookie.” You praise, breathless. Boneless body falling against him. And he grins wide, pride filling his chest. Pleased with himself in making you feel this good.

Wet kisses land on your neck, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you from the counter. Legs wrapped around his waist. “I wanna go cuddle with you,” You're mumbling spent from the two orgasms he just gave you.

A chuckle falls from his lips, as he nods. Shorts are forgotten in the kitchen as he effortlessly carries you toward the floating house. He's warm against you, and you cling to him as he walks.

Sleep slowly washing over you.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

⬷ masterlist ⤗

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#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts smut #ot7 x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #namjoon #jin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #bts imagine

[demonsandmischief]

Our Moment Finale

Marvel - A Captain America Fairytale AU

King! Steve Rogers x Female Reader

1.8K Words

Here's Pt 1 and Pt 2

-Part 3-

the conclusion

----

You didn't waste anytime getting home, collapsing onto your bed with a sob that you muffled with your palm. It seemed nothing good could ever truly be yours.

You glanced around the small attic space with blurry tears. The house was supposed to be for you. Your father had left it in your name, yet your step-mother was able to work her way around that.

It was the only reason you stuck around, the only reason you put up with all of it. You were over it.

Peaches was the only thing that you felt a connection to. Your father adored her, and you were honored that you got to bond with her.

You made up your mind. It was time to move on. You dried that last of your tears and began packing a bag. You carefully folded your mother's dress and put it back in the box you got it from. One day when the memories weren't as painful, you would come back for it.

You wished things could be different with your life, but mostly with Steve. You should have known better than to get tied up with the king. It was too good to be true. You felt you had done everything you could to win over his trust, but obviously not enough.

You strapped your bag to your horse. The next town was about a days ride, and you could figure out where to go from there.

---

Steve didn't hesitate to saddle his own horse as quickly as possible. He had to go after you - had to explain. He couldn't lose you. You were the only good thing to ever happen to him.

He stalled in his tracks. Explain what exactly? That his biggest fear was being used and never being loved? He shook his head.

"My king, where are you off to?" a guard asked confused.

"I have to leave."

"But the ball-"

"Tell the court I will explain when I get back."

"Wait, you can't leave without someone going with you."

Steve was already racing down the path, his heart racing along with it.

"There's no time for that," he called. He could take care of himself.

He thought of you as he followed the familiar trail. He thought of the first day you met, and all of the moments thereafter. You always made time for him, always listened to what he had to say. You were attentive and doting.

He had screwed up.

The trail became less familiar. He didn't know where he was going, or how he would find you. He swallowed down the panic. He couldn't lose you. It was a constant circling thought.

Eventually the trail ended and he slowed to a trot. He saw a house up ahead, and a royal carriage in front of it.

He slowed, finding Sam speaking to a guard.

"What are you doing here and how did you get here so fast?" Steve asked.

Sam took his horse's reins. "I know something has been up with you lately, but you can explain later. The lady you talked to at the ball is in the house."

Your step-mother. He had some words for her, but first he needed you.

"Thank you, Sam. I owe you," Steve said, heading for the door.

"Your highness, it's a pleasure to have you in our home-"

"Don't act like I don't know what is going on," he said, cutting her off. "I will deal with you later. Is she here? Where is her room?"

The lady paled even beneath the layers of powder on her cheek.

"S-She's not-" she swallowed at Steve's fierce look, before gathering her wits. "My king, she's not here. She's hardly ever here. I'll show you where she prefers to spend her time."

Steve followed her down a hallway to a door with a winding staircase. She guided him up and into the small room at the top. The ceilings were so low that he had to scrunch his shoulders.

He took in the space, feeling upset at your living conditions.

"Leave me," he demanded, unable to look away from the small bed in the corner, one that contained a single blanket and a pillow, folded neatly on the end.

The step-mother was right. It looked like someone hardly lived here, except there was a freshly cut flower on the windowsill, soaking in the low, dusty light. And the books you had borrowed from his own library sat tucked by the bed. Most importantly, the beautiful dress that he never got to say anything to you about was hanging from the sides of a box under the bed. You must have been in a haste to leave.

He frowned, bending down to pick up a folded piece of paper. Were those the things you did by yourself? What had you gone through?

Steve cursed. He wished he could have started the night over. He wished that he had gone through his original plan instead of being sucked into his own insecurities.

"Where would she have gone?" he asked impatiently to the lady who was lounging on her couch.

"If she isn't in the barn with that horse, I have no clue."

There was no sign of a horse or you. He closed his eyes, feeling the anxiety creeping in and swallowing him whole. It was dark and late, and you were somewhere all alone. It was all his fault.

"She might know someone in the next town over," Sam suggested. "We could head over tomorrow."

"That's a days journey. I'll start the route tonight."

"You're exhausted, Steve," he protested.

"Just in case," his words dropped to a hoarse whisper, his mind plunged into the darkest corners.

Sam nodded. "We will catch up with you tomorrow then. Be safe."

He nodded, already going down the dark path, his heart thudding loud in his ears.

---

You were taking a break and letting Peaches rest. The fire you built was warm and soothing on your stiff limbs. Even after the incident in the woods a while back, it didn't scare you to be out alone. The stars and the moon made it seem as though you could feel your parents, and you enjoyed the sentiment, especially after the day you had.

You rested your head on your hand, your eyes fluttering closed. They were dry and sticky from the tears that had fallen.

You gave a shuddering hiccup, unable to give into the heartbreak anymore. You were cried out. Beyond upset - a numbness covered your whole body like a scab on a wound.

You jolted, hearing steps near you and you staggered quickly to your feet.

"Thank god you're alright," Steve said, rushing towards you. He pulled you tight into his embrace, and it took everything in you not to hug him back.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" you asked confused, trying to pull away. He didn't let go, only eased back so his hand remained on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I believed her over you. I'm sorry that it took me so long to come after you. I'm sorry for everything," he said the words so sincerely that tears filled your eyes for the millionth time tonight. He caressed you cheek, using the pad of his thumb to dry a fallen drop. "And it's just Steve to you."

"But you still did it," you whispered, voice thick with tears. "You don't trust me."

"I do trust you," he said earnestly. "and I care about you. It has been a long time since I shared those emotions with anyone."

"It doesn't matter," you successfully pull away. His hands drop dejectedly to his side. "You're a king, and I'm me. It would have never worked out."

It was quiet a moment. "Why didn't you tell me what you were going through at home?"

You sat down and Steve followed. "I didn't want you to think I was using you. I guess we both have our own insecurities."

He looked into the dimming flames of the fire. "Insecurities or not, I shouldn't have accused. I'm sorry I hurt you."

He waited, but you said nothing. "We're both exhausted and need sleep. Why don't we head back?" He stood, holding out his hand to you.

You shook your head, "I'm not going back."

He paused, fully expecting that response, but it still took him aback. He definitely wasn't going to leave you alone in the middle of nowhere though.

"Okay," he nodded, heading to his horse.

You frowned.

He turned with a blanket, draping it over you, before tending to the fire. Finally, he sat next to you with a sigh. His body was pressed against yours and you couldn't help but sag in relief at the support.

"You can't stay. You have to get back," you protested.

"Shh," he eased, kissing your forehead ever so softly. "Sleep a bit and then we will talk."

---

Gentle light breaking through the trees awoke you from your slumber. You shivered from the damp cold, curling closer to the source of warmth beneath you. Your eyes fluttered and you realized you were practically laying on top of Steve.

You called his name, shaking him gently.

"We fell asleep," you told him with a yawn, falling back onto his chest. It was the best sleep you ever had.

He hummed, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I'm sorry. You must be freezing," he said coming to, easing the both of you up. Your cheeks heated and you moved to get off of his lap.

He adjusted the blanket so it was pulled tight over your shoulders.

"Come back with me, please," he whispered, turning your chin to look at him. "You can stay with me. I just want to be with you."

"You want me to stay with you?" you asked.

"We could get married in the summer," he grinned, the first genuine smile you had seen in a while.

"Married?" you asked, biting back a smile.

He nodded eagerly. "I'm falling in love with you."

---

Epilogue:

"Come on," Steve encouraged, pulling you eagerly down the hall to your favorite room in the palace.

Things were working out good, really good, between the two of you.

"What are we doing?"

"Close your eyes," he smiled, taking his large warm hands and covering them for you.

He pulled them off with an exaggerated ta-da, revealing a new shelf next to his in the library.

"Now you have your own spot for all of your favorites."

"Thank you," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "I love it. I love you."

And they lived happily ever after.

---

Hope you enjoyed 💕

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Tags: @cc12-02 @rockstwrsz @coffeebooksandfandom @liecastillo @trudy-shams @animegirlgeeky @thee-silent-fangirl @eralen @lharrietg @loveforreading

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#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #marvel imagine #marvel #captain america fluff #captain america imagine #captain america au #Chris Evans

[cartierbin]

hey! if you aren’t too busy with school and stuff could you make a d!lf hyunjin or felix and just make it super rough

yes ofc.

『 pairing — felix x reader

genre — smut + diff!sugar daddy felix fucking his sugar baby in his private jet + three’s a crowd

word count — 1.289k 』

notes — idk if this counts as super rough but i tried lmao

smut under the cut !

you didn’t even mean for all of it to happen like this. you were a broke college student, sick of working those shitty part time jobs and just wanted some quick cash. what started off as an onlyfans account quickly became an encounter with a sugar daddy who was willing to spoil you in every way possible, all while being a father of four children. and with the way your bank account was looking you’d be dumb to turn him down.

you had to say, to be a sugar daddy and a father of four felix was quite handsome for his age. he still looked young and he was also much too nice and sweet to be a sugar daddy. you figured most would be serious and stern with you. but felix was rather playful and very frequently gave you anything you wanted, just as long as you helped him live out his fantasies.

it was the middle of the night when you felt that sharp tinge of pleasure hit your groin. the one that you tried so desperately to ignore but couldn’t because it was making your legs tremble. you flickered your eyes open to feel a soft hand cupping your cheek and felix’s delicate lips tongue kissing the other. you could hear the soft pur of the engine which reminded you that you were on his private jet. the lights inside were glowing a baby blue hue, the color that blurred occasionally due to you scrunching your eyes from the wet sensible feeling beneath you. a feeling that you couldn’t quite understand since Felix’s hands were where you could see them and so was his lips and tongue. you finally gain enough courage to look down to see a curly haired, brown curvy woman on her knees in front of you, flat tonguing your swollen clit. from the looks of her uniform it seemed as though she was the flight attendant. you never saw one this erotic looking before, the buttons on her uniform were undone revealing her large chest, each breast spilling over the cups of her bra. she was hot and the way she was eating you was even hotter. by the time you gazed back up felix was already smirking, still tongue kissing your cheeks while your body shook from the wet consistency of her mouth. felix groomed your hair back, loving the way you were hopelessly glaring up at the ceiling. “just relax and let her devour your pussy baby”. his dark voice made the hairs on the back of your neck raise high.

you had no choice but to let her. she was pinning your legs wide open against the plane seat and eating you as if it would be the last pussy she ate in her life. raunchy breathless moans throttled from your throat at her efforts, you watch her tongue swirl around the whole glistening organ before finally wedging it inside your needy hole. your hips bucked against her mouth and felix felt himself grow quickly at the sight of it all. he began to palm himself. “spit on it”. he ordered, and the girl does as told squeezing out a splotch of saliva from between her lips and letting it land right on your folds. “now eat it like that”. he demands once more, and she did exactly what he said, leaving your mouth hanging wide open in the most euphoric way. everywhere her thick lips went your hips followed. felix moved his lips downward in a trail, tongue kissing a line down your chest until he was finally at your nipples. he took each in his mouth hungrily while massaging your breasts, licking and sucking all over them. you didn’t know which sensation to focus on first, felix sucking your nipples or the sexy woman sucking your pussy. either way it goes your body was overheating from the way both of their mouths made you feel. you stammered out a plethora of curse words with a feeling of relief washing over you, relief that no one else worked in this sector of the jet at this time of night. you gripped the armrest in a daze, and felix was glaring up at you enjoying the look of pure arousal strewn all over your face. this is what he wanted. this is just what he wanted to see.

once your eyes finally landed on his he smirked a little, taking his teeth and grazing them lightly over your nipple just before sucking it teasingly. you gasp at his actions, gazing at him in utter lust while watching your nipple roll back and forth over the length of his tongue. you held your breath with your mind spinning from feeling too much sensations all at once. sweat was starting to cover your body as your heart rate increased. you were throbbing so hard you practically felt it all in your eardrums. fireworks traveled through your body from head to toe, and your pussy started jerking eagerly against the woman’s tongue. the tremoring of your body warned him that you were close, he began drinking in your high pitched moans with his mouth. you were lazily kissing back, breathing heavily through your nose as your orgasm came quick and in a hurry dripping down the curvature of her chin. felix reaches a hand down to unzip his jeans, all while using the other to reach and push the woman’s tongue further into your pussy. “don’t stop”. he demands and you grip the armrest harder as he made you suffer from overstimulation. “please— please”. you pleaded, feeling another wave of cum ooze from your leaking hole. he held her head in place until she made you cum a third time, taking the breath right out of you. when she stood up to smirk at you her mouth was completely drenched as she walked off, going elsewhere.

felix then hovered over your open legs and hoisted them a bit higher around his waist. he smiles a little at how fucked out you looked with messy hair and your face completely flushed. “look at my baby. she ate your pussy good didn’t she?”. you couldn’t even bring yourself to say yes before felix encased you in another hot saliva filled kiss, pushing his cock straight through your cream. you gasp into the cavern of his mouth and he continued kissing your bottom lip until you got used to the sudden feeling. he clutched the underside of your thighs while he rocked into you, intoxicating you with his passionate kisses. a steady stream of moans from you vibrated his lips and he relished every single one of them and hastened his pace until he was brutally fucking you into the seat. your body already felt weak and limp from your last couple of orgasms, so it was no surprise that you felt completely helpless in this moment. he grabbed the top cushion of the plane seat for support while littering your neck with purpling hickies that you knew would be difficult to conceal. he licks his lips at the way your breast jiggled with every movement of his snapping waist. If there was anything you learned from him it was the fact that his oral fixation was prioritized during sexual encounters such as this one, which explained why he couldn’t help himself and began tongue kissing your oversensitive nipples. the seat became sticky with your body sweat. you arched your back off of It, hearing the mechanics of the seat rattle around due to the force of felix’s thrusts. he was fucking you hard and without mercy, especially since this time around your pussy was wetter than he ever felt it. you grasped the fabric of his shirt while your eyes drove to the back of your head, drenching his cock with your cum. he proceeded to make the chair squeak until it was his turn, to which he pulled out and spurted everything he had all over your breasts.

before you could lapse he takes your chin and mushes his mouth against yours once again, smirking and breathing heavily against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. I guess you do deserve that shopping spree huh?”

#Felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz imagines

[hansolmates]

tingle (m)

summary; your super hot, super sexy tattoo artist manages to catch you off guard mid-session. at least his touch keeps the pain off your mind. pairing; tattoo artist!jungkook x tattooed!reader (f) genre/warnings; sexual tension, im tellin u being naked in front of your tattoo artist is something, pining, roleplay, soft dom!jk, descriptions of tattooing needles and the pain associated with it, rough language, man bun koo, really tender n slow lovin, mc has nice soft squishy boobies, heeavvyyy use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 1.3k a/n; we’ve unleashed tattoo artist!koo. it’s time. based on this hellpost that won’t leave my mind. first drabble for cami’s 7k share tyty

if you like this please feel free to give it a like n’share. enjoy✨✨

When he touches your bare breast, he’s injecting more than just ink in your skin. 

By any means, this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve gotten tattoos before, in fact you remember how it took months for you to just let your mind kindly shut the fuck up so you could finally pick something out. You realized back then that there would never be a perfect placement or meaningful design that you had to cling to in order to get it done. Sometimes you have to do things simply because it feels right. 

Yet lying down on the leather bed, petal-covered tits out and free to grab (and he does, for leverage) you feel like a tattoo newbie as he angles the needle into your skin.

Jungkook’s fast and quick, they say. It’s why you chose him for this particular piece, a blooming lily in three parts, from a bud to a bloom that starts from the bottom of your sternum to the tops of your breasts. You’ve heard stories about how the sternum is the most painful area to ink, but you’ve had this idea in mind for literal years and you still haven’t been able to shake it off. You remember how badly you wanted to kiss him after seeing how beautiful the design looked on his iPad, but for the sake of professionalism you simply nodded your head and said you loved it. You’re sure it’s highly inappropriate to lay one on your tattoo artist for just doing their job. 

You wish you could see the ink as he’s working, but at the same time you’re excited to see the final project once it’s completely done. The only thing you can stare at is his face, dark brows furrowed in concentration as he scrutinizes every centimeter of his available space, making sure the shading is perfect as he goes in with his magnum. His eyes are bright and clear despite being in the shadows as he bends over your form, and the tips of his long hair wink against your vision as they pull out of his messy bun. 

“This part’s gonna hurt the most,” Jungkook mumbles more to himself than you, seemingly in a trance as he lifts his needle from the finished bud. The half-bloom sits right at the middle, and when he presses his finger in the spot you try not to visibly wince. The bone’s right there and you’ve already shed a couple tears from the first half hour. 

“I’ll try not to squirm,” you steel yourself, curling your toes as you prepare for the next round of needling. 

“Oh don’t worry, if you squirm I’ll just pin you down.” 

You could swear Jungkook’s squishes your breast a little firmer as he says that, but you chalk it up to him going back in and needing to move it around to touch up the inked bud. It’s not like he’ll fuck you on this table, the pain must be making you some kind of delusional if you’re fantasizing about your tattoo artist.  

Five minutes later he nicks you in a particularly sensitive spot, and you wince. You can’t help but shift away, kicking your legs. He's by his words, and Jungkook’s hand unflinchingly clamps down on your breast, pushing you into the leather. From the corner of your eye, you see the way your skin bubbles between Jungkook’s inked fingers, the fat from your breast practically spilling over his knuckles. 

Neither of you say anything as he switches needles, opting for a thinner one in order to start the illustration. 

Once the sharp metal pricks your skin, you exhale. Your eyes open slightly to see a thin smile veiled onto Jungkook’s petal pink lips. 

“Good girl,” it rolls off his tongue like honey and butter, and you have to clench your thighs and press every centimeter of your body to the table in order to not flip your shit. 

It hurts, obviously. The needle goes straight to your heart, akin to the heat that pools between your thighs as you repeat his praise over and over in your head. You feel your bones vibrate in your chest as he goes in, but you want to do well for him so you force yourself to stay put. 

You’re sure he means nothing by the nickname–or pet name in your dirty mind. Jungkook and all the other artists in Jamais Vu are known to be flirty when they want to. You’re sure he’s said that to dozens of other customers, considering his books are always full and his Instagram is filled with attractive men and women inked in the most intimate of areas. 

“You say that to all your customers?” you finally pull the question from your throat, Jungkook taking a wet paper towel to rub away the excess ink. You fight your contented sighs as the cold fabric soothes your burn. 

He hums, drifting away from your body to zoom in his perched iPad. “Only the cute ones,” he teases lightly, and you hold your breath for the rest of the appointment. 

Jungkook’s slow and steady. 

“Whoever did that tatt must be a freakin’ genius,” Jungkook says between pumps, tugging your right breast to the side to marvel at the finished work. The adhesive bandage gleams in the low light of your shared bedroom, due to the television displaying a muted version of My Hero Academia with all it’s vast explosions and super-powered rocket thrusters. 

The only thrusting you’re concentrating on however, is the tender, thick drag of Jungkook’s cock slipping in and out of your wet folds. 

“Y-yeah I guess,” you whimper when he swipes his thumb over the nipple, and his dips down to give your new flowers tiny, petal soft kisses, “the artist was trying to hit on me, though. I could’ve sworn he was trying to cop a feel during our session.” 

“What a loser,” he chuckles at the running joke, his large hand dipping to the edge of your tummy. He links pinkies with yours along the way, and the both of you moan at the vision of where you couple between each other’s thighs. Thrust for thrust, his dick bulges and bloats your tummy in a way that has him gleaming with want. “Did you tell him you have a loving, far more talented boyfriend?” 

“Ah, n-no,” it’s clearly the wrong answer, as Jungkook slips away from you and sits on his calves, thick golden thighs expanding tauntingly as he strokes his heady member right between your eyes.

“I thought you were a good girl,” he sighs, as if disappointed with your choices. 

“I am a good girl,” you whine, “your good girl.” 

“Then tell me what you’re really thinking.” 

Your teasing, sexy boyfriend makes no moves to touch you, pretending to be wrapped up in his own pleasure. His mouth parts, jaw slackening as his eyes flutter shut when the motion starts to increase in pace. 

“Mm, would’ve—would’ve let him fuck me on the tattoo bed if he asked,” you mentally beg for him to open your eyes and watch you, but you can’t wait. Your fingers travel across your stomach and down to sensitive bud, rubbing the slick pearl, “y-yes, really wanted him—no, I really wanted you to bend me over in front of everyone, Jungkook. P-please, I’m so good, l-let me cum–” 

Your ministrations stop as soon as Jungkook’s hand covers your own. He never got particularly rough, but his grip is firm as he replaces your hand with his own. His eyes are blown wide, his hand sticky with your combined arousals. 

“Stop moving,” he whispers in your ear, and you tamp the urge to cry when he pinches your clit,  “or else I’m gonna have to pin you down again.” 

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #btswritingcafe #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #cami's 7k share

[anywherebuthere]

I had a dream about you last night || j.p.

James Potter x fem!reader

“Even when you’re gone, you are all that haunts my dreams.”

Wordcount: 1969

A/N: Happy (belated) birthday to the only man ever <33 I am illiterate, so I had a mental breakdown writing this <3 please enjoy!! special thanks to @anchoeritic and @gxtitobxby for supporting me via discord and for making fun of the time I got hit by a car :)) @skullsontess07​ I finally posted it pls don’t hurt me <33

Warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, death, bad writing, especially towards the end. barely proofread because I don’t believe in mistakes <3 /j

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it by my doing.

The ticking of the grandfather clock thrummed in James’ ears as he tipped back the empty bottle, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. He leaned his head against the cold surface of the white plaster wall, scanning the textured ceiling with misty eyes. His home, still half furnished, was riddled with traces of something better forgotten. Even with the weight of alcohol on his breath, his mind is running with memories and daydreams of her. 

He closed his eyes, forcing the imagery away. In the distance, a train chugged on, its lone whistle echoing in the night, and James can’t help but be pulled into an uneasy slumber, memories still flashing through his mind like a broken film. 

-

“Prongs, you git! We’re going to miss the train if you don’t hurry your fat arse.” Remus shouted, frustration seeping into his humoured voice. 

“Relax Moony, we’ll be fine,” he replied, breath heaving slightly from sprinting across Platform 9¾, just narrowly having avoided knocking over an elderly witch. 

As the four boys approached the entrance of the cart, the train’s departing whistle blared. They boarded quickly, though not without receiving a glare from a crew member.

Hurrying down the corridor, the boys glanced through every compartment window, though each appeared to be full of giggling sixth years. That is, with the exception of one.

Near the back end of the Hogwarts Express, was, at last, an empty compartment save for a singular figure slumped against the window. With no other choice of seating, the gaggle of boys slipped in silently, Sirius and Remus snagging the seats opposite to the slumbering girl, their pinkies linked as they whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves. 

Peter, as adverse to the female race as ever, took the seat closest to the door, leaving James to be wedged between the mousy blonde and the stranger, careful not to bump her with his broad shoulders.

The train ride was filled with hushed whispers as the marauders discussed this year's prank for the welcoming feast, a customary tradition they held sacred, as to “start the year right.” 

As they began going over the mechanisms of their plan, they felt the train begin to swerve as it approached a sharp turn. The compartment shook slightly and James suddenly felt a weight on his right side.

He stiffened, glancing over to see that the girl’s head had lulled over from the compartment wall and onto his shoulder. James recognized her as a student in their year. Y/N, who had tutored Regulus the same day that James had helped Sirius prank him as petty revenge for a now long-forgotten argument. 

And well, perhaps James had wanted her to notice him for once. If so, it had been a successful endeavour as he remembered the way her face had contorted in anger, though her attention had remained just as elusive for the remainder of their fifth year. So… perhaps not so successful.

He flushed at the memory. She was now even prettier than the year prior.

“Oh? Is that a blush we see, Moony?” Sirius taunted, nudging Remus with his elbow as he snickered at James’ scowl.

“Bloody hell, piss off, will you? You’ll wake her–” 

He felt her suddenly stir beside him, brows creasing as though on the cusp of consciousness. 

James held his breath.

The moment passed as Y/N nudged her face further into the crook of his neck before settling back into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps he wouldn’t need the prank to start the year right this time around. 

-

It seemed that sixth year would be a good one for James. 

In the early morning of a mid-March day, an unlikely scene unfolded between the shelves of Hogwarts’ library. There he sat beside a bleary Y/N, voice still drowsy with sleep as she read aloud a passage from the Herbology textbook perched between them.

Initially, James had detested the thought of having to wake up at such an ungodly hour for the sake of a project. No other time had fit, not with his Quidditch practices and her absurd number of tutoring sessions. 

Though now, as the early rays of sunrise filtered through the library’s mullioned windows onto her skin, James thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He thinks this moment will be ingrained in his mind forever. 

“–once a century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers able to attract the unwary.” she paused to yawn, eyebags evident as she turned to meet James’ gaze. She scrunched her nose and he swore he swooned at the very sight. “Are you even listening to me, Potter?”

“I’m always listening to you,” he replied, tilting his head. She grins in response and he notices just how beautiful it is. 

She shifted her gaze back to the textbook lying in their laps, picking up where she had left off.

“Its scent adapts–”

James leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips in his. The book fell closed between them.

Immediately, almost though by instinct, Y/N reciprocates, moving her lips gently against his as her hand cups his cheek. James finds himself gripping that hand as his other wraps around her waist, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close against him.

She tasted of cherry chapstick and peppermint bubblegum, and though there was nothing particularly special about those flavours, on her, James swears that he could drown in his intoxication alone. Her perfume wafts through the air, the scent causing him to groan against her mouth. 

When they separated at last, his head was swimming in euphoria, his expression dazed. Y/N blinked up at him, sleep wiped entirely from her expression.

“Its scent adapts itself during these times to attract said unwary.” she finishes, sounding breathless still, voice trailing off as James began to laugh hysterically.

She rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly. 

When James still couldn’t stop laughing, Y/N gripped his haphazardly tied red and gold tie, using it to pull his soft lips against hers once more and he was sure in his mind that there would no one else for him.

-

Beneath a great oak tree in the courtyard lay two figures. Under the tree’s twisting branches, they hid in its cool shade from the sweltering afternoon sun. Few places aside from the castle offered shelter from June’s blistering heat and as the semester approached its end, they finally allowed themselves to rest in the gentle breeze. 

James was leaning against the thick trunk while Y/N’s head lay in his lap. His elbow was resting on her abdomen as she drew on his hand, doodling intricate flower designs alongside some… less desirable things.

He felt his heart swell with joy as her laughter filled the summer air and before he could catch himself, he blurted out the thought that had been weighing in the back of his mind since they had started dating.

“Do you ever think about your future?" 

He felt the scratch of her muggle pen slow, as though pausing in thought.

"I want to grow old and die surrounded with people I love, knowing I lived a long and fulfilling life. You know, typical boring stuff," she replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes twinkled with more, though Y/N never indulged in half-thought-out plans. 

"What about you?" she questioned with the tip of her head. James didn’t need time to think about it. He had known his answer since that fateful September morning when she had slept on his shoulder throughout the entirety of the train ride.

"I don't care what my future is as long as you're there" he answers truthfully.

Y/N flushed, her ears heated. She looked away, the corners of her lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

James freed his hand from her loose grasp, hooking her chin to look back towards him before leaning in to kiss her.

Even after all these months, he relished in the taste of her lips. He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of the feeling.

He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of her.

-

The sun was setting in the west on a quiet evening, its golden rays shining on the slick skin of two lovers as they untangled themselves from the sheets, unable to hold in their laughter when one got his foot stuck in the knot of their crochet blanket. 

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and endorphins as Y/N laid back, her body still bare, not bothering to cover it.

James propped his elbow beside her head, careful not to press on her spread-out hair, his face filled with ecstasy and pure bliss. 

He will never get used to the sight of her in his bed, giggling as the sun reflected off her silky skin. The image of her underneath him is cemented in his mind, permanently lodged there as solid as concrete. He knows now with absolute certainty that there would be no one else for him. 

James’ smile widened further as he nudged his nose into the crook of her neck, leaning in to place a kiss there when his vision blurred.

It was no longer sunset. Rather, the two of them were now enveloped in the dark of night and James is certain he hears the echo of a familiar spell ring off in the distance.

He pulls away from Y/N’s neck. 

She was no longer shaking with laughter, but rather, writhing in pain. There were lacerations all across her torso and James felt something sticky underneath his hands.

They were laying in a pool of her blood.

Panic clawed at his throat and though he had never been averse to the sight of blood, yours was an exception. The taste of bile clung to his tongue. 

“No... No no no no no,” he whispered in disbelief. Swivelling his head, outside the window, he spots a cloaked figure wearing a mask of silver disapparate. 

“No!” 

Grasping for the wand strapped to his side, he murmurs a healing spell, gasping for breath when the wounds remain open. His head was spiralling as Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, grabbing at his wrist with a shaking hand.

Carved into her arm was the word “MUDBLOOD” and James felt his vision turn red, suddenly hyper-aware of the blood pumping through his veins.

“James…” she rasped. He gripped her shaking hand.

“Why isn’t it working? Why?” he cried, tears streaming down his face, struggling to breathe.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” she gasped, blood spurting out of her mouth. Her beautiful mouth, the one that tasted of cherries and peppermint, was covered in thick, crimson blood. “you and I are connected.” 

“No! Stop with this rubbish, you’re not going to die!” he sobbed, gripping her bloodied hand like a vice. She continued as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Perhaps she was too far gone to hear him.

“Wh-whatever is beyond this life,” violent ruby coated her mouth as she coughed, blood splattering onto her smooth skin. “Promise me, y-you’ll find me again.”

“I promise,” he cried, sobs racking through his body. 

But she was already gone.

-

James woke with a start, gasping for breath with the taste of blood and “promise” still coating his tongue. He was alone in a house built for two.

In his fitful sleep, he had knocked over the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.

She had hated whiskey.

Had. 

A fresh wave of misery washed over James, adding to the dull pain that never seemed to go away, throbbing through him as naturally as the blood in his veins. It wasn’t enough that she existed still within every corner of their shared home.

Even in his dreams, he is haunted by her memory.

ㄧ

@catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter fluff #harry potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter x reader angst #james potter x reader fluff #james potter x muggleborn #james potter x muggleborn reader #caz's top notch fic recs

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“Corn Syrup, Like in Carrie” | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey my lovelies this is my fic for @hellotvshowtrash​ ‘s March Prompt Challenge— I hope you all enjoy and especially you, Ash! I literally wrote this in a few hours so I hope it isn’t terrible; I wanted to make sure I actually submitted this month though because you put a lot of hard work into making fun things for us. I haven’t written for these boys in a while so this was nice :)

Description: Y/n drags Kol into a plan that is more dumb luck than actual planning— is it even a question that he would be willing to help?

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death but in a casual, funny way (sadistic but funny), this might be the grungiest thing I’ve written to date

Word count: 1.99k (it’s literally 1999k, I pushed this as far as possible)

Tags: Fluff, a lil angst if you squint (squint is used loosely here)

Prompt: “This plan of yours is going to get us killed. Of course I’m in.”

Kudos if you get the picture easter egg!

“You want to do what now?”

She huffs but the wicked smile on her face carves through the annoyance— of course she isn’t actually exasperated with him.

“You heard me Kol— I want to scare him!”

The brown eyed vamp rolls his eyes but his own grin is just as cunning. She can see the spark in his eyes, that little glint that lets her know everything she needs to know— lets her know that he’s in.

All in.

“You know that’s impossible darling,” he toys, his smirk too coy for a man over a thousand years old. “Klaus doesn’t get scared.”

She laughs— that’s what he thinks.

Kol’s brows push together, the glint growing alongside his smile, his sharp teeth poking into his lip. “I know that look— that look is never good.”

She meets him where he leans against the countertop, hopping up beside him and wrapping her arms around his cool shoulders. “Oh it’s good alright, Kol-y. I think you’ll like it very much.”

He turns towards her, running his nose across her jaw, peppering a few kisses against her skin before tilting his face up. “Well out with it then, darling— what’s the plan?”

She giggles, pressing her lips against his quickly before pulling back, pecking the vampire’s nose when he scrunches it. She shakes her head at his puppy dog eyes— easily distracted, that one is.

She leans down, whispering her idea into his ear, her chest blossoming with warmth when he shivers against her lips. She can’t tell if it’s because of how close she is or because he likes her plan— both, most likely. When she finishes speaking she nips his ear, tugging gently before releasing him. He groans when his ear meets the cool kitchen air, twisting to push between her legs.

He leans down, pressing his lips against her again. She can taste the mischief on his lips, tangy and sharp— someone has been eating blackberries again.

“You’re a menace darling.”

“Hmm—” she hums her agreement against his berry lips— “I learned from the best.”

He chuckles and this time she shivers, his lips trailing down her neck. “Is that so?”

She pushes against his chest, trying to regain some of his attention. This is important. She slips her fingers into his soft hair, knitting them between the strands and tugging until his baby browns meet her gaze. He sighs, his smile less menacing and more longing than moments ago. He raises his brow, his eyes flitting to her neck before going back to her eyes— are you going to speak or can I go back to what I was doing?

She huffs.

“Are you in or not, Mikaelson?” She grinds out as he tugs against her hand, just barely nipping at her sensitive skin.

He groans when she pulls her throat away from his ministrations, finally standing straight again. His hands slide up the sides of her neck, smoothing against her jaw, fingers hooking behind her ears.

“This plan of yours is going to get us killed, darling.” His soft grin sharpens as he speaks, the glint resurfacing in his eyes. To her it makes him look beautiful. It makes him look dangerous. “Of course I’m in.”

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Alright,” Kol announces, his cheerful voice drifting from the entrance to the compound to where she lays in a heap next to the couch. “He’s coming down the street now— I can hear him on the phone. I think he’s talking to Elijah.”

She can’t see the vamp but she knows that the mirth in his voice is much too extensive considering what they are about to do. Oh well. She raises a hand— she can’t speak with the blonde who’s now on their street hearing— signalling for him to get into place—

—and for him to dump the bucket of corn syrup, red dye number five, and just enough of her blood to make it smell real all over her body.

It goes on warm and sticky, scarily similar to actual blood, drenching the t-shirt she has decided to sacrifice. It’s for a good cause, she has to remind herself. Her skin itches where the mixture clings to her and she has to keep from giggling, her shoulders shaking. This had better work.

Kol’s boot nudges against her butt, tsking as she swallows another giggle. “Get with it darling— he’s almost here.”

She nods, splaying her limbs out in a way she imagines a dead— or almost dead— body would look. She doesn’t have to imagine too hard.

“Good job,” Kol whispers. “Billy Loomis would be proud.”

She smiles quickly at the reference— part of her plan was making him watch Scream with her.

“He’s here— let’s do this—“

The end of his sentence is cut off by a yell— his yell. They have to cover the sound of her heartbeat somehow. She can only keep her heart so steady and she’s not trying to give herself away before the fun has really begun. Thank heaven Kol has a good pair of lungs— and that he doesn’t need to breathe.

“Yeah I just go ba— Kol?” Like with Kol, she can’t see Klaus but she can hear him and the way his voice falters in confusion.

“Brother—” the way Kol’s voice hitches at the end of the word makes her almost break character. Someone sign this man up for an Oscar immediately— “I don’t know what happened. I left to get some of that ice cream she’s always talking about and— and—”

Klaus doesn’t speak but over Kol’s scarily astute acting she can hear commotion on the other end of his cellphone. Elijah— jackpot.

A double prank.

“Elijah give me a minute— Kol, what happened?”

Klaus’ heavy boots thunk against the concrete, the vibrations radiating through her cheek where it presses against the ground. His steps are almost as thundering as his voice, both echoing through the open space.

Kol plays along with his brother’s anger, matching it with his own. “I just said I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know! Look at her and tell me what you see—” his words stop, the air punctuated by a loud crack, no doubt the sound of his Iphone shattering into a hundred pieces.

Oops.

Suddenly there are hands on her back, nudging her softly, pulling at the sticky fabric of her t-shirt. You’re going to have to do better than that to wake the dead, babe. His hands get steadily more frantic— and more slimy— dragging the blood concoction into her hair as he checks her scalp and neck for injury. She holds her breath as his hand wraps around her jaw, lifting her face gently.

“Fuck, Kol, why is she bleeding so much?”

Kol only screeches in answer— again, she almost loses it. Klaus must not like that answer very much because he curses under his breath. Well, under his breath is a relative term. She is sure the entirety of Bourbon street hears the F-bomb he drops. The word is accompanied by the sound of her shirt being ripped in two. Here we go.

She feels a whoosh of air against her now revealed skin, steeling against the shiver that creeps up her spine at the cold air. Soon there is another pair of hands on her, sliding down her slick arms. She can picture the dyed corn syrup staining Elijah's dress shirt and the glare in his dark eyes when he realizes she has teamed up with his brother to wreak mayhem.

“What’s going on? What happened?” His sultry voice is worse than the cold air— and much harder to stave off.

“I don’t know—” both Klaus and Kol speak in unison, Klaus taking over for the both of them— “but there isn’t time to find out right now.”

Before she has time to process his words her body is being flipped over, her back pressing into the icy, sticky concrete. It takes all of her strength not to squeal at the contact. She hears a noise much too juicy for her liking before a warm artery is pressed against the seam of her lips. Perfect!

“C’mon love, please—”

When her mouth fills with a thick, metallic substance she breaks, springing forward and coughing wildly, making sure to swallow a good amount before hacking the rest up. She runs an arm across her eyelids, trying to unstick them but only managing to coat her eyelashes even more.

When she finally manages to peel her eyes open, spitting the last of Klaus’ blood out of her mouth, she is met with the faces of two shocked vampires and one vampire who is laughing his ass off. Kol’s laughter is infectious— especially because she’s been holding back giggles since the start of their ruse— and soon she is joining him, laughing so hard she falls backwards again into the goo.

For a moment there is silence— only the sound of her and Kol’s laughter— before it gives way to Klaus’ deathly calm voice. “What the hell is going on here?”

She pushes herself up on an elbow, flashing him a scarlet drenched smile— she would give anything to see her crimson teeth right now. She runs her tongue over them to enhance the point.

“Did I scare you?”

His eyes flash with black. “Did you scare me—”

“Yes, you scared us!” Elijah’s red hands wrap around her forearms, hauling her into his chest without a care for his white shirt. “May I ask why?”

Elijah’s chest shudders, his arms curling around her waist. He wasn’t lying— he’s terrified. He smells like cooking oil and metal but she doesn’t care— he’s too warm for her to mind. His lips press against her forehead and she almost feels bad.

Almost.

A hand wraps around her hair from behind, yanking her back from his brother’s chest. “What Elijah means to say is can we demand why? Why you would try something like that?”

She dips her head further back, squinting up at the furious blonde. “Oh you already know why, love.”

He rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched but leaning down to brush his cheek against hers regardless. “Indulge me anyway.”

She tilts her head, skimming her tacky lips against his stubble. “To make a point.”

“Oh yeah? And what point might that be?”

“That I am fragile—” she pulls upright, turning in Elijah’s arms and dropping the cheshire grin— “that you can’t protect me all the time—” she pushes forward, crawling onto Klaus’ drenched lap— “that I need to be like you.”

He sighs, his forehead dropping against hers, his hands curling around her jaw. “This again?”

Her arms hook around his neck, fingers tangling in his blonde hair. “You know I’m right.”

Klaus’ shoulders slump, his golden eyebrows knitting together. “Does it have to be right now?”

“Your blood is already in my system.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

She smiles back at him, leaning in for what she hopes is one last human kiss. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

He only sighs, shaking his head as Kol laces his fingers with hers. She turns to the brown eyed vamp just in time to see him pass her a mischievous wink.

It is the last thing she sees before the world around her goes dark.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

She wakes feeling significantly less sticky than she had when she blacked out— and significantly more hungry. She can’t remember the last time her throat was dry like this. Is she catching a cold? She shifts slightly, her elbow piling into a pillow underneath her. The pillow grunts.

Not a pillow.

Kol rises beside her, pressing a hand to her chest until she falls back against the mattress and then rolling on top of her, sinking his face against her neck. The words he mumbles into her skin make her dead heart stop in the best way.

“I told you that plan would get you killed.”

#March2021PromptChallenge #the mikaelson boys #the mikaelson brothers #the mikaelson boys x reader #the mikaelson brothers x reader #the mikaelsons x reader #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x y/n #the originals #the originals imagine #to imagine #to #elijah mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine

[littlefreya]

Hood Ornaments

Summary: August fucks you at the parking lot while wearing leather gloves.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: 18+, unprotected public sex, rough, maleDom/femSub, hair pulling, anal play, creampie, depiction of bodily fluids, profanities, praising and degradation, glove fetishism, exhibition.  

A/N: Soft!August in the morning, rough!August in the evening! A one-shot born solely from the fact that I have a kink for August wearing gloves! Many thanks to @agniavateira my muse and my beta. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed =)  

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*   

Title: Hood Ornaments

August Walker had you bent over the hood of his shimmering silver Audi. His fingerless gloves stroked the curve of your bare ass: up and down, languid and sensual. He loved making you feel like nothing but a piece of raw meat; truth be told it made you wetter than you ever wanted to admit.

“You have the best ass in the building,” he murmured behind you, his thumb gliding down the cleft of your behind, pressing your succulent petals apart before slowly pushing in.

You hissed, tensing at his touch, you felt him dig deep, in and then out, excruciatingly slow. The fabric of the fingerless gloves grazing the most delicate spots of your body.

“One of these days I am going to fuck that puckered little hole.” He warned with a low drawl. 

The sound of his baritone spurring profanities and the belt being undone coursed a shiver down your spine. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, your long legs nearly gave in and buckled to the floor. Not unnoticed by August of course, who chuckled at your despair: nothing ever escaped him, including yourself. 

He slid his palms across your waist, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His nails bit hard into supple flesh as he penetrated you with one powerful thrust. A loud cry echoed through the entire parking lot, followed by his low, arduous grunts. August fucked like a man sentenced to death: hard, rough, careless of your pain but never depriving you of pleasure. You came every time, and how could you not? His cock was massive, throbbing hot inside you, and keen of hitting every spot that sent you into a delirious euphoria. 

Gasping and panting, you crumbled beneath him, reduced to nothing but a meek, whimpering mess. Every thudding rut rocked your body forward, which only made him grow zealous with want. He reached a fist to grab your hair, forcing you halfway up and increasing the rhythm of his plunges. The bones of his hips slammed into your ass with such feral vigour the muscles rippled with every collision.  

 “The fuck you’re going?” He chided, feeling your cunt tighten around him. The dominance drifting from him spiked your arousal to levels beyond any sensible grasp.  

“You’re going to take me all the way because you’re my dirty little girl, right?”

Knees shaking, you nodded with submission while his hand still fisted your hair. Your entire body tingled, the little filled core at your apex showered with quivering delights. You felt every inch of him deep within: tendons and ridges all streaming with passion while your pussy contracted around his thickness and suckled onto it, begging for the same hot elixir of his loins.

“Answer me!” 

“Yes!” You screamed, utterly alight, coming so hard your thighs lost their battle to the rocking quake in your muscles. In your core, you felt currents of pure, electric bliss, in a flash of a moment, August blended into you, making you whole once again. The only thing that tugged you out of the haze of your bliss and held you back into reality was his sinister laugh as he threw your boneless body back on the hood. 

“Good girl, my good, good girl,” he moaned, thrusting with unrelenting fury. His hand ran down the curve of your arched spine, the black leather absorbing the sweat and gliding down the slope of your ass. You felt his cock swell inside you at the same time his thumb pushed past the ring of your ass without any warning.

His loud shout swallowed your astonished gasp. He came suddenly, cock twitching and pulsating between your squeezing walls, granting your womb its desire and filling it with his hot, milky seed.

“God, babygirl, no one makes me come as hard as you do.”  

August’s favourite part was pulling out after loading you with his cum, watching the cream pump out of your ruined little hole. The thick liquid trickled down your inner thigh, languidly caressing its way to the ground.

Still breathless, he straightened up and rolled your panties back carefully, making sure to collect every drop and keep it covered before massaging the sticky wet spot with the tips of his coarse fingers.

“Now,” he panted with a small chuckle, his laughter smooth as dark chocolate melting on one’s tongue, “go back pretending you are such an innocent, good girl while I’m dwelling deep inside you.”

Bracing one hand on the now sweat glistening metal, you lifted up and adjusted your clothes, warring to adjust your fuming breath. August stood aside, tucking himself in and fixing his hair while watching your dishevelled state with a beam of light in his sapphire-blues. 

“That’s the last time, I am not doing this anymore,” you announced and fixed your outfit. 

“Sure it is,” he scoffed, taking off the black gloves and holding them in one hand in an offering, “Wanna keep those for now? Since they turn you on so badly...”

The sudden sound of several footsteps echoing away brushed the words from your tongue before they even formed, your heart immediately sank at the realisation that the entire time you were being watched by god knows how many viewers. You turned back to August and gave him a mortified stare, but he only offered one of his famous, slanted grins in return.

“You said everyone would be at the all hands presentation!” 

“Might have mixed the days,” he shrugged and crooked an eyebrow, “but now since we’re no longer a secret, how about you admit to yourself that you’re in love with me and finally agree to be mine?” 

His words gnawed at your gut, eating you from the inside the way a toxin costumes brittle, little blood vessels. Quickly swaying on your heels, you stormed away so August won’t see the glossiness that shone on your gaze. 

“I hate you,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear, but you knew very well the emptiness of your declarations. August was keen on reading people and he saw through every moan and flutter of your lashes. 

The only person you lied to was yourself.

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction

[emperor-palpaminty]

CAN WE PLEASE GET A PT 2 FOR THE 41 KISS PROMPT W REX OML I CANNOT IT WAS GETTING SO GOOOOODD 😭😭😭😭

ISKSKS I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT

i will most defs do that for you love! am glad you've enjoyed it! I don't remember the exact dialogue so I just... Made it up???? Whoops

Part one is here!

You felt Rex's attention shift to you but you stood your ground, eyes pinned on Krell, the brilliant green shifting against the ever-present darkness rolling around your former master. You could feel it now- the haze of evil, the fog of the Dark Side rolling around him like a mist in a wood.

The captian's blasters were out in his hands and he stood even with you, voice calm but authoritative. "General Krell," He said, calmly. "You're under arrest."

Krell took in the sight of it all- you with your saber resting easily in your hands, Rex standing next to you with his guns drawn, the soldiers moving around you. "Under what charges?"

"Treason against the Republic." Rex moved closer to you, and you shifted your saber, feeling the comforting hum in your fingers.

The men closed in, eyes only on the traitor. Krell's lips pressed into a sneer, and his fingers flexed. "I feared you would say that-" You heard the Force stir before you felt it. "Clone."

The men tumbled back, Krell's sabers whipping out, pushing troopers away. The clone closest to the window crashed through, shattering the glass, and tumbled out, screaming.

You grounded yourself, skidding backwards as the pressure of the force pushed you back. Your head lifted long enough to catch Krell jumping out the shattered window. You stood, running to the ledge and glancing down, Rex behind you. "Kriff," You breathed, starting down. "I'll go directly after him. You take the elevator-"

"Hey," Rex reached out, bumping your arm with his fingers. You turned at looked at his visor, trying to discern some expression, some emotion from that emotionless helmet.

Instead, he drew his hand back, nodding. "Turn on your comm. The second you see him, tell me and wait-"

"No more of your brothers are dying today, Rex." You exhaled, moving back towards the ledge. "Not under my watch." Your breath caught, and you jumped back, tumbling, feeling the air whiz past your ears. You landed heavy, ankles screaming, the impact absorbed by the Force that dwelled around you.

You stood and ran, activating your lightsaber. "Men!" You yelled at a group of 212th troopers. "With me! Don't leave my sights."

You led them into the forest, thick with fog, the plants casting a dim glow on the breath of the twilight. You led the mem, stepping slow, your senses muffled by ringlets of the force around you. "Rex," You said, softly to your comm. "He's close. I can feel him."

"Hang on, General. We're close to you."

You exhaled, softening your voice. "I'll take care of your men. Just get here quick." You tugged your wrist away, saber humming with life.

A man screamed in the distance. You turned, eyes scanning for the familiar haze of blue and green. The sabers moved in violent arcs, aggressive, just as terribly powerful as you remembered him being when you were his padawan.

You ran ahead of the men, who were close to your tail, and you lept upwards, feet planting against foreign fauna, saber swinging. You struck down, just as violent as you had been taught, and two blades rose to meet you.

He swung, the duo of blades moving brilliantly, and you danced between them, twisting and rolling. The clones were yelling at one another in the comms, debating to fire or not, to shoot or not, in lieu of hitting the Jedi that they didn't want to hit.

You tumbled back, your blade still humming, and you glanced up at him, the grey dirt coating your vision. You stood, shakey, hands readjusting.

"My Padawan," Krell sighed, moving towards you. The words suffocated you, and you exhaled, feeling in the force for him- that betrayal earlier, your Captain, was replaced with worry. "You could have been a great service to the dark side." He walked towards you in an arc, and you mimicked it, circling each other slowly. "Instead, you chose some lab-created flesh droid with a hive mind. Does he even feel? Does he know the... Love?" Krell laughed, the sound grating your ribs. "You love him? My padawan is stupid. How unfortunate."

You spun the saber, stopping mid-circle. You began approaching him, head-on, each step a pump of your heart for him, his brothers- Rex. Fives. Jesse. Hardcase. Tup.

You sprinted, hearing Rex's voice in your comms, but the wind rushed past you and blocked his words. Your sabers clashed, and you snarled. "And my master has forgotten one thing-" The presence of Rex closened, pulsed, the fear filling as he heard your blades, your voices.

"And what is that?" Krell leaned in, his blades locked against yours.

You smiled as Rex and his men pushed into the clearing, their voices talking about the many aggressive living plants around the two of you. Your boot hit the rubbery root, and you stepped on it harder, feeling the hiss of the plant under you. "You taught me everything I know."

You shut off your saber and ducked, rolling away from him, and the vines rushing to meet you caught Krell's leg and yanked him up.

The men shot, firing, as you moved back, watching the Krell seeing wildly. You moved back towards Rex, watching him especially, and you get the fear transition to pride, admiration, even, as the General's sabers fell and he hit the ground, unconscious.

"Brilliant, General," Rex exhaled to you, watching his men hurry to cuff Krell.

You nodded, knees shaking, and you deactivated your saber, hand pressing to your thigh. A slow groan escaped your throat, a subtle burn spreading. "Rex-" You hissed, collapsing.

Rex turned instantly, body stiffening as you fell. He ran to you, rolling you over and looking at your thigh. "Kriff." He hissed. "Medic!" The pain in his voice was physical, wet, thick, more so than the pain in your body.

You felt him tug your head onto his arm. "Rex," You mumbled, the pain coursing rapidly in your muscles. "I think- when I-"

"Shh. You're going to be okay- Medic!" Rex stood, tucking you to him, and running to the straggling group of clones. "She's been hit."

Your leg stung, and your head lulled back, eyes catching the blue blurs of Rex's helmet before darkness consumed you.

___

When you came to, you had a very strong craving for tea. Your body felt sticky, thick, and you groaned and sat up. You glanced around at the pristine setting- the medical ward, you presumed, still on Umbara.

You kicked your legs over the aide of the bed and grimaced, knees popping at the use. Your upper leg felt mended, but the sutures were bruising your skin. You settled weight on it and emitted a hiss, shuffling towards the shower.

"You're up," Kix called. You turned, glancing back at the irritated medic. "If the Captain knew you were up-"

"Kix," you whined, leaning heavily on the closest bed frame. "I'm fine."

He gave an irritable grunt, holding out a folded pile of clothes. "You'd better be. Go shower. Do not-" He tugged the fabrics from your hands and you hummed, reaching for them. "I repeat, do not pull at the bacta pad or get it soaked. Damp is fine. Wet is not. Good?"

"Loud and clear." You snatched the clothes away.

"I'd better tell the boys you're up. They've been anxious. Especially-" The medic stopped, stumbling on his words

Your feet bumped into the doorframe of the refresher. "Especially... Who?"

Kid glanced up at you, eyes almost mirroring the Captian you hoped for, and he said, gently, with a grin on his lips, "I think you already know who."

___

When you emerged from the refresher, toweling off your hair, you heard a sharp intake of breath. "You're awake."

Your eyes snapped up, towel abandoned in your hands. "I am." Rex's voice held the same tenderness that had planted in your heard since the most recent tea ritual, rubbing your heart raw with the coarse affection that was running you over, again and again. "Are you alright?

Rex started towards you, eyes blazing with a compassionate intensity. "You need to be in bed."

You smiled gently, raising your hands in mock surrender, fighting to keep the searing pain of your wound at bay. "I'm getting there."

Rex met you halfway. He stooped and scooped you up, gently, far in less of a rush than he had been when you were openly injured and walked you towards your bed. "You know better, general." He scolded, softly. You didn't complain, opting to wind your fingers behind the nape of his neck and press your face softly against his jaw.

The captain exhaled a shaky breath. His hold tightened momentarily as he stopped by your cramped cot, turning his head and lowering his cheek against your skin. Your fingers intertwined and you pulled back, looking up at his face. The rolling surprise spread on his lips, his eyes, as he turned his head more against you, sitting down on the cot, simply cradling you.

You threw your arms around him entirely and allowed Rex to hold you- you shook, quietly, sobbing softly. "I'm so sorry, Rex, if I had sensed Krell-"

"No, no," Rex squeezed you gently, rocking now, smoothing a hand in your still-damp hair. "The Jedi Council didn't sense it. General Skywalker or General Kenobi didn't sense it, either. You can't blame yourself." The hand in your tendrils of hair moved to your cheek, the gloved fingers smoothing over the war-roughened skin. "You have done-" A crack in the foundation of his words, and his shoulders heaved. "More. More than I could ever ask anyone."

You bumped your forehead to him, holding his jaw in both your hands. "And I would do more." Especially for you.

Rex nodded, his hold tightening as he pulled you in again. The two of you sobbed- perhaps because of the losses, the shame of that responsibility, or perhaps you realized the unconditional depths of your love for the other, and it was something- even worse, someone- you could never truly have.

#captain rex x reader #clone wars reader insert #clone wars #rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex imagine #part 2 #jedi!reader #minty writes #rex #captain rex

[seita]

— disinterest | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: fluff, smut, pwp

wordcount: 𝟸,𝟽𝟻𝟽

cw: stoner!au (graphic use of drugs, sex while under the influence)

tags: dirty talk, humiliation, cock sucking, squirting, wet&messy, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, choking, hair pulling, dumbification, degradation (name calling), creampie, cum eating, light aftercare

note: my kink is being ignored and being made to work for attention so this is self indulgent—

— you enjoyed being ignored and your boyfriend, Shinsou, is happy to indulge after a night of getting high together.

masterlist | rules

© all content belongs to hshinso 2020. do not modify or repost.  

His eyes fluttered as he took a drag from his joint, eyes fixing back on the television that displayed a video game he’d slowly been playing. Getting high with your boyfriend wasn’t something you could say you had planned for the evening but when Shinsou had gotten a call from his dealer boasting some ‘good shit’, he couldn’t resist. 

That was how you wound up in your current position. 

You were on your knees, Shinsou’s sweats pooled around his ankles with your hand wrapped around his hard cock.  His knees were spread allowing you to sit comfortably between his legs. 

You licked your lips at the sight of his long, thick cock, giving him a couple pumps, watching as a creamy bead of his precum oozed from the tip to drip down the thick vein on the underside. You licked your lips, following the bead until it met your hand, making the movements slicker.

The carpet dug into your knees almost painfully but you ignored it in favor of enveloping the hot head of his cock into your mouth. His precum was sweet on your tongue as you lapped it up, sucking the sensitive skin with quick glances at his face. His fingers twitched and for a second you thought he was going to grip your hair like he usually did when you sucked him off but he didn’t, merely continued staring at the screen of the television. 

The fact he was ignoring you like that sent a shiver down your spine. When he pretended to act as if your mouth wasn’t literally taking his cock down your throat, it never failed to make you soak your panties.

You continued to sink down, tears pricking your eyes the deeper his cock went. He pushed past your gag reflex and you choked, feeling his length throb in response to the feeling. Yet, he made no move to indicate that he even recognized you were sucking him off. 

Instead, he nursed the joint between his lips as his fingers mashed the buttons of his controller. 

For anyone else, this may have felt degrading — being on your knees with your boyfriends cock down your throat as he utterly ignored you. But for you, it was exciting. The humiliation of it made you wet. You wanted to please him, to earn his attention and praise.

Your head slipped into a dream-like haze, your mouth stuffed full of your boyfriends thick cock. His precum melting on your tongue as you swallowed around him. His thighs twitched at the feeling and you saw his thumbs hesitate on the buttons. But he quickly recovered, landing a kill and ending the round. 

He took a drag from his joint, blowing the smoke in your face. You winced, pulling back from his length with a gasp.

He gazed at you for a long second, before the music on the screen changed and he went back to paying that attention. You had half a mind to pout, you had been hoping for some praise. 

But alas, you returned to your task of swallowing him down. He was impossibly hard and you briefly wondered if he was growing any closer. The possibility that you weren’t actually doing well, in your drug-induced haze, crossed your mind and made you feel a bit self-conscious. 

That feeling only made you work harder, however. Drool started to pool in your mouth, dribbling down the sides of his length to wet the tufts of hair at the base of him. It dripped down his balls and he let out a soft sigh at the mess — just how he loved it. 

Your lips and chin were soaked and it began to reach your neck but you paid it no mind. You worked your mouth fast, bobbing your head with your eyes closed as you focused on bringing your boyfriend all the pleasure you could.

Usually, Shinsou would warn you when he was about to cum or hold off his orgasm so he could pleasure you as well. But instead, you felt the sudden rush of heat as his cock violently pulsed in your throat. You swallowed all his cum until he used his foot to push you back, letting his cock fall from your lips. Some cum  you didn’t manage to catch, dribbled down and met with the mess of your drool and his precum, but he paid it no mind. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, watching with a pout as he pulled his sweats back up and resumed his game. You were left sitting on the ground, cheeks burning with humiliation at the whole ordeal. 

Despite the shame he made you feel, you still looked up to admire him. He looked delectable. There was a flush to his cheeks due to his orgasm and his eyes were lidded, pupils blown wide either due to pleasure or the drugs. Still, those dark circles against his pale skin never ceased to make your heart flutter.

You managed to snag one hell of a catch. 

That thought had you crawling onto the couch, laying on your side with your head in his lap. He didn’t acknowledge you but adjusted so you could lay against him comfortably. 

Some time, between the feeling of your boyfriend pressed against you and the background noise of his video game, you dozed off. 

You woke up to him shifting, making you sit up a bit to let him slide out from beneath you. You realized he had turned his game off and put on some adult animation show you knew he enjoyed. He mumbled about going to piss and clean up before disappearing down the hallway. 

Shifting in your seat, you frowned at the sticky feeling of your panties that had grown uncomfortable. Just as you were about to stand up, he came out of the bathroom. 

He paused in front of you, eyes still lidded and you wondered how long you had been asleep and if he had continued to smoke during. You still felt the buzz of the pot in your own system and as you gazed up at him, you remembered the feeling of his cock in your throat. 

A small smirk grew across his lips as he stepped closer to you, “Are your panties wet?”

Without hesitation you nodded, shifting in your seat. He scoffed, taking a seat beside you with a sigh, shaking his head. 

“Go change them then,” he nearly laughed at the pout you made but you stood up and did as you were told anyway. 

You didn’t bother putting on your shorts again — the t-shirt you stole from him doing well enough to cover you up. When you returned to the living room, you sat beside him, still feeling the ache of need. You needed to be touched, you wanted him to touch you.

“Toshi,” you whined, scooting closer to him. 

He hummed, sipping on a soda he’d gotten from the kitchen. You sat up on your knees beside him, lifting the hem of your shirt to show him the cute pair you had put on. He took a long look at them and you felt pride at the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

“What?” he grumbled, slow gaze dragging back up to your face.

You whined, reaching for his hand. He let you move his hand beneath the band of your panties until you felt his fingertips graze your slit. You shivered at the barely contained groan he let out.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he groaned, middle finger dipping between your folds to find your hardened clit that was so desperate for his attention, “You liked sucking my cock that much?”

“L-Like it when you ignore me,” you confessed, making a brow perk up at your confession. 

“Aren’t you just a little slut?” he cooed, pulling his hand out of your panties, making you whine, “Strip.”

You scrambled to do as you were told, tossing your shirt and panties onto the floor until you were sitting naked before him. With surprising strength, he grabbed you hips and yanked you into his lips so that your back was pressed against his chest. You could feel that he was hard once more in the confines of his pants.

“Sit on my cock,” he ordered you, breath fanning against your sensitive ear.

You eagerly reached beneath you, to free his length. Positioning yourself above him, you slowly began to work yourself down. You hadn’t been prepped so you had to take it slow, wincing every once in a while at the stinging burn the stretch gave you. 

“Don’t move,” he grunted once you were fully seated. You whined, your walls spasming around his length. 

“I wanna cum,” you whined, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

He shrugged, “You can cum all you want,” you glanced up at him at those words. His eyes were fixated on the TV, a bored expression on his face, “Since you like being ignored so much...I’m not gonna help you.”

You were still for a moment, deciding what you were meant to do. You were steadily dripping down his cock as it pulsed inside you. Your own clit ached for a touch. You would love to feel your boyfriend’s rough fingers touching you but you realized it was something you would have to do on your own.

At least you were stuffed full of his fat cock. 

Your fingers traveled down your body to find your clit, a single touch to the bud making your thighs jump. The drugs and denial of pleasure had made you so sensitive to touch that you knew it would take no time at all for you to cum. 

You eagerly worked your bud, walls clenching tight around his cock as your high grew. Shinsou’s eyes fluttered at the feeling of you squeezing him. 

Just as you thought, you were sent headlong into an orgasm. Your body trembled against Shinsou, thighs clamping shut around your own hand at the onslaught of pleasure pummeling your body. Your cum coated his cock as you came down, panting and shaking. Your thighs fell back open, relaxing your body once again. 

Shinsou still didn’t move or comment and all you could think about was how giddy it made you feel that he was acting so unaffected by the fact his girlfriend was cumming around his cock like a little slut. 

God, you loved it. 

Just the thought had the heat rising again and your hand found its way to your clit once more. It took a bit longer to get you there this time but you finally came again with a cry of his name. Your hips circled around his cock, forcing your pleasure to new heights as you gushed messily around his length. 

In the back of your buzzing mind, you swear you could have heard him groan. But when your eyes fluttered open to look at him, he just looked bored. 

Your slick was coating his cock, making a mess that had his mouth watering. He wanted to drop to his knees and lick up every drop of your sweet cum. He clenched his fists tight where you couldn’t see his self control slowly withering away.

Instead of stopping after your orgasm, you continued to circle your clit until yet another orgasm wracked your body. This time, you couldn’t help yourself and eagerly started bouncing on his cock. You whined, still rubbing your throbbing bud. 

A rush of your cum gushed from your cunt, soaking both yours and his thighs. You cried out his name mixed with slurred praises as you squirted. The sight and feeling of painting him with your cum sent his self-control unraveling.

Before you could react, your face was pressed into the cushion of the couch with Shinsou hammering his cock into your poor cunt with everything he had. His balls slapped against your clit, making you tremble in overstimulation. You barely had a chance to come down from your high before he forced you into yet another.

He growled, as you gushed around him again. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he yanked you back on your knees so your back was pressed against him again. The second you were upright, his hand was around your throat.

“You’re such a little slut,” he snarled, hammering into your slick little cunt, “How many times have you cum, now? You’re such a little whore for my cock, just couldn’t resist stuffing this sloppy little cunt full, isn’t that right?”

“N-No!” you whined, grinding back against him, “Y-Your cock’s too good. Makin’ me cum so hard…” your words were slurred as your eyes rolled back in your head. 

He scoffed at your words, “Can’t even talk properly? Has my fat fucking cock fucked you stupid. Hm? Are you my dumb babygirl?”

The condescending, almost cruel words made you clench around him. He could be such a beast when he wanted to.

To outside viewers, Shinsou appeared almost lazy and disinterested. He didn’t talk much nor did he show much interest in things. But with you — you brought out a side of him that was borderline feral.

He lived to see you cry, squirm, and cum so hard you could barely breathe. It was a lifesource to him.

And now as you sat there, helplessly impaled on his thick length as it stuffed your sweet little cunt full, tears dripped down your cheeks at the stimulation. 

“You're never gonna be able to take anyone else’s cock again,” he growled into your ear, “I’ve ruined this little pussy so only my cock can satisfy it. Only I can treat this greedy little cunt this good, right?”

“Yes!” you shrieked but it was cut off by his hand tightening around your throat, cutting off your blood. 

“You're gonna squirt again,” he ordered, “Go on. Make a mess for me.” 

With your thighs open and his fat cock spreading your folds apart, your little clit was exposed and vulnerable to the heavy slap he suddenly laid upon it. Your body froze at the pain but instead of pulling you away from that delicious high, it sent you right over the edge.

“That's it!” he praised, releasing your throat to listen to the way you sobbed, “Such a good fucking girl creaming all over my cock. What a messy girl.”

You babbled mindlessly, gasping and trembling as he continued to ruthlessly fuck you. Your orgasm continued to rise, squirting and gushing everywhere and making a mess. 

“Cumming so hard you've turned stupid,” he teased, a cruel laugh in his voice, “That's okay baby, you don't need that useless brain of yours. All you need is my fat cock in this cute little cunt. That's all you're good for anyway, taking my cock. Maybe I should keep you as a permanent cockwarmer—”

He was cut off by a grunt, the thought of keeping you as nothing but a hole for him to use and dump his cum into sent him over the edge finally. His hot cum filled you up, eventually spilling out due to the sheer amount. It only added to the mess you'd already created. 

When he pulled out, you collapsed face first with your ass in the air. You could feel his eyes on you, watching as your twitching hole spasmed and pushed out his cum causing it to dribble down your thighs. 

You didn't put up a fight as he flipped you over onto your back. He hiked your knees up to your chest to expose your cum-filled hole. You allowed him to maneuver you as he pleased.

He enveloped your entire pussy in his mouth and sucked — his own cum filling his mouth. He groaned, sitting up to meet your lips in a fierce kiss. You whined, opening your mouth to accept his cum, eagerly swallowing it. 

Finally, he sat back and let out a breath. Climbing off the couch, he ran to the bathroom to get a wet rag to clean you off with. 

You relished in his attention, letting him clean you up and pepper you with kisses and praise. Before long, you found yourself cuddled against him in bed, whispers of his love for you on his lips as he promised to take a shower with you once you were more clear headed.

You fell asleep in the sweet embrace of your boyfriend, a full ache of lust settling in your gut at the thought of another round later. 

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha imagines #shinsou smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha imagines #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #afton.writes