#all of will's fears about the pack are TRUE they are way too fucking strong to really take on they do want her dead in the ground

[guidingsbolt]

motw game of all TIME!!!!!!!!

#i could make like six little tag essays from this session alone it had EVERYTHING #i don't even know what to START with #god. i am so glad riley survived. i'm SO glad. #will would've gotten so much worse if they had died.... #i said this in my little grouped chat but riley is will if she didn't have yaz #they were turned right around the same age as will on a silly little trip with their friends just like will and it was so soon after #will left the pack headinhands #i'm SO glad i rolled well on hunches i'm SO they lived because otherwise riley would just be a reminder of what could've happened to will #riley is my new best friend in the whole world will is gonna develop SUCH a complex about them.... #and we're coming up on the full moon griamce emoji #will's gonna have to be the one who is calm and in control because we can't have TWO #and i'm SO glad the fight went as bad as it did and beowulf didn't let will get the last word in i love mean hannah #we won but BOY did we earn it #all of will's fears about the pack are TRUE they are way too fucking strong to really take on they do want her dead in the ground #they're running around making new werewolves grimace emoji #man. will is pissed off #she's always hated beowulf but she was too scared and too guilty and trying so hard to repress any strong emotion that she didn't really #feel it i think #but YAZ almost DIED beowulf came into HER backyard and was trying to kill just a KID like her and he gets away with whatever he wants #if riley had died in the middle of that fight she might have tried to kill beowulf then and there grimace emoji #which. beyond the obvious problems with that would've caused a HUGE issue with PARCH #will doesn't care what parch says she knows beowulf and she knows what happened to her and she wants him dead and she'll do it herself #because she's angry! she's allowed to be angry! the angriest she's ever been about anything #and sure telling beowulf to fuck off had consequences but man it felt good #man. i'm delighted pleading emoji #ch: will #g: motw

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Ryomen Sukuna, funny, “Oh, fuck, you’re a demon, aren’t you?!”

I like to think that Sukuna hates being called a demon on principal, so I quite enjoy this one lmao. this one is pretty cannon divergent as it, straight up breaks the rules of curses in jjk but...eh, I'm here for fun lmaoo.

Now Presenting...

starring: Ryomen Sukuna, who is Not A Demon, I'm telling you!!!

You weren’t sure of a lot of things in this world. You weren’t sure about what you wanted from life, or where it would take you. You weren't sure if you were reaching your full potential to find your true purpose, or if you even had one. You really weren’t sure how to do your taxes. But you were absolutely positive about one thing: Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t human. Probably. You didn’t really have any strong evidence to prove your theory, and you didn’t really know the details of what he would be if not human. But, it really did not make any sense for him to be human. 

Those were the thoughts going through your head as you sipped your drink and watched him. This fight was going a little too easy for him. You would think that a four on one fight would go in favor of the four, but not with Ryomen. When Brad (at least he looked like a Brad) bumped into you, Sukuna was eager to fight. When Brad called the Kyles (at least they all looked like Kyles) to his side, Sukuna was down right giddy. Now, it had been awhile since you last checked, but as far as you knew, most mortal beings weren’t absolutely stoked to be outnumbered in a fight.

 You watched from a safe distance as an audience formed around the fight, the back yard of this house party turning into a no rules MMA match. You saw how his arms flexed as he slammed one of the Kyles head into Brads, the blood shooting out of the victims noses from the impact. You noticed he was holding back. He was making sure no one saw him turn their skulls into cherry pie filling, least the cops get called. But what mortal man had the strength to smash someones head into red mist with their bare hands?

Brad collapsed to his knees after the attack, and with the pack leader down the other Kyles had no direction. Wanting to keep their blood firmly in their bodies, they scattered, like roaches when the kitchen light comes on. Only there was only two of them left, so it was fairly easy for Ryomen to grab one of the men and throw him into the other. The group of drunkards cheered at the brutal display of violence, but you couldn't help but wonder how he had moved to grab them that fast. Almost as if he had super speed. 

Once the job was clearly done, he jogged over to you, laughing with other party goers as they congratulated him on a job well done. “Hey, we gotta go,” He said, wrapping his arm around you while you finished your drink, “One of those assholes are for sure going to call their daddy to have em sue.” He joked. You nodded, throwing your cup into one of the outdoor trashcans. This wasn’t your scene anyway, you greatly preferred concerts- like the ones you actually met Ryomen at. But you came to these parties for him, and he came to them for the promise of violence that came with them. Or, maybe violence just followed Sukuna around. Either way.

“Yea, this place smells like piss and cheetos,” You said as you followed him out, “Kinda what I’d imagine a Call of Duty lobby would smell like in real life.”

“Makes sense, I’ve heard like four people talk about the “party ratio,” this place is full of incels.” He agreed.

“Why did we come here again?” You questioned as the two of you walked out of the house. 

“Free booze and free entertainment.” He grinned. The two of you walked to your car, but he got in the drivers seat. Which, yea fair, you were pretty slozzled at this point. You got in the front and handed him your keys. The two of you drove around with the windows down for awhile, no doubt to try and sober you up. It was quiet, but not awkwardly so. Don’t Fear the Reaper played softly on the radio, and you felt a strange peace. 

You looked at Ryomen, hair blowing in the wind while he smoked out of the window, singing along softly to the old song. There was something so strangely beautiful about him. His sharp face tattoos accentuating his sharp features, his muscular form highlighted gorgeously by moonlight. His (you’d like it noted for the record: supernaturally) red eyes looked almost gentle in the dim light. He looked at you and flashed you a breathtakingly sharp grin. 

“What?” He asked with a giggle too soft to come from him. He had almost a weird..glamor to him. Something that you had only read about in cheesy early 2000s paranormal romance novels. You know the ones, derivative Twilight knock offs focusing on shapeshifters and demi-gods, angels and-

Oh Motherfucker!

“Oh, fuck You’re a demon, aren’t you?!” You accused, sitting straighter in your seat. It wiped the grin off his face only to very quickly replace it with a look of confusion.

“What?” He asked, this time with less playful mirth and more genuine confusion, and maybe a little bit of offense for a little bit of spite. 

“You’re a demon!” You yelled again, “You’re super fast, super strong, super hot-”

“Thanks.” He interrupted,

“You’re a demon!” You shouted louder this time. 

“I’m not a demon Y/n.” He scoffed taking a drag from his cigarette, “Demons follow a judeo-christian definition of religion, which  is not real,” he rolled his eyes, “The concept of angels and demons, heaven and hell, it’s about as real as the concept of the easter bunny or inflation. It’s something entirely made up by humans for humans to make their lives harder and have an excuse to feel better than other humans. It’s not actually A thing.”

“Then what are you?!” You demanded, “You keep calling us humans, implying you’re not, so what are you!”

“I’m a curse.” He said it as if it was obvious, like he thought you knew. It kinda stunned you. You didn't expect to get a confession that easy. “I’m the King of Curses to be specific.” Ok, the pride and smugness he said that with definitely implied it should mean something to you. It didn’t.

“Is that like, being the lord of the flies?” You asked.

“No, I’m not a fucking demon!” He growled in frustration, “Those aren’t real, I’m a curse!”

“Well then, what’s a curse?”

“A curse is a spiritual being that’s essentially made entirely out of negative emotions. Fear, loss, loneliness, anger, all of it comes together to make us.” He explained quickly, as if it was all common sense.

“....So a demon?” You clarified. He hit his head on the steering wheel, one quick hit, before regaining his composure.

“No, not a demon.”

“It sounds like a demon.”

“Well it’s not!”

“Well whats the difference?”

“I’m real!” He snapped, finishing his cigarette and throwing it out the window. Which, fucking ick, that's littering.

“I don’t know man, that's kind of a weak difference,” You pointed out, “That's like saying that cake isn’t real because I made a sweet, fluffy, chocolate flavored bread covered with icing. Like, you can call it bread all you want, it’s still cake.” You argued, trying to point out the flaws in his argument.

“Cake is fundamentally different from bread, Y/n” He laughed to keep from crashing the car. Why did he keep you around again?

“Then what is the fundamental difference between demons and curses?! And don’t say religion, demons are found in countless religions and mythologies, Oni’s have been around way longer than christianity!” You demanded, pointing a finger at him with wide eyes so he knew you were serious.

“The fundamental difference is…it’s-” Oh shit, he was actually struggling to find a solid answer. “It’s different okay!” 

“Aww, baby, do you not want to admit you’re a demon?” You cooed, leaning in and pursing your lips at him in mock pity. He white knuckle gripped your steering wheel and refused to look at you.

“Talk to me in that tone of voice again and I’ll show you what a demon is.” He warned, low and dark. It sent a chill down your spine, sending your inner prey animal into an anxious tizzy. That deep primordial panic couldn’t distract you from the fact you won though.

“Ha! So you admit it! You are a demon!” You laughed.

“I didn’t admit anything!” He snapped.

“Yes you did, yes you did! How are you going to show me a demon if you’re not one, checkmate Atheist!” You sang between fits of giggles.

“You are the one person in the world that would keep fighting me after I threaten them, do you know that?” He sighed, shaking his head. He remembered why he kept you around. You were the only person left with the balls to challenge him.

“So you admit you’re a demon?” You asked, wanting the gold metal. He groaned.

“Yes! Fine! Sure! Whatever! In your incredibly small human experience and definitions, I suppose I could be considered something akin to a demon, I fucking guess! Are you happy now?! Is this what you want?!” He yelled. You grinned and nodded. 

“Yea, that’s all I wanted. We can drop it now.” You shrugged, relaxing into your seat again.

“Thank you, Jesus fuck,” Sukuna grumbled, using the opportunity of a stop sign to light another cigarette before driving again. There was a tense quite that fell over the car. For all of 2 minuets before you broke it.

“Can we go to What-a-burger?” You asked.

“Oh yea, I’m already on the way there.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #demon!sukuna #demon sukuna #demon sukuna x reader #nobody likes you when you're 23

[brandnewhuman]

GENTLE TOUCHES

Paring: Thomas Brown Hewitt x Reader

Tw: description of a panic attack, maybe some angst, mentions of bullying and Thomas self-deprecation but otherwise is just wholesome fluff for our big ol' chonky man

Summary: I wanted to dive in the idea i had about Thomas. I think he's one of those people who's literally terrified of ruin nice things, like he really thinks that a single touch could fuck everything up because he always saw himself through what the others think about him so he's whole logic is I'm not capable of being or doing something good nor I'm allowed to receive it or take it. Like this fucker actively keeps himself at arms length and tries to not even breath your same air.

A/N: I'm maybe overestimating myself in thinking that someone would want to request anything for me to write. But if someone would like me to write garbage made specially for you im now taking requests.

He's always observing you, studying as every muscle of your body responds to any subtle and graceful motion you make. His eyes full of softness tinged with a longing for your touch. It's the only thing he allows himself to indulge in, watching.

His scarred fingertips tingle at the thrilling thought of his rough and callous hands holding your gentle and smooth ones. He spends entire hours imaging of tracing your features without having to panic and stress himself at the thought of hurting you. In the safety of his mind he too can freely lose himself in those innocent demonstrations of love that everyone takes for granted and calls ordinary while for him are nothing less than daydream fuel.

He craves that normalcy, that unobtainable sensation of being loved in the most raw way. It sets his heart on fire everytime he pictures himself with you doing sweet nothings and living a life packed of fulfilling domestic bliss.

And even if he craves for so much more he enjoys everything he can get now. Like how you stand up for him in front of his coworkers, how you would wipe off the day worth of blood and grime from his hands and face with such care that it makes his legs weak. How you cradle his big hand in your smaller ones to check if he has any cuts of wounds to tend. He always stays so put, so still. You sometimes worry if he even breaths when you're near him.

You always have such a loving gaze when looking at him, not once has he seen a trace of disgust or fear, not even at the early stages of your "relationship". You treat him like a normal human being, like he could break at any given moment if you don't handle him with care, and while it's not likely being as big and strong as he is, sometimes he does feel like he could break under the overwhelming feeling of your affection towards him.

You always have to beg to make him do something as simple as holding your hand while walking home. The consuming guilt he feels about being loved or letting you take care of him is unbearable, he can sense a invisible pair of eyes judging him for accepting something he does not deserve in the first place. All his life everyone has always told him he's nothing more than an animal, a beast if you will who cannot and will never be able to hold something or someone without simply destroying it.

He's fears himself when he's around you, he knows he can deny you only so much before breaking. His knees had already given out under the weight of your soft and tempting demonstrations of love, but he refuses to allow his body to anything else while trying to hold back big fat tears threatening to spill over any minute.

"You are so much more than what they say thomas... words hurt so much but at the end of the day they're only words, words not always are true or meant to be taken seriously" your voice is a whisper, so soft and gentle, gracing his ears that had being tortured all day long by screams and yelling. Your fingers collect the tears from his cheeks, tracing every line of features you can reach above the mask with feather touches. Soft fingertips ghosting over his brows to make them releasing that painful frown they hold all day.

"You deserve to be treated nicely...and I know you feel like you don't deserve it but you can let yourself go Tommy.. it's not wrong from you to want something nice for yourself, you have to stop being so mean with yourself sweetheart..." your words are reasoning with a more logical part of his mind, the one that has been pushed to the back of his head from years of abuse. That part of him who knows how unnecessary is all the cruelty he's enduring from others and from himself.

Without him noticing from being too focused in his own bubble of bliss, your hands have reached the back of his head. Caressing his surprisingly soft hair you find your way to the strips of his mask and before he can even stop you, you take it off of him.

His immediate reaction is a flood of panic that makes his head dizzy with many racing thoughts yelling at him to hide his face from your sight before scaring you. His lungs are starting to feel constricted by his own ribcage getting to tight for them to pump air correctly while his heart's pounding painfully hard making even his throat clench painfully, mimicking the feel of someone's hand closing around your neck.

He backs away from you and a really annoying tint of shame falls on him, a voice weirdly similar to Hoyt's telling him how pathetic from a big man like him to be acting this way. He can't help it, he didn't want this moment to come. His fear and panicky state was pulling at your heartstrings. You force yourself to not get agitated, trying to influence some of that calmness into him.

His chest raises and falls really fast while his large shaky hands protect his face from being seeing. A heartbreaking sobs and whimpers can be hear from him and you feel like throwing up cause you didn't want all of this to happen.

Something in you reacts to the situation, your legs are moving without you really guiding them. Before you know it, you're already kneeling in front of Thomas. His is too deep in his own distress to notice your hands finding their home around his thick wrists. Your careful and thoughtful touch is not pushed away so you keep massaging the insides of his wrist with your thumbs doing soothing circular motions. Slowly but surely he starts to calm down even if you still can feel his frame shaking from the spike of adrenaline now slipping away from his body.

When you're sure his calm enough you move your hands up until they reach Thomas's and with a gentle pull you remove them from his face. His eyes full of shame are now casting a defeated look on you, waiting for you inevitable bad reaction to his face.

But I never comes, your eyes letting slip nothing for him to even decipher what you're thinking. But he should know by now that you're really just admiring him.

All you see is the face of the only source of happiness in your life, the features of the person your world spins around. Every line, subtle wrinkle, detail of his face is full of things you love and memories you're fond of. Any part of his face has his little anecdotes that can make you smile just by thinking about it. Anything you can now fully see of his face is just the most beautiful thing you have ever seen just for the mere fact that it belongs to the person you love the most.

All of him, every single part or detail is equally pretty in your eyes.

"I wish you could see yourself as handsome as I see you... it makes me mad the fact that you hide the face of the person I love like that" your voice and words are sweet but at same time they hold a firm resolution in them. You place a soft kiss on his scarred cheeks and allow your lips to linger there for a second, feeling the lonely tear running down and wetting your lips.

"You're so cruel with yourself Thomas. This is what you were afraid of me seeing? It's you face Thomas, there's not a single part of you I could find ugly" You're almost whispering but he can hear you clearly. Your hands are now bringing up Thomas's ones. Holding them in front of you and taking in every particular shape, any scar or line in them. With your index you trace the shape of every finger, every knuckle and palm line you find your finger's path. When you're satisfied with the amount of attention you have give them, you bring them to your face and hold them on your cheeks.

"You're never going to scare me or hurt me. I know what you were trying to do... You're allowed to hold me, it's not wrong honey.." he was in a trance with you. His eyes were slightly wide in shock. His mind was now being too slow in processing your words. He looks at his own hands being hold by yours and for once he decides to not listen to the guilt. It just feels right to hold you like this, to finally feel you in a more tangible way. You're small frame is now leaning against his own bigger one.

Without having the time to think his arms, acting on their own, wrap themselves around you to hold you closer. His head finds its place in the crook of your neck, slouching himself a little bit to get down to your height.

Nothing matters anymore to him. Now it's just you and the relief of allowing himself to give in completely, the intoxicating feeling of finally having the opportunity to experience love close up and not just from afar.

#slasher community #slasher fandom #slashers #horror movies #slasher fanfiction #tcm fanfic #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #slasher fanfic #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #leatherface x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt

[r0-boat]

So, I was rereading and going through your omegaverse tag and I got an idea, a little darker so bare with me and delete this if it makes you uncomfortable.(I’m embarrassed to be writing this, you know me and here I am-😭please don’t perceive me)

CW : noncon, spiting, omegaverse, heat cycle

-

You’re a happily mated omega to Ingo, you have been for years. He’s your sweet, kind, gentle alpha, you couldn’t ask for anyone better.

You’re good friends with your brother in law, which makes Ingo happy, knowing his mate and his brother get along so well.

But Ingo is set to leave for an out of town meeting.

It’s Emmet’s turn to stay behind and look after Gear Station.

But Ingo had one request of his brother.

“My dear mate might start their heat while I’m away, if you find yourself in the right head space, may you make sure they eat and drink? I have stocked up on their favorites, but sometimes their heats are too strong and they forget.”

“Of course! What kinda brother would I be to let your mate starve while you’re away?” While Emmet jests.

Ingo’s face grows serious.

“Emmet.”

The other alpha is nearly taken aback by his brother’s stern voice.

“I mean it. That’s all I want you to do, it’s it too much, stay away. I do not want to risk anything.”

“You wound me brother.”

Emmet really should’ve listened.

Ingo would be gone for two days, three at most if something went wrong.

The smiling twin didn’t think much of it when he got a text from his brother, saying what he feared came true and that just next door, you’re in heat.

So Emmet kept his word.

He already has a spare key, so he opened the door to Ingo’s house, nearly doubling over from your strong scent. You smell so good! Fuck, it’s already making him drool.

He went around the house, making sure everything was locked up tight. But he can hear you, hear your whining, your whimpering.

He can hear you cumming on a toy, then crying that it wasn’t enough, that it wasn’t Ingo.

Emmet wants to growl, he and Ingo are twins! So why should Ingo get the cute little mate? Why should soft, calm Ingo get the little spit fire of a mate and not him?

He sighs, not much he can do now, he likes seeing his brother happy at least.

He gets upstairs, poking his head into your’s and Ingo’s shared room. He can’t help but openly moan at the heady scent engulfing the room.

His cock twitching in his pants.

More so when he sees you.

He knows that’s Ingo’s shirt, hell, whatever Ingo didn’t pack was in your nest. You’re laying on your back, arm thrown over your eyes, tears staining your cheeks.

With your legs spread, wet pussy on display for him.

A knotting dildo laying not too far away from your hand. That must’ve been the toy you just creamed on, crying it wasn’t enough.

Your fingers rubbing quick circles on your clit, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Not alpha…”

Your weak voice reaches his ears. He watches you roll, laying on your side, whining.

“Sorry darling! But I need to make sure you eat.” He tried to stay calm, honest!

But when you looked at him, with watery eyes, drool spilling out of the corner of your mouth, and a whimper.

He lost it.

He knows Ingo is going to be livid.

But Emmet can’t hardly think about that now. Only thinking of how rude his twin is for never sharing your perfect pussy with him.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth, groaning at how hot and wet you are.

“Good omega! Sweet mate! Fuck! S-so…haaa so good!”

His can’t stop his hips, he can’t stop bullying his cock into you, plunging into over and over.

Listening to you cry out, your nails digging into his back.

“Mark me! Mmm M’your mate! Say it!”

You sob, hating how good it feels to finally be filled, but it’s not Ingo.

You whimper. Emmet moves a hand, gripping your face as he stares down at you, love sick eyes locked with yours.

“Be a good mate, and say. It.”

You squeal, his knot battering against your pussy lips, trying to force its way in.

You keep your mouth closed, until he squeezes your face, forcing your mouth open. A faint ‘puh!’ Was nearly drowned out by the wet slapping of skin.

But the glob of spit that lands on your tongue wasn’t.

“Ooo! You liked that! Can feel you cunt clenching. You like being treated like a little whore, don’t you?”

You’re so close, his cock keeps kissing your womb! It’s too much!

You want Ingo home.

Oh fuckck hhhhh

Okay listen we got that brotherly rivalry,

We get so much of Emmet we need some of Ingo stealing emmets partner.

And we need some of that trash talk too

I'm talking when Emmet is dicking you down he'll say " I'm so much bigger than my brother"

Or " Does Ingo make you feel this good?"

Oh God I keep going back up to read it again.

Please don't perceive me either I am just a lonely degenerate andudhsj.

I want like 50 more of these sjdhfk.

#smut #noncon cw #emmet.thirst #spitting #omegaverse #cheating tw #non-con technically isn't cheating and never should be specified as cheating I just wanted to make sure nobody gets triggered

[katsukikitten]

KITTEN MY LOVE GMORNING MWAH MWAH !!

im thinking about knight bakugo being so enamoured of his princess. he's in charge of always keeping an eye on you guarding you and escorting you everywhere.

he's so chivalrous, and maybe the best option for you, but you've been already betrothed to someone else — marriage is not about love but diplomacy and for the sake of the kingdom.

i love the idea of duty breaking eventually to give room to the stored feelings in his heart, but he cannot make love to you, you must remain ""pure"" for your future husband, so sadly you find yourself stopping before he can make love to you — he'll have to contempt himself with eating you out, or maybe you touching him, blowing him off.

eventually, the current king notices of your little escapades, that there's something going on between you two; in fear that your relationship can jeopardize the marriage or the interests of the kingdom, he forbids you and bakugo from seeing each other again; however, since he's always been loyal and maybe the greatest knight this kingdom's ever had, he can remain as a knight — but away from you.

his heart aches, no prince knows you as well as he does, he hates the idea that your hand won't be his, that your thing must remain in secrecy. he is sure that he should be the one who gives you everything, who makes you feel the way you deserve, and the decision of not being able to see you, to kiss you, to touch you, it all pains him.

you're too feeling that way — there's no attachment to your soon-to-be husband. there's nothing that interests you other than being with your chivalrous, sweet and loyal knight. so imagine just how much your father's decision pains your heart. days are longer, and you're feeling void apart from the strong anguish that overwhelms your heart.

so one night you ask your most trusted messenger to deliver your letter. imagine just how overjoyed your knight would be, recognizing your sweet, delicate handwriting in the carefully enveloped letter that you've sent him.

"my dear, faithful knight: my days are filled with no joy ever since the non-merciful decision of the king. there is no way to tell my heart to beat for you no more. Every day, my life extinguishes little by little in these walls. No love or forced, unfair boundaries can keep my love for you caged. My dear knight, I can live not another day in your absence or without your warmth. If your love for me is true, then I must ask you to go to the tree where you have given me a true love kiss for the first time at sunrise, and take me in your horse far away from the shackles of my father and his kingdom. I will be waiting for you, my brave and beloved knight."

your letter is signed a kiss with your rosé lipstick. bakugou, missing you so much, brings your imprinted lips to his own, breathing in your sweet, gentle perfume that you've also sprayed the epistle. he feels you so close right now and, god, his heart throbs ever so hard against his ribcage, that probably anyone could hear it in this small room.

the decision is so clear to him — it has always been. so he wastes not a minute longer, and makes his way to the stable to his horse, the quickest in the whole kingdom. his horse saddled up, the knight begins his journey right there, right then, unable to wait no more to see his princess again, and make her his forever, and take her away.

bakugo katsuki, from the very first day he's sworn fealty to you, has been yours and yours only.

AAAAHHH CHERRY 😭

This is so fucking sweet 🥺 the second he sees that you're suffering and sad in your letter he's rushes to pack his things and supplies for a safe escape.

He has sworn loyalty to you, no longer a princess but now HIS QUEEN 😭

#kitten chats 🖤🐈‍⬛ #what a nice thing to wake up to #thank you for the meal cherry

[runthepockets]

It's curious. When you ask a trans woman what she likes about being a woman, she just tells you. Even if she's a tomboy or genderweird with it or whatever, she just tells you. "Learning makeup is fun" "I like looking at my tits in the mirror" "I like feeling like the token girl in a group of guys" "I like the way other women look at me" "I like being a woman in noise/techno/metal/etc" "I like spinning in cute dresses" "I like when my boyfriend bridal carries me cus it makes me feel cute" etc.

When you ask a trans guy what he likes about being a man, there's all this handwringing about avoiding toxic masculinity (which should be talked about, but it shouldn't be the center of every discussion) and whatnot and almost never an actual answer. Like, there's no reason you can't just say "being a dude who plays on a men's soccer team and wears a man's uniform is a hoot" and leave it at that. Being a man in male spaces and enjoying that energy isn't really something to be ashamed of, it's not inherently misogynistic or exclusionary, or whatever. Nothing about being a man really is, cus being a man is morally neutral, just like being a woman is. I think a lot of guys get it stuck in their head that if they say anything nice about being men or liking other men, that people will assume they think the opposite is true of / about women, but that's just a byproduct of binary and patriarchal thinking, and not really our responsibility to take care of when women and womanhood aren't even the subject of the conversation in the first place. Obviously we should call out chauvanistic behavior when we see it, but if someone sees you talking about how cool being a man is and assumes you're some kinda MRA waiting to strike, that's kind of a them problem.

It does ring true that the majority (or at least, the most amplified examples) of trans guy positivity / solidarity online is about paying lip service to patriarchy & answering for the sins of cis dudes more than anything about actually enjoying being a man, let alone a masculine one. Being surrounded by radfem rhetoric and Pop feminism your whole life will, admittedly, leave you with some pretty fucked up ideas about being yourself. So here's some fun and badass things I enjoy about being a dudely dude:

Wearing briefs & boxers

Being "one of the guys", especially in male dominated music subcultures like Metal and Hardcore

Thinking about women seeing me in public and checking me out

Packing in sweatpants specifically so girls have more to look at

Thinking about being a girl's crush

How many things I can buy and put on my wall and ponder just cus they have a woman's ass on them, and how no one really questions it; as much as it sucks to be read as "perpetually horny" and not needing affection by proxy of simply being a man, there are some really nice perks too.

Being a straight dude in general

Having spikey buttrock hair

The way men show affection with one another; I get some people being put off by dapping over hugs or dudes saying "love you homie" or "I miss you man" instead of just saying I love you, cus it reads as ironic masculine detatchment or fear of being read as gay, but idk. I like it. I like low intimacy bonds, sometimes they're a lot more casual and less stressful, and knowing a secret handshake makes me feel cool and included. I've always just read it as men having different ways of showing affection than women do and not much deeper than that.

Singing; everything to smooth, jazzy Baritone to Hard Rock with lots of fry screams to Hardcore and Death Metal growls, nothing is off the table now and I love it.

Wearing suits

Beards (that's the facial hair) & sideburns

Being strong, both emotionally and physically

Being independent

Being blunt

Knowing I have more in common with my heroes and favorite musicians-- Riley Gale, Lil Ugly Mane, Pharrell, Steve-O, ODB, Denzel Curry, etc-- than I ever did before just through identity. Makes me feel fuckin invincible and makes their lyricism and actions hit harder.

People looking at me and assuming I like cars and sports; I know gender roles are hogwash and shouldn't be applied to everyone, but in this case they're right and it feels fucking great.

Revisiting my favorite media as the target demographic rather than as a tomboy; for example, the Naruto episodes where Shikamaru's dad gives him fatherly advice about being a man has always hit pretty hard, but rewatching them now that I can apply a lot of that advice to my own life, it's hit like 20x harder, and has given me a lot more appreciation and respect for the series than I ever thought possible.

That compulsive need I have to compete and show off when a cute girl is around

Being a fighter / advocate / goddamn force of nature; not in terms of randomly hitting people or having a temper, but in context of having a spine, being tough, and generally being pretty resilient, much like the Shonen and Seinen protagonists I admired in my youth.

[gustafsnightangel]

Muse Part 4

She woke with a start remembering who was beside her, those strong skilled hands that had touched her so seductively last night held her tightly. Curled into him he’d cradled her all night, protecting her from the world, her demons of an unhappy childhood, an abusive boyfriend. He was still asleep, that massive frame at rest, peaceful. She unclenched her hand and stroked her fingers across his chest, she liked the feel of him, the light dusting of hair that tickled her fingers. The skin at his neck was soft and warm, and inviting her to kiss and nibble.

The crushing weight of what she’d done last night seeped its way in and she knew she had to end this before they broke each other’s hearts. How could she have been so careless as to fall into bed with him, to fall in love with him? She knew all too well that when things seemed too good to be true they usually were, and she’d let it get out of hand. Slipping from his side she dressed hastily in a bathrobe and looked back at his sleeping form, damnit she wanted this to be the real thing, but deep down knew it was never destined for her. Reality sucked. Sitting in her tiny one chair by the window she opened the sketchbook she always had sitting on the arm and lost herself to the masculine lines before her. The light was just right, he was just right, sprawled out on his back, an arm carelessly tossed over his head, those fingers that had drawn every moan and gasp from her last night relaxed, the sheet barely providing any amount of dignity, the other hand relaxed across his abs loosely. Those hands were her undoing just now, as much as they were last night when they were on her. As she focused on them and lost herself to paper and pencil, she didn’t see him open his eyes and watch her.

There she sat, bundled up in a bathrobe six sizes to big and quite disheveled, sketching. Him maybe? A sly smirk twitched his lips. She’d had the inability to resist the urge to draw when the moment had presented itself. Damn she was beautiful, that sleep mussed hair framing her face in soft waves. He heard her pencil stop sharply as her eyes met his, deer in the headlights looked back.

Damnit to hell, she thought, she’d meant to be long gone to work by the time he woke, but she’d lost herself in his hands, her sketchbook was almost full of everything Gustaf. Full body sketches, his face at peace with sleep, those hands. She had enough for an array of paintings and sketches of this man fucking her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to still be here when you woke. I need to shower and get to work.” She mumbled, and started to pack her things away, that sinking feeling he’d ignore her like others had. The quick fuck and discarded.

“Helena.” He said gently, and waited for her to look at him. Crooking a finger at her to come to him, he patted the empty spot beside him on the bed. Fuck he wanted to rage at the asshole that made her feel so unwanted. “It’s your apartment sweet girl, I’m the one who should be getting out of your hair. Will you come back to bed?”

“You, you want to stay?” Her tone was uneasy, like she’d prepared herself for the dismissal, the rejection.

“I have no regrets about last night, I’d like to stay and spend the day with you.” He saw her hesitate before sitting on the bed, only just out of reach of his outstretched hand. “I enjoyed my time with you last night, but if you need me to go, I’ll understand.” She was free to make her choice, but part of him wanted to bundle her up and tuck her into him where she fit perfectly, where she belonged. There was a long silence before she spoke and her words floored him.

“You’re the first person to make me fell like I’m worth something, something more.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she’d said what he needed to hear, her deepest fear.

He moved slowly until he was sitting behind her, cradling her to him he kissed her temple and waited for it to pour out of her. Nothing he said in this moment would soothe these wounds.

“I’ve never been worth it, in any aspect of my life. I’m always ignored and overlooked, whether I was a child or an adult. Everyone tosses me aside for something or someone better in the end and I just don’t know if I can put myself through it again.” Her voice caught and he shattered inside, how could people be so cruel, he wondered?

“Helena.” He murmured.

“Everyone up until you.” She brushed the tears aside angrily, she hadn’t meant to say this much but he seemed to pull it out of her so effortlessly. “You make me feel like I’m worth something, my work is worth something. But part of me thinks this is all just some sick joke, and I’m the punchline again.” She sighed out defeated. “Am I just kidding myself that this could be something real.”

“You’re worth something to me.” He shifted enough to gently grip her chin and waited for her eyes to find his. “Stay with me today, please?” Her eyes held his, she had spine, but she’d been kicked once too often to act on it, to voice it. “Call in sick if you can, take the day.”

Her head was a mess of emotions, her heart at war with it again. She wanted this to be right, to be something more, but the fear of rejection consumed her.

Resting his head against hers he let the calm in. It was calm she needed from him now. “I’d like to spend the day with you, and tomorrow if you have time, and a few more tomorrows after that.” His slight smile got one from her in return. “I like you Helena, I want to see where this goes.”

“I’m a nobody Gustaf, don’t you see that, broken, damaged, quite possibly deranged.” She huffed, trying her best to get him to see there was someone far less fucked up out there for him than her frumpy ass. “You could have any woman on the planet.” He kissed her hard as she tried to move away, deepened it as she tensed in his arms. Shifting slightly he sandwiched her between his hard body and the mattress sensing she was ready to bolt, he could feel that tension in his bones.

“You’re right, I could, but I’m drawn to you. I want to get to know you, not just any woman. You, Helena.” He said softly, his fingers brushing away the stray tear that had been determined to fall.

His words struck her deeply, no man had called her beautiful, no man had made her feel like she might be worth something, how did she deserve him, deserve what he was offering her? How did she stop the ever pressing, ever crushing self doubt from consuming her, consuming them?

“I’m willing to try if you are.” He murmured, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as he rolled to snuggle her in, to give her refuge in his arms, the safety he could offer. “One step at a time, there’s no rush, but I would like to see you, get to know you, be with you.”

Not just sleep with you she noticed, not just a quick fuck. Could she find happiness with him, she wondered? Was there such a thing in her reality, did it exist? There was only one way to find out and that was to put her cracked heart on the line again and trust. Isn’t that what you did last night, the tiny voice in her head quipped? You trusted him last night why can’t you trust him now, it asked?

She nodded and he smiled, placing a kiss to her temple. “My heart is just as fragile.” He murmured against her temple as if reading her mind, the moment of vulnerability he’d let show through for her benefit as well as his own. “It’s been beaten and broken, but it’s yours.” She looked up at him, the shock of his words etched on her face clearly. “I don’t know what this feeling I have with you is, but I want to find out. You make me feel things I haven’t in a while and it scares me too.”

“I’m not good at this Gustaf, awkward comes closer to the truth.” She said quietly.

“Then we can be awkward together.” He chuckled and it got the smile and nod he was after. “Now, breakfast? Or can I pick up where we left off last night?”

“I have to text Henry, I was going to go in today.” She said softly as she sat up.

“Take the week.” He growled, tormenting her neck as she typed out her text.

“I can’t... can I?” She chewed her bottom lip thinking if she could legitimately not work for the week and still pay her bills.

“Sure you can.” He purred devilishly, a hand slipping under the cloth to palm a breast, firm, ripe, and full.

“You’re a bad influence.” She chuckled and then sighed as he pulled the shoulder of her robe down and feasted on her neck.

“Mmmm, but you like it.” He murmured, tongue tasting her skin.

Her head was really at war with her heart now, or more like hormones. She wanted to stay here for the week with him and have him fuck her brains out, but was that a good choice?

“Yes I do.” She sighed, and felt him smirk against her skin.

Her brain warred with the state of her financials and the feel of his hands stroking along her inner thigh, higher and higher.

“Stop thinking.” He purred and slipped a finger over her clit.

“Gustaf.” She gasped and hit send on the text.

“Mmmm?”

“I’ll need to get some work done this week, I have rent to pay.” Her voice barely there as he lay her down and claimed her mouth.

“I’ll make sure you’re covered.” He murmured against her jaw.

“That’s not what I meant.” She huffed.

“I know. And you’re wearing entirely too much.” Her soft giggle made him grin as he tugged the belt of the robe free. Dipping his head down he kissed her tenderly before blazing a trail along her jaw, teasing the tender skin at her throat, nipping her collarbone. “So beautiful.” He murmured, hand cupping a breast, thumb stroking the nipple until it was a hard bud. Ghosting her lips with his he watched her as he pinched the hardened bud, the soft gasp making his cock twitch. “I love it when you make that sound.” He purred, ravaging her mouth slowly, deftly. “Makes me so fucking hard.”

That kiss was devastating, it fried every brain cell, and those hands were just as lethal. He played her body like concert instrument, every touch, every caress, every sigh of skin against skin.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered, lips teasing the spot on her neck just below her ear that had her trembling. “Close you eyes and just feel.” He watched her eyes flutter shut as his finger traveled the length of her torso, slipping between her wet folds to circle her clit.

She felt him shift and kiss his way down her body, savoring every dip and valley until he settled between her thighs. Sex was different with him, unhurried, and pleasurable. Earth shattering was closer, like his entire mission was to see her come and come first. Her mind was wrenched from its thoughts as he licked her from entrance to clit, the arch of her spine and obscene moan making him hum his approval. That tongue was as clever and as devastating as his hands. He’d short circuited her brain as he feasted on her, hands deliciously tormenting her breasts, fingers igniting a fire wherever they touched. Never, had anyone touched her like he did.

He lost himself in his current task, the scent of her, the taste of her fueling his desire as he brought her undone. As her breath quickened he circled two digits at her entrance, tongue flicking her clit as she gasped his name. Hovering on the edge of an orgasm her body quivered and arched as he slid his fingers inside her, a slow gentle come hither motion driving her over the edge.

“Gustaf.” Her ecstasy filled tone made his cock throb as she came hard. He slowed to a stop, nipping her inner thigh playfully as he shifted to tower over her, hands opening the bathrobe as he went. He felt his arousal spike as his hard body pressed against her soft curves, mouth devouring the tender flesh of her throat. She tasted so fucking delicious.

“Just feel Helena.” He murmured softly as he pressed his engorged tip to her entrance, spreading her open. Guiding both legs to wrap around his hips he slowly tip fucked her, the soft gasps and frantic hands gripping his arms making him smile. One hand at a time he intertwined their fingers and stretched her arm up above her head, pinning her hands there, lips ghosting her cheek before claiming her mouth. The thrust into her was slow and devastating for the both of them, a soft groan against her lips as pleasure swamped him. “Go over.” He breathed and as she came he thrust hard and deep.

“Gustaf.” Her cry was desperate for him to take her just like that. He didn’t disappoint, it would be short and hard, but it would sate them both. She watched him as he fucked her, the breathy grunts, hungry kisses, that massive frame moving with hers, driving them both to release.

“Helena.” His tone shaky. Their eyes met and it was like the world fell away and it was just the two of them. Burying his face in her neck he kissed and nipped her throat, ravaging every inch of skin as he snapped his hips again and again, driving his cock deep with every thrust. The frenzied pace, the sight of her beneath him taking his cock peaked his release. “Come for me sweet girl.” He breathed. As she came he quickened his pace and followed her over the edge, her pussy milking his cock. Releasing her hands she wrapped them around his neck and pulled him closer, their chests heaving.

“We need to eat something.” She said softly, suddenly ravenous. Well they did practically run a marathon, she thought.

“We do.” He chuckled. “Especially if I’m going to do wickedly sinful things to you.”

“Like what?” She as shyly.

“Things that will have you screaming my name.” He purred and kissed her tenderly. “I have a question for you first.”

“Ok?” Her belly flipped, was this a good or bad kind of question?

“As you’re taking the week off, sort of, would you like me to stay here with you until I fly home?” His eyes searched her face, picking up on every emotion that flittered across it. “If not I can sleep at the hotel.”

“You want to stay?” She asked, a little unsure.

“I’d like to spend every moment with you until I have to get on a plane and go home.” Her nod made him smile. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” She squeaked.

“Ok then.” He kissed her longingly, deepened it until she relaxed, those talented fingers uncurled from fists and flattened against his chest. “I need to go check out of my hotel and grab my bag, but breakfast first.”

“I have stuff for scrambled eggs and toast I think.” She said and watched him climb off her to visit the bathroom.

“I’ll help in a sec.”

“Ok.” Helena climbed out of bed and tossed her rob on the sofa to put on his dress shirt which came down to sit just above her knees. It was so soft and probably cost the earth.

“You swim in that.” He chuckled as he came back out. “But I have to say.” He cocked his head to the side, eyes wandering blazing a trail of their own. “I do like you in my shirt.”

She bit her bottom lip and smiled shyly. He made her uneasy with his comments, he thought as he kissed her softly.

“You know that drives me wild when you do that.” He said kissing her again.

“What?” Her brow creased in confusion.

“Biting your bottom lip.” He pulled her to him, craving that body pressed to his and kissed her seductively nibbling at that bottom lip as his fingers roamed under his dress shirt. “I’ll need this back at some point.”

“I know.” She huffed and pouted, to which he gripped her chin firmly and devoured her mouth.

“You can peel me out of it when I get back sweet girl.” He growled.

“I like it when you call me that, even though...” She mumbled shaking her head, and left her sentence hanging as she broke the eggs into the bowl. Even though I’m anything but, she finished silently. He stilled her hands and turned her to face him. Inside she retreated a little more out of embarrassment.

“Look at me.” He commanded softly and waited until she did. “Do you like what we did last night?” She nodded and flushed red, it was a beautiful sight. “Then that’s all that matters.” He kissed her tenderly. “It’s your body Helena, your life, your decisions. You’re in control and if you like this.” He pointed at the space between them. “And what we’re doing. Enjoy it.” He’d empower her as much as he could before he left hoping it would be enough for her to start believing in herself again.

They made breakfast in a comfortable silence, the chore settling them both. Sitting at her tiny table, Gustaf noticed she had gone a little quiet. The way she retreated inside herself made him heavy hearted, had he pushed too far, he wondered?

********************

As Gustaf showered and headed to the hotel to check out she decided to get at least some actual work done. As soon as he’d left she sat before the two paintings she’d started and lost herself to paint, linseed oil, and turpentine. The lines of his frame spoke to her as she painted them in. Her hands remembering each curve and dip of muscle that had pressed against her last night.

She tidied up when Gustaf texted he was on his way back and decided to sketch out some of the other scenes she had on her mind since last night. The both of them appeared before her, that toned body between her legs, his hand pinning hers to the mattress, her own body arched to meet his every thrust. A sheepish smile touched her lips, he made her outrageously happy. “Please don’t let me be wrong about you.” She whispered to the graphite and paper. Rationally she knew it was unlikely this tryst with him would lead to anything long term. Stranger things had happened, but she wasn’t going to get her hopes up. If anything they would enjoy their time together, enjoy each other. Seeing his text she buzzed him up and readied herself for a week she’d likely never forget, either ecstasy or complete heartbreak.

In the few hours he’d been away she’d been painting, splotches of red and grey stained her cheek where she’d pushed her hair out of her eyes. Placing his bag by the door he closed it and pulled her to him. His hands had ached every moment he’d been away from her.

“Stop I’ll get paint on your...” Looking down at her hands where they’d instinctively gone to his chest to steady herself, blue and grey oil paint had smudged over the fabric. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” Her tiny voice trembled and he didn’t like that sound at all. “I’m sorry.” Barely a whisper as she went to step out of the embrace he’d pulled her into. It was the sight of her face going pale that boiled his blood.

“It’s only paint.” He murmured gently.

“But it’s oil paint, it won’t wash off.” The shirt was ruined, the butter soft cotton ruined at her hand. “I’ll have to get you a new one.” He could hear her anxiety getting the upper hand.

“Helena, it’s fine, it’s just a shirt.” He could see her getting more worked up over it as the seconds ticked by, the tear that rolled down her cheek only adding to his concern. “Look at me.” He commanded gently and only gripped her chin when her gaze flicked to his and then away. “Please.” He said firmly and held her there. Only when her eyes stayed on his did he continue. “It’s just a shirt, I have others.”

“But it’s a really expensive one.” She mumbled, not able to contain the tremble in her bottom lip.

Taking her hands in his he placed them back on his chest, the squeak of protest making him want to rage at Michael even more. Cupping her face in his hands he kissed her, slowly, thoroughly until she relaxed, until she’d stopped shaking with fear. “It’s just a shirt sweet girl, just paint.” His thumbs brushed the tears away as they fell freely. “And now I have a Helena Kursk original dress shirt.” He chuckled at her huff. It didn’t bother him that the shirt had paint on it. What bothered him was her reaction, that deep seated fear of retribution, of ridicule. “One of a kind.” Fisting a hand in her hair gently he kissed her again, tongue teasing hers. Letting the other hand drift to the hem of her shirt, his fingers circled patterns over her hip.

“But I ruined it.” She mumbled against his lips.

“Enhanced it.” He corrected and kissed her again pulling her closer. “Enhance it some more.” He whispered as he claimed that mouth again, hands wandering under her shirt. Feeling her relax slightly he let his hands trail up her torso under the shirt. “So beautiful.” He purred, fingers drinking in the feel of those curves and dips that aroused him.

Her hands were trembling as she fought with the buttons of his shirt, smudges of blue and black transferring to the fabric as her forearm brushed his chest. It still felt wrong, and she waited for the yelling to start, the sneer, the look of disgust to cross his face. Michael had never hit her, never laid a finger on her in anger, his words did enough damage in their own. She felt her brain stutter as his mouth tormented the pulse at her neck, that one spot that rendered her incoherent. “Gustaf.” Her breath caught on the whimper.

“Sweet girl you drive me wild.” He breathed, fingers stripping the fabric from her waist to have it pool at her feet, the slowness tormenting them both. “So beautiful.”

“I need to clean my hands.” She sighed as his lips ghosted hers. “Properly.”

“They’re clean enough.” He murmured, fingers exploring those wonderful curves before him.

“And I smell of turpentine.”

“You smell of sunshine and sex.” He growled playfully.

“Gustaf.” Her tone exasperated. “Stop.” She breathed, her fear suddenly surging forward, the word out sharply before she could get a grip on it. “Please stop.” Her choked tone stopped him cold.

With hands resting on her bare hips he looked at her slightly confused, had he overstepped somewhere? Then he saw it, the fear, shimmering below the surface. Emotional triggers torpedoed moments at will regardless of surroundings. You idiot, he berated himself. He should have seen this trigger before it played out.

“These are oil based paints, I need to clean up properly or they’ll stain your skin too and ruin my brushes as well as your shirt.” In all honesty she didn’t care about her skin, but her brushes, those were pure sable and not cheap to replace. “And the turpentine will stink the place up and...” And she was rambling, terrified he’d start yelling and leave.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly.

“It’s ok I just....” She took a breath and let it shudder out, anxiety spiking. “This is so foreign to me, to have someone that... well...” She mumbled, fingers brushing at a streak of black on his shirt, the paint well and truly embedded in the fabric now. She’d ruined it.

“Someone that wants you the way I do?” He finished as if reading her thoughts.

“Yeah, something like that.” Her fingers fidgeted on his shirt, buttons undone, the fabric stained now with shades of blue and grey. Shades that matched the paintings of him that sat near the window.

“Go clean up.” He said gently. He’d seen the fear in her eyes, the look of a puppy that had been kicked and yelled at once too often.

“This is ruined.” She sighed, her heart heavy. There was no redeeming his shirt.

Taking her chin between thumb and finger he waited until her eyes met his. He didn’t like the fear that looked back. “Enhanced. You can be sure, I’ll be wearing this again and thinking of you.” And he would, she could see the truth in his gaze. “I’m not upset about it Helena.”

“I am, it’s an expensive shirt, I can tell by the feel of it.” Her voice trembled, tears welling in her eyes.

“It is and I have plenty more, and...” He said gently. “It was my fault, I pulled you into me. My fault.” Tender fingers hooked a stray wisp of hair over her ear. “Now I have a reminder of your hands on me.” His tone was low and tender as he kissed her. I’m not him sweet girl, he pleaded silently. “Go clean up. Would you like a tea or coffee?” He asked, anything to get her mind to stop spiraling.

“Ok.” She couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact he wasn’t angry, wasn’t screaming how stupid she was, how careless she was. “Coffee please.”

He let her go and watched her carefully as she went to her desk and tidied her paints, brushes tinkling as she washed them in the glass jar of turpentine. He could see the emotional scars Michael had left in his wake. What did he put you through sweet girl, he asked silently? He gave her space and busied himself with making a pot of coffee. Hearing the bathroom door close he breathed out and looked to the heavens. “Don’t let this mean I’ve blown it.” He sighed. Placing the pot and two cups on the tiny dining table he changed into sweats and an old t shirt and left the paint smudged shirt on the back of the chair to dry fully.

Staring into the bathroom mirror she let the tears fall silently. She’d ruined his shirt and expected to find him gone when she stepped out. The harshness in which she’d spoken to him about her brushes also played on her mind, but her tools were her livelihood, she didn’t have the funds to purchase new ones. It was so difficult not to freak out when she fucked up, knowing what Michael had said to her time and time again replaying in her mind like a bad record. “You’re so stupid Helena.” She whispered reciting his words as the tears fell. “Can’t you do anything right? Can’t you just sit there and shut up? Who cares what you think.” Maybe I am stupid, she thought silently. “Stupid for ever thinking I could do this with him.” Splashing water on her face she tried to reign in the emotional firestorm raging inside her. “Time to face the music.” She huffed and pulled it together, wallowing wasn’t going to help, neither was hiding in her bathroom.

He stayed where he was, seated at the table as the bathroom door opened. The vibes from her screamed please don’t shout at me. Gustaf would bet money that’s what Michael had done on a regular basis.

“I’m sorry for snapping.” She said sitting across from him.

“You didn’t snap, just pointed out you needed to clean up.” He watched her hands shake as she picked up her cup and take a sip. “You’re in control Helena.” He’d remind her again and again until she believed it. “You asked me to stop.”

“And you did.” She sucked in a breath and held the tears in check. He’d promised her he would stop if she asked and he had.

“You’re in control.” He repeated. “Always.” Her gaze dropped to her cup as she nodded. “Was it Michael?” He asked after waiting a beat knowing what her answer would be.

“Yeah, but...” She shook her head, bottom lip trembling. “He would scream at me if...” She blew out a breath and shook her head again, she just couldn’t go there. He nodded in understanding, it wasn’t up for discussion.

Reaching a hand across the table his fingertips caressed the dusty blue stain on her knuckles. Taking her hand in his he tugged it gently, silently asking her to climb into his lap. He had a need to hold her, to take care of her, soothe her.

Looking down at her hand in his she felt an urge to cling to him, to cry, to let him in fully. It was the quaver in his tone when he simply asked please that broke her resolve. He’d given her kindness, understanding, and a freedom to make her choice without the ridicule, the rejection or anger.

“Please Helena.” He murmured gently.

Tentatively she moved to him, her hand cupping his cheek, those eyes of rain and smoke brimming with tears as they searched for his for an understanding on a far deeper level.

“I’m sorry.” She choked, as he pulled her into his lap.

“Come here sweet girl.” He murmured and curled her into him like a small wounded child as she broke.

“I’m sorry.” Her choked sob gutted him.

“No, no apologies, you did nothing but ask me to stop.” He held her as the tears fell, the soft sobs tearing at his heart. “I’m the one who should be apologizing sweet girl.” He kissed her head, those talented fingers of hers scrunching in his shirt. “I forget sometimes that you’ve been through so much.”

Curled into him and with those strong arms wrapped around her she felt safe, loved, and conflicted. She felt the love pour from him, a love she had no right to. He wasn’t staying, they weren’t a couple, they weren’t dating. She knew his own heart had been shattered at some point and yet here he was offering it to her, a depth of love she’d never known. “You’re not like him.” She mumbled and his arms tightened.

“No I’m not.” He kept his tone quiet and neutral. She only knew what she’d been on the receiving end of, but it was still difficult to be compared side by side with an asshole. Could he be one, absolutely when pushed, but this? No, never like this.

“I know I shouldn’t compare you to him but...” Her voice trailing into his chest.

“It’s the only thing you’ve known sweet girl.” He kissed her hair as he finished her thought and let out a careful breath.

Scrubbing the tears from her cheeks she sat up and looked into pools of ocean blue. “I’m sorry, I’m a fucking emotional basket case.”

“No, just trying to heal and pick up the pieces.” He smiled, fingertips caressing the line of her jaw. “It takes time.” Her nod lightened his heart slightly. “If this is too much Helena I can find a hotel to stay in that’s close by.”

She shook her head, the slight movement making him smile as her fingers twitched on the collar of his shirt. “I’d like you to stay, but only if you want to.”

“Oh I want to.” He purred, leaning forward slowly to kiss her with a tenderness that made her entire system buzz. “You’re in control.” He murmured, lips ghosting hers. “Always.”

“Yes I am.” She breathed, hands splaying out over his chest, choosing her words carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” His fingers caressing skin under her shirt.

“Who was it that hurt you?” She felt his hands hesitate before continuing their path of destruction under her shirt.

He felt the stutter of his own heart, the lurch in his gut. How much did he tell her? How much did he add to her plate.

She backtracked, kicking herself for opening her stupid mouth. “Never mind, I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.” She shook her head, his silence enough of an answer. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It was a woman I believed to be the one, I was wrong.” He said softly. Helena had opened up to him, now it was his turn. Trust was earned and a two way street. And, he was still earning hers. “Sarah was vindictive and spiteful, it ended badly. She was only using me to get her own career off the ground, access to contacts and fame. To use me to get her foot in the door and then discard me for my brother Alex. Alex of course didn’t want anything to do with her so she turned on him as well. It hurt both of us.”

“I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, neither did your brother.” How people could be so horrible was beyond her, she’d never understand it.

“No we didn’t. So I’m in the process of moving forward, healing. Much like a special woman currently in my lap.” Her shy smile lightening his heart.

Resting her forehead against his she let him have the moment between them, she could feel his pain radiate out. Those soulful eyes held the same sorrow she’d seen the day they’d collided.

“I want to make this work with you, Helena. Whatever this is between us I want to make it work.” He said softly.

“Even when you go home?” Her voice barely there.

“Even when I go home.” He kissed her sweetly. He knew it was a probability she’d freak out but he had to be true to himself as well as her. He wanted her in his life.

She was slightly stunned at his words. “I’m not good at relationships Gustaf.”

“Yet here we are.” He smiled echoing her words from earlier.

“I’ll fuck it up.” He could see that heartbreak resurface. “Like I fuck everything up.” Her mumble one of resignation.

“Look at me.” He commanded gently and waited for those eyes of slate grey to lock onto his. “We all mess up, make mistakes, we’re human.” Brushing the stray tear from her cheek he continued. She needed the room in a relationship to fuck up and not be ridiculed for it. “I’m sure I’ll fuck up along the way too, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

She could see the plea in his eyes. This kind soul wanted, actually wanted her to be a part of his life, to be with him. “How do we make it work if we’re so far apart?” Even though it would be lovely to jet-set around the world following him, she didn’t have the funds. Reality was, reality, and it bites, she thought bitterly.

“I don’t know.” He said honestly. “But I would like to try and figure something out, something that works for the both of us.”

Memories of former relationships flittered into her mind. The yelling, the snide remarks at her work, the constant negativity chipping away at her self worth. Gustaf was the complete opposite of Michael and she had to stop letting her ex get in her head and ruin this. “Ok.” She said, her voice barely audible.

His eyebrow shot up, it wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. “Really?” Her nod had him smiling like a goon.

“You’re not him and as you keep reminding me, I’m in control.” She said quietly.

“Yes you are sweet girl.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze snapped to his, a questioning look stared back. “For letting me be me.” She huffed a chuckle.

His kiss was tender, untying the knots in her stomach. “That’s all I want sweet girl, is you to be you... paint and all.” He smirked.

“Well paint is a sure fire guarantee.” That smile he thought, he’d never see that smile enough.

“I hope so.” He wanted her to be free to paint, to draw, to find that peace in her work he knew she was struggling to find. “Now I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.” He kissed her thoroughly, the one that rocked her to her core, melted her in his arms. “For you.” She chuckled as he deepened the kiss, that shy smile everything to him. “Unless you want to go outside and do something with the remainder of the day?” He asked quickly and looked at her, he had to make sure she was going to be ok with this. The shake of her head making a slow mischievous smirk tug at his lips, the low hum as she bit that bottom lip and looked at him.

“I don’t want to share you with anyone.” She said quietly, and he could hear the nerves, not sure she’d should have voiced her thought.

“Me either.” He breathed, a finger trailing her jaw before brushing her cleavage. “I want you all to myself.” He kissed her sweetly. “Just you.” He whispered and devoured her mouth, hands stroking her hips, disappearing under the shirt to palm a breast. “Under me.” Holding her against his body he felt her tremble, nerves and arousal mixing together. Tender fingers stripped the shirt from her body, the trail up her ribs making her shiver. “My sweet girl you’re so beautiful.” He lost himself in the gorgeous woman before him, shy and curvy, strong and kind. The future for them was unclear but for the next week until he flew home, he’d enjoy every moment with her and give her every shredded piece of his soul.

They peeled the clothes from each other, kisses hungry and demanding. He felt the tremble of her body as he urged her to straddle him, his cock slipping through her wet folds as he pulled her close. “I want you just like this.” He murmured.

“I’ve never...” She stopped mid sentence and felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her cheeks.

“Well let’s fix that oversight.” He growled playfully, hands gripping her ass as he thrust, cock slipping inside her. Her gasp of his name had a devilish chuckle rumble out of his chest as he held her still against him. “Fuck you feel good.” He breathed, lips ghosting hers, nibbling before they claimed them. He held her to him, the closeness something he felt she needed. This wasn’t just a quick fuck, those words were the truth, he wanted more with her. That more, started with him letting her see the vulnerability he locked away and putting his own heart and soul on the line.

The feel of him this close as they pleasured each other was an intimacy she’d never had. Partners she’d been with had always promised this but never delivered and she realized that Gustaf was showing her she meant more to him than a week between the sheets. He made love to her, his touch and kiss turned into something that made her weep inside, a tenderness and love she’d never felt from someone before. This was the love she had no right to yet he was giving it to her unconditionally.

“Come for me Helena.” He murmured against her lips, the soft cries as she let herself be in the moment and enjoy it as she came. He didn’t hold back, the feel of her pussy gripping him enough to tip him over with her. She curled into him, her face buried in his neck, head on his shoulder, and relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her while they caught their breath.

“I’m so relaxed I’m going to fall asleep if I stay here much longer.” She mumbled against his skin.

“Hold on tight.” He instructed and stood, lifting her into his arms. It had been an emotional rollercoaster of a day and if she needed sleep then he’d be right there to chase her nightmares away. Moving to the bed she clung to him and he couldn’t deny he felt a deep pang of need. A need for her to need him, to want him, to want whatever this was between them. He felt her melt against him and couldn’t help the smile against her brow as he kissed her. “Sleep sweet girl.” His tone tender.

“Will you stay?” She asked her tone full of hope.

“I’ll stay.” He reassured her and she plummeted into sleep.

#muse #gustaf skarsgard

[frogtanii]

℗ home

kenma x fem!reader (poker face ending)

series masterlist

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

wc. 2.9k (ahaha)

warnings. NOT PROOFREAD, liberal use of italics, soft soft, kenma in denial, allusions to marriage, bokuto and kuroo meddling, drinking, declarations of love, SMUT!!! (is marked off!), sub!kenma, handjob + blowjob, slightly insecure!kenma, meiko mentions, enthusiastic consent, one (1) katamari reference, vocal!kenma, uhh

an. good golly gee i HATE ending the endings m so bad at it AND the smut is lil weirder to skip??? like it’s not impossible or anything but it’s not as smooth as atsumu’s, m rlly sorry :((((( but i rlly hope y’all enjoy hehe don’t forget to feed me shawties :3

the loud obnoxious pop music blasting in the crowded bar around kenma made him want to fling himself into the moon at the nearest opportunity.

okay, so that was a little dramatic but the fact still stood.

he was crammed into a tiny booth with kuroo, bokuto, and akaashi, the former brushing up against him with every little movement, making kenma bristle in discomfort.

why the hell did i agree to this, kenma thought while sipping on his cranberry juice. he’d never enjoyed drinking, his true thoughts and feelings coming out way too easily once intoxicated. it was so infuriating being a lightweight, especially when everyone around him was disgustingly drunk.

“are you having fun kenma?” bokuto half yelled, half slurred into his ear from across the table. kenma slouched further into the booth’s stained cushions in response, his lack of answer not bothering bokuto in the slightest.

with the boisterous man’s attention successfully diverted by akaashi, kenma allowed his eyes to wander out over the dance floor but he wasn’t really paying them any mind. instead, his mind was occupied with none other than you.

it shouldn’t have been that surprising considering all the time he’d been spending with you recently. it had been a few months since the hyper house had disbanded and while you were enjoying your time living with your best friends, they had way too much sex. like an abnormal amount.

it had gotten to the point where you were having to abscond from the apartment four times a week because they were just so loud.

at first you had found refuge in the 24 hour cafe a few blocks from your place but falling asleep at a hard wood table only to have to walk home at 2am alone was terrible for your peace of mind (and your back).

you’d started complaining about it at your weekly animal crossing hang outs with kenma and he’d offered the brilliant solution of you coming over to his place when makki and mattsun were otherwise... occupied.

you were shocked at his suggestion and aptly so. it was no news that kenma absolutely hated hosting and having people over, especially since he was one of the few former members that were able to afford their own place straight out the gate.

when you’d expressed this, all he had said was, you’re different.

that wasn’t enough for you, evidenced by your once again nightly stays at the cafe but when you had to run home because someone was following you, you begrudgingly agreed to kenma’s offer and started sleeping at his house multiple times a week.

it was a bit to get used to at first, seeing you first thing in the morning with messy hair and sleep-swollen eyes. you were beautiful jarring. but, as time passed, he got used to your presence, making your drink of choice and sliding him his tea in the morning, sending him a soft smile that had him running to the bathroom to hide his blush.

it was all... strangely domestic.

even now, the thought of you in your threadbare sleep shirt, standing in his kitchen while cooking breakfast sent a wave of heat across his face, spreading up to the tips of his ears.

“what are you thinking about that’s got you so red?” kuroo teased, pulling the glass out of kenma’s hands, laughing at his annoying glare. he hoped he could ignore the question as he so often did, but apparently he wasn’t so lucky.

bokuto cackled in his seat before calling out your name, sending a chill of fear down kenma’s spine. “bet he’s thinkin about her! about how he wants to smooch her and maybe more,” he waggled his eyebrows, “i’m just saying!”

the rest of the table let out good natured laughs but kenma was preoccupied with replaying what bokuto had said.

i mean, sure he thought you were pretty, but anyone with eyes would agree! and yeah, maybe spending time with you was the highlight of his week, but it wasn’t his fault you were so genuinely enjoyable to be around. and of course, sometimes when it was late at night, his mind would wander to you and how it would feel to wake up beside you instead of across the hall from you and—

fuck. he liked you. a lot.

then, as if you somehow knew exactly what was on his mind (a terrifying thought to entertain), his phone buzzed in his hoodie pocket. he pulled it out quickly to check it and he hated how his heart picked up in his chest at the sight of your contact name.

[sussy baka <3]: wya shawty 🤨 u have no food in ur fridge n m hungry seen 13:20

[player ew]: s boys night seen 13:22

[sussy baka <3]: 😐

[sussy baka <3]: are u having fun seen 13:25

[player ew]: ... seen 13:28

[sussy baka <3]: yeah that’s what i thought

[sussy baka <3]: bring home some ramen <3 seen 13:31

home. god, if he didn’t like the sound of that coming from you. it took kenma no time at all to start packing up his things, ignoring the knowing looks on his friends faces as he tossed down a couple of bills for his drink and left to go home, where you were.

after stopping at the convenient store, he headed to his apartment building, shopping bag full of ramen in one hand and heart in the other.

no matter what he did, he couldn’t get bokuto’s annoying voice out of his head, telling him that he liked you. and now that he knew it was true? he was kind of spiraling.

the ding of the elevator managed to somehow shake him out of his thoughts, at least for him to get to his front door, but once it was open, all coherent brain activity immediately dissolved.

you were sitting on his couch in the living room, bundled up in one of his mario blankets and wearing one of his hoodies as you watched some animal documentary raptly, sheer disgust written all over your face.

kenma gulped.

he managed to work up the courage to actually enter his apartment, kicking off his shoes by the door and beelining towards the kitchen, not missing your excited call of his name and wide grin.

biting down any other unchecked feelings, he quickly set to work boiling the water for the ramen and then... stood there. boiling water would take a while and he knew he couldn’t avoid you forever but he really, really didn’t want to go sit by you with all these emotions sitting right on his chest.

“kenma, they’re gonna eat the seal!” you yelled from the couch, waving him over frantically. how was he supposed to say no to brutal animal murder on tv? kenma chuckled dryly at his own joke as he made his way over to where you sat, plopping himself on the side of the couch furthest away from you.

he told himself he just didn’t want to bug you when he had to go check the water but he knew it was a lie. he was running from his feelings, from anything that could ruin this.

you shot him a concerned look which he caught out of the corner of his eye but he kept his head firmly forward, unwilling to look at you if he didn’t have to. “kenma, what’s wrong? was boys night that bad?” you asked gently, and fuck if that didn’t make him feel worse.

kenma just shook his head, still choosing not to face you. you let out a long, arduous sigh before scooting across the couch and pressing yourself to his side, pulling his head down to rest on your chest while taking one of his hands into your own.

what the fuck. what the fuck?!1!?1!!?1!

you were so soft and warm and your arms around him made him feel things which was exactly what he was trying to avoid but then you actually started to speak and oh shit it got worse.

“kenma,” you started, running your hands through his deep brown locks, “you know you can talk to me about anything right?”

of course he knew that because this was you and you were so kind and considerate and badass and cool and that was all precisely why he couldn’t talk to you about everything, especially when it came to his emperor of the cosmos sized feelings for you.

but, instead of saying any of that, he allowed you to continue, his body relaxing into your hold against his will.

“i bother you because i care about you and i worry, you know. i know you’re strong and you can take care of yourself but i can’t help it...” if kenma was really listening, he would’ve heard the shakiness in your voice, the apprehension in your words but he didn’t. “i can’t help it because i like you, kenma.”

you... what?

kenma pushed himself off of you to look you in the face, to find any sign that you’re pranking him or just being cruel but he couldn’t find any.

still, he couldn’t take you at your word, after all who would like someone like him?

“say it again,” his voice comes just under a whisper, his words stilted and unsure but he needs to know, he needs to believe you. he wants to believe you.

“i like you.” you don’t use any big, flowery words, nor do you try and justify why you like him and still, somehow it’s enough. kenma’s eyes filled with tears as they’re trained on you but your eyes were occupied elsewhere.

staring at his lips.

“can i kiss you?” you asked softly, not pressuring or forceful but like that was truly just on your mind and you had to ask it. kenma wasn’t sure how he was supposed to resist when you asked him like that. “please,” was his response, already breathy and absolutely wrecked.

you obliged.

•••smut begin•••

surging forward, you pressed your mouth to his, soft lips meeting chapped ones as you moved them insistently against his own. kenma let out an embarrassing whine at the contact, his hands balling into fists by his sides.

yours, on the other hand, wandered, tracing over the hills and valleys of his chest and back before landing right under the hem of his hoodie. you pulled back, laughing quietly at the way he so eagerly chased your lips while halting him with a hand to his sternum.

“can i take this off?” kenma nodded enthusiastically before he could stop himself and you let out another soft huff as you busied yourself with getting him naked.

he tried to help you where he could, but he was ultimately resigned to bask in your movements, in your control as you manhandled him out of every article of clothing he was wearing until he was as naked as the day he was born.

immediately, the insecurities took hold of him, his mouth opening to stutter out an apology for how he looked. meiko’s voice played in his ears, reminding him he wasn’t what the girls went for being too skinny, too sensitive, too loud.

kenma moved to pick his clothes back up to cover himself before retreating to his room where he could die of shame but your firm hand kept him where he sat.

“you’re beautiful,” you said, like you were saying the sky was blue or the grass was green — as an irrefutable fact. your brows were furrowed at first but the expression melted away to show a softer one, one full of love, admiration, and... lust.

a high-pitched whimper left his lips at your gaze, his cock throbbing against his thigh. you grinned and moved back in to kiss him, your hand moving to his throat to hold him in place, his adam’s apple bobbing against your palm.

your other, unoccupied, hand traveled down his body to rub over a nipple, his back arching into your touch as his breath hitched against your mouth. you let out a hum of approval, continuing your ministrations of pinching and plucking the hard bud before moving further down to take a hold of his cock.

kenma broke away from you, a choked wail erupting from his chest as he bucked up into your grip. “can i make you feel good? can i show you how beautiful you are?” you asked earnestly, your thumb gently caressing his jaw.

“please, please, please,” he begged. under normal circumstances, he would be embarrassed at how easily he’d been folding for you, but it was so much easier to just submit to your capable and willing hands.

“good boy,” you tacked on mindlessly, your blown eyes and kiss-swollen lips only adding to your debauched look. internally, kenma preened at the fact that he was responsible for you looking like that, so feral like you just wanted to eat him up.

which was apparently exactly what you wanted to do, evidenced by you sliding onto your knees in front of him, pressing kisses and sucking marks into his pale thighs.

kenma’s hips stuttered beneath you as he watched you get closer and closer to his throbbing member, the tip already bright red and leaking precum.

suddenly, your eyes shot up to his, pinning him with an intense stare as you slowly, slowly brought him to your mouth, the wet heat enveloping the head before you closed your lips around him and sucked.

holy fucking shit.

his reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips bucked up into your mouth, and a filthy moan escaped from him as you started to get into a nice rhythm sucking his cock.

kenma could barely keep himself quiet, especially when you began toying with his balls, the feeling adding to the coil tightening in his gut.

you pulled all the way off of him before sucking him down the hilt, his mouth opening in a silent scream as you choked around his length, the pleasure that your throat was bringing while you pulsed around him was otherworldly.

he was going to die, he resigned. he was going to die by the biggest orgasm he’d ever had with his penis in your mouth and he was going to love every second of it.

a sharp tap to his inner thigh brought him back down to earth, this bleary eyes trying to focus on your face and once they did, he was taken aback. your eyes held such fondness, such love that he could hardly take it.

kenma couldn’t hold back his thoughts, especially under the intensity of your gaze, his mouth opening to gasp out, “i love you, shit, i love you.”

you pulled off him with a pop but you didn’t stop stroking him, your hand picking up the pace to the point that his thighs were quivering with the strength of his oncoming orgasm.

“say it again,” you threw his words right back at him and if he’d been in his right mind, he might’ve laughed but since he was drowning in pleasure, he immediately followed your orders, groaning out those three words over and over until he was hoarse.

you seemed to enjoy it, so much so that you took the palm of your hand and toyed with the sensitive tip of his cock, sending him right over the edge.

his vision whited out completely as he came with a loud cry of your name, tears trailing from his lashline from the sheer severity of his orgasm, one hand grasped tightly in yours.

•••smut over•••

as kenma came down from his high, he watched you brush his hair from his face before pressing a kiss to his hairline.

“you know, i love you too,” you stated, pulling him up to rest his spent body against your own. he scoffed while playing with your hand, toying with your bare ring finger in a way that you knew was deliberate.

“i figured, you just sucked my dick.” you protested loudly, smacking him gently on the arm when he snickered at your reaction. after your laughter died down, he rested his head back over your heart, listening to the steady beat thrumming beneath his ear.

your hands tangled back into his hair and he felt himself drifting off into dreamland when a loud meow startled him awake again. kyabia (or caviar) stared up at him with unblinking feline eyes, her tail swishing silently against the floor. “oh god, my cat is seeing me naked,” he gasped in horror, your chest heaving against his ear as you cackled.

kyabia quickly got bored and scampered off to who knows where and by that time, kenma was ready to knock back out. you were still laughing though and since you were his human pillow, that just wouldn’t do.

shoving you down on the couch, he buried his head in your chest and muttered a blunt, “sleep,” ignoring the way your giggle made a smile spread across his cheeks.

obviously, you could tell if your own matching grin was anything to go by but you let it be, instead choosing to wrap your arms around him and hold him tighter to your body, like you were trying to pour all your love into the embrace.

kenma only hoped that you would also “let it be” when you caught him ring shopping on his phone just a few weeks later.

it was only a matter of time. why delay when he loved you and you loved him? he knew he couldn’t wait until he could officially call you his.

after all, kozume yn had a nice ring to it.

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smau #haikyuu x reader smau #haikyuu smau #haikyuu #hq x reader smau #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x you #kenma kozume x y/n #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu kenma #hq kenma #haikyuu kenma kozume #hq kenma kozume #kenma smut #kenma kozume smut #kenma fluff #kenma kozume fluff #kenma angst #kenma kozume angst #kenma x reader smut #kenma x reader smau #kenma x fem!reader #kenma kozume x fem!reader #℗ poker face

[sugarbooger513]

Mine (Stepbrother!ChosoxFem!Reader)

This is my collaboration piece for @severelytalentless Are You Afraid of the Dark collab! I had a lot of fun writing this... work. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to my very amazing friends who helped me out during this piece, especially my wifey @kentosovertime and my bestie @roughwithfluff. It wouldn't have ended up as well written as it did without the help.

Warnings: stepcest, possessive nature, unprotected sex (wrap your willies), oral (fem receiving), spit, Choso slaps reader in the face like once, he also slaps in another place, daddy kink, dom Choso, Choso is very petty, mentions of cheating ex, mentions of alcohol and nicotine consumption, degradation, praise, slight breeding kink if you squint

"Don't bother calling me anymore! I see what's more important to you.." You hang up your cell phone and throw it across the room. Your bed feels colder than it usually does, but you lay on it anyways, allowing your tears to flow onto your pillow.

Your boyfriend, now ex, of two years had called you with a plea, begging for your forgiveness. How could you forgive him, though? When you heard about your best friend sleeping with him, you couldn't get the image out of your head. You knew she thought he was attractive, but there was never a worry in your mind that either of them would take it anywhere.

You sit up, suddenly realizing that he would be on his way home from work in an hour, maybe two. You had to leave before he got home. It wasn't like you feared he would hurt you for leaving him, but he would certainly try to guilt you into staying with him.

Your heart rate increases when you realize that you have no idea where you can go. He knows all of your family, and is pretty loved by all of them. Your stepmom even has the habit of calling him her son. 'Her son...'

You rush to grab your phone, dialing the all too familiar number. If there's one person in your family you can call, it's the one he's scared of.

"Y/N," your step brother lets out a long yawn after answering, "what's up?" "B-bubs.." You can hear him drop something on his end. "Honey, why are you crying?" "He.. he cheated on me.. with her.. you were right.."

Choso bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly enraged at the thought. He never liked that guy. When they first met, Choso punched him in the jaw for being an asshole. You were mad at him at the time, but eventually understood why he did it. Since then, your ex was too scared to look Choso in the eyes.

Still, he now finds himself smiling.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?" Your sniffle makes him clench his fist. "He's going.. to be home s-soon." "Drive over here. I'll set up the guest-" "C-can you get me..? I don't want him tracking my car.."

Your pitiful voice goes straight to his crotch. Even though no one else is at his home, he finds himself trying to conceal his half hard cock with the kitchen counter.

"Of course, honey. Pack a bag. I'll be there in twenty." "I-I love you, Choso.. thank you." He has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "I love you too, honey."

When he hangs up, he groans loudly and places his head on the cool marble. "Okay," he talks to himself aloud, "just.. keep yourself in control. You got this, Choso. She's your step sister, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, grabbing his keys.

Still, he can't deny the things you do to him. It makes him feel terrible, but you're so damn tempting. He always figured that your hugs would last a little too long, your eyes scanned him a little too much, your hands lingered on him a little too suggestively.

He knew better, though. Your teenage years were spent on tons of dates with guys who were the complete opposite of your stepbrother. He would sit in his bedroom, no doubt on a video game, while he listened to guy after guy go in and out of your bedroom. It wasn't like you were a whore.

Those guys just eventually showed their true colors.

He knows that when you love, you love with your entire heart. That's why he was there for you through every heartbreak. He would hold you for hours, dry your tears with his own shirts, make you your favorite snacks, take you on long walks so you weren't cooped in the house all day.

Why? Well, because in his mind you already belonged to him.

You pace your living room, already holding your overnight bag in your hand. Of course, you'll probably stay with Choso more than one night, unless your dad tells you to stay with him and your stepmom instead.

Who are you kidding? If Choso offers to let you stay longer, you would much rather stay there.

Your front door opens, and you jump in fear that your ex came back early. "Shhh, honey it's me." "C-Cho.." Choso walks across the room in quick strides to pull you into his strong embrace.

His hands gently cradle you against his body. "He doesn't deserve your tears Y/N. Don't give him the satisfaction." "Y-you tell me that after every breakup, Choso.." "I know. That's because none of them deserve your kindness."

You close your eyes and feel yourself relax in his strong arms. He's never let you down. Choso has been the only guy in your life to prove he would always be there for you. You truly trust him with your life.

That being said, you can't ignore the feelings that have formed over the years for your stepbrother.

Your fingers grip his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer to you. He sighs softly and buries his face in your hair. "Is there anything I can do for you, Y/N?" "Just... don't leave me. Please?"

His heart pounds in his chest at your feeble plea. His throat seems to dry, so he can't manage to speak. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he clears his throat.

"You know I won't, Y/N. I never have." "And never will?" His large hands squeeze your body a bit harshly, but your breath only increases at the feeling.

"I never will. Now, why don't we get you loaded into the car and get you home?" You finally pull away, blinking your still teary eyes at him so innocently. "Home..?"

The look on your face has his body on fire. You look so damn innocent, just like an angel. They're still red and puffy from your crying, but that only has him straining in his pants.

The things he would give to take the innocence from your face this second..

"Of course. My home is yours for as long as you need." He jingles his keys in an attempt for you to hurry and follow.

"What.. what about as long as I want..?"

That sentence has him blushing furiously. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. You're family and I love you, so my home is yours. We should go though. I don't want to-" His sentence is cut short when you wrap your small arms around his frame.

"Cho.. you're the only person in my life that cares this much.." "Don't say that, princess. You know that isn't true." His large hands are so gentle as they rub your back comfortingly. The small action has your heart pounding.

It also has your core burning for more.

"I-I want to stay with you." "Princess, then why are we still here?" There's a hint of laughter in his teasing tone. "I mean.. stay with you." You bury your face in his broad chest, hoping desperately that he gets the hint.

And oh boy does he ever. He can't help the small groan that escapes his throat at the mere thought.

"Y/N.. you don't mean that." You finally look up, shocked at the tint of rosiness on his usually pale cheeks.

"I-I do mean it.. You're the only guy who has ever-" "I'm family." "Not blood. D-Don't act like you don't feel the same Choso!" His eyes widen, and your accusation has him backing away from you, causing your hope to falter. Had you been mistaken this entire time? Had the stares and lingering touches really just been his own way of showing platonic affection.

"Choso.. I-" "Am I truly that obvious, Y/N?" You blink once, twice before giggling softly. "Y-yeah.. have I not been?" "No. Your.. attention always seemed to be on others. I just assumed.. you saw me as your big brother." You shake your head, walking slowly to stand directly in front of him again.

You've always thought his eyes were gorgeous, a slight grey tint over the almost golden color, they truly are their own unique shade, but right now they seem even brighter.

"I.. I was scared. People would.. call us freaks if anything came of any attraction to each other. I mean.. we've known forever that we weren't related, but our parents have been married-" "Going on ten years now. Even dated for five years before that. Trust me," his hand reaches to touch your cheek gently, as if he's afraid he could break you, "I've been bouncing the pros and cons in my head for so many fucking years."

Your cheek fits so easily in his palm, as if it was made to be there. "So.. who gives a damn about the cons anymore?" His eyes darken at your words, suddenly not focused on your gaze, but your lips. "I don't think I do, Princess." He suddenly turns the two of you, pressing your body into the wall that was originally behind him.

His lips hover centimeters over yours, making you whimper pathetically. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you, Y/N." His lips turn at the corners, making the already handsome guy seem even more so. Your hands reach out, gripping the loose t-shirt he's wearing tightly. "I-I need you, Cho. P-please?"

"Well, why don't we take this little.. fiasco to my place?" "No." He tilts his head in confusion as you smirk. "Fuck me on his bed.. onii-chan."

His lips are on yours the instant that word leaves your mouth. Despite the fact you're almost certain that Choso doesn't know what lip balm is, his lips are so plush and soft. It catches you off guard, causing you to moan softly in his mouth.

He isn't shy about exploring your body either. His hands grab every bit of plushness they can. Your hips, thighs, ass, until he finally reaches your breasts. His hands squeeze them harshly, not caring about any actual pain he could bring. You gasp in the kiss, which allows his tongue to finally invade your mouth, easily taking over as the dominant one.

He tastes faintly of cheap wine and cigarettes, but that doesn't shock you. You've spent multiple nights in his room smoking and drinking after rough breakups.

You have to smack at his shoulder a few times before he pulls away, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two of you. He lets out a deep growl before grabbing your arm to yank you upstairs.

He kicks the bedroom door open, not caring about possibly busting the damn thing. "I have waited for so fucking long," he shoves you onto the queen sized bed that you once shared with your ex, "to have you all to myself. Now that I have you..." He pulls the shirt over his head, causing your eyes to shamelessly wander over his toned body. He catches your gaze, causing him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation. "Oh I am never letting you out of my grasp now, little one."

You sit up and, without a second thought, throw your shirt off and into the floor. "A bit possessive, are we?" He chuckles a bit darkly. "I don't see you complaining. Besides," he rips your pants off in one fluid motion, purring at the dark spot already staining your panties, "it seems you know who you belong to." His head is almost instantly between your legs, his hands shoving your thighs open effortlessly.

He licks a long stripe up your covered slit, causing you to mewl. "Go ahead, princess, tell me exactly who owns you." This time he places a small kiss just over your clit. "F-fuck, you!" "Hmmm," his hand comes down to smack your pussy with an unnecessary amount of force. "Not good enough. Try again." He lands another smack, this one making tears prick your eyes.

"W-what do y-you want-" you cry out as he lands two more smacks on you. The pain is startling at first, but it quickly has you moaning in pleasure. "How about that fun little nickname you've given so many men that have entered your bedroom?" You squeak, making him chuckle. "Oh come on, there's no way you thought I never heard you. Always had the fucking nerve," another smack, this one even harder, "to cry out for other men while I was in my bedroom dreaming of making those pretty eyes cry in my bed. Come on, call me that sweet little name and I'll fuck you better than any of those assholes could have."

The last smack has you screaming, and you can't seem to care that any of your neighbors could hear. "D-Daddy! Y-You own me! I-it's always been you, I swear daddy! P-Please fuck me, I-I need it!"

He groans loudly before ripping your panties from your body. "I'll have to remember that you beg beautifully once I get you home." Two of his fingers spread you apart, and he smirks at the puddle of essence already pooling on the bed. "So fucking wet for me, aren't you?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes you try and clamp your thighs closed, but one of his hands shoves it back down. His eyes look up at you as he continues to lap at your drooling pussy. The stare speaks every word he can't at the moment.

This is for his pleasure, not yours, and you're meant to lay back and take what he's giving you.

Your fingers tangle in his raven hair, and the slight pain has him growling against you. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, and he shoves two fingers into you without any warning.

You knew beforehand that Choso had slept with at least a few women, so he's not inexperienced, but you never knew that he was this experienced. His long fingers curl into you, pushing against the spot that has you screaming his name to the heavens. He has to rut against your mattress in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief.

"D-Daddy.. I-I'm g-gonna cum.." He could already tell. Your walls sucked his fingers in as soon as they entered you, so he knew you wouldn't last much longer. "Hmmm," his sharp teeth nip your clit gently, but it still makes you squeak, "I sure hope you aren't telling daddy what you're going to do.. That would be awfully rude of you, little one."

The sheer dominance and control radiating from him has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Since when was your sweet step brother so demanding? "C-can I please cum, daddy? I-It feels t-too good.." You feel that damn smirk against your clit. "Of course, baby. Just scream my name when you do it, okay?"

He really must not like you talking much, because he doesn't let you answer him before he starts ruthlessly pounding his fingers into your cunt. Your entire body arches from the bed as you cry out for him. It takes one last flick of his tongue on your swollen bud to have you writing in the bed, coming completely undone before he even pulled his pants off.

He slows down, but doesn't completely stop, allowing you to ride out your high as he uses his tongue to lap up every drop of sweetness pouring from you. "Good girl, I've got you sweetheart. Are you feeling up for more, or do you need to stop until we go home?"

He sits up, eyeballing your form as he licks his lips clean, ignoring the fact he's dripping your own cum from his chin onto you.

You giggle, still a bit spaced out from the intense orgasm. "W-want you.. inside me, please daddy?" He chuckles softly before reaching to finally unhook your bra and fling it to the side. "Of course baby. Where are your condoms?" "D-Don't have any. I'm on.. the pill." His cheeks flush a bit, but he doesn't question anything else.

He makes quick work of his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers. The outline of his cock alone has you snapping back to reality. When he pulls the boxers down, you outwardly moan when it slaps back against his abdomen. He's much bigger than any guy you've had before. Also, it's so.. pretty.

The shaft is a lot like the rest of his skin, a very pale color that almost shines if sunlight hits it. The head is a soft pink, very reminiscent of the blushes he always seemed to get if you teased him too much, with droplets of precum around it. A large vein runs from the underside of it, and you can see it actually throb the more he stares at you.

"See something you like, love?" You whimper at the very affectionate nickname. "I-is it going to fit? I mean.. I've never.." "Don't worry, little one," he gently lays you back, "daddy will get it to fit. If it hurts too much, just let me know. Okay?" he grabs one of your exes' pillows, placing it gently under your lower back. "O-okay, daddy. I trust you."

His smile warms your heart. "That's my good girl. Spread your legs for me." You nod, following his instructions immediately. His hand reaches between the two of you, grabbing his cock and gently rubbing the tip around your entrance. "You sure you want this, Y/N? I don't want you to feel forced." You whimper, nodding instantly. "P-please fuck me, Choso.. I've waited so long.." You spread your legs more, effortlessly enticing him.

When his tip enters you, you're already a moaning mess. It just feels too good. He watches your expressions intently as he slowly pushes into you, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's about halfway in, he stops completely.

"How you doin' baby? Any pain?" He leans down to give you a gentle kiss. "G-good. I-it kinda burns, but nothing bad, I promise." He smiles against your mouth and starts to push in again. "We're almost there, little one. Just- fuuuuck." He finally bottoms out, the stretch of it making you whimper loudly and wiggle around. He pants on your face, the scent of you still heavy on his breath.

"S-so fucking tight.. can't believe this is happening..”

He chuckles softly, giving a tentative thrust into your heat. You bite down on your lip, finding both pain and pleasure in the burn that courses through your body. "D-daddy-" He cuts off the rest of your sentence by leaning back onto his knees and grabbing the back of both of your thighs. He manhandles you easily into what you can only assume is a mating press.

"So easy to throw around, aren't you? My pretty baby.." He pulls out of you until only his tip is still inside before slamming back in, causing you to see stars. "You take cock like a pro, baby. I wasn't sure a cute little thing like you could handle it." You tighten around him at his foul language, causing him to growl. "I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby. I'll make sure I'm the only one who can make you scream. You want that, baby? Want daddy to fuck the imprint of his cock into your slutty little hole?"

You throw your head back and cry out for him. "P-please! Make me your little toy, daddy. W-want you to own me.. prove who I belong to, please?" You know you've done it now from the way he snarls at you. However, the sudden ringing of your phone makes both of you freeze. He leans back up to wrap your thighs around his torso.

He's the first to reach to the floor and grab it, still buried deep inside of you. "Oh, lookie there.. a video call. Hello?" Did he-

"Choso? Where is Y/N? Why do you have her phone?" Your ex's voice sounds from the speaker, making your eyes shoot open. You meet Choso's eyes, mouthing the words 'hang up' over and over.

"What does it matter? She dumped you and called me." "Of course she did. Dude, let me talk to her." Choso chuckles darkly, finally thrusting into you, making you squeak loudly despite your best effort to stay quiet.

"What was that?" "Y/N. She's currently.. held up. Or.. down, rather." He smirks at his own joke, reaching down his free hand to start circling your clit with his middle finger. The feeling has you tightening your thighs around his waist.

"You... what?" "Are you deaf and stupid? I said she's busy, aren't you little one?" He smirks down at your form, panting and shaking your head in a desperate, silent plea. This can not be how everyone finds out about this. No way in hell.

Choso's mocking pout makes your face flare up. "She seems a little shy. Let me show you instead." "N-no! Choso I-!" The choking gasp from the phone call shuts you up. Choso's eyes show no mercy as he looks at you almost amused. "That isn't what you should be calling me, is it?"

You look directly at the camera on the back of your phone, your face a deep scarlet color. Before you can correct yourself, the hand that was idly playing with your clit launches up, smacking your cheek with enough force to have your eyes switch to his. He smirks and shoves his index and middle fingers in your mouth without warning, making the ring he wears clack a bit painfully into your teeth.

"Pretty little whore just needs to learn some manners. Don't you, love?" He gets a wicked grin seeing how you blabber around his digits, trying so desperately to behave and give him an answer. "Sorry, princess, I didn't quite hear you. Try again for daddy." He shoves his fingers farther down your throat, causing you to gag and cough. Spit pours out of your kiss bruised lips, making Choso moan above you.

Your teary eyes make him pull his fingers out, wiping the spit across your face. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't speak? Silly little girl. Now, what should you be calling me?" "D-Daddy! I'm s-so sorry.." He groans, running his thumb down your bottom lip. He gently pries your mouth open before leaning over you, letting spit fall from his tongue into your waiting mouth. He purrs as you swallow it so obediently. "I know you are. You're such a good girl for me. Oh, he hung up." Choso chuckles softly and tosses your phone back to the floor.

"I believe that I have some work to finish, right baby?" Both of his hands grab your hips, surely leaving bruises, before he starts to mercilessly ram into your sopping cunt. Your throat is still somewhat raw from his fingers being in it not two minutes ago, but he's determined to pull every sound he can from you.

He slides one hand down, harshly pinching and rolling your swollen clit between two fingers. Your cries only encourage his ruthless actions.

"D-daddy I-I.. something.. something doesn't-" Your pleas are cut off when the hand on your hip actually lifts you off the bed, giving him enough access for the tip of his cock to batter into your cervix.

If you aren't sore tomorrow, he hasn't done his job.

Sweat drips down his forehead and chest as he growls deeply. "There we go baby. T-that's the spot. Cum for daddy, want you screaming until my name is the only t-thing you know." His hand starts slapping your exposed clit again, finally throwing you over the edge. When the coil in your abdomen snaps, you scream his name, raw throat be damned.

Choso hisses as you tighten around his cock, spraying his lower abdomen in your essence. "Sh-shit I-" His sentence trails off when he thrusts into you one more time, letting out an animalistic snarl as his own climax washes over him.

You can feel his cock throb as he unloads his seed deep inside you. The feeling makes you tremble and mewl. There's so much of it that it still manages to spill out, staining the bed sheets under you.

He's still panting pretty heavily when he slides out of you, careful in case you're still too sensitive. When you squeak, he reaches up to cup your cheek. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." You nuzzle into his hand, placing a small kiss in the palm. "Th-thank you, daddy. I-I'm so tired." When your eyes start to flutter shut, he carefully stands from the bed, shamelessly admiring your disheveled state. "I'm sure you are. Let me get us cleaned up. Then I'll take you home, okay?"

Your small nod is plenty of an answer, so he rushes to the bathroom to search for a rag. He takes only a few seconds to wipe himself clean before rushing back to your side. You wince slightly at the feeling of the cloth wiping you down. "Shhhh, daddy's got you baby. I'll be done in just a second." He smiles to himself as you visibly relax into his touch, allowing him to finish.

"You know," he chuckles as he helps you pull your clothes back on, "your dad is going to try and kill me." "Your mom is going to call me every name in the book." He nods in agreement, finally starting to dress himself.

"So.. should we stay quiet? I imagine shit-for-brain isn't going to, but we can play that off as him being an idiot." You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of either decision.

There's no doubt in your mind, you want to be with Choso. It's clear he's willing to do whatever you want, but from the look in his eyes, the answer is obvious.

"I'm not hiding it." He blinks at you in shock. "B-baby.. your repu-" You stand up, despite your legs screaming in pain. He's quick to rush over and pull you into his chest. "I don't care.. I love you, and I don't want to hide it anymore." You squeak loudly when he picks you up bridal style, holding you easily with one arm.

The kiss he gives you is soft and loving, full of nothing but his affection for you. "I love you too, Y/N. I want nothing more than to tell the world that."

He carries you downstairs to grab your overnight bag, and then out to put you in his car. He really refuses to let you do anything, since he even leans inside to buckle you up. Your protests have him laughing. "When you're with me," he kisses your lips after getting into the driver's seat, "you're the spoiled princess. Got it?"

The drive to his house is quiet. He holds your hand the entire time, stroking along it with his thumb, occasionally bringing it to his mouth and kissing each knuckle.

"Oh.. oh shit." "What?" You open your eyes from almost falling asleep.

Your blood freezes when you see what he's looking at. Your dad's car is already parked in his driveway.

Tags: @katgalle, @savonline

#dark content #stepcest tw #choso #choso jjk #jjk choso #stepbrother choso #jjk #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut #choso x fem reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso brainrot #choso supremacy

[stargirlfics]

Daddy!Hen being so confused and worried about why you've been so quiet lately and he knows you're not sleeping well but he hasn't figure out how to ask. Then one morning you wake up alone in bed and panic because he's gone and you can't keep from crying as you wander through his place (bc you know he's probably somewhere but your panic tho) and you find him in the kitchen making breakfast, which he abandons immediately upon seeing yr tears. He holds you so tight and swears he'll never leave you.

I’ve been sitting on this for awhile bc this scenario is very close to home for me, I struggle with abandonment issues and have experienced that fear of waking up and my partner isn’t there but nearby or gets up to do something and I’m so anxious that all I can feel is terrified he’s leaving me and lately I’ve been feeling that anxiety again and decided maybe finding this ask in my inbox again and the second part you sent and writing it will help me put this panic somewhere and maybe help comfort someone who experiences the same so thank you! 💓

Warnings: mentions of angst, abandonment issues/anxiety, ddlg dynamic!

You and Henry both hated having to part from each other in the mornings and adored the stretches of time you could wake up next to each other which was most of the time

But it also wasn’t an odd occurrence for Henry not to be in bed with you when you woke up

He always seemed to wake up before you too, sometimes he’d slip out for a morning run or to make you breakfast and most of the time it didn’t concern you or scare you

But lately things had been off, anxiety swirling deep in your chest, sleep harder and harder to come by, a restless itch in your bones to cling to him, to the people in your life that held things intact bc it all felt like it was slipping away

Henry could sense something was wrong, he was attentive especially so being your Daddy, nothing went unnoticed by him and your silence about what you were feeling told him he needed to coax it out of you

It was very easy for you to get in your head about things and the panic within you was only fueled by overthinking if you should tell him you were slipping back into some of your abandonment anxieties

The words often got caught in your throat and clambered and choked their way back down, back in, back to the silent war in your head in fear that this time he’d surely get tired of this coming up again

So Sunday morning rolled around, a free day for you both and your sleep had been full of half remembered nightmares, a sliver of relief coming when you opened your eyes and knew you could find safety in the arms of the big strong man that you loved so much

Only he wasn’t there

The space he occupied in your shared bed was empty and devoid of any warmth or sign that he had been there

Your heart began to race and tears pricked at your eyes as you jolted upright, frantically scrambling out of bed to find him

You reasoned he had to be nearby, he had to be somewhere, he couldn’t have just left, he couldn’t have slipped away in the middle of the night with his bags packed and enough time to get as far away from you as possible, it just couldn’t be true

Stumbling through the house you check the bathroom, the spare bedroom, hell even the closets in the hallways, crying harder and harder with each second passing that you couldn’t find him

Each step you took, each moment that went on the more the idea cemented in your mind that Henry had finally left, had finally grown tired of being your Daddy, that he wanted nothing to do with you, that he didn’t love you anymore, that you were too much, too messy, too fucked in the head to be around any longer

The panic was rising and loud, clouding your brain, infecting your body, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you down where it could cradle you, old wounds bleeding 

Eventually you stumbled into the kitchen, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw Henry at the stove, something sizzling in a pan but you couldn’t focus on specifics right now 

Relief, hurt, and still panic shot itself through your system and you let go of the sobs you’d been holding in, confusion and dread all spilling out

Henry was about to greet you when he heard your sobs, dropping everything to come to your side

He was worried and trying to get you to calm down between your sobs and tell him what was going on but you couldn’t, all you could do was cling to him tightly and cry into his chest

“I’m here, petal. Daddy’s here, I got you now, you’re ok.”

Henry rubbed your back, hating to see you so upset and crying your heart out and feeling like he couldn’t do anything to help

But eventually your sobs turned into sniffles and you could speak now between shuddering breaths and whimpers, letting Henry dry your eyes and rock you gently in his arms

You refused to be put down, crying again when he tried to set you down on the island counter but calming again when he stayed near you, his arms folding around you

“I-I thought you had left me, Hen. I woke up and you weren’t there and I just got so scared you decided you had enough of me.”

Henry’s heart broke a little hearing your tiny voice so pained and upset but it all clicked into place now, he understood now why you’d been so restless lately, why you had trouble sleeping, why you were so quiet too

“Oh, sweetheart. Look at me please, there you go, there’s my little baby. I know you were scared and I know you’re feeling a lot of big scary feelings right now but I promise you I’m right here, daddy’s not going anywhere. I want to be right here with you and Kal! There’s no other little girl that I want to be mine, ok.”

His voice was gentle, concerned but not upset with you, his words reassuring you that he wasn’t mad or annoyed with you, that he wanted to stay and wanted you and always would

You nodded and buried your face into his chest, just wanting to be near him for awhile longer, your head pounding now from how hard you’d been crying

Henry talked to you for a bit longer, making sure you told him all that you were feeling, doing his best to just listen and let you have the space to express what was hurting before giving you the comfort and love you needed so desperately

And after your tears and sniffles had subsided, he made sure to give you some medicine for your headache and promised that today would be all about you and that he’d let you stick by him all day if you wanted

You both knew you were slipping very much into littlespace, a comfort for you when things were stressful and hard and Henry was more than delighted to take on caregiver duties today

He let you help him finish making breakfast, praising you for flipping the pancakes just right, sitting you in his lap and cutting up your pancake into smaller pieces before feeding them to you and laughing when some of the syrup got on your chin

“Can daddy have a bite too?”

“Mhm, we can share! They’re super yummy.”

The anxiety was still there, you both knew how this went and he could tell it upset you and that you did your best to ignore it and lean into what you knew was true but it didn’t stop you from needing reassurance and more of your tears dried throughout the day

“It’s ok to cry, little one. Sometimes you have to cry to get all the icky out, right? Mhm, and I’m not annoyed, just happy to be right here with you.”

Henry had a few work calls and things to do throughout the day but let you sit next to him and color and play with your stuffies in his office so that you didn’t feel left out!

And when it was your nap time he kept an arm around you, hushing you and soothing you to sleep, reassuring you that he would be right there when you wake up and he’d have your favorite juice box ready too

At dinner he let you help him get all the ingredients out so he could make your favorite dish which made you very happy and excited

He even allowed you to have two scoops of ice cream for dessert too!

And at bedtime he got you ready in your softest jammies and helped you brush your teeth and do your skincare routine before you snuggled into bed with him and you favorite stuffie, your body immediately gravitating towards his

“There we go, you’ve had a long day today, bunny and I’m very proud of you for getting through all those scary feelings today. I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning and guess what?”

“What, daddy?!!”

“I love you with all my heart and I never want to be without my favorite little girl.” 💖

Ok I’m soft, berry soft! I’m glad I wrote this out!

#daddy!henry cavill x little!reader #daddy!henry cavill x black little!reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill headcanons #henry cavill angst #henry cavill blurb

[dreamlessinparis]

Refreshing Bliss

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: When a heat wave becomes too much, Bucky finds a way to cool down his lovers and heat them up.

Warning: no plot, just smut, pool sex, dirty talk, explicit language, Bucky and Steve in a pool, fluff, pet names, 18+

If you're a minor, DNI

Please do not repost, publish or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading :)

A/N: Okay I know I said I'd have this up before the weekend was up and it's now Wednesday, I suck 🙈 haha I'm sorry this took longer than anticipated, but I really hope you like it @thefallenbibliophilequote and it quenches your pool needs😘😊 all mistakes are my own.

You could literally feel the sweltering heat through the glass window you were standing in front of. The heatwave was drastically getting worse and nothing was helping. The inner pool was under construction and the outdoor pool was still being built. Why Tony hadn’t built that with the rest of the compound you would never know. 

Alas despite the high-tech facilities of the place, the AC was having technical issues and in the midst of Tony fixing them, the whole compound was slowly melting. Everyone was down to their skivvies and aside from ogling eyes, there wasn’t any touching. It was too hot to even think about. Which was impossible to fathom considering who you were dating. 

Bucky and Steve had become a permanent fixture in your life since the night of your catastrophic mission. The fear of losing you had caused them to reveal their true feelings and they were ecstatic that you reciprocated them.  Truly you couldn't have been happier and that happiness only grew from there. But recently you were avoiding them, those two ran hotter than the average person and in this heat, it was unbearable to deal with. 

"Bunny?" Steve's voice pulled you away from your thoughts and you looked over your shoulder. He looked absolutely delectable, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips. His sculpted chest was beaded with sweat and your mouth watered at the thought of running your tongue over all the hard planes. 

"Hmm?" you hummed, turning to face him fully. "What's up Steve?"

Your eyes remained glued to his glistening pecs and he chuckled softly.

"Eyes up here bunny," Steve began to walk towards you and you backed away until your bare back was pressed against the heated glass. Your eyes reluctantly broke away from his chest, and widened at the intense look in his eyes.

"Steve, no," you said, placing your hands on his chest, keeping him from coming any closer. The muscles jumped at your touch and you couldn't help the moan that escaped you. 

"No?" His eyebrow cocked, challenging your willpower.

You tried your hardest to gain your resolve, shaking your head slowly. "No Steve, it's too hot." 

"We can make it hotter. Come on, sweetheart, you've been avoiding us for well over a week and we miss you," he said, leaning to place soft kisses on your neck. Your arms buckled slightly, allowing him to take a step closer. His lips brushed over a sensitive spot, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his pecs. 

The groan he let out rumbled through your body and the next thing you knew, he had you pressed hard against the glass and his smoldering body. His thigh found its way between your legs, your shorts barely a barrier. Your hips rocked subconsciously, needing to relieve the ache that had been plaguing you for too long. 

“Steve,” you whimpered, his thigh pressed harder against your core, and your head fell back against the glass with a thud. 

“Yes?” he mumbled into your soft skin. 

“It’s too hot,” you argued weakly, as his warm hand slid underneath your halter top, and cupped your breast. You arched into his touch and for a moment, you thought about saying fuck it and letting him have his way with you. 

But even the pleasure of his body, couldn’t bypass the rising heat, sweat clinging to your skin. It was sticky and hot, but not in a good way. You were getting too irritated to enjoy any of it and Steve felt it, pulling away with a huff. 

“We have to do something about this heat,” he complained, “I can’t keep watching you in these barely-there outfits and not fucking you against every surface.”

You laughed, knowing he was completely right. The heat was going to be the death of everyone in this compound if Tony didn’t figure out a way to make the AC work better.

“I know, Steve. It’s not easy for me either. Watching you and Bucky half-naked, working out in those shorts. It’s torture.” you whined, tossing your hands up in the air in frustration. Steve groaned as the movement caused your breasts to bounce; he adjusted himself, sitting on the bed in a huff. 

Bucky walked in, hair clinging to his face, sweat dripping. He had just finished an outdoor workout with Sam and looked in need of a cold shower. The thought seemed to quickly dissipate as he took in the sight of you still leaning against the glass. The look in his eye told you that he wanted so badly to nail you against it but unlike Steve, he understood that the heat was killing you as much as it was him. Even his metal arm was warm to the touch. 

“Hi Buck,” you smiled, greeting the brunette man. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. His smile lit up his whole face and it made your heart happy, knowing you could make him so carefree and warm. He thought he was lucky to have you but it was just the opposite. You knew though that god if he couldn’t touch you for another day or two, he was going to lose it. 

“Hey doll, how are you doing?”

“Hot, Buck. She’s hot, we’re all fucking hot and I’m going to lose my mind,” Steve ranted, throwing himself back onto the bed. Bucky chuckled at his frustration, even though he could relate. 

“Thank you, Steve. I hadn’t realized how hot it was,” Bucky joked, walking between the two of you to the set of drawers and grabbing a clean pair of boxers. He dropped his shorts to the ground and your jaw dropped with them. His firm asscheeks were taunting you and you just wanted to bite one. You strayed your glance up to the muscles of his back, moving fluidly under his skin as he walked to the bathroom. He was absolutely a work of art, they both were.

“I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll tell you guys about the idea I had for saving us from the heat,” Bucky continued, turning slightly to face you both. With what can only be considered herculean strength, you focused solely on his face and nowhere lower. “Actually, why wait. You two start packing, I’m taking you on to a surprise location.”

Neither you nor Steve moved, eyeing him warily. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“With a pool and great AC,” he finished and the two of you jumped into motion. Chuckling, Bucky entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him as you and Steve rushed to pack. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The house was in a secluded neighborhood a few miles from the compound. It was a two-story cabin-style house, build near the edge of a mountain; the closest neighbor had to be at least a couple miles away if not more. 

You climbed out of the cool car and were immediately slapped in the face by the humidity. Debating for a moment whether you were going to climb back in or make a run for the front door, you decided on the latter. Snatching the keys out of Bucky’s hand, you ran.

“Oh yeah, doll, that’s nice. It’s not like we’re hot or anything.” Bucky quipped, pulling your suitcase out of the back and reaching in for his. 

You ran backward for a moment as you responded, “I know you’re hot, James. That’s why I’m dating you,” and with a smirk on your face, you winked before making your way inside 

It felt like heaven inside, the coolness licking across your skin and making you shiver. Shiver! You couldn’t the last time you shivered. Doing a happy dance, you spun in a quick circle in excitement, taking in the stunning house you were in. 

The open layout of the first floor allowed you see out the back window to the glistening pool. A beautiful, welcoming, infinity pool with a killer view of the mountainscape and the towns below. Your feet carried you through the house, taking in the rustic decorations and the wide, open kitchen, before padding up the stairs. 

There were so many doors, you didn’t know which one to look in first but the open door at the end of the hall did seem quite promising. You heard the boys downstairs with the luggage, Steve noting how nice it felt in here. Leaning over the railing, you waved down at them.

“Hi Bunny, did you find the bedrooms?” Steve asked an air of excitement in his tone. 

“Bucky, whose place is this?” you questioned, ignoring your boyfriend’s horniness for the time being. You were playing with fire and you knew it but sometimes you preferred Steve a little riled up. Brought his Captain voice out and you got turned on just thinking about it. 

“It’s mine, doll,” Bucky answered, coming up the stairs with the luggage, “I bought it a few months ago but they were renovating parts of it and they finished everything up yesterday.”

He walked past you towards the open door and you trailed behind him. You were on a mission and it involved the bed. The room was so spacious that the California king looked smaller than it was. You were about to go jump on the bed, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the brick wall that Steve called his torso. 

“Uh uh, Bucky and I are going to go for a dip first, since you were so eager to run from us earlier. It’s our turn to run from you,” Steve’s velvety baritone filled your ears. You let out a needy whimper as you tried to grind back into him. His grip on you was too tight for you to even wiggle your hips. 

Bucky came up and gave you a light kiss. “Be a good girl, and get your swimsuit doll. We’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

Steve released you and you did as you were told, hoping you’d be rewarded thoroughly. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Bucky was leaning against the wall of the pool, arms resting on the ledge, head resting backwards. Steve was coming out of the water from his lap when the sliding door opened and both pairs of eyes whirled onto you. The bikini you wore left very little to the imagination and you had bought it on a whim, never thinking you’d wear it. 

However, it was the one that Steve had packed and the only other option was to come down nude. Water droplets clung to Steve’s body like little gems as he began to climb out. He held his hand out to you, pulling you in for a chaste kiss before he headed towards the deep end, doing a backflip into the pool, splashing your legs.

The water was so refreshing and despite how welcoming it looked, swimming was not your thing. You gently lowered yourself to the concrete, sliding your legs into the liquid euphoria. It felt blissful and you thought about going all the way in, but you were over the deep end, and the thought of your feet not touching the ground, freaked you the fuck out. 

Bucky swam over to you, large hands resting on your thighs. 

“You’re not getting in doll?” 

“Swimming’s not my thing,” you replied, shaking your head, “I’ll just wait here patiently, while you guys do your thing.” 

“As pretty as you look perched up there, you’d look even prettier if you were wet,” Steve swam up beside Bucky, placing a kiss on your knee. His fingers trailed up your leg, teasing the edge of your bottoms, “Let me rephrase, wetter.” 

His thumb slipped under them, gliding over your pussy lips and your legs spread wider to give him more access. He rubbed light circles on your clit, as Bucky kissed up and down your other leg. You gasped lightly, eye fluttering shut as you tilted your hips forward. 

Steve increased his speed and Bucky switched between kisses and light nips. You were right on the brink of an orgasm when they both pulled back. Your eyes flew open in shock. The two grinned up at you innocently like they didn’t just edge you.

“If you want more, bunny, you’re gonna have to get in,” Steve taunted, wiggling his fingers at you. 

“Steveee,” you pouted, kicking your legs out to splash him. He shook his head, swimming backward away from you. Bucky sensed your hesitation, squeezing your thigh reassuringly.

“We just want you to have fun with us doll. How about you get in and I carry you around? I promise I won’t let you drown.”

His gray blue eyes were sincere as his hands came to rest on your waist, tugging you light forward. Your hands shot out, gripping his shoulders as you allowed him to pull you in. The contrast of the cold water to the hot air raised goosebumps all over your body. Your arms slid loosely around his shoulders as you became fully submerged. Legs wrapped around his slender waist, you clung to him like a koala. 

You were safe in his arms and you knew it, allowing your body to relax. Tilting your head back, you submerged your hair, letting it float behind you like a mermaid. Bucky’s metal hand held you up by the ass, and he used his other arm to maneuver over to the corner where Steve waited. 

You ran your fingers through Bucky’s wet hair as you enjoyed the glide of the water on your skin. They were right, it felt so nice, but it was even nicer being carried around. Noticing that you were in what would be considered the shallow end, you were surprised to see that even with Bucky’s feet touching the ground, the water came up to his biceps. The pool was definitely not built for people who couldn’t swim or were shorter than 6ft, that was for sure.

Steve traced up your spine, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck so that he could kiss you. The kiss was dirty and obscene, making you roll your body, grinding on Bucky’s abs. Steve’s hard cock was pressed against your ass and Bucky rocked his own hard-on against you to create some friction. Steve’s tongue tangled with yours, his grip shifting to your hair, grabbing a hard handful.

You moaned into his mouth, arching forward, your chest cresting out of the water. Bucky licked a path from the valley of your breasts to your collarbone, before biting his way back down. He nuzzled in between your breasts, placing open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

Since you were pressed so snugly between the two supersoldiers, Bucky felt comfortable enough to slide his metal hand up your torso to meet his flesh hand. Cupping your boobs, he kneaded them roughly, enjoying the way you rolled your body in response. His thumbs hooked to the cloth triangles, moving them to the side, as your breasts popped free of their confines. 

Steve’s hand stayed in your hair as he pulled away to give you both a chance to breathe. He shifted his focus to your neck, using your hair to rotate your face to the side giving him better access. His teeth grazed over the delicate skin, drawing a soft mewl out of you. Bucky’s lips wrapped around your nipple, licking and sucking hungrily before his teeth bit down gently and gave it a tug.

“Bucky, fuck.. just like that,” you moaned, eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure.

His metal hand toyed with the other breast, running his thumb over the nipple, hardening it. He pinched it, rolling it between his fingers. His eyes rolled up to look at you and he moaned at the expression of pure ecstasy on your face. The vibrations felt so good and combined with Steve’s assault on your neck, it made you grind your hips harder. 

You could feel the coil tightening when Steve’s hands fell to your waist as he guided you and Bucky to the pool wall. He helped Bucky shift his hold on you, hooking his arms under yours, hands gripping the edge of the pool wall. He then spread your legs wide enough for Bucky to step between them. Steve reached into Bucky’s trunks and grabbed ahold of his dick, pumping him. 

Bucky was now attached to your other nipple, and Steve’s hand made him moan again. His hips bucked and Steve groaned, using his other hand to untie the sides of your bikini. Pulling Bucky out completely, he guided the tip through your swollen folds, coating him in your slick. 

Bucky released your nipple with a pop, burying his head in your neck as Steve lined him up with your pulsing entrance. You moaned loudly as Bucky slid in, the burn of the strength had you digging your nails into both of their biceps.

“You’re so fucking tight, doll. I don’t know if I’m gonna fit,” Bucky grunted, into your neck.

“Oh we’re gonna make it fit, Buck,” Steve growled, “Our girl’s been deprived too long, she needs to be filled to the brim.”

“Don’t stop, Bucky. I can take it,” you begged, head falling back as his hips jerked, inching deeper.

Steve stroked Bucky’s hair as the brunette rocked his hips slowly, the pain turning quickly to pleasure. Bucky kissed your neck, then along the edge of your jaw before capturing your lips. 

Steve gripped Bucky’s ass, guiding him to go faster, watching as each hard thrust made your tits bounce. You felt so full, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you hard. The feeling was so good, the cool water licking along your heated skin, waves caused by the rhythm of Bucky’s movements. 

“How’s that feel Bunny?” Steve asked, stroking himself languidly. He had pulled his trucks off and they were now floating beside Bucky’s on the water. 

Bucky’s growls were low in your ear and the sound of them was making you throb. The fact that your body was causing this god of a man to fall apart, made you feel far too powerful. Your hand tugged on Bucky’s locks, making him groan and fuck you faster.

“So good, Steve,” you panted, “Buck, right there, baby, right fucking there!” Bucky’s hips angled according to your words, hitting your sweet spot with such ferocity that your climax hit out of nothing. Your toes curled hard as your thighs shook from the intensity of the orgasm and its aftershocks. Bucky’s hips kept going as he fucked you through it, the way you were clenching around him made him cum shortly after. He groaned as he shot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls. 

The two of you breathed heavily, Buck’s head resting on your heaving chest. As much as Steve enjoyed the show he was getting impatient so grabbing the back of Buck’s neck, he gently pulled him off you. A sad sigh escaped you as his cock slid out of you. Steve’s arm quickly wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to sink. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’m going to fill you in just a moment,” he shushed you, kissing your temple reassuringly. Bucky’s hands worked quickly to rid you of your top, tossing it over his shoulder to join the rest. “Buck, sit on the ledge. Bunny is going to suck your dick, while I fuck her from behind. Isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes, Steve,” you nodded rapidly, excited by the prospect. You were insatiable when it came to these two and they could fuck you unconscious every day of the week, no problem.

Bucky chuckled at your enthusiasm as he pulled himself up on the ledge.  His cock was already semi erect again. Thank god for that serum. 

Steve held you to him, back to his chest, placing light kisses to your shoulder as he waited for Bucky to get situated. Your boys were so careful with you and you loved them that much more for it. He swam forward until you could hold onto Bucky’s thighs, running your hands over the coiled muscle. Buck’s hand stroked your cheek as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

He smiled wide, loving the sight of you in front of him, leaning down to kiss you deeply. Steve held the back of your thighs up, positioning himself before pushing in. 

“I swear nothing compares to this tight little pussy, bunny. I could stay buried in your warmth all fucking day,” Steve said, bottoming out with a swift thrust of his hips. The stretch of him was easier to adjust to after Bucky, but a slight burn still remained.

 Bucky’s lips muffled your sounds of pleasure. You clenched around Steve, your warmth enveloping him and he moaned loudly. His thrusts found a steady rhythm and you whimpered as you separated from Bucky, resting your head on his thigh to collect yourself for a moment. 

It was getting hard to focus, each drive of his hips knocking the breath out of you. Your fingers languidly ghosted over Bucky’s shaft, making him gasp. Needing him to make more noise, you gathered your strength and turned your attention to the gorgeous cock, the red tip angry and weeping. Your fingers enclosed around it, squeezing lightly, a jolt of excitement ran through you when you heard his breath catch. Collecting the gathered droplets of precum on your thumb, you maintained eye contact as you sucked it off, savoring his salty taste. Bucky’s gaze was heated as the anticipation for your next move tightened his whole body.

Your tongue darted out to circle the tip of Bucky’s hardening cock, your hand wrapped around the base, pumping him. Bucky bit back a moan as your lips wrapped around him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you took him further down your throat. Bucky’s hand found the back of your head as he followed the rhythm of your head. 

“Oh you’re driving me nuts,” Bucky panted, “I know you can handle all of me, doll. Come on, just a little more.” he pushed down lightly to guide you further.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you fought your gag reflex as you swallowed him a little further. Your nose nuzzled the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes before letting your head come up and sinking back down, bobbing faster. 

Steve began to thrust his hips at a brutal speed, hands digging into your hips, holding you buoyant. He had been dreaming of this moment for weeks now and he was so impatient after watching Bucky fuck you. You moaned making Bucky groan and his grip tightened on your hair.  The slurping noises coming out your mouth, combined with the slapping of water spurred both men on. 

Bucky’s hips began to buck, making you choke a little. You flattened your tongue and relaxed your jaw, allowing him to take control. He thrusted into your mouth, holding your head with both hands. Tears streamed down your cheeks, as lines of spit escaped the corners of your lips. You did your best to breathe through your nose, but it became difficult when Bucky buried himself so far down your throat, holding you there for a moment before pulling back. 

His grip eased on your hair allowing you to wrap your hand around his cock, pulling it free from your mouth with a pop, gasping a little. The way your face was flushed, drool and precum all over your chin, light gasps falling from your lips, you looked absolutely cockdrunk and Bucky almost came at the sight of you. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip and you kissed it sweetly, making him smile. Steve took that moment to roll his hips, angling them to sheathe deeper in you.

“Ah shit Steve,” your mouth fell open, gasping as Steve hit the spot that makes you see stars. You clung to Bucky’s thighs as the power of Steve’s ruts, made your breasts hit against the pool tiles. You were a whimpering mess, eyes rolling in the back of your head as you chanted Steve’s name. Steve’s hips slamming against yours harder and harder.

As pretty as the noises coming from you were, Bucky needed to feel your warm mouth on him again. He placed his thumb on your tongue, pulling it out a bit further before he slapped his cock against it. 

He always felt so good in your mouth, the heavy girth of him stretching your mouth wide. You licked a broad stripe down the shaft, tracing the thick vein. Truly you could spend hours worshiping Bucky’s cock; Steve’s was just as amazing but the breathy noises that Buck made were unmatched. 

Steve bit down on your shoulder, as your cunt gripped him snugly. Bucky’s cock twitched against your tongue, you could tell he was close, so you took him back in your mouth, deep throating him to the best of your ability. His eyes slid shut, head lolling back. The feeling was intense; you were stuffed from both ends and your body was overwrought with pleasure. The knot in your stomach was beginning to unravel with every drag of Steve’s veiny cock. 

Steve groaned in your ear, as your orgasm washed over you, feeling your walls pulse.

“Fuck bunny, you’re milking me so good. I’m not gonna last much longer!” The rapid flutters of your silky walls were enough to send him over the edge right after you, flooding you with hot cum deep with each drive of his hips. You screamed around Bucky’s cock, triggering his climax, and his spend shot down your throat. 

Bucky slowly pulled out of you, cradling your head to move onto his thigh as you caught your breath. He leaned back on his hands doing the same. Steve slowly left your warmth, the emptiness making you whimper. He held you carefully shifting you around so you were resting against his chest.  

“I missed you both,” you whispered into his chest. “Can we take a nap now?”

The pair chuckled, as Steve carried you out of the pool, and Bucky wrapped a warm towel around your back. 

“Sure doll, we can nap,” Bucky said, kissing the top of your head.

“And then after we can break in the bed,” Steve stated. 

“And the kitchen,” Bucky added.

“Don’t forget the shower,” you chimed in, sleepily.

“Might as well just ruin the whole house,” Steve laughed, going inside, Bucky sliding the door shut after you.

“Sounds like a plan to me. What do you think doll?”

“Mhmm, great plan. But first, we nap,” you concluded.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @caffiend-queen @fuckandfluff @blackwiddows @sweeterthanthis

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #au stucky #pool sex fic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu angst #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #vicwrites #vicwriteshq

[lovenona]

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.) 

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox. 

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong. 

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met. 

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago. 

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover. 

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.” 

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–” 

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say. 

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up. 

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay. 

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.” 

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda. 

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think. 

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.) 

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.” 

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.” 

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes. 

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full. 

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you. 

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.” 

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.” 

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs. 

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it. 

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?” 

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–” 

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.” 

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly. 

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.” 

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth. 

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?” 

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time. 

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.) 

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?” 

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away. 

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.” 

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.” 

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.” 

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.” 

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is. 

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.” 

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power. 

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name. 

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind. 

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans. 

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.” 

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight. 

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for. 

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being. 

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.” 

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind. 

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.) 

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer. 

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.” 

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge. 

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat. 

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you. 

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water. 

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch. 

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.) 

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone. 

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies. 

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?” 

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way. 

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.” 

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–” 

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.” 

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it. 

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter. 

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence. 

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.” 

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love. 

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone. 

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.” 

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs. 

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.” 

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother. 

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth. 

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets. 

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you. 

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being. 

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”  

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos. 

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum. 

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return. 

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want. 

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”) 

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover. 

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you. 

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now. 

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun. 

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso. #it's dark in here #it's hot in here

[sombreboy]

the alpha⇢hybrid!pjm

⤍18+ ⤍pairing: wolf!hybrid Jimin x human!female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, stranger fuck ⤍word count: 8.5k ⤍warnings: sub!y/n, dom!pjm, profanity, drinking, blowjob, jimin’s compliment kink knows no bounds, he calls you little lamb a lot, degdrading names, unprotected sex, creampie/knotting, light impreg kink, mating, rough fucking, licking, torrential downpour of cum.

A/N: Co-written with lovely @ppersonna​ as an rp. ♡

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything.

The city never sleeps. A saying that has been true for the past century, and it remains true til this day, where humans and hybrids now coexist as equals. Well, as equal as it gets. Hybrids were a superior species with their mixed genetics, gaining attributes from said animals that they have in them. Whether it be stronger bodies, beautiful patterns and physical alterations– they were seen as the greater species. But yet humans managed to keep up, somewhat. It wasn’t that much different. Park Jimin is one of those hybrids. His genetics were intertwined with that of a white wolf, giving his hair a bright blonde color. However, he had it dyed not too long ago, so the color was instead a washed out purple mixed into his blonde curls. His irises were a bright orange, pupils as black as the leather jacket and pants he wore. One wouldn’t think he looked terribly intimidating at a first glance, but his stare could make anybody feel a shiver run down their spine from the sheer intensity of it.

He was the alpha, after all.

Jimin spent every single night at a nightclub that was famous specifically for being dominated by the predatory hybrids. Lions, tigers, snakes, foxes… Wolves. Jimin’s pack was the hybrids that people came for most of the time.For what, you may ask? To get thoroughly fucked without mercy, of course. But that was only possible if you caught their interest, or you’d have to settle for the snake.

Jimin’s pack consisted of three other wolf hybrids… Hoseok, the beta. Which practically means he’s one rank below Jimin, who is the leader. The other two hybrids are Namjoon and Yoongi, who are one rank below Hoseok, making them the deltas. They don’t care, they are content to just follow along with what their leader says, but are often given their own choice to do however they please either way. Together, they form quite the diverse group, and they were notorious and alluring for newcomers and common faces.

Jimin loved it, the dark, crowded underground venue, flashing lights, alcohol… And humans. More often than not, only hybrid women came by. Rich ones. Easy to spot. But what truly had the wolf riled up, was when a human would stumble in. Their scent was an entirely different game. He allowed his pack to separate, but never going too far as they headed to find their own prey for the night, while Jimin himself remained still, leaning against the bar counter with a pink, sugary drink in his hand, straw tightly pressed between his plushy, glossy lips.

It was time to hunt.

~

You weren’t sure what came over you—what drew you to the idea of leaving your cozy and safe, structured life and entering the dark unknown. The nightclub was somewhere you previously steered clear of, even crossed the street to avoid being next to it when walking by. It was decidedly not your scene, and the idea of the strong, intuitive hybrids sent a chill down your spine.

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You stayed away from it like a drug. You knew the moment you gave in, you’d sink down the black hole into utter depravity. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything. It was hard to be confident in such a stifling environment. Your tight little crop top covered only the barest of your modesty, and the tight skirt accentuated your curves. The confidence you felt in the mirror of your apartment soon dissipated as you walked into the loud club. You could feel the hungry stares, the intense eyes of all the men and women in the place.

You didn’t know who or what you were looking for—rather, hoping they would find you instead. You craved the idea of giving up your power, your control to someone who could hold it over you and force you into submission. The thought made your core burn with need. The bartender slid your simple cocktail towards you with a wink as you settled into the stool awkwardly, trying to appear much stronger than the scared little human you were. You knew they all could smell it on you—the mixture of fear and arousal. So many of them approached you, attempted to charm their way inside you, but none of them felt right. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you should have stayed home. You can’t help but feel a burn of shame and disappointment as you chug your drink as quickly as you can to make a desperate dash towards the door.

Your nervous eyes skittered around the room, watched as each ravenous alpha eye-fucked you. It was terrifying, intimidating. It cemented just how wrong you were to come here, until— he came into view. Your breath nearly collapsed in your lungs as you took in the vision of the lavender haired man. He was gorgeous. Not just attractive but ethereal in his visage. Your pupils dilated, heart rate increased as you stared at him. You were blatant in your gaze, unable to wrench your eyes elsewhere. He was simply the most captivating man you’ve ever seen in your life, and your body burned with desperate need for him. After moments of desperate staring, you finally shake yourself off and peer down at your empty drink. Was it him? What was so magnetic about the lithe man? Could he be the one to finally claim what you needed to give up? Your cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and need, hoping that he didn’t notice your blatant ogling. Fuck.

Jimin’s fiery gaze flickered to meet yours the very second he felt your eyes on him, straw still tightly sucked between his lips. He crooked a coy eyebrow at you as he pushed himself up from his leaning position to stand upright, no hesitation in his bones in the way he slowly sauntered over to you. His hips swayed in a light strut, mesmerizing in every sense of the word; the predatory genes within giving him these very traits to be alluring for it’s prey. And it seemed to be working, with the way your eyes were glued on him. He stopped when he was right in front of you, giving just enough space for him to be able to observe your fit from top to bottom, but close enough for you to smell his distinct scent. Sweet, calming– arousing. His natural pheromones didn’t leave anybody unaffected, even turning heads on his way, eyes wide with both surprise and envy that the alpha had approached… well, you. “How refreshing with a new face.” Jimin’s canary voice was sweet, yet it had an undertone of a light growl. His canines poked out as he smiled, plush upper lip curling up to showcase his pearly whites further.

Your blush furthered a deeper shade of rose as he approached. Fuck. He definitely saw you staring. The power in his gaze and strut over to you screamed alpha. Hopefully he wasn’t the kind to bite and then ask questions. You’d unfortunately run into that type before.

The blood in your veins pulsed hard, skyrocketing your nerves. He looked so good. It was almost unfair that someone so fucking beautiful existed. You felt small and plain in comparison to the gorgeous man. His whole being exuded sultry command. You nibbled at your bottom lip as he sauntered up to you. Your body was reacting already to his presence, his voice. The entire club was staring at you, curious of the exchange that would happen between the exquisite man and you, the nervous little human. “I-,” you struggled to answer. If he wasn’t aware of how nervous you were before, he would be now—surely. “I don’t really come to these types of places.”

Try as you might, you couldn’t stop staring at the man’s gorgeous pout and terrifyingly attractive teeth. Your heart beat pounded hard in your head, overpowering the loud beat of music.

“D-do you come here often?” You asked, hoping to be polite despite the pooling arousal and growing fear.

Jimin’s smile slowly morphed into a wolfish grin, the apple of his cheeks puffing up until his eyes were shaped like small crescent moons. He almost looked harmless and inviting. “Cute…” he mused under his breath before he took a daring step closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently run his fingers through the piece of stray hair that had fallen forward over your face. He brought the locks to his nose, inhaling deeply. A low rumble vibrated in his chest.. You smelled divine. Even through the shampoo and possible product, he could smell your scent behind it all. “Yeah, I come here, every. single. night…” Jimin winked before withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his hip, his stance powerful and graceful. His dark pupils quivered when he raked down your body for a second time, the wolf ears sticking out from his hair flickering with curiosity. “Why are you here, little lamb?” He cooes at you, licking his upper teeth as he steps closer. He had no problem hearing you through the booming music, but how would you know? It gave him more of an excuse to get closer. “Looking like that?” Of course he knew why. He could smell why. But it was of no news that Jimin loved to play with his prey, ramp up the anxiety until he could practically taste it on his tongue.

Your heart thumped so loud in your chest you were sure all of the club could hear it. If they couldn’t, they definitely could smell the thrum of anxiety pulsing through you. His voice sizzled in your veins, erupting into flames as it enveloped you. Then, he touched you. The simple act of moving your hair had your mind reeling. You could smell him—he was so close you wanted to bury your face in his chest and breathe deeply. His question caught you off guard. Why were you here? Did you even know the answer to that? Your cherry cheeks flushed and you ducked your head, trying to avoid his sultry and tempting gaze. He continued to get closer and it made you tremble with a mix of fright and need. His power was overwhelming, and all you wanted to do was kneel for him.

“I’m—…not quite sure,” you spoke truthfully as you took another sip of your rapidly melting drink. “I’ve never been here before. I think I wanted something… scary.” Your big doe eyes sought out his, so mystifying with their exotic color and shape. He was truly so gorgeous it made your mouth salivate. You squirmed in your seat, suddenly feeling self conscious of your outfit. “My friend told me I should wear something sexy.” Your cheeks were so hot, so embarrassed by how easily you wanted to give into the terrifyingly attractive alpha. “I’m wondering if maybe this was a bad idea…”

 Although the music around them was blaring, it felt like a long moment of silence dragged on between the two when Jimin didn’t answer for a hot second. He kept his stare fixed on your face, the small expressions of embarrassment, curiosity, and purity drew him in. He’s truly never encountered a human like you before. One that dared to come here despite being so… weak. It was like you were begging to be eaten, dangling like a fresh piece of the finest meat in front of all these hungry predators. Jimin could hear it, the rumbling growls and groans of men in the room, hoping that the alpha wolf would lose interest and leave a piece for them to get a taste.

“Scary?” He suddenly chirped, his smile more of a smirk at this point as he placed his drink on the bar counter, ice jumping in the glass from the harsh clonk. He bent forward to shamelessly brush his cheek against yours, a subtle way of rubbing his scent off on your skin, knowing it’d avert some of the attention around him– he’s already begun to claim you for himself. His hot breath fanned your ear as he spoke.

“I can smell your lust for fear, little lamb… Do I scare you?” Jimin’s hand softly snaked down the curve of your hip, smoothing his ring-clad fingers down your thigh until he was greeted by your scorching skin. He squeezed the flesh between his digits, cold rings digging into your thigh as he exhaled another hot, quivering breath against your neck, loving the way your scent was slowly mixing with his own.

The man’s simple action of brushing his cheek against your own had your body seizing up. You could smell him as he rubbed his soft skin on yours—a heady mix of something fruity and something naturally luscious. It embarrassed you to know how arousing his simple act had been. You chided yourself internally for feeling your body heat at his gentle action. You licked your lips as he whispered hot words into your ear, making a tingle travel down your spine.

“Y-yes,” you murmured. “You scare me more than anyone h-here.” His hands gripping your thigh made a quiet moan escape your lips. It was desperate. You felt overstimulated and yet so desperate to be touched by the terrifying alpha. Suddenly feeling emboldened, your hands gripped at his sides, slipping under his expensive shirt to touch at the toned skin of his obliques and anchoring yourself to him there.

Jimin’s hand flew down to wrap his fingers around your small wrist, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. His hand on your thigh swiftly withdrew, and the loss of his warmth had you internally whining for more. “Did I say you could touch me?” His voice wasn’t hostile, yet it oozed with the asserting of his dominance. “You’re a daring girl.” He smiles at you, the contrast between his hungry gaze and his softly curved lips was confusing to say the least– but there was no doubt that he was not the kind to simply allow anything without permission.

The alpha’s sudden movement and grip on your hand made you squeal with fright—eyes widening and heart stopping its beat in your chest. Your mouth ran dry. Your terror coursed through you with the distinct tang of need. His dominance made you even more desperate. “I’m sorry,” you peeped quietly, itching to move your fingers away in case it angered him further but also needing to feel his tender skin underneath you once more. “I didn’t mean—..” you stuttered as you felt brave enough to peer up in his enchanting eyes. His smile was comforting but the hungry gaze in his stare had you trembling. Jimin cupped your cheek, hushing you with reassurance– although he seemed way too amused with the way you were practically shaking underneath his touch.

“Breathe. We’re all here to have a good time.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, noting just how dry it had become. He decided to order another set of drinks, handing one to you that was the same pink shade as the one he got for himself. “Drink.” He didn’t ask, but he commanded you to accept his offer.

You were powerless to deny any demand the man made. Even if he had asked, you’d still be eating out of the palm of his hand like a terrified and starved pet. His thumb on your lips made you ache to open and accept his digit in your mouth, swirl your tongue around it teasingly. Your eyes sought his—hoping you could portray some of the arousal you felt over your innocent fright. You took a sip—a large one in hopes of lowering your frightened inhibitions to open up more to the beautiful man. “Mmm—,” you hummed as your eyes fluttered to close. “This is delicious.” It was sweet on your tongue, but not cloyingly. It warmed you and made your body loose.

“It’s my favorite.” Jimin agreed, already half way through his own. The entire time he kept his eyes trained on your lips, the darkening color on your cheeks from the heat that both alcohol and his proximity provided. When finished, he stretched his back with a light pop, the shirt he’s wearing underneath the jacket lifting just enough for the prominent V-line that snaked down his pants teasingly on display. His visuals were unmatched. He took off his jacket, leaving it unattended by the counter. No one would dare to touch it anyway, the leather oozing of his distinct scent. Only somebody with a death wish would. He combed his fingers through his hair, licking his lower lip clean form the residue sugar from this drink. His ears perked up when the lights dimmed further, and a new song came into play, booming through the speakers that caused a pleasant vibration to pulse through the building.

“I love this song.” Jimin reached for your arm to tug you out of the chair with him towards the crowded dance floor. As per usual, there was no question of whether you wanted to or not, but with a few drinks, and his intoxicating presence, it didn’t seem too bad. For Jimin, this was just part of his foreplay. He brought you into the crowd, tightly packed with all kinds of scents and musks. But the only one he could smell was yours, slowly morphing with his own as he placed his hands on your hips from behind, nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled. “Feel that? The beat?” He growled into your ear, swaying his hips along with the way he moved yours back and forth.

The music, once quiet and unassuming to you, now became loud and matched the beat of your heart. The alpha was dragging you towards the dance floor and in the midst of the hungry crowd, staring at you from where they rubbed up against each other. Just as you were trying to understand where to move, how to adjust your body to the dance, he pressed himself up behind you and gripped your hips. You could feel your pulse running through your veins and the way his touch electrified your skin. “Y-yeah,” you murmured as your hips began to move without thought. They easily swayed with the man’s guidance and you shivered as his nose pressed into your neck. It was like he couldn’t get enough of your scent, your being. The man’s hyper fixation on you had your core drenched—and you knew he could likely smell just how aroused for him you were. You let your eyes close and follow his guiding hold on your body, your ass pressing back against him to rub and grind along his length. It seemed the alphas drink was bringing you ever so gently out of your shell. “Mmm, I feel the beat right here.”

“Fuck, you smell good…” Jimin growled into your ear, his claw-like grip on your hips tightening to keep you in place as he pressed his hips right back against your ass, his cock prominent through the thin layer of his leather pants. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, it was driving him near insanity to practically taste your arousal on his tongue along with the overwhelming smell. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?” He huffed, tastefully biting your earlobe as one hand smoothed down your thigh to tug at the hem of your dress, unbothered to the fact that other hybrids were spying on them. He wanted them to see the way he got to have you, and they don’t. The way you were oozing with lust for the alpha, the pungent arousal of yours surely drove not just Jimin feral, but every single hybrid in the venue. And no one could say a fucking thing.

It was hard to hold back the peeps of surprise and arousal as you felt the alpha’s growing cock against you. Your body instinctively continued to rub and further agitate the hardening length to fully erect. When you felt his hands on you, your body reacted. You knew your cunt was oozing, likely soaking the satin panties underneath your tight skirt and soon to drip down your leg in a sign of utter submission and need to the alpha behind you. “Y-yes,” you whined. “I n-need you.” The admittance was shameless–the alcohol and lowered inhibitions making it easier for you to admit your desires to the man without regret. You could sense that he was showing you off and you complied, allowed the man to present you to everyone in the club who stared with bloodlust for you. “Please,” you gasped, not quite sure of what you were asking for other than him–more him. “Please, take me.”

Jimins wolfish grin grew against your skin before he swiftly grabbed you by your wrist to pull you with him, guiding the two of you towards privacy. Normally, he’d take his prey to the back, or even home… but there was an urgency within him that was too strong to ignore, there was no time– he needed to claim you now. So he pulled you into the bathroom close by, slamming your back against the wall with a thud the moment the door closed behind you. His heavy breaths were laced with small grunts as he crashed his pillowy lips against yours, hands greedily peeling the skirt of your dress up to expose your ass for him to harshly grab onto, squeezing the soft flesh between his ring clad fingers until it protruded between his digits, sharp nails digging into your delicate skin. “Fuck, you drive me crazy, little lamb.” Jimin hisses between hot kisses, the vibrating growl in his chest growing louder as he bites down on your lower lip to draw more innocent whines from your sweet throat. “Every single male in there wishes they could mate with you, shit… the male pheromones were off the roof, they’re all gonna jerk off to the memory of this–” one of his hands cupped your pussy through your soaked panties, dragging his palm to feel the damp fabric stain his skin. “Of how delicious your cunt smells… it’s like a fucking drug.”

Your eyes widened as the strong and sensual man dragged you from the dance floor to the bathroom. The same terror that once pulled through you now flooded every sense. Had you done something wrong? Was he going to harm you? Your worries were sucked up the second he pressed his lips to yours hungrily. Kissing him was like standing too close to a fire. He was hot, so hot, and before you knew it, you’d be engulfed in his hot, licking flames. His hands felt like palpable sin in your flesh and you needed more. “Please,” you whimpered as his hands cupped at your core. You knew you were a mess—dripping with shameless need for the alpha. The kisses turned deeper as you allowed his tongue entrance into your mouth and sought purchase in his own. Your hands stayed by your sides, itching to touch him but remembering his previous warning. “Please, let me touch you. Anywhere.” It felt like you were dying and the only cure was him—any bit of him on you and underneath your fingertips. “Ahh—,” you whined as his hand continued his assault on your cunt. “It’s a-all for you. I don’t want anyone else, only you.”

Jimin’s auburn gaze glowed as he pulled back from the kiss, his pointy canines poking out as he smiled. “You want to touch me?” He purred as he pressed your body harder back against the wall with his own, gliding the pads of his fingers up and down your clothed slit until he feels the swell of your clit through your panties, only to give it extra attention by circling his digits with just enough pressure. Not enough to satisfy, but not enough to not drive you crazy. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so… But don’t worry, good behavior will be rewarded.” Jimin added with his lighter tone of voice, leaning in to nudge your chin to the side with his nose– like a dog would. He softly grazes the skin of your neck with his nose, lips; a deep inhale through his nostrils triggered a vibrating rumble in his throat, and a prominent, heavy throb in his pants. “We’re not in a rush.” He whispered against your neck before placing open mouthed kisses down your skin until he reached the slope of your neck, feeling as his cock grew harder– the more aggressive his kisses became. From soft pecks, to messy sucking, surely painting your delicate skin with splashes of purple.

Feeling the man all over your body and being denied to touch was maddening, but deliciously so. His fingers dipped into your slit and teased so delicately that you thought you might cry if he didn’t give you something soon. Your moans turned into desperate whines and gasps as you allowed him to continue his thorough torture of your clit. Kissing him felt like sin, like heaven and hell. He was everything you wanted—everything you sought after when you stepped foot into the very club you now were being thoroughly debauched in. His cock felt heavy and thick against you and it made you whisper against his lips in arousal and desperation. He trailed down your body and you let out a shaky moan as you felt his sharp incisors suckle and nip at the delicate skin. “Use me,” you begged gently. “P-Please, make me yours.”

Your hips ground against his, rubbing against his hardened length as much as you could to alleviate the burn between your thighs. “Fuck, I want you so bad, please sir.”

“Such a good girl, asking so nicely.” Jimin’s low voice resembled a mix between his natural voice and a growl, the raspyness of it forcing a chill running down your spine, reminding you that he was indeed not human, but a hungry predator. Which is exactly what he was– well, it’s a part of him he only indulges in on nights like these, in a place like this. Who he was outside of these walls, nobody truly knew. His fingers curled around the fabrics of your panties to swiftly rip them off, carelessly discarding them to the dirty floor. Now exposed, your scent was stronger than ever. He shamelessly inhaled through his nose, eyes fluttering in pleasure, feeling the droplets of precum staining his swollen tip underneath the restraining pants.

“Still reconsidering whether coming here was a good or bad idea?” He asks through his breathy voice as he pulled back to look at your needy expression, all while his hands casually reach down to undo his pants, slowly peeling the leather down his hips. His cock sprung up proudly, drooling with arousal down his glistening skin, a content sigh pushing past his plushy lips. “Hm? You like it?” Jimin’s piercing gaze flickered between his cock and your face, grabbing the shaft with his hand. “Want a taste? All you have to do is drop to your knees on the filthy floor…”

Everything about the man radiated power. He mystified you. He even looked beautiful, gorgeous rather, under the harsh fluorescent lights. You were sure you would follow him off the edge of a cliff if he told you to. You didn’t know his name but you didn’t need to, he had you between his delicate fingers. Your breath hitched as he ripped your soaked panties off your body. The cool air of the bathroom was startling against your heated cunt. It made you gasp out loud. “I-I think it was a good idea,” you gulped. Your eyes were big, pleading and needy as you peered into his own. He had you completely under his spell.

Your mouth watered as the man pushed his skintight pants down and exposed his length to you. It was perfect. Thick and long and curved just right that made your core ache for him. You dropped to your knees without hesitation, ignoring the way the wet floor felt against your body. The floor was disgusting but nothing would stop you from pleasing the alpha. You shimmied your skirt up your body, allowing your bare ass and cunt to be exposed to the open air as you knelt before him.

“Please.” The word was becoming your prayer, repeated to the god above you to grant you your blessings. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue—an obedient little dog in heat. You wanted nothing more than to take him in your mouth without warning but you knew now to wait. You wanted to please the alpha so badly.

Jimin’s eyes darkened immensely at the gorgeous view beneath him, the fiery color of his irises barely visible for they were practically blackened out. If there was something the alpha adored, it was to look down on his prey, being begged to use them as he pleased. You were the perfect plaything for him. “So pretty.” He cooed, a small smile curling up on his upper lip to expose his pointy teeth. He gave his cock a few lazy strokes, his other hand gently combing through your hair before he abruptly curls his fingers to tug at it. He drew you in closer to his red, dripping length as he kept stroking it, eyes not even blinking once as he stared down at you. “Can’t wait to pump you full of my cum… Fuck, such a slut for my cock already.” His words grew filthier the more aroused he became. His patience ran low, so he guided the tip of his drooling cock to your lips, tugging your hair to draw you even closer to take his length down your throat. “Only good girls can take it all. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Come on…”

The intensity of the alphas gaze made you shiver on the sodden ground and you could tell your cunt was dripping, likely even dripping down onto the very same floor. The bite of pain in your hair stung as he gripped you, but it sizzled and burned until it added to the overall sensation and made your nipples harden in delight. You breathed in deep, steeling yourself as his length came closer. His salacious words made you tremble and ooze with excitement. You wanted nothing more than to be a vessel, a hole for him to wrench pleasure from. His length was warm and dripping with precum. It felt so thick and heavy on your tongue as he continued to push it in. You audibly moaned as you felt it push past your uvula. He was so thick and tasted like salt and sweetness. You let your lips close and wrap around him as you took him to the hilt. You flicked your eyes up to him, shining with tears of strain from the thickness choking your throat. You wanted to prove how good you were, how well you could take him.

After a moment of holding his length as deep as it could go, you pulled back slightly to begin a bobbing motion as you sucked greedily on his cock. Saliva pooled around your lips as you drew him in and out, and the sounds you made sucking could be heard over the thumping of the bar music. You wanted to prove yourself to the alpha, show him you could be more than just a one time type of girl. You wanted him to claim you forever.

“Oh, fuck yes…” Jimin’s pillowy lips parted in initial surprise, but quickly he bit back his low groan as it rumbled in his chest. He knew you were needy, but he didn’t expect you to be so greedy to suck him off. And being so good at it on top of being eager to please– it was oddly new. Normally, every past experience of his was not like this, but more like him doing every piece of the work for a ragdoll, so watching you work his cock so willingly, attentive to his own reactions and pleasure in a different way…. It hit something in him that only riled him up further than anybody had ever done previously.

“Deeper. Gag on it, make it messy.” His chest heaved up and down heavily, deep huffs through his nose displaying just how good he feels in between the low moans, no shame in showcasing how good it feels. He presses his back against the wall, craning his neck to get a good look of the way your lips stretched around his thick shaft. “I can hear your cunt dripping… Can scent it, god, it smells divine. Your insides must be aching for me.” He murmurs as he drives his hips forward a bit rougher to meet your movements, eager to feel your throat constrict around him when he hits too far down your throat. “Coat your fingers in your juices, little lamb. Show me.”

The praise made you preen, and even more desperate to prove your worth to the man. His cock was so big inside your mouth it was hard to keep yourself from gagging, but you worked against it and continued to suck and slurp down his length. You obeyed every order, and slicked him up until your mouth was squelching with saliva around him and it dripped from your face like a tap. You whined around his length as you obeyed, keeping up a pace as you buried a hand down to your exposed core. You nearly gasped at the feeling. You were absolutely soaked and dripping with anticipation. Your fingers swirled in the wetness and coated you easily. You desperately wanted to touch your clit and play with yourself to bring you to your own end but you knew now it was better to wait for his instruction.

While maintaining your eager pace and swirling tongue, you lifted your dripping fingers from your cunt and presented them to the man above you, eyes still trained on his own in utter submission.

Jimin’s eyes quivered at the sight, pupils shrinking as he zeroes in on the glossy sheen on your fingers. His cock twitched in your mouth once, twice before he decided that he’d been patient enough… He could not wait any longer to claim you as his own. He pushed his palm against your forehead until his length was ripped from your throat, drool and precum dribbling down your chin. A long string of the juices seeped down his cock, another piece of it connected to your lips. It was an absolute mess, just the way he liked it.

“Up.” He growled, but before you were even able to obey his orders on your own, he pulled you up by your wrist, bringing the very coated fingers of yours into his mouth. All while maintaining eye contact, his swollen, pink lips eagerly sucked your arousal clean from your digits, swirling his skillful, rough tongue. Around, in between… He refused to let a single drop go to waste. “Mm..” he hummed when he let go of your fingers with a pop of his lips, the small smirk in the corners of his mouth widening. A light thudding sound caught your attention from behind him, his fluffy, white tail wagging in excitement, hitting the wall with every whip. “It’s a bit hot… Take my jacket off.” He suddenly asks, but his sweet tone was deceptive with the underlying command luring in his predatory gaze. He turns around, lowering his shoulders to allow you to easily slide the leather off, his tail playfully brushing against your thighs.

You nearly whined as Jimin forced you away from his cock—not wanting to remove yourself from the thick length that fit so perfectly in your drooling mouth. But the whine is cut short by his demand to stand and as he sucks your fingers into his mouth you nearly forget everything else around you. “A-ah, fuck,” you breathed—pupils dilating at the sight of the gorgeous man sucking your juices off your delicate fingers. Your cunt pulsated around nothing, so desperate for his thick cock now that the arousal has dripped down the insides of your thighs. “Yes sir,” you whispered as your fingers found the edges of his jacket and pulled it off his body. His tail makes your eyes widen as the soft fur brushes against your legs. You’ve never been with a hybrid before, never been with an alpha hybrid at that, and you’re eager to learn just how he differs in other ways. You couldn’t help but marvel at the muscles on the lithe man. He’s thin, but built and you found you’re desperate to lick up the defined lines of his abs. “You’re so p-pretty,” you whispered without knowing it escaped you, marveling at the gorgeous man.

Jimin’s tail trembled with more excitement at the praise, oddly enough. He’s been called many things. Sexy, scary, hot, alluring… Pretty? He liked it.

“Yeah?” he breathes out a small chuckle through his nose, pressing his lips together in thought. He shook his head to get rid of his mind wandering too far, instead back to indulging in the moment– focused on the aching throb between his legs. Jimin pulls his shirt over his head to expose his full torso, the tattoo on his ribs on clear display along with the faded, scattered scars adorning his skin in the form of striped, claw like patterns. Now with his body freed from the cage that is fabrics, he didn’t waste another second to grab you by the hips, turn you around to face away from him, and immediately push you forward to force you to use the sink as leverage. The large, dirty mirror on the wall stared back at you, clear enough for you to see the two of you in this sinful moment.

“You’re pretty too. A pretty slut, about to get her pretty little cunt stretched so bad you’ll be ruined for any other male.” Jimin’s canine adorned smile grew as he stared you down through the reflection in the mirror, grasp on your hips moving to the flesh of your ass. His foot kicks your feet apart, forcing you to stand wider and spread for him. A quick glance down and he already sees just how wet and dripping your cunt was. He pushed the head of his cock against your slit, coating it with your juices before gently rocking forward, not going inside, instead just rubbing between your swollen lips.

“So pretty,” you murmured as your eyes washed over him. Your mouth ran dry as he pulled his shirt off and exposed himself to the hard light of the bathroom. He looked like sin incarnate and your body ached to touch. Your fingertips lightly trailed the skin of his abs, grazing over the tattoo with the faintest touch. The cold sink countertop felt like ice against your chest, still heaving with need as the man prepped your body for his entrance. “Please ruin me, alpha,” you begged, peering into his own gaze through the reflection of the mirror. Your knees and legs trembled as he teased his cock against your desperate slit. “Mark me as yours, please. I only want you.” His cock felt so thick even at the entrance, prodding and poking through your sodden folds. A moan wrenched through your lips as it pushed against your clit and slicked with your own arousal.

“Fuck me, please!” The teasing was near torture and you were desperate, pushing your hips back lightly to encourage the man to slip in and ruin you completely.

With lips closed, he smiled, eyebrows raising your desperation. It was almost mocking, yet pleased with just how desperate you were for him. Your initial fear seemed replaced with utter submission and desire to be his. “We’ve only been in here for minutes and you’re already pathetically wet.” As he spoke, his hips snapped forward to grant your one and only wish, filling your soppy hole with his fleshy, rigid cock. He had no desire to ease you into the stretch from his generous girth, immediately pulling back until merely the tip was engulfed by your cunt before drilling back into you with another squelching thrust. “Tight… no other cock must have ever stretched you this well, huh? Fuck..” He bites down his abused lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he had to gather himself. The scent you emitted was incredibly strong, intoxicating to his mind. It was like a high he’s never experienced before, and he knew he was already a lost cause to the addiction that is you.

The feeling of the alpha’s cock filling you completely was unparalleled. You’d never felt something within you so deep, never been stretched so far past your breaking point—and unable to care about the tearing pain. The pleasure outweighed the sizzling burn of pain. He was merciless and your whimpering moans echoed around the damp bathroom. “I—ohhhh fuck,” you gasped as he pushed into you yet again, spearing you nearly in half. It was as if you could feel him deep in your stomach, and you never wanted him to leave your soaked cunt. He was claiming his territory with each torturous thrust inside you that made your throat burn for more. “Only you,” you whimpered as his thrusts became merciless and powerful. “All y-yours now. Oh, god, so good,” you praised. You learned the beautiful man thrived on praise as much as you did on the dominant commands. Your hips moved in time with his powerful purses and the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the small room. “Oh my god, sir,” you cried as fat tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks. “You make me feel so good. I only want your c-cock inside me forever.” You knew now you would be hopelessly tied to the man, and you desperately ached for him to claim you as his own. “P-please, mark me as yours, alpha.”

The low, vibrating growl that rumbled throughout Jimin’s body would have anybody’s fight or flight instincts kicking in– the latter the most logical response from anyone within their right mind. His powerful thrusts were beyond that of what a human was capable of, the skin on your ass bruising with every loud, harsh collision of your bodies. “Only me?” he snarled through a wolfish grin, lips parting in a moan when your cunt clenched around his length. His sharp, claw like nails drew blood as they dug deep into the fleshy part of your waistline, moving your body like a ragdoll to meet his thrusts, your own attempts at doing so barely noticeable. “You want to be my little cockwhore?” Jimin leaned forward, hovering above you as he pressed his chest against your back, the grip on your waist moving to wrap around your torso with one arm, the other clawing at your jaw, forcing you to stare into the reflection in front of you. He keeps you tightly in place, feeling the way your body jiggles and jolts while he fucked into you with insatiable greed. “The alpha’s bitch?” His fiery eyes meet yours through the reflection, his toothy smile growing. He inches closer to drag his flattened tongue up your cheek, a coating of messy saliva dripping down your sweaty skin. Claiming you in every sense of the word.

The man claimed you roughly, making your throat rip with a desperate and wanton moan. His cock was pushing into your cunt deeper than anyone’s ever gone before, harder and with purpose. It was as if the man wanted to fuse your bodies together, become one. You certainly wanted it. His hands on your skin felt hot, feverish. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, at any time he could. You were hopeless addicted now. “Please,” you cried as the tears of pleasure poured from your face. “Claim this cunt as yours. I’m only yours!” You could feel your bliss piquing, building up to the impossible precipice. You whined as you watched your reflection. Your makeup smeared down your face with your sweat and tears. His fingers held your jaw tightly and your cunt pulsed around his heavy cock at the sight. You could see his heavy and thick length spearing into you and retracting smeared in your juices. Something inside you tells you it’s what you want to see for the rest of your life—only his cock ruining you and coaxing torrential orgasms out of you. “Yes! Breed me like the bitch in heat I am!” You cried out loud, no longer caring about your volume. Everyone in the bar could hear your desperate screams for the alpha and it only made you wetter, more aching for the man. “Fill me up with your seed, alpha! I need it, please! Cum inside me!”

The perked wolf ears adorning Jimin’s head flickered with his excitement, pointed forward to make sure he soaks up every little sound you make for him. You were so loud, shamelessly letting every hybrid in the building know just how good the alpha makes you feel. ‘Breed me.’ The words stuck to him, replaying in his mind whilst stuffing you with his cock over and over, the mix of your arousal and his precum dripping down into a puddle at the filthy bathroom floor. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you close as his thrusts changed pace. Still filled with greed and force, but no longer pulling back as much, instead keeping his cock lodged deep inside of you whilst prodding as deep inside of you as he possibly can. Jimin’s cock was on the verge of bursting inside of you, and instinctively he possessively sunk his teeth into the tender skin of your shoulder, shutting his eyes harshly. But just as quickly, his eyes opened back up, staring with wide eyes into the mirror when something he did not expect happened. He knew this was it, there was no going back. With one last, harsh thrust, he stilled his movements abruptly, heavy breathing down your neck as he kept you tightly in place– in case you would panic. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.. Put my little pups inside of you- fuck…” He growled into your skin, gnashing his teeth together. His cock grew inside of you, and he was physically unable to remove himself.

Whether it was intentional or not.. His body had chosen to breed you– to mate with you. “Mine.” He whined, and with that, his cock began to desperately pulsate inside of you as he disposed of his warm cum in heavy, pattern-like gushes. Like a volcano erupting, it didn’t stop, but he kept cumming, holding his hands on your stomach as he felt it start to lightly bulge from the amounts he was able to offer. “Gah…. shit… Look at you.” He could barely hold his voice stable, legs quivering, body twitching with every throb of his rigid length, still snugly wrapped by your cum-stuffed flesh.

Nothing in the world, in your life, has ever felt better than the way the alpha felt as he fucked into you. You barely knew the man, and yet you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over to him for as long as he wanted. You found yourself wanting to surrender your life to him. You felt safe in the security of his arms. As if you were always meant to find him, to be here with him. It didn’t matter that he had you in a damp bathroom, you would have him anyway and place. Your orgasm quickly approached, winding up and throttling you over the edge as your cunt convulsed around him. Your channels tightened and milked him, and you sobbed at the wave of pleasure creating over you.

“Yours,” you whined as your bodies stilled. His cock enlarged inside you, making your eyes widen and whimper as your hands clutched at his arms wrapped around you. You needed to touch him, stabilize yourself as your core widens to accept him and your tummy bulges from the amount of cum he pulses into you. It’s hot, and warm and you can feel it coating your walls thick. Your breathing was rapid, coming down from your high and the minor fright from having his cock widen and remain locked within you as he came.

“So big,” you whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek. “H-hurts… But I can take it. I’ll take it for you.” Your head lolls back and rests on his shoulder, allowing your body to relax around the feeling of his swollen knot. “Anything for you,” you murmured, as if you were in a daze. Your hands held on to his slender arms for support and reassurance, hoping desperately you pleased the alpha enough to keep you forever. “D-did I do okay?” You asked once, quiet as a mouse. Your confidence was quickly diminishing now that your orgasm subsided and your anxieties returned.

Jimin takes a long moment to catch his breath and collect himself, still holding you in his arms as if he never wanted to let you go in the first place. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t have to…

“You did so well, little lamb.” He purrs as he places a, surprisingly, gentle kiss with his pillowy lips against your clammy temple. His hands roam down to smooth his palms over the swell of your stomach, reassuring you that this indeed did please him to the max.

After another few minutes, his length finally went back to its original size, immediately feeling his cum seep out your hole. He pulls out, and the flood of his cum splattered against the floor. But it didn’t seem to faze him at all, instead his attention was set on you, feeling your stomach deflate with each passing second. He turned you around to face him, brushing the damp strand of hair away from your eyes as his features seemed to display nothing but gentle affection, his eyes almost disappearing into thin slits as he smiled. His tail wagged happily, and he decided to bring you in for a chaste kiss on the lips.

“My mate.” he breathes out as if it was a relief to finally have you. And it was, he’d been looking for somebody that would be his true mate for life, but believed he would simply be a lone wolf for eternity. But then you came along, as if destiny had thrown you (or rather, your friend threw you) into this place at this time, like a piece of meat for the alpha to claim.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#fic: the alpha #jimin smut #hybrid jimin #hybrid jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #jimin x you #jimin x yn #jimin x y/n #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts hybrid smut #sombreboy #ppersonna #hybridbtsnetwork

[writinglizards]

Poison in my Veins

Summary: Geralt takes a mix of potions on a hunt and has an uncharacteristically bad reaction. Jaskier helps him deal.

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Mature

Warnings: smut, dubious consent on the basis of sex pollen (but they’re both into it), minor levels of whump

Read on Ao3

Geralt hates potions. He always has, and he probably always will.

They're useful, sure, and he takes them because he needs the edge they provide when he's hunting, but the negatives far outweigh the positives, as far as he's concerned.

Depending on the concoction, they make him prone to headaches, sensitive to light, lightheaded, nauseous. And those are just the mild ones. That's not saying anything about the way they make him look, or how some of the more intense potions feel like they're burning him up, make him twitchy and hypersensitive.

He's mixed a vial of kiss and black blood for his hunt tonight and he knows he's going to need them, even if he hates it, even if he doesn't want to use them. Jaskier's in camp tonight and he doesn't...he doesn't want to have to hide in the trees until he looks normal and approachable again. It's the worst part, feeling strung out and needy and knowing he's got to wait another thirty plus minutes until his eyes change, until the black of his veins fade until he can return to camp.

He hates it.

-----

He knows as soon as he downs the potions in quick succession that something's wrong. He dispatches the garkain taking up residence in the nearby cave smoothly and without problem, but there's a burning under his skin that shouldn't be there, a tight, hot curling in his gut that makes him double over, makes him moan brokenly. It’s not the normal slightly queazy response he has to this mix of potions. It's not...it's not good, this feeling, but he gets the impression it could be, maybe. It feels like being so strung out, so needy that everything hurts, and tears spring to his eyes as he curls tighter into himself, knees hitting the cave floor and he moans again, an unpleasant, painful sound.

It's how Jaskier finds him, however long later.

"Geralt, what--" he stops in the mouth of the cave, and Geralt knows something's really wrong with him because he should have heard him coming, should have--

"Jask," he grinds out, and his voice is thin with pain, "Jask, please--" he doesn't know what he's asking him for, but Jaskier steps forward anyway, puts his hand carefully on Geralt's shoulder as he ducks to get a better look at his face. The touch is like a brand, even through the thick leather of his armor.

"Geralt? Are you okay?"

"Potions," he says, breathless with the tender brush of Jaskier's hand along his arm, the way he squeezes his bicep gently. Even with the barrier between bare skin, it's too much, "hurts."

"Is that--" he trails off, other hand coming up to cup his cheek, force him to look him in the eye. He can feel his face heat, knows that like this his blush will be black like ink instead of red. Jaskier breathes in sharply, thumb rubbing idly back and forth against his cheekbone.

"Yes."

"What can I do to help?" It's...a valid question. But there's not anything that can be done, and if Jaskier isn't going to run screaming, apparently--

"Help me back to camp? Please." It hurts to ask, but not as much as the knotting, painful feeling in his gut, not as much as Jaskier's fingertips on his bare skin. Jaskier nods, more to himself than anything, before working his way under Geralt’s arm and winding his own around Geralt’s waist. When he’s got a good grip on him he stands, dragging Geralt upright with him.

"Oh, fuck," Jaskier gasps when Geralt moans and his knees buckle, almost bringing both of them back to the ground, "work with me, Geralt, I'm trying here."

He focuses on keeping upright, one foot in front of the other as Jaskier leads him from the cave toward their camp. His gut burns unpleasantly and he wants to curl up again so badly. His skin prickles where Jaskier touches and he realizes, belatedly, that what he feels is arousal, so bright and hot it hurts. He wants to wrap his fist around his cock and strip himself until he physically can't take the touch anymore, wants Jaskier to hold him--

"Doing okay?" Jaskier asks when Geralt stumbles, but he keeps a firm grip around his waist, keeps him moving despite the way he drags them both down. Geralt knows he's hard and he knows Jaskier must know, but he hasn't drawn attention to it.

"No," he says honestly, "keep walking." He can see the way Jaskier presses his lips together firmly in response, but he doesn't stop, continues to help Geralt hobble closer to camp, slowly but surely.

By the time they make it back to the camp, Geralt's shaking so hard he can barely stay upright, and Jaskier's gone absolutely silent, breathing ragged as he labors under the majority of Geralt's weight.

He's expecting to be deposited unceremoniously on the ground, but Jaskier lowers him gently beside the fire. As soon as Geralt's knees hit the packed dirt, he's curling forward, moaning lowly.

"Okay, okay, just--" Jaskier's breathless from exertion, but he's still fussing over Geralt, hands working quickly at the clasps of his chest piece as he focuses on freeing him of the heavy leathers, "--give me a minute, Geralt, hold on--"

"Fuck," he mumbles, forcing himself still as Jaskier plucks at the buckles and ties, undoing them deftly. It makes his blood sing to feel Jaskier undressing him, even if he knows that's not how this is going to go.

"I need you to sit back for a minute, Geralt, can you do that?" he asks, palm searing against his back where it rests. He's sure Jaskier means it as a kind of reassurance but all it makes him feel is want.

He doesn't say anything, just forces himself more upright, even as it makes that curl of intense pain flare in his gut. He closes his eyes and forces himself to focus.

There's a high, whining noise in his ears that he realizes belatedly is him. Jaskier's speaking, soft soothing nonsense as he rushes to free the last few ties and pry him out of the armor, and as soon as the heavy weight of it is gone, he's shucking his shirt as well. He shifts to curl back over, but Jaskier doesn't move, a hand pressed gently to his chest. Unbidden, Geralt whines. Jaskier's expression flickers with something, there one minute and gone the next.

"Geralt, you've never...what's going on?"

"Potions," he repeats roughly. "Jask, please--" there's blatant need in his voice, and Jaskier jolts, eyes meeting Geralt's straight on and holding his gaze, which--

"What do you need, love?"

He can't ask that of him, even if he knows Jaskier would give it. This burning feeling will only intensify before it runs itself out. He can...he can wait it out. He's done similar before.

"Space," he says, not meaning it for a moment, but Jaskier nods, shifts back and away to let Geralt curl back around himself, folding his arms on the ground and press his forehead to them tightly. His gut cramps like there's a fist in there, squeezing tight, and he can't help the shocky little sound of pain that filters through his lips when he shifts, his dick catching against the rough fabric of his trousers.

"Geralt?"

"Hurts," he repeats, "sorry, I--" he cuts off when Jaskier presses in close again, not touching but close enough for the calming scent of lavender and pine to wash over him. It makes him ache sharply, makes his dick throb, even if he smells nothing but the sour note of concern under that, tinging with something like fear.

"How's it hurt, love?" he asks softly, and Geralt can feel Jaskier's desire to reach out like a physical thing. It's...worse, somehow, than he thought it would be. His touch burns, but--

"Bad potion mix, they must have been off and I fucked it up, I--" he has to snap his jaw shut or risk biting off his tongue as a wave of shivers hit him, so sharp they're almost, almost pleasant, if it weren't for the aching burn in his gut, "--ah--"

"Geralt?"

"Sorry, I--" he cuts off again, whining as he presses his forehead to his arms, hard. "--Melitele fucking help me."

Jaskier sits silently at his side even though he's practically vibrating with energy, and Geralt just...rides out the sharp swell of it for a few moments, waiting for the bright hot burning need to settle for the time he needs to speak.

"Always a little...ah...but this is, mm--" there's a sharp, needy quality to the noises he keeps making; he can hear them as if they come from another person, "intense." He's panting as if he's run straight from Vizima to Novigrad on foot.

"And there's nothing I can do to help?" he asks, "like a massage or--"

Geralt laughs. It's sharp and painful, more a bark of noise than true laughter. It shocks Jaskier silent.

"Jaskier, I am so hard I can't breathe, you touching me is the problem."

"O-oh," he stutters out, and Geralt wishes he could see his face, gauge his reaction. Is he disgusted? Amused? Merely indifferent? Geralt's already too far gone to read his tone. "Did you...nothing will help?"

"Jerking off might," he bites out, feeling the heat in his cheeks, "but I...it's never been this bad before, I can't fucking think--"

"Do you need help?" Jaskier asks, and the pulse of arousal is so strong it sends him spiraling in another wave of cramps. He cries out this time, trying to ride out the bright hot flare of pain as Jaskier makes his own soft, distressed noises above him.

"You can't help," he gets out eventually. It's supposed to be angry, but it just comes out breathy and weak.

"Okay so you don't--okay," Jaskier says, sounding more like he's talking to himself than Geralt before clearing his throat and sitting up a little straighter, "so you don't want me touching you. Why can't you get yourself off? That should help, yeah?"

"Hurts," he breathes, gut-clenching at the thought of Jaskier watching him. He's just getting that surge of white-hot arousal under control and now it threatens to overwhelm him again, "can't...can't lay flat long enough to--"

"Ah," Jaskier says, as if suddenly getting the picture, "it's...like a cramp? Like that time I had the food poisoning and--"

"Yes," Geralt cuts him off quickly. He doesn't want to think about Jaskier on his knees in any context, even if it involves lots of vomiting and tears.

"Mm, you know what helped with that," Jaskier says, tone conversational, "was when you held me, actually. Do you think that might work?"

Geralt whines again, muscles tensing as the curling heat in his stomach bursts to fresh life again. The thought of Jaskier touching him, holding him so tenderly, even if he's not--

"Please," his traitor of a mouth says before he can catch up to it, "please, it hurts so bad, Jask, I just want--" he cuts off on a sob when Jaskier's palms settle on his back, rubbing warm, soothing circles as he shuffles around him into what his hazy focus assumes must be a better position.

"Alright, Geralt, alright," he's soothing, voice low and warm. Distantly Geralt realizes the fear scent is gone as Jaskier tucks himself across Geralt's back, palms sliding to his hips as he curves over him. "I know it hurts, love, but we're gonna lay back, alright?"

"Can't," he gasps out, hands scrabbling for Jaskier's forearms, hold him closer, "Jaskier, I can't."

"Sure you can," Jaskier says softly, voice honey-sweet and warm, "I know you can, Geralt, you're so strong, love--"

He chokes on a soft sound at the praise, and Jaskier just hums. "I know, darling, you can do it, relax for me."

Slowly, bit by bit, Jaskier works his arms around Geralt's waist and eases him backward until he's sitting upright, knees shaky where they’re bent under him.

"Oh, good job, sweetheart," Jaskier breathes, and Geralt's gut clenches so tight it’s unpleasant, hips twitching, "you're so hard, darling, why don't you take care of that? I'm sure it will take the edge off a little."

He's whining, a thin, sustained noise as he fumbles at the button of his trousers, drawing himself out with shaky hands. He knows from experience that the pull of his own hand feels good, but all he can process is the searing pain, the way it knots his gut and makes him breathless.

"Hey, hey," Jaskier soothes in his ear, hands pressing hard to his stomach just above the jut of his cock, "take it slow, love. Enjoy it." He doesn't enjoy the rough drag of his own hand, but Jaskier's palms against his stomach, right above that licking heat is...

"Fuck," he sobs, hips snapping, but Jaskier just holds him calmly, fingers brushing slowly back and forth across his overheated skin.

"I know, Geralt. Easy, darling," he murmurs. He lets Geralt jerk himself for what feels like an awful stretch of time with no results.

"Isn't working," he rasps out, and he's not sure when he started crying, but there are tears on his cheeks and his throat is raw with them.

"Do you want help?" Jaskier asks, voice calm, and the thought of Jaskier's hands wrapped around his dick--

"Yes, please, oh fuck," he gasps, squirming. Jaskier doesn't even have his hands on him yet, but just the thought--

"Alright, darling, alright," he murmurs, fingers sliding from the flat stretch of his stomach lower to wrap around his cock, and Geralt jerks, coming in long, hot spurts that leave him sobbing, fingers digging into the flesh of Jaskier's thighs as he desperately grasps at something to ground him. "Oh, that's so good, Geralt, there you go, good boy."

"Jaskier," he gasps, not softening in the least as Jaskier continues to work him over, tugging him toward a second peak with skilled fingers and soft words.

"I know, sweetheart, does it still hurt?"

He can't speak, just nods roughly. He moves to press his forearm against his lower stomach and Jaskier lets him before resettling his palm over the top of his arm, a warm, reassuring weight as he continues to jerk him off, slow and smooth.

"That's alright, we'll get you everything you need, Geralt, don't worry, oh, look at you," he breathes when Geralt locks up, spilling a second time over Jaskier's fist and his own thighs, "aren't you a sight?"

"Jaskier, please--"

"You want me to stop?" he asks, touch gentling but not pulling away. He’s worked his trousers and smalls down to his calves at some point, and he kicks free of them, finally bare. Behind him, Jaskier is still clothed, and the contrast makes his skin prickle. All of him aches fiercely, but it's not so bad he feels like he'll die, like he needs to curl into a ball and rock back and forth, sobbing with it, not like earlier.

"No," he mumbles anyway, and Jaskier makes a sweet, approving sound before his lips press against Geralt's shoulder, softly.

"Thank you for letting me help, love," he says, lips brushing skin. He redoubles his efforts, bringing Geralt to an easy third peak, but he can still feel that awful itching burn under his skin that tells him they're not done, even though he's already tired.

"Jaskier--"

"Hm?" he asks. He's paused to play with the head, thumb pressing just a touch shy of too hard under it. It makes his hips twitch, makes him groan. He knows he needs to ask if he wants more than just this, but--

"Would you--" he wets his lips and inadvertently catches sight of his own dick in Jaskier's hand, the way he's swollen angry and nearly purple, the delicate curl of Jaskier's fingers around all that firm flesh, and he watches, raptured, as those fingers stroke to the base, dip to fondle his balls, reach back--

"Yes," he hisses, back arching, and Jaskier rubs a little more firmly against his hole, humming softly.

"You want me to get you off on my fingers? Jerking you off doesn't seem to be helping." It is, of course, but it's a slow depletion of the potions after effects. He knew, even as the burning, itching feeling had settled into his bones, that this was one of the bad ones, one that is easier fucked out of him than fucked through.

"Yes," he husks, "please," and then Jaskier is dragging his hand through the mess of Geralt’s come and pushing one slender digit in, slowly but surely. "Oh, fuck." The ache isn't gone, but it's immediately eased with that slight fullness.

"Breathe, Geralt," Jaskier reminds, and he sucks in a sobbing breath, head lolling on Jaskier's shoulder as he spreads his knees a little wider to give him better access, "there you go, love."

"Fuck me, please," he mumbles, and Jaskier does, moving that single digit in and out nice and easy. The slick of his come eases the way and his head spins as his gut clenches. He needs-- "more, please."

"Eager," Jaskier says, lips pressing to his shoulder again, but there's a second finger nudging against his rim before pressing in, slow and steady, and he chokes on his next breath, "but that's okay. Let me know if it's too much."

It isn't. He wants more, faster, harder, but he doesn't want Jaskier to think he's greedy. It's bad enough he's nearly out of his mind with need, bad enough Jaskier has to see him like this at all, but--

"You're thinking too hard," Jaskier says softly, and he crooks his fingers, brushing against that spot inside him that makes him shake, gasping, "I want you focused on this, Geralt, not whatever's up in that head of yours."

"What if I'm thinking about you?" he whines, prodding for a weakness, anything. Jaskier laughs softly.

"No need to think about me, love, I'm right here." He twists to press his lips to Geralt's cheek at the same time Geralt twists to look back at him and their lips brush, just barely. They both freeze.

"Fuck--" The moment doesn't last long. As Jaskier's fingers still, the heat flares up, sharp and overwhelming, and Geralt's head rolls against his shoulder again as he squirms, trying to encourage Jaskier to move.

"Sorry," he breathes, fingers resuming their easy movement. It quells some of the feeling, but he's still painfully hard, still needy and right on the edge, "sorry, Geralt, can I kiss you?"

"Please," he sobs, twisting his head, lips searching, and then Jaskier is there, lips sliding against his own. Geralt assumes Jaskier will kiss gently, will kiss as thoroughly as he's fucking his fingers into him, slow and controlled and overwhelming. What he gets instead is fierce heat, the slick slide of lips and the quick bite of teeth before the nip is soothed away with the cool lap of his tongue, leaving him gasping.

Jaskier crooks his fingers again as he licks into Geralt's mouth and Geralt comes with a muffled cry, hips twitching as Jaskier milks his prostate, cock spilling over his hip.

Jaskier works him through it, fingers tucked against that spot inside him until it hurts, until he's squirming again and whining, and only then does he back off, fingers easing away from his prostate to play with his rim instead.

"How are we feeling, Geralt?"

"Good," he whines, "Jask, I need--"

"More?" he asks, fingers teasing lightly along his rim until he's panting with it.

"Yes, please, gods fuck me, please--"

"Alright, darling, alright." He kisses him again, quick. "But you are alright though?"

"Yes, Jaskier, please--"

"Alright," he soothes, "touch yourself for me," he says, and then he's pulling away, fingers sliding free. There's an immediate flare in his gut, sharp and painful, but not as bad as it was. Almost...almost manageable. Especially as he wraps his own fist around his cock, movements quick and jerky. He doesn't say anything as Jaskier eases him down onto his back on the hard ground, situates himself between his thighs. He thinks...he thinks maybe he should, but--

"How's it feel?" Jaskier asks, curling his own hand around Geralt's where he's pumping himself roughly still. He jerks in response to the touch, needing Jaskier's more than his own.

"Good," he gasps, "so good, Jask, I--" he bites off the words, teeth sinking into his lower lip. There's...there's no need to tell Jaskier how bad he wants him, no need for Jaskier to know about how he feels. It would make it weird. He's just...he's just here to help.

"Good," Jaskier says, voice rough as he kisses him again, filthy and quick, "want you to feel good, Geralt."

His hand falls away as Jaskier shifts between his thighs and he situates himself around Jaskier's waist. He’s still fully dressed, chemise rucked up, trousers open and dick curving hard and hot from the open vee of his trousers. Compared to Jaskier, Geralt feels open and exposed but he burns with the need to feel Jaskier inside him.

"Don't tease," he says when Jaskier drags the slick head of himself over Geralt's entrance but doesn't push in, "please, Jask."

Jaskier hums and steadies himself wordlessly before pressing in, and the thick, burning pressure makes him shout as he arches into it, hips canting to get him deeper faster.

"Slow," Jaskier grunts, hands on his waist, and Geralt sobs, fingers scrabbling along his shoulders as he yanks him down over his chest, forces him closer.

"Please, need it now, fuck me, please," he gasps, thighs flexing, and Jaskier groans, a deep, primal sound that makes Geralt shiver. "Fuck me hard, Jask, come on--"

Jaskier growls and snaps his hips forward almost brutally as he sinks the rest of the way in and it's perfect, leaves Geralt breathless. There are tears trickling down his cheeks again but it's good, it's so good--

Jaskier doesn't move, wrapping his fist around Geralt's dick and jerking him off hard and fast until he's coming again, Jaskier buried inside him and grinding filthily against his ass but not really moving. Above him, Jaskier hisses, but otherwise doesn't respond, teeth grit in something like a grimace.

"Jask," he slurs out, feeling drunk on pleasure, and Jaskier grunts, leaning forward to kiss him when he tips his chin up needily, "want you to fuck me for real," he mumbles when they part, just enough to breathe, "please."

"'M gonna come if I do that," Jaskier says, words pressed into his lips as he kisses him again, over and over in brief, delightfully filthy little presses.

"'S okay," he says, and it's true; the burning, clenching feeling in his gut has mellowed. He feels...almost normal.

"Are you gonna be okay? I thought you needed to be full?" and the tender care in his voice, despite how rough and deep it is, despite the way his hips twitch restlessly against his ass, makes Geralt flush hot.

"I do," he says softly, "but I want your come in me more," and Jaskier makes a harsh, painful sound.

"You say the prettiest things, Geralt," he gasps, and then he's fitting his palms beneath Geralt's knees and pushing them back to his chest, holding him open. Geralt's own hands settle on his thighs to help as Jaskier pulls back partway before snapping forward again.

The first thrust is like heaven, sharp and pleasurable and almost overwhelming. Geralt makes a sharp, needy noise in response, and Jaskier bares his teeth, expression fierce as he pulls back to fuck into him again, just as hard. The singleminded focus in his eyes makes Geralt feel hot, makes his gut churn and his dick twitch and he can't help but think about how much he wishes this were different--

His thoughts are interrupted by a hand in his hair, yanking hard as Jaskier sinks in again, makes him cry out hoarsely.

"Where are you, Geralt?" Jaskier asks, and it's clear he doesn't mean physically.

"Here," he mumbles anyway, "with you."

"No," Jaskier grunts, hips snapping forward again, and Geralt whimpers, "don't lie to me, Geralt."

"I want you," he sobs out when Jaskier snaps back in again, and Jaskier makes a tsk-ing noise.

"You have me, Geralt, what are you really thinking about?" He tugs the strands in his fist a little harder, tips his head back a little farther as he snaps in again, and Geralt can't help but wail as his cock twitches. He's so close-- "tell me."

"Want you to want me," he gasps, even as he wishes he could strangle the words in his throat--the fierceness in Jaskier's eyes, the intense look there is flaying him open in a way he's never felt before. He couldn't stop them if he wanted to, "want you to want this, Jask, please--"

"You think I don't?" he pants out, still not losing his rhythm, "hm? You think I'd do this for anyone, Geralt?"

He doesn't have an adequate response for him. Of course he doesn't think Jaskier would do this for just anyone, but--

"You think I'm slutty enough to slide between just anyone's thighs, Geralt?" he asks, fingers cinching tighter in Geralt's hair, and he can't help but cry out, back arching.

"N-no, no, fuck, Jask, of course not, I--"

"Then why am I here, Geralt?" he growls out, punctuating the question with the thrust of his hips, and Geralt's thoughts scatter as he nails that place inside him again, leaves him gasping and whining. "Answer me, Geralt. Why am I here?"

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know why Jaskier's here if not out of some twisted sense of loyalty. But he also knows if he says anything about loyalty right now, Jaskier's likely to snap and he's...he doesn't want that.

"I don't know," he gasps, fingers clawing uselessly across his shoulders, and Jaskier hisses at the bite of his nails, "'M sorry, I don't know."

"I want to," Jaskier growls out, forcing Geralt's eyes to meet his with the hand tangled in his hair, "you fucking idiot, I want to."

He doesn't know when Jaskier closes the space between them again to kiss him, but as soon as he does, Geralt can't breathe, needs Jaskier's mouth moving against his own more than he needs air. And still, Jaskier's relentless pace doesn't let up.

"'M gonna come," he gasps against Jaskier's lips, and Jaskier just hums softly in the back of his throat as his fingers rise to flick over his nipples teasingly, and that's it.

Geralt comes hard, shivers wracking his frame as Jaskier works him through it, thrusts angled deliberately to hit his prostate. Each brush feels like coming anew, makes him whine sharply into Jaskier's mouth despite the lack of come painting his stomach--he's come almost dry this time.

He's still whining and clenching around Jaskier's length, still oversensitive, when Jaskier shoves in deep and comes with a strangled noise, lips slipping messily against his own. The feeling of being filled is good, makes him feel loose and pliant, even as Jaskier collapses across his chest, sticky mess between them.

They lay together, silently panting, for a long, tired moment before Jaskier shifts to pull out and rolls off him. Geralt immediately misses the firm weight of him.

He waits for Jaskier to say something in the issuing silence, but he doesn't, just lays there quietly alongside him, only the harshness of his breathing, already easing, between them.

"I'm...sorry," he says awkwardly, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He no longer feels like he might die, but he's still not quite right either, riding the aftershocks of pleasure that make him feel dumb and hazy.

"What for?" Jaskier asks, fingers rising to pluck at the ruined fabric of his chemise before squirming out of it with a sigh, tossing it somewhere to the side.

"For...forcing you into such a position," he says, and Jaskier sighs, an awful, put upon sound.

"You didn't force me into anything, Geralt," he says, "or were you not listening?" The reminder of Jaskier's very attentive lesson makes him flash hot. It's almost upsetting to be turned on again so soon. He doesn't think he could come again if he tried.

"I..."

"Do you need a reminder already?" he asks, voice like steel, and Geralt can't help the whimper that slips through his lips. "I told you I was here because I wanted to be. I do. Too much." Something in Geralt's chest lurches.

"I...not as much as I do," he mumbles, eyes averted. Jaskier is silent so long Geralt can't stand it--he looks back at him, just in time to catch the shock fading to something soft, something like longing.

"What do you mean, Geralt?"

Fuck. Jaskier's really going to make him say it. Again.

"I...told you," he says haltingly, and his cheeks are on fire, "I want you to want me."

"More than just when you're ten seconds from dying without an orgasm," Jaskier says, voice teasing, but there's sincerity behind it, and Geralt feels himself flush harder.

"Yeah."

"Good," Jaskier says simply, "because I do." It...takes Geralt a minute, for his world to readjust.

"You...do?"

"Mm," Jaskier hums, rolling closer and tucking his head under Geralt's chin pointedly. Belatedly, Geralt brings his arms up to wrap around his waist. Nothing about this could be considered comfortable--they're laying on the hard ground feet from Geralt's actual bedroll, Jaskier's still got his trousers on, Geralt can feel come dripping down his thighs and he's absolutely covered in his own spend, itchy where it's already begun to dry.

"Oh," he says softly, and Jaskier gives a snort of laughter, pressing a kiss to Geralt's collarbone.

"Thought you already knew, darling."

"I...did not," he says, and everything has a surreal, slightly fuzzy quality to it. It's...probably the after-affects of the potion, coupled with the haze of pleasure still running through him.

"Mm, well now you do," Jaskier says, "what are you gonna do about it?" It's teasing again, soft. Geralt sighs, a quiet, content gust of breath.

"'M gonna nap," he slurs out, dragging Jaskier closer to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "and then we'll see about repaying your...favor," he mumbles, and Jaskier laughs, bright and soft.

"I'll hold you to that."

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: mature #this is more purely self indulgent smut bc i promised myself a potions fic and STILL had not got around to it

[rymndsmth]

note #10 (kai havertz)

from july 20th 2020,

"something to fill this hole inside"

tw: dr*g use, 18+ content

For as long as she could remember she’d bounced around.

Never able to stay in the same school for too long without wanting to transfer, until she dropped out entirely. Switching jobs every few months, mostly after having a major blowout with one of her superiors.

It felt like there was something inside her that just wanted. That needed. And god did she wish she knew what the fuck it was exactly that this thing craved. It wasn’t for lack of trying that she didn’t have an answer.

She’d done it all. From the endless partying, drinking until she blacked out and ended up places she couldn’t describe. Doing so much drugs that she couldn’t feel her face for hours after the high had died.

There was even a moment where she had gone cold turkey on it all, and moved to a mountain retreat where wellness was the only focus. The only thing the two weeks she’d lasted in those woods taught her was that her mind was a terrifying place, and that she’d rather not be alone with it for any extended period of time.

People came next. She found herself going through guys and girls as quickly as she did a pack of cigarettes. They lost her interest at the same rate that they had gained it. That was all true until him.

She should’ve known she was going to be in deep when she spent minutes on end staring into his eyes, trying to figure out if they were more blue or green, or an equal balance of the two. That definitely should’ve been painfully obvious when she traced along his strong brow with with one thumb while mirroring the movement over his lips with the other.

Her ears felt like they were on fire when he said, I’m Kai.

Sure you are, she thought as she tested the taste of his lips.

Lime, mint, tequila. She was never a fan of mojitos, but somehow he made them rival rum and coke for her favorite drink. They consumed one another, the joining of two storms to create a fearful entity.

It was as if someone shot the most potent substance straight into her chest. The clothes he had were ripped from his body as she mounted him. There was no need for any extras, she was ready for him the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Like she was made for him.

And Kai fit her as if he was. Perfectly tucked into her walls, just reaching her cervix. Her back arched and she cried, he gripped her hips and groaned. They were suspended in time, destroying and rebuilding one another until it was physically impossible to continue any longer.

Kai was magnificent. She never tired of staring into his eyes, or watching his lithe body move about even the most mundane tasks. Her hands creeped around the peaks and valleys of his chest and back, like she was trying to figure out a way to blindly navigate her way back home should she ever get lost.

The concept of soulmates sounded like complete bullshit, but it all made sense with him. As intense as she was, he knew how to spot the gaps to reach her vulnerability. He touched more than her body, but her mind and her spirit. With him, she was able to come undone without fear.

She understood what was missing then. It wasn’t the highs, or the chaos, or the sex.

It was understanding. The helping hand without expectation of repayment. A place that was safe enough to drop the skin from her bones and lay bare every single detail without judgment. It was home.

Kai was home, and he was the first and only place she’d never wanted to leave.

#kai havertz #kai havertz x reader #kai havertz x yn #kai havertz imagine #chelsea fc #fics.n