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#and over breakfast he told me that he's had enough
xoxunhinged · 2 days
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A stray cat wanders into the base and follows Simon around. You overhear him crooning “good girl” to it and you’re instantly reduced to a puddle 🫠🫠 hoping you’ll catch him saying it again. He’ll totally use it against you though if he realises the effect it has on you
Meow bestie!
This is adorable I love it! I got carried away, I sawry 🥹👉👈
Simon has never had pets.
He’s away so often, he couldn’t look after them. Also getting attached to things isn’t really something he wants to engage with.
Things get broken or lost. Animals shuffle off the mortal coil too soon and sometimes people do as well.
So when the scrawniest looking cat wanders up to him one night on base, he ignores it. Inhaling the last of his cigarette and tossing it onto the gravel beneath him.
The cat meows and rubs against his legs, unfazed by his daunting presence, eyeblack or mask.
“I ain’t got any food.” Si tells it sternly.
It gives his knee a soft headbutt. In spite of himself, he bends down and scratches it’s little face.
But as he begins the walk back to his room, his new friend follows happily. Si tries to shut the door on it, but it yowls so loudly outside that he caves in to get some shut eye.
When he wakes up, it’s curled on his bare chest, purring happily.
Several weeks later, ‘Kitty’ the imaginatively named cat, is a permanent fixture on base. She adores Soap and Gaz, sitting in their laps during briefings, but her real affections lie with Simon.
Crossing the canteen early one morning, ready to make coffee, you overhear Si in the kitchen.
“There’s your breakfast. Eat it slowly now yeah?”
Your feet stop in their tracks. Simon Riley is intimidating, Ghost is even more scary. You haven’t had much to do with him so far, other than admiring the way he looks in his tactical gear from a distance.
“Good girl Kitty, you’re such a good girl ain’t ya.” His voice is so soft and the effect it has on you is almost instantaneous.
Cheeks hot, you’re almost panting at the way he’s talking to his bloody cat.
Surreptitiously, you creep round the corner and eye him. Kitty is on the counter of the small kitchen, face covered with cat food, while Simon tickles her ears.
Deciding you’re not brave enough to interrupt the tender scene, you sneak back out of the canteen. But you can’t get Si’s voice out of your head, it plays on repeat all day.
Three mornings in a row, you quietly observe him feeding the cat, dying internally every time he calls her a ‘good girl’.
He says it once when you’re in a meeting with him and Soap, as Kitty jumps into his lap. Honestly you have to suppress a squirm in your chair.
Simon looks at you through his balaclava, eyes narrowing, but doesn’t say anything. You swear you see his mask twitch slightly with humour.
The next morning, as you finish your usual ritual in the canteen, a deep voice stops you in your tracks. You’d been heading for the door, brain full of thoughts about being Si’s good girl.
“Think you’re being fuckin sneaky don’t you.”
You cringe, turning to face him. His broad shoulders are set and he’s crossed both arms over his muscled chest.
Words die on your tongue. Kitty paws at your boot laces.
“Why d’ya keep coming in here and then leaving without sayin anything?” Simon asks, head tilting in a way that makes your stomach clench.
“Don’t want to interrupt you.” You whisper, trying to back away.
Simon chuckles.
“Liar. And if you were interrupting me I’d have told you off already.”
God your eyes are about to pop out of your head, you’re sure of it. He’s so fine, dark eyes burning into yours with interest.
Then his mask twitches again.
“Be a good girl, go and get your coffee. Get me one too ta? Black two sugars.”
You almost get on your knees for him then and there.
Why do I now wanna add Simon and Kitty to my ever expanding WIP list 😩
Also I cannot find the artist to credit on this cute art 😭 please let me know if it’s yours or you have a tag so I can add! (Found on Pinterest)
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zvdvdlvr · 2 days
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— Odd
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🧹 — Symopsis. Ominis decides to sit with you as you finish your breakfast. An odd- and flirtatios- conversation ensues.
🧹 — Warnings. Flirting. Weird situations. Someone’s finger ends up in someone’s mouth. Weird scenario. Mention of the One and Only Sebastian Sallow. Mention of crutiatus curse. No mention of reader’s gender or pronouns or house.
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“Good morning,” a voice greeted beside you. Turning, you saw Ominis Gaunt’s milky grey eyes. He had a small smile on his face, his head cocked.
“Hello.” You greeted, voice raspy from dissuse. 
Ominis busied himself by preparing his plate. It consisted of figgy pudding (ew), toast with perfectly melted butter, and two medium sized waffles. What an odd combination, you thought.
“Why are you sitting next to me? Sebastian normally follows your every movement,” you asked, finishing up the last bite of your breakfast. You admit, Ominis arrived at an unsavory time, but you liked him enough to stay and converse with him.
Ominis stiffened. “He… has been his usual annoying and persistent self. I needed to speak to someone else for once.”
Your eyebrow raised; Sevastian himself had told you that Ominis didn’t really talk to other people. Unless there was a reason. He was perfectly polite, of course, but Ominis just wasn’t the person to strike up conversation with just anyone. Intriguing, you thought. “I see,” you replied casually. “Is there a reason I’m the person you chose to speak to?”
Ominis nodded. “There is, indeed.” Ominis placed his almost finished toast back on the plate. “I understand that you probably don’t have the best perception or impression of me after I… my rather rude outburst to you about lying about the Undercoft. And for me letting Sebastian crucio you without argument.”
You shrugged, knowing Ominis would understand your movement without the ability to see. “I’d… it’s… Someone crucio-ing me is bound to happen at the rate I’m investigating into Ranrok and Rookwood….” The sound of Rookwood’s ‘avada kedavra’ had rung through your mind. Poor Natty had brushed it off, but you felt bad for her: she hadn’t signed up to have grown men try to kill her. “I’m glad the first time was with people that weren’t doing it for malicious intent,” you finished hastily. You didn’t really know what to say. Ominis had set his boundaries and was upset about being in the scriptorium at all- and he had a good reason to be. Sebastian’s response to you volunteering for the curse was a little odd, but you know that’s just how he is. “I know we’ve already been over this, but I am truly sorry about making you go with us.”
Ominis looked incredulous. “We tortured you and you’re the one apologizing? Y/n, darling, you need to get out and meet new people.”
You huffed a laugh. “You’re one to talk,” you  shot back, taking a sip from your goblet.
“I guess you’re right about that. Matter of fact, you’re right about almost everything.”
You shrugged. “I’ve been placed in a unique set of sitautions that not many others have experienced. I guess knowledge and a fast reaction time is necessary,” you rambler, hating how you sounded so preachy.
“An admirable trait, I must admit,” Ominis murmured. His face was turned to yours, close enough you could see some of the melted butter gathered by his lip.
“There’s butter on your mouth,” you mumbled carefully, treading carefully.
The blond only hummed. “Help a blind man out?” He asked, voice low. 
Had it been anyone else, you would have hit them upside the head and depulso’d them. An odd request, especially considering the fact that you hadn’t spoken to each other that much. But the way he had fretted over you as the pain of the cruciatus curse brought you to the ground was something that lingered in your mind. He had rushed over you after your poorly withheld screams had successfully pierced his eardrums for more than humanly necessary. Despite his blindness, he had slipped his arm under your shoulder and stood up. You shuddered and leaned into his arms, thankful for the feeling of human warmth. 
And then there was Ominis’s habit of looking for you in the Great Hall whenever he felt your aura (odd, but he had taken a liking to you, despite your limited encounters). You always felt his presence searching for yours, bit you assumed it aas to make sure you were still alive and kicking: after all, you were Sebastian’s friend.
You reached up and swiped your thumb on Ominis’s bottom lip, gathering the melted butter. “Open,” you whispered. 
The dull conversations taking place at tables all around the Great Hall were silenced. Ominis opened hs mouth and you slipped your thumb in his mouth. As bizarre and disgusting it was, Ominis enjoyed the feeling of you so close to him, even in this way. After Ominis’s tongue had swiped the butter off you pulled away and wiped the excess saliva on a napkin.
Ominis’s eyes were a touch darker now. He sighed shakily, thinking of how you had commanded him to open his mouth and how willing he was to follow your order. He cleared his throat. “Well.”
You smiled slightly, seeing the blush painting Ominis’s cheeks. “I’ll be out in the Pitch today. Come find me later and we can work on… spell practice.”
Ominis nodded. “Very well. I will.”
As you got up and walked away, Ominis rested his head in his hands. As he had expected, you flirted back with a talent that rivaled Sebastian Sallow himself. And the tent in his pants proved just how fond he had grown to you.
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lostloveletters · 3 days
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Little Wing (John Brady x OC)
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Summary: Kate "Woody" Woodward and John Brady have it bad for each other, except Woody's convinced he doesn't care for her and Brady's convinced he messed up his shot with her. They prove each other wrong.
Note: Woody and Brady’s first kiss fic yay🤭 Title comes from the Jimi Hendrix song (which is on Woody’s playlist).  I know I keep saying this, but I’m so overwhelmed with the response to Woody/Brady, I didn’t expect it at all, and it means so much to me🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Suggestive to a point, but not explicit. Light miscommunication plotline.
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Darla had been the one who pointed it out. The Texan wasn’t one for biting her tongue, and expressed earlier that day while they were eating lunch with Meg that John Brady wasn’t making himself scarce around the hardstand, or the hangar. Wherever that downed plane of his was while they were working on it, he’d inevitably show up at some point. 
“‘S like he don’t think we can fix a damn plane,” Darla said through a mouthful of toast, stale from that morning’s breakfast. The guys in the kitchen knew the three of them weren’t ones to pass up food just because it was a few hours old.
“I got the same thing at my pop’s shop back home. These fellas would bring in their cars and tell ‘im they didn’t want me workin’ on them. Half of ‘em didn’t even know how to change a tire,” Meg agreed, her thick Boston accent making Woody have to strain to understand what she was saying sometimes.
Darla shook her head. “Some ‘a these flyboys, I swear to god they got more swagger than sense.”
Woody didn’t want to tell them that Brady’s frequenting their work area might have coincided with the one day he showed up to check on how things were going, and she apparently struck a nerve by trying to be nice—something she was rusty at despite her best efforts. So he’d hang around and watch, sometimes not saying very much at all while puffing away at his pipe. Made her feel tantalizingly scrutinized beneath his stormy gaze.
His crew were all nice enough guys. A little rowdy sometimes, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Still, their pilot’s recent behavior made it tough for her to shake the feeling that he wasn’t all that fond of her. A damn shame, because she had it bad for him. Figured it was the first time she was into a guy who was decent.
Earlier that week, Hambone waited out the English rain in the hangar with her, telling her what he and the rest of them did before the war. Mostly recent high school graduates or everyday working guys. She didn’t find it surprising that the pilot had a degree, but almost couldn’t believe her ears when Hambone told her that Brady was a musician before the war. If anyone deserved to walk around with the swagger most of the pilots did, it was Brady, in her opinion, yet to her, he seemed level-headed and reserved. 
She had left lunch with Darla and Meg that afternoon with a newfound resolve to win Brady over somehow. If not for her own sake, then to at least not make her own faux pas the other girls’ problem.
Her quip to Holly about John Brady and his cockpit was mostly for her best friend’s amusement. Anything in her past she’d remotely consider a relationship boiled down to little more than sex. Never exclusive, and never all that satisfying, either. 
Woody nearly scoffed at herself. As if he’d want anything to do with a woman like her.
“Evening, Lieutenant,” she said as he walked up.
He sighed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You don’t have to be so formal, Woody. It’s just us out here.”
“Bucky and Holly are listening to the Yankees at the Nationals.” She nodded in the direction of the jeep in the distance. “They made some bet on it.”
“I hardly think that counts considering how far they are.”
She hesitated. “If you say so.” Stopped herself from adding ‘sir’ at the end. 
The following ten or so minutes were all hers. Pointed out every inch of the plane that’d been worked on since he last came by. Had an answer for all of his questions or concerns. She didn’t miss a single detail, wanting him to know yes, she was serious, and yes, she could fix a damn plane. Got the same thrill she did when she’d tell people how she souped up their cars to race, watching the appreciation and at times disbelief for her work on their face.
“Still got some kinks to work out, but it should be coming along a lot quicker now,” she said.
“You did all of that since yesterday?”
“I can’t take all the credit. Darla and Meg helped out, too.”
He cracked a grin, his pipe between his teeth. “You’re pretty damn good, Woody.”
She smiled. Her heart might’ve skipped a beat or two. “Thank you.”
“You must’ve been a mechanic before this, huh?”
“Here and there,” she said. Eager to steer the conversation away from herself, she quickly added, “You’re a musician, aren’t you?”
“I am. I got my degree in music, too.”
“Let me guess what you play…” She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t strike me as a tuba man.”
The slightest smile worked its way onto his face. “No, I’m not.”
“Way too smart to be playing the triangle.”
“Hey, don’t count out the triangle.”
“You’re pulling my leg!” She laughed, silently proud of herself for not saying 'You're fucking with me' which otherwise would've been her reflexive response. “Alright, I’m gonna make my real guess now.” She pursed her lips as she considered her options. “Clarinet?”
He nodded. “And saxophone.”
“Both? Oh, I’d love to hear you play sometime,” she said. “Either. Whichever one you like best.”
“I play with the band in the officer’s club once in a while. You should come by. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there.”
“I’m not an officer.”
“I’ll make sure no one kicks you out.”
“Are you offering to be my personal muscle?” she half-joked. 
He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think you need it, but sure.”
“Thanks, John,” she said. “Unless you prefer Jack? Or just John?”
“What do you think suits me?” he asked.
“Well, I like Johnny, if you’re really asking.” She smiled like she was letting him in on a secret, like she knew all along he’d be Johnny to her. 
It was her eyes that got him, though. The same green he saw when someone else made her laugh or how just about everyone seemed to have some anecdote about Woody—how she helped them out or told a joke that was just the thing to lift their spirits.  But for all of the stories about Woody, the undertones of admiration or outright expressions of desire within them, nobody had one like his. Kissed his cheek without hesitation. Looked at him with those forest green eyes he could lose a hundred years in. Just when he was sure he had his chance and missed it, he was Johnny, and instead of getting lost in that forest, he knew exactly where he was going, how to push his way through and find her.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, staring above them and shaking her head. 
Woody grabbed a screwdriver and kicked over a wooden milk crate that had seen better days. She tentatively placed her boot on it, pressing down a moment before stepping up.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t reach otherwise.”
“That thing’s about as flimsy as cardboard,” he said, setting his pipe aside. “You’ll break your neck.” His strong hands were on her hips before he finished speaking. Held her steady as she stood on top of the crate.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. 
She worked in silence until she stood on her toes, and the crate wobbled ominously beneath her. “I can’t see. Can you get me a flashlight and—”
He squeezed her hips in frustration. “Woody, just do it tomorrow. It’s not worth getting hurt over.”
“Help me down, Johnny?” she asked, turning slightly in his hold, her eyes flashed an unmistakable desire that nearly sent him to his knees.
He kept one hand on her waist, the other holding her free hand as she stepped down from the crate. A flash of red spread across her cheeks, and he was drawn in closer like a moth to flame, following her to the nearby toolbox where she put the screwdriver back in place, double-checking the contents before locking it up for the night.
“You got something…” His thumb brushed just below her lip. They stared at each other in silence, voice caught in his throat before he closed the gap between them, cradling her chin in his hand as he kissed her. 
A shock to her system, there was something uniquely vulgar in his tenderness. Past lips on her own had been rough and selfish, part of a song and dance she grew tired of by the time she was nineteen. To be kissed with such care at twenty-three made her skin burn for more. 
She grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. Threatened to lose herself in the embrace, almost unsure of where Woody ended and John began. 
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. She shuddered when he released it and pressed a hungry kiss to his lips, her want betraying her with a soft whimper. 
She felt him pulling away and thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. “Johnny, don’t go. Not yet,” she whispered pleadingly, raking her fingers through his hair.
It didn’t take much else for him to give in, losing himself in that forest in her eyes. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
“Being good,” she answered, “and I was getting better at that until you got here not even an hour ago.”
He smiled, eyes glistening almost mischievously. “Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Am I your sweetheart?”
“If you want to be.”
She smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Good, I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else’s,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“Me either.”
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bad268 · 2 days
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Behind the Goal (Pedri X Reader)
Fandom: RPF/FCB
Requested: Yee (ZEP ILY side note tho, what if I wrote for my favorite band people? like idk if anyone wants that but I kinda want to lol)
Warnings: none
POV: Third Person (She/her)
W.C.: 1196
Summary: It started as a harmless prank and ended with a mutual understanding…
As always, my requests are OPEN
MASTERLIST // HITLIST
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~~(^Pinterest)
It was not common knowledge, their relationship. One is a well-known midfielder for FC Barcelona and the other is a university student. It was not often that their schedules aligned enough to go out. Most of their dates had been in one of their houses or at the earliest hours of the day. It was not like they were trying to keep it under wraps. It just kind of happened.
One week, everything lined up. Y/n’s classes were virtual due to a campus-wide power outage that could not be fixed in the near future, and Pedri has (almost) back-to-back matches for the next week. Y/n thought this would finally be their opportunity to see Pedri in action and meet his friends. Despite being together for nearly a year, they had not met any of Pedri’s teammates. Could have been a red flag if not for the complicated schedules they all possessed. 
The early morning before the match against Real Madrid was interesting. Y/n woke up early with Pedri, ate breakfast, and worked out with him before starting to attend their classes. Lucky for them, Pedri had left his phone on the charger before he went to shower, and Y/n thought it would be funny to change his lock screen because why not? They took a few silly pictures before going through them and deciding against putting one of the selfies on the lock screen. Instead, they found a cute picture of the two of them together, so they changed the blank screen and put the phone back just as the shower turned off.
Coincidentally, right as Pedri walked out, Y/n had to get on a Zoom call, so they did not need to worry about looking suspicious. Pedri walked up behind them, quietly leaving a kiss on the top of their head as he left for the match, knowing Y/n would meet him there after classes. 
Usually, Pedri would put music on as he drove to the stadium, but in his rush, he decided to just listen to the radio. That being said, he did not look at his phone (no texting and driving in this household) the entire trip. It was not until he got into the locker room and met up with everyone that he even thought to check his phone. However, by the time he thought to check his phone, Gavi already had a hold of it. 
“Oooo who’s this?” Gavi teased, turning the phone to show Pedri the lock screen. Pedri was confused at first because he did not remember changing his lock screen, but there it was, clearly changed. And to a picture of Y/n and him, no less. “Are you seeing someone and haven't told us?”
“Maybe,” Pedri blushed, reaching over to try and grab the phone from Gavi. “Maybe not. Give me the phone.”
“You are!” Gavi gasped in mock offense. “And you’re keeping this from me? What have I done?”
“It’s not you, Gavi,” Pedri laughed as he tried to grab the phone again. “If you give me the phone, I’ll show you more pictures and call them. Or you could wait until after the match and meet them in person like the original plan.”
“Who’s pictures are we looking at? And who are we calling?” A couple of the other players said amongst themselves, overhearing Gavi and Pedri’s conversation.
“Pedri’s significant other that he did not tell us about,” Gavi answered with a glare toward Pedri as he begrudgingly gave the phone back. “You better show us some good pictures.”
“They’re cute,” Fermin commented as he looked over Gavi’s shoulder at the phone. “Why would you hide them from us?”
“Show us some more, man,” Joao laughed, throwing his arm over Pedri’s shoulders as he messed up Pedri’s hair. “I bet you’ve got better pictures if you know what I mean.”
“I bet he would love to show you a million and one pictures, but it’s time for warmups,” Xavi said as he walked up behind the two.
“Oh, saved by the bell,” Gavi chuckled as he bumped shoulders with Pedri. “After the match right?”
“Yeah, the plan was dinner if you want to meet them in person,” Pedri explained as they ran out onto the grass. 
“Team dinner on you? Count me in!” Gavi answered as he ran ahead.
“Not what I meant, but okay,” Pedri grumbled to himself as he followed swiftly after him.
~~
The game was close, ending in Barcelona’s favor 2-1, so the team was ready to celebrate. And it was against their biggest rival no less, so some of them were ready to get steamed. Gavi, on the other hand, just really wanted to know who the secret significant other is.
Despite being at the game, Y/n did not go into the locker room after the win like the other wives and girlfriends of the players. Y/n was not the biggest fan of huge crowds, so they thought it would be best to hang back and meet Pedri at his car when most of the fans had dispersed. Being that they took public transit to the stadium, they did not need to worry about their vehicle. They planned to ride with Pedri to the restaurant and maybe go bar hopping after, depending on the vibe of the team. 
It did not take nearly as long as they thought for the stadium to clear out, and they made their way out to the lot. They had a copy of Pedri’s keys, so they used them to unlock the car before climbing in. Then, they texted Pedri to let him know where they were, and almost immediately, he responded, saying that he was on his way out. Again, it did not take long for Pedri to make his way out of the tunnel and toward the car with Gavi, Fermin, and Joao walking in line with him, almost faster. 
Pedri pushed the guys towards their own cars, saying, “You’ll meet them at the restaurant.” He waited for Gavi to get in his own car since he was the most reluctant to split off before turning and climbing into the driver’s seat. He leaned over the center console and met Y/n in the middle as they kissed.
“Congratulations on the win. I saw that goal you made,” Y/n praised as they rand their fingers up his chest to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Did you see my surprise?”
“If you’re talking about changing my background to a picture of us, and subjecting me to the teasing I received from the boys, yes. I saw your surprise,” He sighed before planting a kiss on their nose. “The bright side is that the boys are excited to meet you.”
“The way you say that makes me think there is also bad news,” Y/n trailed off as Pedri started the car and started driving out of the lot. “Tell me what happened.”
“A couple of the guys think you're attractive, so now I need to be watching my back.”
“Well, now you know how I feel with all of your fans.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! For legal reasons, I am required to state that I did NOT take the picture. I got it off Pinterest or Google. Please like it and/or reblog. If you want more content, follow, or send requests. You can add this account (made for content made by me), my ship/master blog, @ship268, or my side blog, @thing268, where I share other writers’ work. Also, you can follow my Wattpad or AO3. Both of which are also linked in my master post (in my bio). That’s all for now, Lads. Thanks for attending the Academy.
~BAD268<3
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scwheeler · 3 months
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— how to get a girl’s attention
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luke castellan x fem!daughter of demeter!reader
warnings: near-drowning experience…
summary: as the daughter of demeter, you’re the first person that everyone turns to when injuries need to be tended too, questions need to be asked, and any type of advice is required, however what’s going to happen when you’re the one in need?
a/n: this one’s quite lengthy guys! i really just got derailed like ten times and love adding details and the ending is kind of basic but whatever; don’t mind me making up random camper names btw lol 👼👼
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waking up to the sound of constant bickering was just a normal tuesday morning as your younger half-siblings were already at each other’s throats about some stupid thing. yesterday it was borrowing boots and the day before it was who had to take the trash out.
you groaned, wishing that you could still sleep in peace and quiet but your cabin clearly suggested otherwise. so you gradually got up and put on your little slippers, approaching the main fighters who continued to argue with each other.
“hey hey hey, what’s going on now.” you had to physically get between the two children, separating them with your arms.
“he slipped paint all over my skirt and now it’s ruined!” the young girl cried, holding up her stained skirt to prove it. you took the clothing in your hands and knelt down to face her.
“why don’t i go to the river later today and try to get the stain out myself. it seems washable to me, what do you think?”
with a slight frown, she nodded her head to comply. you were relieved to say the least before turning to the boy, “how about you apologize and come with me to the river after breakfast?”
the boy stayed silent with his arms crossed, trying to avoid your insisting stare. but intimidated enough, he looked to the floor and whispered a small “fine, i’m sorry” with a glare.
you smiled as the situation was deescalated and told the rest of the kids surrounding the pair to hurry and make their beds in order to head to breakfast.
holding hands with the now puffy-faced girl, you tried to tell her about all the fun activities she could do today to forget about the unfortunate morning incident.
before reaching mess hall, the child already had a a bright smile just thinking about the bracelet making and embroidery you promised for the later evening. pleased with your peace-making skills, you sat with the rest of your campers and half-siblings that you were in charge of.
as the eldest sibling and one of the camp counselors, you took on the responsibility of looking after the young ones and caring for almost everyone at camp.
thus, when most of the camp half-blood children had troubles or dilemmas of any sort, they would disregard their own counselors and go straight to you. your kindhearted, yet sociable personality rooted from your mother: demeter.
you were often found laying around in the fruit fields or by the river listening to the water flow through the ground and hit the rocks. like your mother, nature was where you felt at peace, especially with the lack of quiet in your own cabin.
but you still loved your fellow campers and half-siblings, except for one boy who would not leave you alone.
luke castellan.
he liked to push your buttons and see how far he could take you until you’d explode. of course, you always kept your calm until either you just left the conversation or it would be interrupted by a camper in need who was like a knight in shining armor.
it wasn’t that you didn’t like the guy. you liked everyone at camp, including mr. d for gods sake! but something about luke was different. you occasionally saw him with his campers or his friends, he would joke around but never act like he does with you.
when you least expect it, he sneaks up behind you and gets close enough to whisper something in your ear. it could be just a random comment or sentence started but in an alluring voice as if you were friends or even more.
he knows what he’s doing. the moment he finishes, you flinch and get flustered, cheeks heating up and instantly standing up to avoid making eye contact. as you walk away, luke only watches and smiles to himself.
he knows how much power he holds over you, as with just a few words he can make you nervous.
“okay so once everyone’s done, we’ll first go to the archery range and you’ll stay there with counselor clarisse while damien and i go to the river to get that nasty stain out.” you explained and first looked at the boy who begrudgingly agreed to helping you earlier and then winked at the little girl you promised to help.
“counselor clarisse…!” one of the boys exclaimed.
“oh no she’s the mean one!” “yeah, she’s a bully!” your campers all started to agree and mutter remarks about their fear in staying with clarisse.
you couldn’t help but chuckle at their scared little faces, “clarisse? oh gods no! clarisse is not scary, she loves you guys and she’ll take good care of you.”
the children stared at you in disbelief while chowing down their eggs and bacon. “why can’t we just come with you to the river?!” one of the girls begged and began to pout alongside the other ten kids beside her.
you sighed and pursed your lips into a thin line, trying to come up with a compromise but you couldn’t.
“please it’s only for a couple of hours and then i’ll be back for the rock wall and some capture the flag!” you persuaded, trying to lighten up the mood.
but the kids still looked dissatisfied, now poking their breakfast around with their utensils in objection.
“well—” before you could plead another case why clarisse is a perfectly reasonable and responsible counselor and guardian, you were cut off by the one and only.
“aw don’t worry guys, you should listen to your counselor. plus i’ll be there too so if counselor clarisse gets even just a little too scary, you can come and hang with awesome counselor luke!” a voice announced from behind you.
you nearly choked on your food, startled in the surprise voice cutting you off. but the campers were overjoyed to see their second favorite counselor appear. there were an overwhelming amount of comments from the once so silent children, mostly regarding “luke!” and “yay!”
you whipped your head around to face the boy, standing right behind you with nothing but a smug grin on his face. then he leaned in just as he always does and whispered a quick, “you’re welcome” and turned to leave just as fast as he came.
“can we please hang out with counselor luke instead of clarisse?!” all the campers plead with their hands put together and lower lip puckered. left with no other choice by that damn castellan again, you inhaled deeply and slightly nodded which was shortly followed by an array of cheers and excitement.
after dropping off all of the campers in the hands of luke, you put a hand on damien’s back and led him to the river. but before leaving, you had to make sure luke would actually clock in as a responsible counselor.
“so i can count on you to keep them safe for the next couple of hours?”
“wow you sound like you doubt me!” luke said and took a step back with his hands up in fake surrender.
“enough with the games, castellan. are you going to make sure they don’t kill each other and stay unharmed until i return?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment.
luke tried to hold back his smile after you called him by his last name. most of the time, his sparring partners or other counselors would use his last name rather his first. however, when the way you let the ‘n’ slightly my drag after saying it sent chills throughout his entire body.
to hide his delight, he lightly scoffed and crossed his arms at your hesitation. “i assure you that i will protect them with my life. i mean i am the best swordsman at camp,” he added as the corners of his lips just couldn’t help themselves to lift a little.
you rolled your eyes at his self-confidence and how he kept complimenting himself. luke only did it to impress you though, something that hasn’t been very successful.
“okay well alissa has a nut allergy, georgie has a bee allergy, and please keep thomas and will away from the poison ivy. i do not want to spend another summer knee deep in tomato juice.”
luke could only watch and admire as you kept expressing your deep concern for all the kids. he loved how much you cared. but a few more seconds and you would be driving yourself crazy over all the possibilities of something going wrong.
that’s when luke stepped in and softly grabbed your right arm.
“hey, it’s fine. go do whatever you have to do and i’ll come running down to the river if anything goes wrong but i doubt it, i’m pretty responsible y’know.” he reassured and stared straight into your eyes, indicating his sincerity. his smile wasn’t conceited or to drive his ego but rather held a tender emotion.
you looked up into his hazel eyes and suddenly the worries stopped and your nerves were calmed, other than the ones beginning to stir in your stomach. but this was far from the regard about the kids.
this feeling was something else. something new.
“are we going to go already?” the young boy you almost forgot about, whined and rugged on your orange camp t-shirt.
snapping out of your trance and back to reality you answered, “o-oh yeah, i think counselor luke’s got it from here.”
with that you turned away from luke and immediately headed for the river alongside damien but the paint-stained skirt was farthest from your mind now. you tried to shake the new feelings and thoughts out of your body and replace them with your past ones of the kids.
until, “is that guy your boyfriend?”
you quickly looked down to the boy asking the question, with such seriousness in his eyes.
“counselor luke? gods no! i wouldn’t even call him a friend!” you answered swiftly, picking up your pace and hurrying damien in front of you.
“geez…i was just asking!”
as soon as you two got to the river, settling on a few rocks by the edge, you started rubbing the blue-stained skirt with the clear water. damien sat next to you, fiddling his thumbs and staring at the water’s constant movement.
“so are you going to tell me why you did this or not?” you began, keeping your eyes on the skirt.
“i just wanted to.”
“damien.” you urged and this time, you stared directly at him with your eyebrows raised.
he sighed in defeat and gave up on lying to you.
“okay…well i just didn’t know how else to get clara’s attention,” the boy admitted and refused to look at you.
his response warned your heart and prompted your to smile to yourself.
“so you did this, just to get clara’s attention?”
you held up the now drenched skirt and demanded damien to look at you. for a moment, he did and nodded quickly before instantly going back to staring at the rock he was sitting on.
you stifled your laughter at how adorable the young boy you were with was being.
“damien…there are a lot of different and more efficient ways to get clara’s attention. may a suggest one that doesn’t destroy her belongings and ends up with her being angry?” you insisted and squeezed the excess water out of the skirt.
he looked up and nodded again but this time he continued.
“what should i do?”
“why don’t you make her a bracelet when we go back and sincerely apologize.” you suggested while laying out the wet skirt on the rock to dry.
he smiled at your suggestion as you went to sit closer by him. before speaking again, he pulled out a small daisy from his pant pocket and presented it to you.
your eyes focused on the blooming flower that lost a few of its petals due to being stuck in the boy’s pocket for a while now. but the remaining petals still standing were enough to maintain the flower’s beauty.
“when did you become such a gentlemen?” you nudged his shoulder and took the flower from his hands.
“oh, i’ve been giving him some lessons.”
alarmed, you turned to see the familiar face that had been surprising you all day.
“what are you doing here?! how about the kids—who’s watching them?!” you immediately stood up and marched towards the too calm figure standing amongst the trees. but he caught you with both arms, preventing you with ease.
“woah woah, take a breather, they’re with clarisse.” he said and stopped you before you ran back to the mess hall.
reading your expression, luke could tell you were not convinced nor pleased so he had to fix his answer.
“—and annabeth and chris.”
with that you stopped fighting against his grasp and stepped back, finally exhaling.
“you haven’t answered my first question.”
“oh! i just uh wanted to um come and tell you that they’re asking for damien back at camp. they were practically begging me to come over here and get him!”
you narrowed your eyes after he finished, easily indicating the lie.
“okay…you can go damien but remember what i said,” you smiled and patted his shoulder before sending him off back to camp.
the young boy ran off without a care and ready to make that bracelet with a formal apology. luke stood there, quite surprised that his lie that chris helped him think of in fact worked.
“soooo do you need help with whatever that is?” luke pointed at the skirt laid out on the rock.
“no.” you shortly responded and walked back to your rock but luke followed like a lost puppy.
“are you sure? i mean as head counselor for cabin 11, i can cook up a mean batch of laundry,” he insisted and trailed behind you.
unbeknownst to him, you rolled your eyes and cringed at his wording.
“your words don’t even make sense.”
caught in a lie, luke decided actions spoke louder than words and walked past you to the skirt. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as he picked it up and crouched down near the water before dunking it back into the water.
shocked and a little annoyed, you hurriedly ran to him.
“what the hell are you doing?! i just washed that! i’m waiting for it to dry dumbass!”
“oh she curses!” he exclaimed, finally getting a real response from you.
you reached for it until luke raised it a little higher, just out of your reach. using his height as an advantage, he held out the clothing as far as he could and to the river.
fed up and exhausted, you went on your tippy-toes and lunged for the skirt. swiftly, luke pulled it close to his body just as you reached leading you to accidentally lean too far.
with a splash, you fell straight into the freezing cold water, unknown to how deep the river was. luke’s eyes widened, he thought you falling in would be funny but once you hadn’t resurfaced within a few seconds he became worried.
without a second thought, he dropped the skirt, pulled off his camp shirt, and dove into the biting waves. as soon as he saw your bright orange t-shirt in contrast to the clear water, he put his arm around your waist and swim towards the surface.
pulling you out to the rocks and laying your body on the ground, he waited for you to gain consciousness. luckily, you started to gasp for air and spit out gulps of water as you sat up.
luke sighed in relief at once. you wiped your face of water and blinked repeatedly until your sight returned to normal. then your eyes were fixated on something else, rather someone. his bare chest stood directly in front of your face, it wasn’t like you were trying to stare!
“i’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to do that and i’m really sorry.” luke recited.
“i-it’s okay.” you stuttered, the cold water chilling your body.
“here take off the wet one and take mine.”
luke grabbed his discarded camp shirt and handed it to you. if you weren’t on the verge of frostbite you would’ve refused, but without another word you agreed and luke turned to face the trees as you pulled the wet shirt over your head and put on luke’s.
“thanks. for saving me and the shirt.”
luke turned back to face you and smiled, “i mean i was the one to make you fall into the water in the first place, it’s the least i can do.”
“aren’t you cold?” you signaled to his bare chest.
“no, i’m okay don’t worry. but your jeans are still wet so let’s head back to camp.” he reassured and helped you get up.
you nodded and let him take the lead. with your wet shirt and skirt in one hand and the other grabbing onto luke’s arm, you two finally made it back to camp. before dropping you off at your cabin, you had to ask.
“why did you come to the river anyway?”
luke awkwardly put his hand on the back of his neck and looked away.
“oh. i just uh wanted to spend time with you.” he admitted, ultimately facing you.
you stopped attending to your dripping pants and looked up at him. he had a genuine smile, now with both hands shoved into his pockets.
how was it that you had never noticed the golden flecks in his deep brown eyes? or the way the orange hues of the sunset highlighted the amber shade his eyes would turn?
“y’know, there are a lot of other ways to get my attention in the first place, that doesn’t involve us falling into freezing cold water.”
luke laughed at your comment which eased the awkward air.
“i had this almost exact same conversation with a little boy of about seven years, and gave him some valuable advice.”
“what was the advice..?” he carefully asked.
“to make her a bracelet and apologize, one of…you’ve already done profusely.” you raised your eyebrow to imply his previous attempt in apologizing nonstop.
“ah, a bracelet you say, okay got it,” luke said and nodded his head.
with that, he bid you a good day and you asked to meet him later at the campfire to return his shirt.
“alright you two sit there, i don’t want to see anymore fighting over the dinosaurs, you can sit here with him, and you three over there—” guiding the campers for the campfire that was just about to begin, you made your way to an empty bench.
smiling to yourself, you watched as your campers finally calmed down and enjoyed the music, giving up on fighting and arguing with one another. someone jumped over the bench and leaned back to sit right next to you, and you had a feeling who it may be.
“luke?”
“yes ma’am.” he replied with a tilt towards you and two fingers from his head.
the campfire lit up his face and highlighted his sharp features that you had somehow missed until this moment. his charming smile urging his dimples alongside his dark curls freshly washed with a new scented shampoo was enough to make you realize you were hooked. damn.
“oh i have a little something for you, give me your arm and close your eyes,” he spoke up and put his hand in his pocket.
raised eyebrow, you reluctantly closed your eyes and gave him your right arm. suddenly in fear of some bug or scary animal on your hand, you slowly retracted it back to yourself until he gently got a hold of it.
he pulled your arm towards him slightly and slipped something on around your wrist. waiting for his approval, you sat questioning what the mystery item could be.
“okay, open.” luke did a little ‘ta-da’ motion once you flickered your eyes open, adjusting to the dark yet orangish lit surrounding.
you looked down at the intricate, handsome bracelet that appeared on your wrist. it was similar to the camp necklaces but the beads were translucent with flowers imbedded into them. except for one bead that was painted a heavenly green, your favorite color.
astonished and at a loss for words, you observed the bracelet, moving around the small beads on the string.
“i’m sorry.”
snapping out of your trance, you instantly stared up at luke after his words in confusion.
“what?”
“you said earlier, ‘there are a lot of other ways to spend time with you that don’t involve us falling into freezing cold water, for starters make a bracelet and apologize.’” he repeated your words from back by your cabin. he remembered.
“so you made me a bracelet and apologize just like i said?” double-checking, you glanced once at the bracelet and back to the dashing boy who looked as if he had stars in his eyes, waiting for your reaction.
“not only for you, i also helped damien make one for that girl he’s got a crush on,” he continued and looked over to the little boy doing the exact same hold-out-your-arm-and-close-your-eyes trick on the girl sobbing about her stained skirt earlier.
she opened her eyes to a freshly washed skirt and matching bracelet, along with a smiling boy who was apologizing and waiting for her reaction. she leapt into his arms with a bunch of ‘thank yous.’ the boy then briefly peered at luke who proceeded to wink and give an approving nod.
happily surprised, you sat gaping at the boy you thought was so infuriating just a couple of hours before. luke knew exactly what he was doing. he knew how much you cared for the campers and your half-siblings, how you would always chose their safety and happiness at the expense of your very own.
it was one of the traits he admired the most about you. even when in a bad mood or not feeling your best, you would put on a brave face and make sure to put their needs in front of you own.
he witnessed it first-hand last week when your campers wanted to go rock climbing but there were dozens of poison ivy already there. thus, to not disappoint the kids, you stayed up all night removing the dangerous plant and relocating them to another area deep in the forest for them to grow.
even with your plant manipulation abilities, with the large amount of the poisonous plant, it took you quite a while. afterwards, you went as far to replace them with lovely daisies you summoned from the gardens in front of your cabin.
during the move from the rock climbing course to the forest, luke had spotted you while some late-night sword practicing because he couldn’t sleep due to apollo cabin next door.
he debated approaching you and settled on only admiring you from afar after you almost finished anyway. he didn’t want to disturb you or aggravate you further than you already were. but leaving you here in the forest during midnight would be wrong.
what if a monster were to come? how were you to defend yourself if you were distracted! therefore, it was just common sense that luke had to keep watch, i mean he even had his sword with him after all.
but once the sun peeped from the tall mountains, he came to a realization that he had just sat and watched you for more than a couple hours. so in order to not get caught, he ran off back to his cabin before anyone would wake up.
only a little after luke headed to bed, morning arrived and you were the first one to break the happy news to your campers that today would be the day for rock climbing. greatly proud and feeling accomplished, you even invited other cabins to join and have a spin at it. including luke’s.
now he was the one to show you how much he cared for the campers as well, focusing on a feature you had great respects for. your shocked expression softened and now leapt into his arms.
“thank you, castellan. really.”
blood rushed to his cheeks and he tried to hide his excitement, but you felt his genuine smile on your shoulder. before pulling away, he stopped by your ear and whispered.
“do i have permission to kiss you, counselor?”
you could’ve giggled at his words and how close his lips were to your ear. without wasting another breath, you pulled his face closer to you and put your lips on his.
feeling the warmth of his breath, you could taste the sweet taste of strawberries he must’ve eaten earlier. only centimeters away, your bodies were attracted to each other almost pressing. the kiss wasn’t long but not short either, somewhat leaving a lasting impression on the other.
yet again you felt a small grin of his lips during the kiss, making you pull away for air. but your eyes were still glued to his, moments away from repeating the act but you both realized where you were and how irresponsible it would look as counselors. so instead he grabbed your hand, now giving you the absolute cutest puppy dog eyes before asking.
“do i have your attention now?”
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kissitbttr · 9 months
Text
this is miguel o’hara being a dick
pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader
-
miguel knows he’s fucked.
he has been neglecting you, putting his work above your needs and ditched on dates he can’t count with his fingers. at first you were okay, given that you’re dating such a busy man like him, you understand the consequences.
but you’ve had enough. there were nights where you cooked dinner, only to be left untouched by him or where you softly cried yourself in the middle of the night because he was still out. the only time he comes home is when you’re already asleep, then he left to the HQ in the morning before you’ve gotten the chance to wake up.
you confronted him about this. paid a visit to his office before going to work. Jess and Lyla had warned you to not disturb him but you managed to make them back off with a single frightening look.
yes. they are scared of you. a lot of them are. they do not want to test you at all.
the moment you stepped into his office, he didn’t even bother to look. eyes were just too focused on his work that he assumed Jess was the one who walked in.
“oh, you’re fucking your co-worker now?” your tone laced with sarcasm and anger with arms crossed over your chest,
hearing the familiar voice, he had never whipped his head so fast. “y/n? what are you doing here?”
“well” you start, heels clicking against the floor as you step towards him. “since my boyfriend has been MIA for almost a week i figured i should stopped by.”
his head shook, turning his focus back to what he thought mattered most. “not right now, mi amor. I’m working.”
“i can see that, dumbass” you respond in a cold tone. frowning as to why he couldn’t take one second off from that god damn screen. “you and me are going to get breakfast together. now. before i go to work.”
“i told you I can’t. I’m busy” he replies, brushing you off with his hand. “next time.”
“i’m a busy woman too!” your voice shakes, wanting so bad to scream at him and throw that tiny desk at his head. “but I always want to make time for you, Miguel!”
no response. he muttered something under his breath but you couldn’t hear him.
un-fucking-believable
“you’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?” tone laced with venom as you spit the words. clenching your fists by your side as you struggle to hold back the tears. “i feel like this relationship is one sided, the only person that is truly making an effort is me. you don’t—“
Miguel couldn’t take it anymore. he threw a desk and it went flying, thankfully it didn’t hit you. though your eyes went wide in shock, a loud gasp left your lips as you covered your mouth with your hands.
“you’re right! I don’t! I don’t care about some silly little fucking breakfast when the universe depends on me!” he pointed at himself as his irises turned red when he looked at you. his breathing went heavy and he still wasn’t aware how scared you were at him at that point.
“do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to keep all this shit together?! how many people will die if i don’t do what i gotta do! I don’t always like it, y/n but i have to do it! and here you are trying to play house with me it’s fucking pathetic!” he scoffed, putting his hands on hips.
oh he did not realize how much his words hurt.
the room was filled with silence. you stared at him in disbelief but remained a stoic expression. you were taught better than to be weak before any men. Miguel was no exception. your mother would be disappointed if you let a man win.
“wow” you breathed, nodding. “that was a good speech actually, the longest one I’ve ever heard you talking” you tried to sound sarcastic but how you felt and how you sounded failed you.
Miguel was quick to notice this and his features quickly soften. he reached out quickly to hold you.
“cariño i—“
“I’m returning back to my apartment by five. do not fucking look for me” it was final. the way you said it, how your eyes remained empty as you spoke to him. Miguel knew better than to test you,
but he just did and now he’s paying the price,
his heart broke when he heard you said that. you were so tired of him and you just wanted him back. you want your man back but he couldn’t see how that mattered to you.
“baby, please—“
you held your hand as you turned around. “don’t you even think about sending Jess or Miles my way.”
with that you walked out of his office without uttering another word. leaving him speechless and heartbroken. he knew better than to follow you out, it would just make things worse. he was just going to let you cool off.
he didn’t know how long it was gonna take.
it has been almost a month that you two have been living separately. and he’s losing his mind. he can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can barely walk out of the house without seeing all the things that remind him of you. the team even sensed something is wrong because he has been more short tempered than before and it almost made the rest of spider society terrified of talking to him.
he’s gotten more violent, that’s for sure. every enemy he encountered, he would leave them bleed with their faces unrecognizable. it was his way of taking his stress out. not exactly healthy but it’ll do for now.
but he thinks that this has gotten too far. he misses you terribly, your scent, your laugh, your voice, your body, and mostly… your pussy
God, the amount of times he sniffed your panties while he jacked off as the image of you clouded his mind was simply not enough.
and now here he stands before your apartment door. dressed nicely in a white buttoned up shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of black pants. his ring cladded fingers nervously grip around the boquete as the other hand shoved into his pocket.
Miguel had never been this nervous before. toeing his shoes and tapping his toes against the floor rapidly. it’s probably already been fifteen minutes that he’s standing like that staring at your door. thinking far too carefully what he wants to say.
he decides it’s now or never as he raises his fist and knock softly against the wooden door, hoping that you’re home.
“coming!” he hears your voice, his stomach somersaults hearing that after what it felt like a thousand year. “i am so hungry, why are you delivery guys always taking so—“
soon as you open the door, you freeze. definitely not the takeout delivery boy and instead it’s the one person you’ve been avoiding for God knows how long.
Miguel’s mouth hangs open slightly as he slowly taking in the sight of the gorgeous woman before him. you put on your favorite lime green night gown that stops just above your knees with a white silky robe, your hair fall down gracefully. natural curls framing your face. eyes glinting under the light, he almost falls to his knees and thank the Lord for your existence.
beauty doesn’t even begin to describe how you look tonight.
Miguel realizes how he probably looks like an idiot. clearing his throat to regain his composure as he smiles awkwardly at you. “Hi.”
you stare at him as your features then showcase a displeased expression. “what are you doing here?”
you’re leaning your body against the doorframe, arms crossed in annoyance. eyes flickering from his face to the flowers he’s holding and back up to his eyes. as much as you hate to see him, you can’t help that little feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you see the flowers he’s holding.
tulips. your favorite
he takes a one step closer to your frame, breathing out a sigh as he looks down at you. “I’m sorry, mi amor.”
that earns a scoff from you, looking away. “good start.”
“i was a horrible boyfriend.” he admits, gulping as he sees how sadness and exhaustion taking over your face just like that. “you don’t deserve that. what i said to you that day… none of it was true. you were not… pathetic, nor were the idea of having breakfast together… I appreciate every single thing we’ve done together, baby. believe me, por favor…”
a hard stare is the only thing he gets from you. the way your lips form into an angry pout and how your eyes seem to get tired and bored from his confession.
you’re a difficult person to please. he knows that.
“i know that being stress is no excuse of what I’ve done… I should’ve—fuck I should’ve done better. a month without you was like hell, mi corazon. ay, me sentí como si estuviera perdiendo la cabeza.” he sighs in frustration, head shaking as he recalls many sleepless nights. “i love you so so much. i do not want to go through that again … i know that it’s going to take forever to get your trust back and everything, but i swear on my mother’s grave that i—“
“stop talking”
he shuts his mouth after that. eyes looking up to you when he realizes you’re talking to him after a prolonged silence that’s taking over.
seeing how broken he looks almost feels like your heart got plucked. as mean as you are or as much as you wanted to look like you don’t care, you can’t when it comes to Miguel. you love this man far too much and despite his cold cold persona, that’s a huge sweetheart underneath.
“you hurt me, Miguel.” eyes casting down the floor as you try to keep your voice low. “you threw a desk to my direction…”
he shakes his head at that, resisting the urge to cradle your cheek. “lo siento, mi amor. I didn’t mean—“
“yes i know, i heard you.” you sigh, eyes closed momentarily. “you scared me”
Miguel feels his heart breaks when he hears how your voice breaks. he carefully lifts his hand to softly palm your cheek, thumb grazing against the skin. he exhales a soft sigh when you aren’t pushing him off.
“I didn’t mean to do that to you, my love. fuck, I’ve hurt you. i will never forgive myself for that. i was supposed to be the one who protect you and i was being a huge asshole.”
“a cute one though” you pout at him,
he chuckles at that, feeling the tension between you two are finally cutting down. “you’re too sweet, baby… after all i had done to you”
“nothing compared to how you treated me for the past two and a half years.” you smile sweetly at him, hand wrapping around his wrist. feeling at home once he holds you in his palm. “still a good man.”
he shakes his head in disagreement. “no, no that doesn’t excuse it… i was in the wrong.”
you hum in response, looking at the pretty flowers still in his hand. “are those for me?”
he nods with a smile, “you’re my only woman, no?”
you bite the inside of your cheek as you smile, taking it from his grasp as you sniff the pretty petals. “i love them. thank you.”
he once again goes quiet, taking another step closer. eyes looking down at your glossy lips and he can’t take it anymore. he doesn’t care if he’s stepping boundaries here. “i miss you, cariño. can i show you just how much?”
his offer sends shiver down your spine, making it impossible for you to stand still. Miguel always knows your sweet spot, how to make your knees feel wobbly without having him to touch you.
you do miss him touching you,
“i have a ballet class to teach tomorrow, papi. Saturday morning class, you remember ?” a pout formed on your lips, yet you still allow him to pull you close to him as he closes the door behind. “plus don’t you have work too? i bet Jess needs you.”
Migue nearly growls at you calling him ‘papi’. his jeans growing tight as you look up to him with doe eyes that you know he loves. though sometimes, you don’t understand the effect you have on him.
“that can wait… you’re more important to me than anything” he whispers, giving your open hand a kiss. large palm coming down to grip your waist, giving it a light squeeze. “do you want me too?”
you respond with a slow nod, biting back a smile as you interlock your hand with his pulling him inside. his smirk grows wider as he leans over to capture your mouth in his,
“let me fuck you real good then we can come home, eh mi vida?” he promises against your lips, slipping your soft silky robe off of you before picking you up in bridal style causing to shriek and giggle,
“i wanna hear you scream my name.”
-
part 2?
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soaps-mohawk · 1 month
Text
Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry
Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting
A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.
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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 
You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 
You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...
He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 
You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 
“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 
“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 
He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 
He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 
“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 
You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 
He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 
“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 
“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 
“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 
You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.
“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 
You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 
“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 
He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 
He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 
You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 
“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”
He has a point. 
You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 
You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 
He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 
Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 
“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”
“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 
He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”
He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 
“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 
“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”
Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 
The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 
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“You look tired.”
“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 
“How is that going?”
“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”
“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.
You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”
“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 
He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 
“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 
You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 
“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.
You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 
Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 
“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 
Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 
You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 
“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 
You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 
“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 
You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 
“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”
You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.
“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 
You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 
Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 
You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 
“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 
“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 
“Exercises?” You ask warily. 
“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 
Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 
You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 
How easily he could take everything from you. 
“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.
You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 
You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 
“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 
You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 
“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 
Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 
You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 
“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 
You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 
Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 
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“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 
The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 
“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 
You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 
“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 
His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.
“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 
Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 
You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 
Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 
You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 
“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 
You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 
You wonder if he feels responsible. 
You hope he does. 
Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 
Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 
“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 
Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 
You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 
“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 
Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 
 “I don’t know.” 
The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 
“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 
You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 
“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 
Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 
You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 
Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 
“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 
“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 
You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 
“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 
A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 
“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.
“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 
“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 
You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 
He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 
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“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 
You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 
“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 
“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 
You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 
“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 
You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 
Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 
“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 
“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 
“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 
You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 
“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 
“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 
He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 
“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 
“From the institute?” He asks. 
You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 
“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 
“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.
“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 
“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 
“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”
“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 
“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 
You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 
“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 
“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 
Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 
“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 
“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 
You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 
“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 
He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 
Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 
He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 
“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 
You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 
“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 
You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 
“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 
“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 
An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 
Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 
You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 
You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 
It must be exhausting. 
“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 
“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.
He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 
You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 
“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 
“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 
“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 
You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 
It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 
You don't want to think about the things they've done. 
Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 
They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 
You know nothing about them. 
You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?
“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 
You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 
It’s only been two weeks. 
You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 
Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 
It had been expected of you. 
Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 
You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 
You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 
“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 
You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 
You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”
His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 
The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 
Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 
You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 
He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 
You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 
You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 
“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 
“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 
You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 
He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 
“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 
He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 
“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 
“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 
You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 
“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 
“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 
The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 
“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 
“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 
You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 
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You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 
Just past one a.m. 
You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 
You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 
You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 
“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 
“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 
“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 
He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 
Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 
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joelsdagger · 2 months
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all the things i would do
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read on ao3 follow @joelsdagger-updates for more to come :) resources on how to help Palestine here <3
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: porn no plot. joel finds an article of clothing of yours and there’s nothing holding him back once he gets his hands on them. 
rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI 
content warnings: [Post Outbreak], established relationship, implied age gap (25+ years), joel is canon age, slightly domestic joel (blink and it’s gone), joel has a panty kink, panty sniffing, masturbation (m), soft dom!joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, pet names (use of baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, love), smidgen of fluff (these two are so in love it’s sickening), an inkling of a size kink (but in my head joel’s at least 6’5, he’s a BIG big man in my brain), joel’s filthy mouth, praise kink, hint of sub!joel, nipple play, one use of the word ‘Daddy’ (moots don’t look at me I couldn’t help it), slight tummy kink/tummy worship, cum eating.  No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader other than having hair long enough that it’s past her shoulders. 
word count: 3.1k
A/N: so, a few things before we get started. i’m new to writing fics and this is my first time publicly putting out a fic that wasn’t just for shits and giggles for my friends and i and i’m so fucking nervous like the amount of times i’ve panicked over this is a little embarrassing to admit but we ball. that being said, i love and welcome constructive criticism as long as you’re nice about it. there was an alternative version of this, it’s more like a deviation (literally sitting in my drafts as we speak) but reader is more involved in the situation, if y’all still wanna read that, just let me know and i’ll work on getting it out for you guys. finally, shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo for encouraging me to actually write this all those months ago and for all your brilliant ideas and encouragement and practically holding my hand through it since day one, @aurasjournal for being such a gem and helping me with the cover for this fic and hyping me up, and thank you to @papurgaatika and @nevergoingbacknowshine for being so kind and encouraging and listening to my 3am rants when i was anxious. another big thank you to kat, aura, and naya for beta reading and helping me during the editing process. all four of you have been absolute sweethearts despite me being a pussy about posting this. okay i’m done rambling, enjoy some of the filth that constantly plagues my brain <3 
Joel’s eyes blink open slowly, the sun peeks into the bedroom through the curtains across the room. For a moment he searches for you beside him, but remembers you’ve already left for the day out on patrol duty. Joel harrumphs, still bothered over letting you and Ellie bully him out of his patrol duties. “You’ve been hurting yourself too much baby,” You had told him a few weeks ago over breakfast. “Yeah, you’re an old man now. You fall over one more time and you’re done.” Ellie snickers from her seat in the kitchen. Joel just rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the dishes, but you had caught the small grin on his face when he turned his head back to the sink. Against the two of you, Joel never stood a chance.
Joel drags himself out of bed towards his dresser to grab a new set of clothes. He throws on a blue shirt that fits a little snug on his well built form, the thin material stretches over his broad shoulders, across his strong back, and pulls taut over his biceps and he grunts as he pulls a pair of dark wash jeans over his strong, thick thighs, securing them in place with a distressed leather belt that he’s had for years. Once he’s dressed, he takes in the mess in the room. He notices both of your clothes from the night before are still scattered around the room.  He bends down to pick them up, he grunts as his knees pop when he stands back up. He starts gathering them up to toss them into the hamper already overflowing with clothes. The last article of clothing out of place is yours. Your black lace panties on the armchair in the corner. He grabs them and his eyes widen when he feels it, the center still wet from him making you come earlier. His cock instantly hardened in his jeans.  
Joel turns on his heel and in just a few long strides he’s in your shared bathroom. He deliberately avoids the mirror, knowing that if he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror he’ll disgust himself even more. Briskly, he sets the laundry hamper on the tile near the bathtub. Joel brings the thin black lace up to his face, closes his eyes and he sniffs them, breathing you in completely. He groans at the scent of you. His cock painfully hard now. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help it. He’s addicted to you and he knows he can’t wait til you get home. He knows he can’t wait to have his way with you, dig into you any way that you will let him. So, without another second of hesitation, Joel unbuckles his belt, a clink from the metal hitting the edge of the counter, unzips his jeans and takes his thick, heavy cock out, and then brings your soaked panties to his angry, leaking tip. His precum meets the wetness of your panties and he hisses at the feeling. With the wetness of the gusset of your panties acting as a lubricant, Joel begins to slowly stroke himself, wanting to take his time, savoring every feeling, relishing in it. Joel soon becomes too desperate for release, he quickly loses control, his hips moving faster to fuck his hand, his hand tightening around his cock, the grip almost painful now. His eyes are screwed shut, as he throws his head back, the night before instantly replaying in his head.
He had just gotten out of the shower to find you sprawled out on your stomach on your side of the bed, ankles crossed in the air. He rakes his eyes over your form until his eyes land on your ass. You were wearing the panties he was currently fucking his hand with. You didn’t notice him stepping out of the bathroom, too busy looking at the photo album you had just put together. It’s relatively new, most of the pages empty, yet you were looking at the photos you had taken earlier that week at the Tipsy Bison. The one that had your attention was a photo of you and Joel that Ellie had taken. Neither of you looked at the camera, the photo had captured you mid-laugh, head tilting back, eyes shut, it was a full belly laugh at something Joel had said. Joel’s arm was around your shoulder tucking you into his side, smiling down at you, a rare type of smile, one reserved only for you. 
Leaning on the entryway, his arms crossed over his broad, tanned chest, he smiles at the view. You’re in nothing but your panties in his bed, in his home. His feet move without thinking, walking over to you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, tracing his fingers over your soft supple skin down your back and over the lace of your panties, and lightly pinches your ass. “So pretty sweet baby,” he says shyly, almost like he’s speaking to himself. You turn your head to look up at him, smiling. Wordlessly, he took the photo album from your hands, placing it on your nightstand. He gets in the bed, carefully sitting on his knees while attempting to avoid loosening the off-white towel around his waist. You roll onto your back to face him, his silver curls still damp from the shower as water still drips onto his strong shoulders. He combs his hair back after a shower and the ends tend to curl up around his ears. It’s been months since you last cut his hair but you like his hair longer, you had whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom, your naked, sweaty limbs tangled up together between his sheets. From that night on he hasn’t asked you to cut it for him. He likes it because you like it. 
While you’re busy ogling him, Joel’s hands immediately reach to trace the floral lace pattern before toying with the little satin black bow at the center front. His rough, calloused hands slide up your bare thighs, wrapping his large hands around your thighs and he pries open your legs, his hazel eyes locked in on your center like a bullseye and you notice the cocky smirk he’s got plastered on his face, pleased with himself that he’s already got you wet for him. 
He brings two thick fingers to slide over your covered cunt. He feels the wetness on the material and he pulls back to look up at you and finds your attention on his fingers. “What a mess you made, pretty girl,” he murmurs. You’re watching the movement of his fingers, entranced by his fingers teasing your pussy as he glides them up and down your slit. He clicks his tongue at you, “so wet for me huh baby? Always so wet for me. So perfect,” he smirks to himself as he gently pulls your panties to the side, revealing your aching, needy cunt. He lowers his head placing gentle kisses on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his lips tracing and peppering your skin all the way towards your center, his mouth hovering over the place you need him most and you shiver beneath him. 
“Joel,” you whisper, he chuckles seeing you all worked up for him. “Baby please,” you whimper. 
“What is it baby?” he tuts, “use your words, sweet girl,” he tilts his head slightly with a smug grin on his face. His fingers move up and down your folds. 
“N-need them inside me, p-please,” you whimper as you claw at his forearms, clutching them for stability. 
“Alright baby, lemme taste her first,” He lays flat on his stomach, moves his arms under your legs, and hoists them up over his broad shoulders. He lowers his mouth onto your cunt and the tip of his tongue licks through your folds. He hums at the sweet taste of you on his tongue. He flattens his tongue and licks a long thick stripe and he groans lowly, the vibrations making you squirm under him. 
“Fuck, more baby,” you beg. You gasp at the hook of his nose bumping your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, eyes closing swiftly, brows furrowed as you let out a loud moan. 
“There she is,” he smirks. He flicks his tongue over your clit. His eyes slip closed as he relishes in the noises leaving your mouth, like music to his ears. Your hips buck up into his face, selfishly grinding your cunt for more. Joel’s eyes flicker back up your face, “eyes on me sweetheart,” he murmurs. Your eyes snap open to watch him as he brings his fingers back up to your cunt, two thick fingers dip into you and you can hear the wet squelch as he eases his fingers in, simultaneously, he circles his tongue around your clit. He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, his tongue lapping at your cunt. You feel the pressure building up more intensely inside of your belly and then you’re chanting his name as he curls his fingers inside you, petting at the spongy spot he knows will break you. He closes his mouth around your clit and he sucks hard. 
“Fuck, Joel, yes yes,” Your hips bucking up into his face, your legs start to shake as you come on his face and your cunt tightening around his fingers, a loud strangled moan filling the air. 
“That’s my girl,” he says as he watches you gasp above him, pressing a quick kiss to your clit. Your eyes flutter open just in time to see him removing his fingers, all wet and shiny, and putting them in his slick covered mouth, sucking them clean. 
Softly, he grabs your ankles, pulling you down towards the edge of the bed eliciting a giggle. His favorite sound…well one of his favorites. His favorite being the next sound that comes out of your mouth when he quickly pulls your panties down. He sees the wet shine of your cum in the center and his face lights up with glee. “You made such a mess ‘a your panties, baby,” he tuts before tossing them across the room. He unties the towel from his waist and lets it fall and it pools around his legs, revealing his thick, heavy cock, the tip angry and beads of precum seeping out of the slit. You place your hands around your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, presenting your already spent pussy to him once again and he groans roughly.
He leans forward, his fingers running through your folds once more, and you quiver at his touch. He gathers your cum on his fingers and strokes himself twice before he dips the wide tip of his cock inside of you. A whine leaves your lips. That. That was his favorite sound. He doesn’t push in further… he doesn’t move an inch. He’s teasing you…wants you to ask nicely for it. Like clockwork his voice laced with honey he says “Ask for it baby, ask for my cock.” 
Desperate, you whine again “please joel… I need your cock.” Your needy fingers trail lightly over his soft belly, sitting up slightly, you place soft kisses from his belly button down to the dark patch of hair above his cock, his body trembles at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his belly and a breathy moan escapes his lips. He laces his fingers with yours, bringing your hands near your head, his large form encompassing your smaller frame, he lowers himself down over you, his lips brushing against yours. “Baby, please. Please fuck my pussy” you mewl. He pushes his cock deeper, deeper, and deeper til the head of his cock kisses your cervix, provoking a loud groan from him against your ear as he nestles himself into you, where he belongs. 
“See baby all you had to do was ask politely” Joel cooes. He drags his hips back, leaving only his tip inside you once again and you clench around him. “Fuck, goddamn you’re fucking tight,” he grits. Slowly he starts thrusting his tip in and out. 
You whine again, “Baby don’t be mean. I want all of it.” 
“Shh..I know baby, I know,” he soothes. Then in one long single thrust, he wedges his cock back inside of you to the hilt, bottoming out into your cunt, hitting the spot that only he knows with a loud ragged groan into the crook of your neck. His cock is stretching you out, feeling every twitch, he’s everywhere and it’s overwhelming. He hitches your legs up towards your chest, opening you up more, your chest pressed tightly against his, he drags the weight of his cock languidly between your slick, moaning at the wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. 
When you look up at him it’s like you can see a lightbulb go off in his head and before you know it, Joel’s large hands grab the swell of your ass, he picks you up, and repositions you both so he’s on his back and has you sitting on his thick cock. He wants you to ride him. In this position you can feel him in the deepest parts of your belly and it hurts just a little bit but you find pleasure in it, you always have.  
Leaning forward, you place your hands on the headboard and arching your back a bit more, Joel's head falls back down onto the pillows. At the sudden change of the angle, his eyes shut for just a second before he’s snapping them right back open. He doesn’t want to miss a single thing. He wants to see it all.  He watches how your breasts bounce as you move and quickly, he leans up to catch a nipple in his mouth. He’s licking and sucking all over your pebbled nipple and then his teeth graze along the hardened peak before swiftly pulling it between his teeth. He moves onto the other and he flicks his tongue over your nipple, he sucks and nips at it lightly before he lets your tit fall from his mouth, admiring the slight bounce of your breast before his eyes lock in on your face, watching your face contort and your mouth open while you seek your high. It's his favorite thing, watching you like this. 
“Jesus Christ, look at you, you’re takin’ me so well,” he groans. 
The grip of his hands on your hips tightens but doesn’t guide you, just seeks some ounce of control. You lean forward more so your clit brushes ever so slightly against the dark patch of curls at his base. The friction makes you approach your orgasm quickly. Joel’s eyes flicker down to where you two are connected, taking pleasure in seeing his cock splitting you open, watching as it disappears deep inside of you. 
“That’s it, baby. Fuck….use me. Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, atta girl,” You roll your hips faster, grinding harder on his cock, greedy and desperate to come again. “C’mon baby, come all over my cock.” 
His words and your clit repeatedly pressing against him make your hips stutter and you clench around him as your orgasm finally washes over you, harder than before. Your body goes limp on his chest. Joel doesn’t let up, he grabs your thighs and lifts his hips, relentlessly fucking his cock up into you. His cock slams into you so hard the wet slapping sound of your bodies fills the room. 
You turn your head and press your lips to his ear, nipping at his earlobe, you spur him on “c’mon Joel, come for me baby,” you softly rasp. “C’mon baby, for me, do it for me love,” you whisper and he whimpers, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. You bite down on his shoulder to muffle the whines that leave your mouth as he fucks into you harder, your walls tighten around him, his cock twitches inside you before he hastily pulls out with a long pained groan and with his cock between your bodies, his cum spurts out, thick and warm, coating his stomach. A moment passes and you lower your lips down his chest, feeling the rough edges of his skin underneath your lips as you pepper open mouthed kisses along his strong torso, the soft skin of his belly, over the jagged scar on his lower abdomen, all the way down his happy trail, you feel him shiver beneath you. 
You sit up on his thighs, locking your eyes with his, you bring your fingers down to his cum on his stomach. You look back up at him, your gaze meeting his as you swirl your fingers twice in his spend and bring your shiny, sticky coated fingers up to your mouth, closing your lips around your fingers, sucking them clean. His mouth agape, he’s staring back at you while you use your fingers to lick up his cum, “dirty girl, one’a these days you’re gonna gimme a heart attack woman,” he groans. 
The memory of it all…you riding him, your naked breasts bouncing, his cock impaling you, watching it disappear inside you over and over, your cunt clamping down around his cock and the echo of your moans as you came last night playing in his head sends him hurtling over the edge.
His cock twitches in his hand, his other hand slamming down on the counter, he groans your name raggedly and his thighs quiver as he comes hard into his fist, harder than he ever has when jerking himself off. He pumps his release into your panties, hot, thick ropes of his cum painting your panties. His cum spurting out seemingly endless for a man his age. 
If you were here in front of him he would pull the fabric up over your thighs, making you wear your cum filled panties before going about the rest of your day.
But you’re not here so instead he brings the cum soaked panties up to his face, eyeing his spend and your wetness for a moment. He stops himself and contemplates the idea in his head as he eyes the glistening sheen over the center. Just as quickly as the thought infiltrated his head, he decides against it and bunches up the thin material and tosses them in the old laundry basket sat in the corner of your shared bathroom. Joel tucks himself back into his jeans, washes his hands, limping slightly as he walks out of your bedroom and closes the door behind him leaving your laundry for another day.
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ghouljams · 2 months
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Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)
tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts
summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.
The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.
Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.
You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.
Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.
How long has he been thinking of you?
There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"
Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.
-
You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.
"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.
"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.
"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,
"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.
Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?
Lt. Riley"
You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.
You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.
"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.
"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."
Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.
-
There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.
He's sweet.
He's terrible.
You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.
You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."
You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.
"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"
You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.
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gutsby · 2 months
Text
Trigger Tease(r)
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Before his morning briefing, your mob boss husband decides to take a pit stop in the sauna with you.
Warnings: 18+. Oral (f!receiving). Gentle fingerfucking. Praise and degradation. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Bucky talking you through it. Bimbofication if you squint.
Notes: @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast - you inspired me 🪽 I just had to crank out a little teaser for the third installment of Wedded Bliss. I hope y’all like it 💓
Full version here
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In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing, you found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time these days: pinned up against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.
“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.
You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.
“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”
This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.
The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.
“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.
After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.
Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.
“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”
You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?
“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.
“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.
In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was better sustenance to him than the whole damn meal the two of you had eaten that morning.
Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.
You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.
“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”
“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.
“Everything OK?”
“Uh-huh.”
More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.
“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.
Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.
He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.
“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”
“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”
Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.
“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”
You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.
“Another,” you choked, not thinking.
Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.
Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.
“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.
“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”
Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.
“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.
You opted to pull at his hair instead.
Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.
“I said how many?” he pressed again.
“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.
Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt in quick succession. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.
“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”
“Bucky—”
“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”
Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.
He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.
Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.
“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”
But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.
Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.
“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”
You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,
“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”
“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”
“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”
Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.
Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over while Bucky drank in your every sound, and the few tears that sprung to your eyes as they always did, like sweet nectar.
You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouths and pushed them past your parted lips.
“Suck,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”
You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.
That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.
He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.
“I need to fuck you.”
Taglist (STILL HAVE TO UPDATE THIS I'M DUMB AS SHIT): @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut @dixsond
2K notes · View notes
yanderenightmare · 2 months
Text
TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats
fem reader
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Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.
It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.
Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.
That and not having to deal with the royal family.
You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.
You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.
You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.
You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.
You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold. 
None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.
Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.
You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.
You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.
Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.
Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.
Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.
He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.
You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.
But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”
Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.
“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Your majesty?” You questioned.
“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”
You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together. 
Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking. 
You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.
You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.
He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.
You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.
You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.
You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.
He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.
He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.
He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.
He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.
You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.
You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.
“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.
“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.
Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.
“Take it off.” He interrupted.
You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.
“Your majesty?”
“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”
Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”
“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.
You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.
You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.
“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.
You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.
“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.
He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.
He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.
Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.
Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.
“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”
You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving. 
“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”
Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.
“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.” 
One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served. 
“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”
You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”
You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.
Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.
“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”
He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.
Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.
“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.
You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.
“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”
He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.
Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.
You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.
He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.” 
His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.
“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.” 
Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist. 
“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.
Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.
“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.
Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.
“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”
You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.
“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end. 
Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips. 
“Open wide, slave- here it comes-” 
Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting. 
“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”
With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.
“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.
Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.
“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”
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BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi
JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya
HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa
BLLK – Reo
DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi
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the-travelling-witch · 8 months
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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋
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summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in the devildom doesn't make it any better; luckily, these demons are here to help
pairings: mammon :: belphegor :: barbatos x reader
warnings: period-having reader (gn pronouns), blood, mild cramps
a/n: this is literally so self-indulgent, as everything i write is, but whenever i'm on my period thinking of scenarios like this helps me sit through cramps, so i thought i'd share the nonesense with you ♡
obey me masterlist || similar writing: twisted pains [twst]
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𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍
“Human! Open ya damn door!”
“No, please let me die in peace,” you whined from underneath your blankets as the banging against your door continued.
“If ya don’t let me in right now, I’ll kick it down, ya hear me?!” You could practically see Mammon pacing a ridge into the floor in front of your room, so you trudged over there and unlocked it, the demon almost colliding with you from how quickly he opened the door. His snow-white hair was sticking up from his head as if he’d run his hands through it without noticing. “What’s the big deal makin’ me wait so damn long, huh?”
“I told you I’m trying to pass away from this life,” you deadpanned, trudging back to your bed, groaning as another cramp twisted your lower stomach. “First, I have to deal with this shit in a house full of male demons who are absolutely not prepared to handle a human exchange student on their period. And second-“
You paused, for both dramatic flair and to take a calming breath. Then, you turned around and gave Mammon a saccharine smile dipping pure venom.
“I find out that apparently the entire Devildom can smell that I’m on my period if I step a foot out the bloody door.”
“Listen, I’m sorry.” Mammon held up his hands to plead his innocence. “I didn’t mean ta be so rude about it. But in my defence, I didn’t know it’s a normal thing for humans to just start bleedin’. I thought ya were dyin’!”
You painfully remembered how you had dragged yourself out of your room this morning, after luckily finding some hygiene products in the bag you had with you when you were whisked away to the Devildom unannounced (thank the sky guy you threw them into literally every bag and purse you owned). Already in a bad mood, you’d plopped down into your designated seat, ready to fight for your breakfast, only to feel six pairs of eyes on you.
“What?” You had asked, when nobody passed you the bread basket.
That had been when Mammon, eyes as wide as the coaster under your mug, almost jump-scared you into dropping your butter knife. 
“WHY ARE YA BLEEDIN’?!” He’d already pulled you from your chair and started inspecting you for any signs of injuries, tugging your arms up and inspecting your head. “Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Mammon, I’m fine. You can let go of me now.” You almost had to wrestle your arm back from him, heat already creeping up your cheeks. 
“Clearly yer not!”
Exhaling deeply you said through gritted teeth “I’m on my period, if you have to know.”
The demons around the table had exchanged glances, but sadly only three of them had held a spark of understanding, those being Satan, Levi and Asmodeus. Mammon and Beel on the other hand seemed more lost (well, Beel actually had his eyes on his food but that was beside the point) and Lucifer’s face had been unreadable.
“Woah, periods are an actual thing?” Levi had asked incredulously, his voice somewhere between shock and awe. “I thought anime made those up for the sake of the plot.”
“I see,” Satan had given you hope. “I‘ve read about those before in some books on human anatomy but I didn’t think it was a big deal, seeing as it wasn’t talked about much.”
“Satan, pray tell, from when were those books?” 
“The 18th century perhaps?” He shrugged, tilting his head.
“Well, that explains a lot,” you had sighed, whereas Asmo had just dropped his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry about them, hon. But demons don’t experience periods, so I doubt any of them will be much help,” he had squeezed your hand sympathetically.
Lucifer had cleared his throat then. “Well, it appears that we have some catching up to do, now that we are hosting a human exchange student. Given your…predicament, you are allowed to stay home from RAD as long as this affects you.”
You had sighed a breath of relief.
“In exchange, however,” Lucifer had continued, making you dread the next words to leave his mouth, “it will fall to you that my brothers are properly educated on how to handle this side of humanity.”
So, that afternoon, you had found yourself in the common room, holding a presentation on the menstrual cycle in front of the brothers… and the future demon king himself. Yes, of course, Diavolo had gotten wind of your situation and simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn more about humans. At least, him being in the know meant you’d never have to worry about getting period products imported to the Devildom ever again.
Subsequently, you had locked yourself in your room, curled up under a blanket as you scrolled through Devilgram trying to forget this whole ordeal happened. A good hour later, Mammon had started pounding against your door like a madman.
With him standing in your room now, you could see the bag he was holding as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you patted the spot next to you.
“I’ll forgive you. It would have been more embarrassing if I went to RAD without knowing,” you said placatingly. “Anyways, what’s that?”
“Oh, it’s nothin’…” Mammon trailed off, looking anywhere but you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… Ya were sayin’ this stuff could help and we didn’t have any, so I went and got some for ya… Only because Lucifer would string me from the ceiling if ya went and complained! That’s all!”
Taking the plastic bag from him, you peered inside to see various types of human world painkillers, a hot water bottle and chocolates. Despite what the demon had just said, you noted that the chocolate brand he bought was the one you liked best, something you had only dropped in a passing sentence when you talked to Asmo about a new trending dessert.
“Thank you, Mammon,” you smiled genuinely. “That actually is really helpful.”
“Really?” He managed to suppress his grin before it curled further than the corner of his lips before clearing his throat and hiding half his face behind his hand. “I mean, I’m only doin’ ma job, ya know? So Lucifer gives me back Goldie!”
“Sure you are,” you laughed, the first time since your day started.  “Does your job also involve staying with me and watching a movie?”
“Yeah!” This time he was too late to hide his excitement, then he caught himself and tried again, calmer this time. “I uh- I could fit ya in my super busy schedule. Gotta make sure ya don’t die after all, huh?”
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𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑
What a horrible way to start your day.
Well, under other circumstances, it would’ve been near perfect. Waking up snuggled comfortably in your boyfriend’s tight hold as he lightly snored into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 
If it wasn’t for the unpleasant twisting of your lower stomach you might have turned around and slept the morning away. Still slightly groggy, you sat up in bed, hoping dearly it was just a fleeting stomach ache or hunger and not your period, despite the clear symptoms. 
All hope was shattered however, when you shifted and you knew instantly that you could kiss this pair of underwear goodbye. With some effort, you wriggled out of Belphie’s vice grip, looking back at the sleepy demon as he groaned in protest only to see a large blood stain where you’d just lain. At your shocked gasp echoing around the attic, you watched his brows knit together and his nose wriggle, his forehead creasing as if he was deep in thought. Then, he blinked his eyes open.
“What’s—“ he cut himself off with a yawn, “What’s wrong? Are you alright? What are you doing over there?”
“Belphie… I’m so sorry,” you nearly sobbed, guilt bubbling up in you. In combination with your hormones being all over the place and your still sleep-addled mind, tears were threatening to form along your waterline.
In a heartbeat, the Avatar of Sloth was up and next to you, pulling you into a hug and bringing your head to rest against his shoulder, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other holding you close by the waist. You’d never seen him move this fast this early in the morning.
“Hey, hey, what’s up?” He gently prodded, voice still raspy with sleep but soft nonetheless. “Please talk to me, starlight.”
“It’s— Your sheets, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know…” You buried your face deeper in the fabric draping over his chest as you felt him turn his head towards the bed. Then, a beat of silence spanned across the attic.
“That’s what you’re fussing about?”
“Yeah, I mean—“ Collecting your thoughts, you began again. “It’s gross and a pain to clean. I really should’ve known that—“
“Hey, look at me.” Tilting your face towards his, your eyes met amethyst ones as you followed the guidance of his fingers underneath your chin. “It’s not gross, you hear me? No part of you could ever be.”
“But the blood-“
“I’m a demon, might I remind you. You’d think I can handle a little blood.” There was a caring seriousness in his gaze that made you weak in the knees, the love and adoration you found swirling within almost making you cry for a whole other reason. “You didn’t actually think I’d be mad at you about something so natural, did you?”
“It’s generally a bit of a taboo topic and conversations about it can be quite stigmatised, so…,” you shrugged.
“You’re telling me half the population go through this every month and the topic is hushed up anyway? You’re already stressed enough and people give you crap for something like this?” You nodded at his incredulous tone. “Well that’s just stupid.”
For a moment, Belphie just held you, his fingers tracing random shapes into your hip. Then, he pulled you towards a dresser in the corner of the room, never letting go of you completely. 
With how much time you had started spending in the attic it was a somewhat natural course of nature that your clothes would gradually end up moving here as well. Pulling out a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of black sweatpants, you didn’t have time to reach for a sweater before a soft pile of fabric was already pushed into your hands. Upon closer inspection, you identified it to be one of Belphie’s hoodies.
“I know you like wearing them,” he merely shrugged off your raised eyebrow. “Now go and take your time washing up, but make sure to come back straight away when you’re done.”
Practically herding you out of the door, you almost had to snort at the irony of the Avatar of Sloth encouraging you to do something you might not have had the energy to otherwise. But you were incredibly thankful for it because when the shower’s warm water hit you, you noticed how much you needed this, feeling born anew after scrubbing your skin clean.
Climbing back up the stairs to the attic, you already felt a lot calmer than when you had woken up, swaddled in Belphie’s cloud-like hoodie (seriously, where did he find fabric like that?) and surrounded by a mixture of his scent and your body wash.
When you pushed open the attic door, you blinked at the new set of sheets Belphie was lounging on, the old ones nowhere to be seen. Even without you moving, the demon perked up at your presence, extending one arm to coax you back into bed.
“What are you still doing over there? Come here,” he said, voice already drowsy again. “There’s still some morning left to be slept away.”
Who were you to refuse? Sliding under the covers next to him, you turned and twisted into whatever pretzel position made you cramp the least before two strong arms wrapped around you. This was another perk of being with Belphie; if anyone could accommodate weird sleeping positions, it was him.
Warm hands found their way under his hoodie, his palms pressed flatly against your lower back where most of your pain was coming from, while the hips of his fingers slowly caressed the surrounding skin.
“Feeling better?” He mumbled into the crown of your head.
“Mhm, much better,” you breathed into the crook of his neck, sighing as his natural body heat slowly eased some of the constant pressure in both your lower stomach and back. “How did you know about the back pain though?”
“You always complain about it, especially on the first day,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing to know. 
“How did I get so lucky,” you mused, your tone playful but just as genuine. “Makes me feel even worse about ruining your sheets.”
“Literally don’t worry about it, you do too much of that anyway. I left them with Asmo, he knows how to get just about any stain out of stuff.” You tried not to think about the specifics of where that expertise came from, so you rolled your eyes at the very typical behaviour of the youngest to dump his work on his brothers. Then you stiffened. Work. Chores. You were on grocery shopping duty today. “What’s the matter now?”
“I have to go out soon and get everything we need for dinner,” you sighed. Maybe you could convince someone to trade it with an indoor chore for the week.
Before you could reach for your D.D.D, the arms around you held you a little closer to the demon you were snuggled up against, one of his legs draping over your thigh, careful not to put too much pressure on you as he tangled your legs with his.
“Well that’s too bad,” Belphie mumbled into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Looks like Lucifer has to find someone else for the job. Because you’ll be busy all day.”
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𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒
Periods had the annoying habit of showing up whenever they pleased, which mostly meant whenever it was most inconvenient for you. Being well aware of that fact didn’t mean you were any more prepared for it to happen, though. 
So, as you were running errands around RAD with Barbatos, it suddenly felt like your insides were squeezed together and wrung out like a washcloth, making you stagger and pause to steady yourself again. When your companion turned to ask if you were alright, you assured him everything was fine, hoping it was just one bad cramp that would ebb away soon.
But over the course of the next fifteen minutes, it progressively got worse and you had trouble focusing on the task at hand, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you sorted through student council documents. As you reached for a new stack of files, gloved hands came to rest over yours, preventing you from picking up more work.
“You should not overexert yourself, dear,” a soft voice spoke close to your ear. On other occasions, you would have welcomed the way his hands smoothed down your shoulders when it was just the two of you for once, but you couldn’t think about anything but the pain you were experiencing. “Without meaning to offend, you’re looking rather unwell. Allow me to take you to the Demon Lord’s Castle.”
“What about work?” You mumbled but didn’t resist as he pulled you to your feet, steadying you with a hand between your shoulder blades. “And Diavolo?”
“Do not worry about that. There’s no rush to complete these files and the Young Master has given the explicit order for me to take care of you,” Barbatos smiled as he led you out of RAD, careful to avoid as much unwanted attention as possible. “An order I was all too happy to comply with, might I add.”
“So you knew,” you sighed with a smile, not actually too surprised at the revelation. “I did think it was suspicious to have you all to myself the entire day. Do I even have to ask how you knew?”
“Well, as you have come to learn, demons are far more perceptive to certain reactions of the body, hormonal changes included,” he explained matter of factly. “Aside from that, however, I have also made it a priority to learn the rhythm of your body to best care for you.”
“You track my cycle? Despite being so busy already?” You turn your head to look at him in surprise.
“Of course. Not only are you an honoured exchange student, you are also someone who is immensely important to me,” he said as he held the castle door open for you, his verdant gaze full of adoration. “Naturally, I aim to ease your strains and alleviate some of the burden you carry.”
“You really don’t have to—“
“But I want to.” Taking your hand in his, the fabric of his gloves soft against your skin, he brushed your knuckles with a featherlight kiss. “Please allow me to take care of you, my love.”
“I guess I can’t say no when you ask like that,” you laughed sheepishly. Your body seemingly agreed with you as it sent another wave of cramps to make your knees buckle. 
“You must be exhausted,” Barbatos said, no doubt picking up on your unease immediately. “Let me draw you a warm bath to ease some of your tension.”
Said, done. Soon thereafter, you were sinking into a tub that probably cost more than a normal person’s house, the water the absolute perfect temperature to relax your muscles. You also noted how there were no strong scents present, only the hint of something floral and calming, but not overwhelmingly so.
After some time of soaking in the bath and with your permission, Barbatos stepped back into the bathroom. First, he wrapped you in the fluffiest black towel, carefully patting your skin dry so as to not irritate it. Then, he applied a moisturising lotion, gently kneading out any knots in your legs and shoulders with his skilled fingers before helping you into a new set of clothes which felt light as feathers against your skin. 
He also showed you where to find any sort of hygiene product you might need and, to nobody’s surprise, somebody had stocked the guest bathroom you used whenever you came over with every possible product there was.
In your guest room, Barbatos guided you over to the sofa and lounge chairs underneath one of the high windows where a tea set was already waiting for you on the table in the middle. 
“I took the liberty to prepare some tea and a few pastries while you were bathing. This blend has soothing qualities and is known to help with cramping. Given your usual choice of tea, I also think the aroma will be to your taste,” the demon explained and, as always, you were stunned by his level of attention to detail. 
As he poured it, you noticed, however, that there was only one cup on the table and instead of getting one for himself, Barbatos went to fetch a hot water bottle. 
Wrapping it in a cloth he warned you to be careful not to burn yourself before announcing he’d start preparations for dinner, letting you know he’d be making your favourite. But before he could turn to leave, you caught his wrist, a surprised expression flitting over his face for just a second.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” you started, holding his gaze, “would you join me for tea? It’s been a while since we sat down together.”
At your request his face smoothed over into a fond smile, the hand in your grasp coming up to brush over your cheekbone. 
“I suppose dinner can wait a little longer,” he said, clearly as happy as you to spend time with you. “Then again, even if it couldn’t, I’d find it hard to leave you. Especially when your wish and mine are so closely intertwined.”
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© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit
if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡
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mytanuki-kun · 1 month
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   “She’s so pretty”
- ☆ - Luffy x Reader
- ☆ - !WARNING OF EXPLICIT CONTENT- 18+!
- ☆ - 10.9 k
- ☆ - tags : ♧ Fem!Reader ♧reader-insert ♧ curvy!reader ♧ reader is a new strawhat pirate ♧ some minor fat-phobia from Sanji but it's not hate, just for plot- he's my bbygirl i promisee <333 ♧ size difference ♧ strength kink ♧ oral.f.recieving + fingering ♧ minor cum play if you squint ♧ lots of praises ♧ Luffy being a tease ♧ nothing major, just cute :3 ♧ - ☆ - a/n : ♧ this was commissioned by a lovely anon, I hope you like it ♧ One Piece is my newest hyperfixation, and Luffy is my fave strawhat, this was my first time writing him and it was so much fun :3 he's just so cute hehe ♧ never had a beta, we die like fools ♧
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“She’s so pretty”.
 You have heard your Captain say the same thing a few times now— every time he does, Zoro usually responds with a tired sigh and grumble, “Why don’t you just tell her, idiot?” He’d lean against the mast, his eyes closed and fully aware that Luffy is referring to you every time he interrupts his peace with his goofy sighs, talking animatedly and smiling wide in the only way he knows how.
  Boisterous and shameless.  
 It’s nothing new; you are used to Luffy’s colourfully confident outbursts about you, despite the way they used to make you blush. Often hearing it to your face and behind your back, or rather when he assumes you are not within earshot.
 Not that it matters to him. Luffy has never once said something he did not mean.
 So, when he shouts, when he hollers in the morning over your new outfit and calls you pretty in the same breath, you laugh bashfully, and your smile makes his beam.
 And today is no different.
 Luffy’s voice tends to carry in the air whenever he speaks, filling the space with his spirit. All the while, you sit on the swing, the sides only slightly digging into your curvy hips— trying not to overhear the conversation from across the grassy deck with your nose buried in a book. Though, your fidgeting gives away how difficult it is to ignore them. The day is warm and bright enough without Luffy’s endearing praises triggering palpitations in your chest.
 “Why are you bothering me?” Zoro booms, exasperated by another unprompted comment about you, "Go tell her!”
 “I already told her this morning!” Luffy shouts with a grin, “I’m telling you!”
 “And why the fuck are you telling me?! I don’t care!”
 His face falls, “You don’t think she’s pretty?”
 “I never said that!” Zoro exhales shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if gathering every ounce of patience he can muster. “Go bother someone else with your crush”, he grumbles, “I’m tryin’ to sleep”.
 “Well, I told Sanji over breakfast”, Luffy states, in an odd tone you don’t quite catch from your position, “and then he called me stupid for saying it”.
 “What did you say?” He asks cautiously.
 “That she looked really pretty in her skirt this morning”, Luffy says in a flat tone, his head cocked to the side the way it does when he is trying to figure something out a little too slowly. “Sanji likes girls in skirts, but he said girls like her don’t suit it”, his brows knit, “I don’t get it”.
 Zoro and you both freeze. A tightness compresses in your chest, drying your throat as you fidget in the seat.
 Though you have only been on board for six weeks, Sanji’s dissatisfaction was not news to you or anyone who would catch his off-handed comments whenever you dared to share a meal with them. Including when he would blatantly exclude you from the special treats he cooked for Robin and Nami, muttering how you did not need any more sugar in your diet. It was uncomfortable for anyone who heard it except the sweet, clueless Captain who could never see tension past his plate.
 You weren’t the type to start a fight— but you could defend yourself well enough, especially against men like Sanji, who exuded hostility in your direction whenever you coincidentally walked past. Like your very existence was a disgrace. Your curves, ass, chub and thighs a blight to the man who claimed to love all women.
 In those moments you would laugh, hissing a snide remark which eases the tension and often has the others laugh at him instead of sitting with the awkwardness he creates for you. Luffy’s rambunctious laughter always turns the tide, shifting the attention away from you, even stealing treats Sanji withholds and sharing them with you as a childish act of rebellion which means more to you than he realises.
  Life on the Sunny is exciting, and if it means tolerating Sanji’s attitude, then you will bear it. And if it includes hearing Luffy shout your name, then you can go on pretending his smile glows just for you when he says it. The sort of warmth that bathes your skin like the first beams of sunlight on a summer’s morning. Radiant.
  There is not one present now. He stays seated in contemplation. An unnatural frown twists the shape of his smile.
 You sigh, fiddling with the skirt they spoke of now riding up your pillowy thighs, a lovely pink one you made yourself the other day. You were quite proud of it, and hearing Luffy’s cheery comment this morning warmed your cheeks— unaware of disapproving glares when Luffy’s loud compliment drowned out any animosity.
 Now, a twinge of discomfort and anger flushes your face while Zoro struggles to find the words without making the scene any more uncomfortable.
 “That pervy cook is stupid”, he hisses in the end. “If you think she’s pretty, then that’s it. That’s the only thing that matters”, Zoro says firmly, giving his friend a pointed look before scoffing lightly. “Anyway, forget that idiot. He has no dignity around girls anyway”.
 Luffy hums thoughtfully, and for once, he’s quiet. He tilts his head, listening to the wind howl around the ship and ruffle the sails.
 The anticipation is palpable, the rock of the boat twists your stomach further. You can’t help but watch him even though it’s obvious and incredibly impolite.
 It’s Luffy’s enthusiasm, laughter, and devotion to freedom on the sea that captured your heart. His sincerity has a way of uplifting everyone it touches, inspiring loyalty and friendship, like there’s a magnetic flair pulsing around him, luring people into his life. Luffy is earnest. He is honest and bold. 
  His opinion matters to you.
 “I like her!” Luffy declares loudly, unaware you squeak in surprise at his shout. “She’s great!”
  “And pretty?” Zoro teases lightly, eyeing your shy smile from across the deck.
 Luffy snickers, wiping his nose bashfully with another one of his radiant grins, “Yea! I really don’t notice stuff like that. But when Usopp said she has a big butt, I saw it!” 
  “God!” Zoro shouts, blushing hard as he whips his head between you and his clueless Captain. “Why are you listening to Usopp?!”
 “Cause he helped me notice!” Luffy screams back, throwing his arms in the air as if it were a revelation. “He said she’s probably soft all over, an’ I wanna know too! An’ I like the way her butt moves when she walks past, shishishi”.
 Zoro groans, uncomfortable with the new direction of the conversation, knowing you were right across the deck listening in with a giggle you could not hide behind a book. “Okay, that’s enough”.
 “An’ I wanna squeeze her thighs—”
 “Jeez, stop it!”
 “They’re so squishy!” He shouts, demonstrating by groping the air with greedy grabbing fingers that made you snort, “—like marshmallows, I wanna bite ‘em!”
 “Please, stop”.
 “She smells good too”, Luffy continues snickering, even when Zoro covers his ears and turns away from his friend, wishing for the torment to end. “I asked her what it is, an’ she said it’s this coco-summin’ butter. She won’t let me taste it— but it makes me so hungry! Oh! Is it lunchtime yet? I’m getting hungry again”.
 “Then leave me alone, goddammit!” Zoro turns his back to him, now lying on the grassy deck with the sun beaming on his tanned skin, eyes clamped shut, vanishing the rest of the world— but not its irritating chatter. Luffy does not take the hint, choosing to plop right next to his best friend, legs crossed and the cutest pout on his lips.
 “I’m just saying”, he goes on with the most dramatic sigh, “I’m glad she joined the crew! She’s fun and nice, and so-so cool! Oh! And she made a really nice pudding yesterday— ooo! I wonder if there’s more in the fridge?!”
 “Can’t be”, Zoro mutters, utterly defeated, “you ate it all”.
  “Oh, yeah”, his expression deflates.
 “Why not ask her now?” Zoro exclaims audibly, “oh look, there she is!”
 That does the trick. Luffy jumps up, turning away from the swordsman and slinging himself at the tree where you sat.
 He lands ungracefully, stuck in its branches with twigs and leaves falling on you until he collapses at your feet.
 Luffy doesn’t miss a beat, practically shouting in your face, “Can you make that yummy pudding again?!”
 You gleam, dusting your lap off loose leaves. “Sure, Captain! I’ll just finish my book, okay?” His impatient huff pudges his cheeks. Your heart blooms, instantly conceding with a sigh, “How about you give me a hand, then?”
 “YES!” He grabs you without a second thought, his hand large and warm clasped in yours, you try not to read too much into it as he drags you to the kitchen. “Sanji! Sanji! Where are the pudding things? I’m gonna make some!”
 “THERE’S NO WAY YOU’RE MESSING UP MY KITCHEN!” Sanji bellows from the boy's room, running up to the kitchen to beat him to the fridge, “I WOULDN’T TRUST YOU TO POUR MILK!” 
 “PUDDING!”
 “I SAID DON’T TOUCH!”
 You shake your head, taking out the mixing bowls well away from the fridge they fight over, both screaming at the other the only way brothers do— with fists and insults thrown.
 “I JUST WANT PUDDING!”
 “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FRIDGE!”
 Luffy latches on to the fridge door, taking the assault of harsh kicks to the back as the cook attempts to forcibly wring his stretchy body off the metal handle.
 You ignore their chaos for a moment, mildly surprised no one else had come to investigate the noise, only when they rattle the massive fridge do you smack them both.
 “Okay!” you holler, “That’s enough!”
“HE WON’T LET ME OPEN THE FRIDGE”
 “HE’S NOT TOUCHING MY FRIDGE—”
They scream at you, pointing an accusatory finger at the other. You shush them calmly, forced to be the voice of reason when the blonde doesn’t even attempt to hide his feelings towards you with a deep scowl.
 “Sanji don’t worry”, you try to say reassuringly, but his glare burns too hot to maintain civility. It pains you to feel such distrust, but you stand firm anyway. “I’m making the pudding, Luffy promises to not touch anything, right?”
 “You said I could help”, he whines, sliding down the fridge door.
 It is always so hard to say no to him, it’s like you melt under the shine of his eyes.
 “Of course, sorry!” you beam at him, your affections always obvious to everyone but the man it is directed to. You turn back to Sanji, “Luffy can stir the bowl, I promise to clean up afterwards, okay?”
 He's silent for a little too long. Sanji’s rejection sits in his furrowed brows, his sneer curled behind his cigarette, but a presence shifts behind him, and he nods slowly. Demeanour cracking. “Sure, I’ll just be observing, then”.
 “That’s okay”, you sigh, only slightly agitated to be micromanaged, “I’ll make plenty for everyone”.
 “No way!” Luffy interjects, letting go of the fridge finally, “you promised it was just for me! I am not sharing!”
“I know, Captain. I’ll make a huge batch just for you, yeah?” you laugh, turning around to start prepping the dessert and feeling his stare curve down your back. His earlier words thrum with a blush you’re thankful neither of them can see. You just do your best to ignore the tension that swirls from behind, but Luffy doesn’t sit still for long.
 “Lemme help!” he jumps, landing right beside you, squishing you into the counter with his hard body— unphased by the tight proximity as his grin widens, “let’s cook!”
 Your laugh sounds strained compared to his, but it passes off just fine anyway, letting him do as he pleases.
 Luffy engages in an animated conversation watching you prepare the dessert. His ‘help’ is a loose term that mostly includes snickering and sneaking the chocolate into his mouth every second your back is turned, then feigning innocence when you confront him with the missing ingredient.
 You can only laugh, butterflies always present whenever he grins at you— while Sanji sits in mild agitation at the counter, but he is easy to ignore, given how Luffy’s surprisingly large hands never stay far from your waist.
 Always grabbing and manhandling you. Affectionately squeezing your arms, and shoulders, leaning into you whenever he speaks— his gaze following your every move like they’re latched at your shadow.
 He is relentless, restless, and mischievously clings onto your back whenever you turn away from him for too long. His strong arms lock around your body and squeezes you into his bare chest while laughing airily into your ear.
 He’s an affectionate person, you know this— but to feel his body constantly pressed against yours is— it’s hot. It’s maddening.
 You can’t focus— your hands shake when he grabs your waist to shift you out of his way, your cheeks burn whenever he rests his chin on your shoulder to peer at what you are doing, his hips dig into your ass you can feel every ridge of muscle rub against your back.
 It drives you crazy, heated— humiliated to feel such attraction when he probably has no idea of the effect he has on you.
 Or he does, but you refuse to let your mind wander to that possibility because it’s Luffy.
 He’s silly and sweet and so handsome...it doesn’t matter. So what he thinks you’re pretty? You think you’re pretty too, so...yes. It doesn’t matter.
 You try to wriggle your way out of his hold, push at his chest to keep some distance, but then comes that pout of his. The one that makes your legs weak, butterflies flutter, and you concede once again, letting him do as he pleases until the dessert is done and he sits on the stool with a big bowl in front of him. His attention fixated on the treat.
 “Here you go! a big bowl of pudding, just for you!”
 “Thank you!!” Luffy beams at you, “Thank you!! You’re amazing!”
 “You’re welcome!” you offer Sanji a regular bowl, who politely takes it, never one to turn down food, something you genuinely appreciate about him before he mutters about whisking the cream slower for a smoother consistency. You take as friendly criticism, nodding calmly, “I’ll remember that for next time”.
 “Don’t forget to clean up”, Sanji murmurs, idly playing with his spoon.
 You nod, standing back up without an argument. It stung, but if it meant he would leave, you quickly begin to clean up. The sooner the better, you thought. But Sanji’s scrutiny glows at the back of your head, ruining the mood you enjoyed with Luffy moments before.
 His orders about placements and proper care about utilities you took as courteously as you could muster— though it was hard to ignore the tone he used, steadily setting your nerves alight. Forced to listen to his irritated orders with every second his kitchen was in slight disarray.
 “That’s not where it goes.”
“I got it.”
  “Make sure you soak it first.”
 “Oka—”
  “That’s not how you do it.”
 The clink of his spoon grates your ears. His problem was you, and you were losing patience the harder he cut your politeness with his demands.
 He micromanages every little thing about where things belong and how he keeps it— twisting and churning frustration whenever you fall out of step— rudely cutting you off. Talking over you.
 “I said—”
You huff, slamming the whisk down—
 “Sanji”.
 You jump as if the thunder in Luffy’s voice was directed at you, catching the tension that cracks between them when you turn.
 Luffy shoots him a hard look, one that shakes the room with its force and rakes a shudder through you. One Sanji doesn’t question, only nodding in understanding and perhaps a little guilt that has him softening his expression towards you.
 He murmurs an apology, talking lowly into his cigarette. “That was rude of me”, Sanji says. He meets your eyes, looking somewhat embarrassed for his behaviour.
 You only nod, entirely too focused on the pressure squeezing in your chest, a weight you’ve never felt before making you hot the way Luffy’s did. It was palpable, electric. You try not to squirm, not to give away how sweltering his presence was— how it affected you. How Luffy’s side profile made you stare a little too hard at the cut of his tense jaw.
 Thankfully, it doesn’t last long.
 Sanji leaves calmly, saying something to his Captain about locking the door before it closes firmly behind him.
 The tension dissipates, and Luffy’s easy smile returns just as quickly. The room brightens immediately with his mood now that the two of you are finally alone in the kitchen. Just the way you wanted.
 You turn to him, and your breath finally returns to your lungs, frustrations melting. “What was that about?”
  He waves it off dismissively, his laughter easing his features once again. “Forget him. Sanji’s super protective over the kitchen”.
 “Maybe ‘cause you always create a mess”, you tease lightly, going back to clearing up the huge bowl he devoured.
 “Food is too good to sit in the fridge!”
 “Then how will you preserve it? Fridges are important”, you say matter of factly. This was easier. Talking to him. It brought back the lightness in your conversation.
He huffs, his voice trailing off when you walk over to the counter, “I’ll just eat it quickly”.
 “What about the day after?” you look at him over your shoulder, missing how his gaze shifts quickly to your eyes, “you can’t buy new food every day. And when you’re out on sea all the time—”
 “We can fish!”
 You roll your eyes playfully, making quick work of the dishes while he sits drumming on the table, “you can’t guarantee that there will be”. He hums in response, sounding distracted, and the conversation dies for a few seconds before you turn to him with a cheeky wink. “Don’t tell Chopper, but there’s secret stash of cotton candy behind the sink cabinet if you want some”.
 “Yes!!”
 You giggle, clearing up the sink like you promised and bending over slightly to rummage for the treat. “Found it!” you wipe the counter before moving over to sit beside him, handing him the snack, “All yours, Captain!”. He practically inhales it after ripping open the bag, but not before giving you a piece you idly pick at, not all that interested in anything but the comfort of his company.
 “y’know”, he begins to say, a sly smile on his pink, candy-tinted lips, “you’ve been really mean to me”.
 You scoff, his smile too infectious to maintain your frown, “I’ve been mean to you? How? I made you dessert”.
 Luffy snickers, his hand brushing against your thigh when he leans in, warm breath tickling your cheek, “cause of your skirts, they’re too short”.
 “And how is that mean?”
“When your skirts move up your thighs, everyone else can see your panties”. He grins, “I wanna be the only one who can”.
 Your cheeks burn, spluttering an awkward chortle that drowns beneath the sound of his laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry! Was that too forward?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, a boyish chuckle hiding the threat of his words, “I just can’t stand to see Usopp look at you”.
 “U-usopp looks at me?”
“Mmhmm, so does Brook”, his smile slants down, not quite into a frown, but it doesn’t reach his eyes or hold the same warmth. Gratifying, almost. His body inches even closer to yours, his every word touching your lips like a faint kiss. “He asks the girls what colour panties they have on every day. But I wanna punch him when he asks you”.
 “Why?” You flush, heat pooling between your thighs when his eyes linger a little too long. You swallow your nerves— about the only way you can speak, “Like you said, he asks every girl”.
 “Cause I want to know too”, he confesses boldly, “—but I don’t want anyone else to. Makes sense?”
 You nod, the implication too loud for you to ignore. The room stifles with the rising temperature he stimulates between you. This was a side to him you weren’t used to— flirtatious and forward. But his confidence was the same, his boldness ever-present. Just Luffy playing again, only a different sort of way.
 When you swallow the lump in your throat, you find yourself slipping into a teasing smirk and bump his knee, “Then should I stop wearing skirts? Captain?”.
 Luffy snaps out of his daze with a huff, “That’s stupid, then I won’t see your thighs”.
 He makes you laugh, his earlier conversation coming to light. “Do you like my thighs?”
Luffy nods heartily, “they look squishy and soft”.
 “I know”, you say bashfully, tugging on your skirt that squeezes against your plush flesh. “I heard you talking to Zoro earlier”.
 “I meant it!” He shouts, though his attention lingers a little too long on your lap, sounding far away in his mind as he speaks. “I like it, like your outfits. Your thighs, ass”. He meets your eyes, a coy smile tilting the innocence of his question, “do you like me?”
 The words fail you despite the obvious answer you want to shout.
 Of course, you do. He’s all you think about, dare to fantasise, hope to kiss. Yet, your bodies touch, and all you can feel is the distance your insecurity creates between you— faltering your confidence, fumbling your words.
 “I’m bigger than you, y’know”, you say flatly, “That doesn’t bother—”
 “You’re not that tall”, he scoffs, cutting off your rejection with a frown and a titled head, a familiar expression. He leans back and starts comparing your heads with his hand, though it is an unfair assessment considering you were both seated. “You’re average for a girl. I’ve seen some really tall girls and—”
 “No, no”, You take his hand from above your head, giving it a gentle squeeze to gain back his attention. His rough palm shooting sparks up your body. “I mean, my body is bigger than you”, you attempt to laugh, but all you manage is a slight grimace. It is as if his sincerity vanishes any shame of vulnerability. “My thigh is the same size as your head”.
 He hums, “yea, I know”.
  “Oh…”
“Big and squishy”, he hums again, smile shading into a sinful smirk that matches his hooded eyes a little too well. “Bet they’d feel good on me”.
 “Feel good?” you squeak, embarrassed at his teasing giggle. There was an intensity you couldn’t shake as though it were pulling you to him, a gravity made all on his own. Drawing you closer.
 “Yea”, he husks, “like you…on top of me”.
 It shouldn’t, but his sly leer makes you cinch your thighs to relieve an ache you try to ignore.
 But you can’t, not with this— not with his attention and his flirtatious leer making it hard to breathe, to think straight, about the only thing you can manage is stare at him. Taunting you with the proximity of his arousal purring from every breathless chuckle. Every lingering brush and light-hearted snicker stealing your resolve, leaving you lightweight, airy and incredibly flustered.
 Luffy has a sweet charm about him that makes it hard to dwell on your insecurities. It makes you bold, but the gnawing voice hissing at you makes it acutely aware of the size difference between you too.
 You are all curves, and he- he is- “But—”
 “I’m stronger than you”, he states plainly, the same way someone says the ocean is blue. As a matter of fact, a simple statement not up for debate or further conversation— and it still makes you pause, slinking another smug grin on his face. “You’re cute when you’re shocked! But I don’t know why you’d be shocked, you’ve seen me fight. I’d throw you up easy!” He flexes playfully, showing off a surprising bulge of muscles as he laughs, “I’d beat your ass, size doesn’t matter to me!”
   “Captain…”.
 “Oh! I don’t wanna hurt you!” He shouts, animatedly waving his hands in a panic, “There are lots of things I wanna do to your ass, but I didn’t mean beat you up! I’d never beat up a friend! Unless I hav’to, but I won’t hit you, promise!” He pauses, mulling something over before the corner of his lip tugs up, “unless you ask me to. I liked throwing you over my shoulder last time, remember?”.
 How could you forget? he practically kidnapped you to join his crew. It was exhilarating how effortlessly he lifted you and ran with you shouting over his shoulder.
 It excites you a little too much imagining him showing off that strength again.
 Pinning you down, gripping your thighs.
 “What—”, you wet your lips, noting how his eyes follow the movement of your tongue before you draw in a shaky breath. “What else have you thought about, Captain?”
 “The way you say Captain”, he murmurs, sounding a little breathier, a little more distracted while fixated on your plump lips, “makes me wanna...”.
 “What?” You whisper, unable to control how your chest rises and falls practically in his face. “Should I stop, Luffy?”
 “No”, his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. There's a beat before amusement curls with his half-lidded eyes, dark mischief purring from his gaze. “You can say it any way you like”. Luffy slides in closer, his arm rests behind you, lightly brushing against your ass, his knee bumping into yours. “But you’re still being mean to me”.
 “How? Because of my skirt?”
 “Nah, your tits”. He laughs over your face, nudging you playfully with his knee, “you’re fun!”
 “You’re the one teasing me, Captain!” you huff, turning away from him with your arms crossed, tits pressed tightly you miss the flicker of his gaze. “You keep saying these things and laughing at me!”
 “I can’t help it! You make such funny faces when you’re flustered”, he giggles, a toothy grin flashing you with all its merriment, “makes me wonder how you’d look cummin’”. His voice lowers into a playful husk, “wonder if you’ll choke or cry pretty tears”.
 “Luffy”, you gasp, out of breath and unable to meet the wicked gleam in his eyes. You don’t know how to respond to it, to him and his bold confessions.
His brazen honesty. Yet the butterflies burst anyway, spreading warmth in the deepest parts of your core, and a smile you don’t even notice coaxes out as he continues to snicker.
  “So, can I?”
 You stare at him suspiciously, “can you what?”
 “See the face you make when you cum”.
  “Captain”.
 He tilts his head, “Is that a no? yes? Wait—” He stretches his arm, locking the kitchen door quickly, then turns to you, cheeks flushed and breathless with longing. “Say what you want”, he says boldly, “Cause I jus’ think you’d look pretty cummin’ on me. It drives me crazy thinkin’ about it all the time! It’s like, all I can imagine is you makin’ a mess on me. Sittin’ on my lap with your skirt up an’ thighs squishin’ me. I wanna see it for myself, kay?” His hands flex, keeping them on his own stool despite the hunger that thrums in him to kiss you, “I’ll make it feel so good, please?”
  “Now!?” your heart pounds, rushing blood and arousal faster than you can register his words, flurrying an excitement that matches the eagerness Luffy proudly exerts with his grin. “Here? I-”
 “Say it”, he presses, impatience buzzing but smiling at you anyway, “do you want me too?”
  “I—”
 “I wanna kiss you”, he blurts out when your hesitancy drags for too long. When you still don’t answer, he sits back, giving you the dignity to heave in a deep breath that makes him snigger. “I’m sorry, you jus’ get me all worked up”, he says impishly, pushing back his hat to rest on the string. “I wanna grab your face and kiss you, like all the time, but Usopp said I can’t do that”.
 “Why did he say that?”
 “He said I have’to ask you first. That I can’t jus’ touch you, like I really really want to. That you’d be mad if I kissed you without permission, but I don’t want you to be upset, I want you to want me too. I want you to like me too”, he reiterates firmly, then lightens his tone by talking with his hands again. “I usually don’t care ‘bout stuff like that, but Usopp likes you too, and it made me realise how much I like being with you! Your hugs feel different, I like it when you laugh at my jokes, it makes me feel even happier that I made you laugh! Like…like hot all over— Like, when I see you, I wanna kiss you an’ touch you, an’ feel you on top of’me! It drives me crazy!” He laughs cheerily, talking fast and over himself as you sit and admire his confidence.
 His pride, his passion.
He makes it all look so easy— talking jovially, confessing boldly.
 His heart exposed.
 As though the only thing holding him back are the short breaths between sentences, while you sit wide-eyed and incredibly flustered, unable to make a sound louder than a gasp.
 “—I think Zoro is sick of me talkin’ ‘bout you”, he continues to say, “but that’s jus’ cause I think we’d have lot’s’a fun together! I like bein’ friends with you, but like— in a different sort of way, with kisses an’ stuff, ya’know?” Luffy takes a deep breath, his face splitting into his signature grin, but this time, with a precious blush darkening his cheeks, “I really like you, but more than friends— does that make sense?”
 Your heart swells, pulsing a beat that matches the nervous drumming of his fingers on the counter, moved by his words in a way you are sure he doesn’t quite understand.
 He was closing the distance for you, by casting out the insecurities that stood in between. Forcing you to face them— your doubts, his feelings, your attraction. In the only way he knew how— boisterous and shameless. His confessions were fiercer than any gnawing whispers that dared to intervene.
 Luffy was infinitely braver than you.
 And you were only getting in your own way.
 “Luffy, come here”, you reach for him and tug on his shirt until he stands. He follows you blindly, allowing you to guide him till he is in front of you with his hands firmly by his sides, cracking them one finger at a time— breaking his nerves, counting the seconds.
 It was your turn to take the reins, to be brave.
 “I like it when you touch me”, you confess bashfully. “I like it when you stare at me, you have the cutest blush I’ve ever seen, even when Nami points it out to me— I just can’t keep a straight face around you”.
 The words stumble, and your confidence builds, talking ardently with his hands clasped warmly in yours; you give them a squeeze upon every affliction.
 “I admire you so much, you’re so caring and funny. And so strong! And your smile is…its magnetic. It gives me butterflies when you compliment me. Your confidence is…it’s so hot— when you stand up against enemies and your haki pulses, I-I just— I am in awe of you”. Your final words flow out in the gentlest breath, stretching his smile when you finally say; “Luffy, I really like you too…I-I want to be more than friends”.
  Luffy grins widely, rosy cheeks blooming, “...yea? With kisses an’ stuff?”
  A giggle bursts as you nod at him, “yea, with kisses an’ stuff”.
  His knees bump yours playfully, situating himself between your legs and caging you with your back against the counter. The room shrinks suddenly, containing nothing but you, him, and the rhythmic sound of your pulse. You try to contain your excitement, but it splits between your teeth forcing you to draw in a shaky breath through your nose.
 Neither of you say a word. And you could stay that way, just for a little while. Stay under the shine of his eyes, in the spotlight of his desires. Wishing you could pause this moment and sit between the seconds because you are finally basking in the radiance of a summer morning. All for you.
 The air stifles as he leans down, hands clenching the countertop tightly you can almost hear his knuckles crack. His lips part cutely, his stare burning, and you mirror his expression with the same exhilaration you feel bump blood in your cheeks. In your belly, in your cunt.
 Luffy exhales heavily, heart thundering, “So…can I kiss you now?”
 The word yes barely flows past your lips before he captures it in a searing kiss.
 You moan, melting into him, palming his firm chest the way you have fantasised about for so long, and feeling his heart drum beneath your fingertips when he licks the seam of your lips. stirring the butterflies in your belly into a roar.
 “Fuck, yea”, he rasps, nipping on your bottom lip lightly as he deepens the kiss. Cupping your face in his large palms, you gasp from his passion and the heat he elicits with his kiss.
 A kiss that feels needy, rushed. Hungry.
 His tongue plays with yours, and you can hardly keep up, but it makes you soften anyway. Tongue gently glides against you until he slips in a little further, stroking you with the type of kiss you ache to feel between your thighs.
 It’s addicting. Rousing.
 It’s a rush. And he chases it with you, answering your sighs and gasps with groans and greedy nibbles on your bottom lip. Something he licks and probes excitedly, growing addicted to the taste of you on his tongue.
 Luffy kisses you eagerly, and you mewl from his touch. His scent, his heat.
 “Fuck...”
 You tug him closer to feel him tight against your chest, and when he shudders, when he whimpers cutely into your lips, you claw at his pants. A fire bursts in your core to hear it again. The sort of fire that fuels desperation and stirs the depravity making you senseless to everything else that isn’t him. His hands, his lips.
 Your tits flush and squish unto his scarred chest— not even a breath apart, yet it is not enough for either of you, not when the kiss deepens, his hands leave your face and weave into your hair. Tangling his fingers and pressing you harder into his lips, slipping out the tiniest moan that breaks into a smile.
 “You taste like candy”.
 Luffy giggles into your kiss, licking the curve of your lips before trailing off to your cheek, neck, and shoulder. Leaving playful bites along the way that have you yelping and squirming, his warm breath fanning against heated skin. “You’re the one who tastes good”, he teases you with a big chomp on the shoulder, “gonna eat you up, pretty”.
 You roll your eyes and give his hips a squeeze, “I’m not a piece of meat, Luffy”.
 He grabs your waist and hoists you up on the counter, grinning when you shout in surprise from his casual bout of strength. “I meant your pussy”, he says brazenly, “its why your skirts kill me, I think about doing this—” Luffy ducks his head under your skirt and licks a broad stroke on your panty-covered slit.
 “Ahh! Lu-luffy!”
 “mmm, pink panties”, he murmurs, ignoring your startled huffs and lifts his head momentarily, “I won’t let Brook ask you again. It’s mine now”.
 “Luffy, no!”
 Your screech does nothing but make him snicker, the sound muffled by your thighs that compress against his head when he dives back in. His tongue does quick work brushing up and down on your panties, dampening it lewdly with slick and salvia that stick to your flesh. You tremble, sigh and buck into his mouth. Shrinking quickly to the lust he pulses in your sex as he rubs your most intimate parts, pulling sighs from kiss-swollen lips swirling into a blend of salacious sounds in the room.
 “You’re, uhh-ahh— you’re too good at th-is, stop teasing, please..”. His nose ruts on your clit, the friction of the cloth making you twitch harder for a pressure deeper than his teasing. For something rough, hard and most likely uncut and heavy…but Luffy only sniggers, grazing his teeth on your panty-covered labia just to feel you quiver into his mouth.
 “Can’t help myself”, he grins, lifting his head from his new favourite place. “You taste better than I imagined, y’have no idea how often I thought of doin’ this”.
“How often?” you ask tentatively, a panting wreck when all he’s done is play with you.
 “til my cock hurt”, he pouts cutely, eyes widening fake innocence while thumbing the dips of cellulite that decorate your thighs, “could hardly sleep ‘cause of you. So mean to me wearin’ these lil’ skirts all the time”. Luffy tugs on it, bunching it up in his fists, “it’s’okay, we’ll use it to clean up all the cum later”.
 You shove him, his laughter rings between your legs, “you’re so stupid”.
  “And you smell good”, he groans, falling back under your skirt and spreading you wider for his pleasure while flattening his tongue on your clothed pussy. “mmm, getting’ messy fo’me, yea?” His cock jerks from the mewls you try to swallow, but he can feel your pussy soak the flimsy material with every one of his touches. Every lick and playful bump of his nose stirs a gasp you try to hide. Luffy grins, finding enjoyment in this sensual game. “That’s dirty, hehe… lemme clean it up, kay?”
 You answer in an undignified whimper, one that makes him laugh some more as he peels your sticky panties to the side and licks the shiny string that connects them. “Fuck”, he swallows a heavy lump, then hurriedly lifts your hips and tugs off your panties all the way. Impatience thumping through his chest.
 “W-wait, Luffy—”
 “I need to see it all”— is the only thing he says above your weak protests. Your panties he takes as a prize he pockets secretly.
 Luffy hums appreciatively, his fixation feeling a little more exposed than the nudity he subjects you to. Twisting embarrassment that forces enough clarity to have you realise you were bottom naked on the kitchen counter with your Captain. With Luffy, of all people, making you nervous in a way none of the other girls would believe.
 Thighs spread, slit wet.
 “W-We can’t, not in here”. You try to reason, try to close your legs and sit up, but he holds you down with his gaze. With the hyper focus and intensity that pulsates in them, pinning you to the counter and setting you a flame harder than his praises.
 “Be good for me, kay? It’s jus’ us”. He hurriedly shrugs off his red shirt and unbuttons his shorts, but doesn’t strip any further, revealing the heavy tent that indecently shapes his erection through the dark fabric of his underwear.
 Now you are the one staring.
 Your mouth hangs open in a small o, not that would ever fit the girth Luffy has somehow managed to conceal all this time, making his cheeks blossom with your stare. His pants sag now that they are loose. Dark tuffs of hair peak beneath the waistband, titillating the evidence of his arousal. Begging to be free. A hefty bulge pushing against the cloth with a raunchy, crude stain that has you squeezing your thighs and shuffling to try and ease the pressure in your achy cunt.
 The curl of his smile returns, one that makes you shudder beneath his hand when he grips your thigh, coaxing them open. “It’s jus’ us”, he says gently, “You, me, an’ you’re cute pussy”.
 “Luffy! You can’t say that”.
 “Why not? You’re the prettiest girl ever”, he grins, unable to tear his gaze away as he slides his thumb between your puffy lips, “wow, so sticky…”. His fingers tenderly prod and roll your clit, strong hands delicately slow for your pleasure. He takes careful note of all the noises you emit when he sinks a finger in your cunt— when he slips it along your slit. How your back arches when he presses deep and curls his fingers into a squishy spot. All the sighs and mewls that escape a reward for his efforts. A lewd fascination darkens his expression with the viscous moisture that paints his fingers and glosses your puffy vulva in a shining coat. “No, no, don’t run from it”, he coos, cradling your plush hip and keeping you pinned one-handed. “Lemme watch, I like how your pussy sucks on my finger, fuck…like its gripping me…” His words husk into a low groan, “wow, imagine my cock in you…in deep…ohh s’tight, ngh, so tight on my finger, pretty. Your pussy likes me, hehe”.
 You want to tell him to shut up, to stop teasing you, to release his hold on you and collect a decent breath. But you don’t, you can’t, any lies to make him stop choke into a moan. Thrumming lust-filled blood through your core, aching your clit. Your body betrays you with another buck of your hips─ desperately searching for a release he plays with as his thick fingers idly glide upon your sensitive folds, sliding them up and down─ collecting the gooey wetness dripping on his digits with your cunt obscenely clenching in front of him.
 “Wowowow, my fingers are all wet hehehe”. He licks up the sopping mess on his fingers, smiling as he does. “mmm, s’nice…”. Luffy leans down, hooking his arms over your thighs and locking you in place— shushing you gently upon seeing the panic begin to rise when his mouth is inches from your cunt, “shh, it’s’okay, you gonna make my face wet too, yea?”
 “Ohh, uhhh-ah, Lu-Luffy! Not here!” your whole body curls into his tongue, faltering the weak objections that have you withering in the iron clutches keeping you cinched in his grasp.
 “shh, you’re doin’ so well, I love it”, he mumbles, slick squelching on his lips, murmuring praises that muffle his mouth in your cunt when you try to break free. “Pussy s’pretty— so so pretty. Lemme taste— jus’ a lil’, please, please?”
 “But what if some-one waa-alks in?” you whinge, attention glued on the door and the tiny window that could expose the scene between you, while your heavy breaths do a poor job disguising your gasps.
 “Doors locked”, he states, licking the sensitive bites he marks on your tender thighs. “it’s’okay, it’s jus’ us”.
 “You sure?”
 He only nods, that muffled mm-hmm he says when he’s busy with his meal, burying his face into your sex as if it were food on a plate. Lapping and slurping on your cunt— his smile caresses your skin when you moan for him prettily. Lips parted, breaths uneven. Your voice carries into low whines resembling his name, cute sounds that tingle down his spine with half-garbled protests making him press harder to drown them out. Stretching the hot muscle to a fatter girth that fills you beautifully, tight walls rippling the deeper he drags his tongue along the spongy spots in your pussy.
 “ple-goddd— Luffy! Ahh-uhh…slow dow-wn!”
 He ignores you again, too drunk to even think of releasing you before he has his fill because you churn the deepest grunts and sighs from him, setting alight a fever of lust he can feel building in his abdomen. Coursing through the thin veins in his cock. A relatively new sensation he chases in the heat of your cunt. In the sounds of your pleasure.
 You can tell by the slow jerks of his hips, in his throaty grumbles against your flesh that he’s trying to ignore the thick bulge tenting his pants. You attempt to reach for him, to shift out of his hold and pull shudders too— but he pins you down harder. Flexing his strength against your plump curves into the cold counter.
 “Don’t run from me”, he whines, dipping his fingers in and out in quick succession to gain back those salacious cries. “Lemme stay right here for’a’bit. I like it too much to stop, kay?”
 You huff a broken chuckle, the counter sticking to your flushed skin, “you shouldn’t look so cute talking like that”.
 “Like what? How good your pussy tastes?” Luffy peers at you through his lashes, “or how much my cock aches fo’you?” He laughs breathily at your girlish stammer, swiping his thumb on his bottom lip and licking off the excess, “hol’ still, ‘m still hungry”.
 Your needy mewls surge as Luffy dives back in and eats messily.
 Long strokes of his tongue massage your silky folds, gliding up and down in wide, flat brushes with his nose lightly rutting against the sensitive nerves of your clit. Your chest heaves, the room spinning as your lashes flutter against your cheeks, collecting the tears that bead tiny balls of ecstasy. Only suited by the wet splashes of his tongue resounding with his loud grunts— the room doused in the lingering sounds of sex, his calloused hands squeeze the soft fat of your thighs in a vice grip, digging his nails into the grooves of your cellulite like they are made for him.
 “pretty, pretty pussy”, he groans, keening when you claw at his hair, “wet n’ sticky...mmm, I like your pussy”. Luffy’s incoherent mumbles dribble slick down his chin. He quickly laps it up, greedy and keening not to miss a single drop of sweetness that seeps from your cunt. “It’s mine now, yea?” he glances up at you, his mouth glistening, chin shining, staring at you wide-eyed and expectedly. “I get to do this whenever I want?”
 “Ye-yeah”, you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, senses haywire and your clit pulsing for his kiss. “Whenever you want”. You can’t imagine not doing this again.
 “Yes! Can’t wait to tell Usopp how your pussy tastes!”
 “Wait, no-! uhh, fuuuckk- Luffy!”
 The wet smacks of his mouth and veiled grumbles fill your ears as you throw your head back, clinging to his fluffy locks for stability when your breath is knocked out in a long moan.
 “Oh god, ohhh god. Jus’ like that, s’good, fuckk. Such’a good boyy”.
 “Yea? Feel that good? shishi— ya’ feel’so tight on my tongue, fuuuckk… can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you on my dick squeezin’ me like this. Make my cock nice’n’wet…shit— sexy, pretty girl Cum fo’me, please, need to taste it first, then I’ll fuck you. Fuck you on the table— fuck you on the floor, wall, I dunno— figure it out ina’bit. Sound good?” he slurps loudly, “Yea, it do, shishi— your pussy says so. Creamin’ all over my mouth hehe”.
 “Luffy! Don’ talk like that, uhhh- fuuuuck, baby”.
 “Ya’ like that? Mmm…I’ll talk fo’you then, make you feel goo’ fuckin’ you with my tongue, huh? Like this? Uhh-uhhh- ahh, fuck, you’re makin’ a mess on me”, he coos. His lips squish your clit, pursing his mouth and sucking the sensitive nub playfully before releasing it with a sweet pop. Drool hangs off his tongue as he pants heavily, your labia shining with sticky residue, puckered hole aching to be stuffed full─ you’re so pretty. It excites him to finally touch you like this, a perverted sort of eagerness he shamelessly expresses above your moans. “I like your pussy. She’s so-so cute fo’me. Look-look—” He dips his fingers inside and shows you the stringy mixture that leaks from you, “See? It’s drippin’ all’over, makin’ such a dirty mess. ya’like me that much, yea? hehe”.
 “Quit it”, you sigh half-heartedly through the haze.
 Your pride can’t handle Luffy’s teasing. He’s too good, too observant. He touches you with no skill or guidance, he simply plays with your pussy on his tongue. Swirling, flicking, swishing the hot muscle over your soaked pussy lips over and over. Fucking your cunt. Calling you pretty, talking with his mouth full. You cry out and clamp your mouth shut just as quickly, making him grunt unhappily.
 “Don’t do that”, he rolls his tongue harder, rubbing into your velvety walls until he hears that cry of his name, and the playfulness of his touch begins again.
 His satisfaction bleeds with the slick that trickles out, sparkling his skin with addictive tingles that tastes like you. He needs more. More of you, more of your moans, more of your supple body squishing against his. Luffy is greedy like that. About your body, your smile, your cries— he’d lick your tears if he can break away from your clit fast enough. He needs this, desperately. Needs you. If there was anyone out there stifling their flustered laughter behind their hands, they could hear it in the pitiful pleas he makes in your cunt.
  You’re so close, his cock aches.
 “Lemme taste your cum, please. I can feel’ya tighten’in on’me”.
 It is— you feel it, your pussy quivers on his tongue. Clit twitches on his lips, tummy fluttering. “don’t stoppp”, you whine incessantly. Struggling to maintain coherency when your release bubbles and his name topples in broken gasps. Curling your toes, trembling your thighs. “Imma cu-um uhh-ahh, fu-fuuckk, yes ye-es!! Luffy!” praises fall in high whines. Coil snapping, back taut─ you feel the pleasures light your nerves, touching every cell that bursts in your core as your orgasm erupts, coating his face, chest and mouth with cum.
 “That’s it, that’s it, cum fo’me”, he grunts, panting feverishly through the lewd squirts that splash from your release, using the tip of his thumb to brush soothing circles on your puffy clit. Devouring every drop of your essence you offer him— throbbing a delicious ache turning you into a pathetic, pliable mess that Luffy squeezes and caresses as you descend from your high.
 “Good girl, so-so good— ya’made such a mess shishishi”.
 He buries his face back into your sex, cleaning up the gooey mess and sensitising every nerve he touches with the pad of his finger and the tip of his tongue.
 Sweat beads down your brow, breath stuttering inaudible mewls as you squirm in his grip, twisting your hips to run from his mouth when it all becomes too much. “Luffy, st-stop”, you exhale, tugging on his hair for attention when his slurping turns sloppy again. “Fu-uck me now, ahh, Luffy! Didn’t you pro-promise me, to fuck me nice?”
 He snaps his head up, releasing you suddenly— excitement glowing, face wet. “Wan’ me to fuck you now?!”
 You nod, exhaling heavily. Finally, you sit up, smoothing your skirt over your lower half and covering the glossy sheen of your inner thighs to cup his face, wiping the excess off his cheeks. “Yes, Captain”, you purr sweetly, “fuck me nice’an hard”.
 Luffy leaps up hastily, fumbling with his pants to remove them. A heady sense of urgency overwhelmed his mind. “Fuck-fuck!” He hisses to himself, kicking off his shorts and underwear once they pass his knees, freeing his hardened cock that hangs heavily. A girthy erection donning a two-tone tan/brownish hue on his shaft with a blush, darkened tip and a visible vein that trails along the side beneath round balls you ache to weigh on your tongue. It doesn’t sit completely erect, the meaty heft to it slants him down, dripping pearly beads of his arousal you longingly part your lips to taste.
 Fuck.
 “Come ‘ere”.
 “Wait— ohh, shit! L-Luffy!”
 He snatches you up, stripping off your top, lifting you from the counter by your thighs, and barely waits for you to cling to his body before walking over to the nearest flat surface— which just so happens to be the massive fridge.
 “But—”
“Tell me later, fuck now”, he grunts, pressing you tight against the metal container only so he can release one hand to grasp his cock, lining himself up with your dripping cunt. Luffy grins suddenly, your shallow breaths caressing his lips, “nice an’ hard, yea?”
 You nod, anticipation churning, lust thickening.
 Luffy pushes in, and something hot— something sensual and molten flushes across his stomach. It's hard and fast and pulls his balls tight, bucking his hips until his cock is fully sheathed in your warmth. His abdomen clenches, muscles quiver— “Ohh god”, he chokes, diving in deeper, harder. He can just about hear your moans, even as they’re breathed right into his jaw, the laboured slaps of his hips encase the room. Filling you, intoxicating him. Your pussy already moulding perfectly into the shape of his girthy dick.
 Every curve, ridge and vein finds a home in your cunt, fit snugly and warm as he whispers filth in your ear. Calling you pretty again and again— through the teasing affliction is replaced by pitiful, needy pleas to your body, to your heat, to the little trembles twitching on his cock. Followed by your name hissing through gritted teeth as he plunges into the softness of your pussy— into the lust that sears his skin. Gasping delirious praises as if the flutters of your walls and spews of slick are answers to his babbles.
 You think you warn him— something about the fridge, or the sheer size of his cock bullying your delicate flesh— but none of it registers the way his name does. The pressure is blinding, your cunt clings to him, and he splits you open with every harsh snap of his hips. Fucking you frantically. Chasing an orgasm you can feel the ripple of his abs against your stomach already.
 Ears tinted red, cheeks dusted pink, looking wrecked and insanely cute— you hold him close, planting kisses along his neck. The teasing glint in his eye has vanished, and his mouth hangs open instead— spilling drool into your chest as wretched gasps tear from his throat.
 “I like you better like this”, you hum, pushing back the sweaty strands that cling to his forehead. Hungry, hooded and drunk on arousal suited Luffy in a way only your cunt understood as it fluttered on him and triggered another hitched moan.  “Cum, ple-ease, Luffy. Need to feel you cum”, you coo at him, smiling when he lifts his head and whines a sound like your name. His lust-blown eyes brimming with unshed tears, your chest swells with pride. “Feel good, Captain?” you can’t help but tease, “y’like fuckin’ me, mm? uhh- I nev’er imagined you’d be so big”.
 He digs his fingers in your meaty thighs, holding onto a pinch of clarity as your nipples rub on his chest. Soft an’ squishy an’ so warm he can’t help but push against it. “God-nnghh, ya’feel so-so good, pretty”, he whimpers. “It’s’like ya’pussy’s grippin’ me, beggin’ for’it. ‘s’wet, ya’hear it? how wet y’are? Shh, shh, listen—” raunchy, sticky splats echo between you, heated arousal saturating your bodies, soiling your skirt, splattering on his pelvis and staining your inner thighs. Each punch of his hips spills pre-cum into your cushy walls as Luffy groans loudly, raking bite sized kisses when he buries his face in your shoulder. “’mma cum, pretty. Cu-uuhh, cum in you”, he says, saliva dripping messily on your skin, “Make’a hot, dirty mess in you— an’then I’mma fuck’ya ahh-ahh, sh-it— ‘mma fuck you hard, sweet girl. Ohh god! uhhh…‘yer pussy’s mean to’me”, he huffs, pawing at your ass, “makin’ my dick hu-urt— fuck! s’tight, ughh”.
 “mmm, thought y’loved my pussy?”
 “I do! So-so-so much”, he squeaks, each syllable followed by a hard thrust. His words stay rugged and croaked, pistoning into your sopping cunt hastily. Clumsily. “gon’a tell ‘em how goo’ you’are. Tell ‘em ya’mine! Tell ‘em ‘yer pussy gets wet fo’me an’ s’queezes on’my cock, uhh-uhh, she like that, huh? She jus’ pulsed on me, shishi, y’like e’vryone knowin’? hehe, we’ll show’em who y’belong to. ahh, fu-ck, I’ll bite y’ass an’ you can bend over— ya’skirt will show’em shishishi— ohh goddd, keep-keep clenchin’ like that, nnghh uhh-uhh, pretty girl, I’ll fuck ya in my spot next, right in the open—  nghh-shit! dirty-nasty girl ahh-haha bein’ turned on from people seein’ you? ‘yer ass bouncin’ an’ ridin’ my cock? Fu-uuck— fuck, fuck!”
 He’s so hard, so worked up. Luffy opens his mouth, but only a strangled moan huffs out this time— his cock squelching as he ruts and humps and jerks into your pussy. “Ohh, fu-uhh, ye-s. please, ple-ease!”
 “Cum, I wan’ it, Luffy— cum in me, please”.
 His hair tickles your cheeks as he nods. Gripping your flesh, panting your name— rocking into you faster and faster, mindlessly thrusting and crying and cooing until splotches of creamy cum shoot out in thick gobs.
 “Ohh! Fuck!” he squeals, giggling through his laboured breaths as his orgasm punches through him so quickly you shudder in his embrace. “In, in! Ta-ake it!” he pumps into you drunkenly, his grin lopsided and gaze misty. “God, Fuck”. Murmurs of good boy nuzzle into his cheek, coaxing him through the ropes of thick cum that spill from the sides and coat you both in its sordid mixture.
 His cock stays stiff, his high buzzing. “’m still hard”.
 Luffy bounces you back up in his arms securely. His balance stays perfect, even though the carnal fog that shakes your plush body up an’ down— Luffy’s got you. He rocks into you, rattling the giant fridge that keeps you from wriggling out of his grasp because Luffy doesn’t stop. He doesn’t breathe past a croak and doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, not when your pussy grips him like that or smears sticky kisses all over his length.
 And you’re not any better. Words fail you; moans fall, his lips stay just inches from yours and yet you can’t gather the strength to tilt your chin and touch them. Silently begging him to be closer when he’s already caressing the deepest, most delicate parts of your skin. You claw at his back, roll your hips, and shudder from the pulsating thickness that stretches your cunt.
 “fuuuck”, His muscles ripple as he shifts, taking you with him. “Floor, need you deeper”.
 Suddenly, you’re on your back— gently laid on top of the tablecloth he drags down onto the floor to use as a blanket. Luffy manoeuvres you swiftly, folding you in half, wasting no time or trickles of spent cum that leaks from you before sinking back in— skin to skin, breaths hot, legs bent and over his shoulders. A full mating press shrinking your lungs, heaving only horrid gasps Luffy drinks in a sloppy kiss.
 Tongues gliding, moans melding.
 Lust-scented sweat drenches both your bodies, scorching you with desperation you had never felt burn your core this way. Shrouding an erotic sort of haze that makes you frantic to relieve the ache he stimulates with every stroke of his length. Yet he doesn’t hear you above his own cries, delving his cock in deep, bruising the spongy walls of your cunt with his fat dick and blood-filled veins dragging along the skin.
 Luffy fucks almost mercilessly, his stamina unyielding, his kisses ravishing— pumping his cock in and out like pleasurable punches to the gut while you stay subjected to his unrelenting pace. You try pushing at his belly, untangling your limbs, but Luffy is much stronger than you.
 His strong thrusts clap your bodies together, a harsher sound than before. Gravity doing half the work for him while he freely gropes your tits. Kneading your cushy belly, your curvy hips, your fat ass. So much of you to grab, to pinch and massage. He can’t get enough, too hungry for his pleasures now that his fantasies don’t vanish in a blink.
 He should be savouring it, in the back of his mind he knows that— but the way his thick shaft reappears lathered in a warm layer of cum from every roll flurries a dark, gluttonous need to see more. It’s not only arousal and passions anymore, it’s a deep seeded hunger to feel you pliant and cum-soaked. Your plush body was made for him that way. Your ass, chub and hips are the perfect fit for Luffy’s greedy hands.
 And Luffy is not the type of man to be shy about his preferences.
 “pretty girl, I love touchin’ you”, he nips at your cheek, swallowing at your moans with a kiss, “’yer body so-so soft!” he chomps playfully at your breasts, tonguing the areolas, teething on your nipples. “hol’ on”, he groans suddenly, lifting his pelvis and slamming back in your warmth, “fuuck, ahh, it’s’like ‘yer pussy’s droolin’ on me ev’ry time, shit. Can’t stop doin’ that hehe”. He uses his hands this time, tweaking at your nipples with the rough pads of his fingers, “please, ple-ease don’ wear a bra ‘round me anymore, kay? ‘yer boobs are perf, soft an’squishy!” he makes them bounce, his chuckles sounding more and more strained with your pussy spasming on his thrusts.
 Sparking lust with every impact, you can almost feel the imprint of his cock— the touch of his veins, the kiss of his tip, the swell of his fat balls spanking your ass— your inner walls suckling on every inch. Smearing wetness all over him. A sob tears through your throat as he presses down on your belly, pumping into your cunt gaping on his cock, teasing his finger on your clit just to feel you quiver around his girth.
 You cry out breathlessly, a warning of your impending release— or something that sounds close to it. Truthfully, you claw at the tablecloth beneath you, withering and trembling, locked in a position he has total control over. Only being able to answer in yes and just like that, lost in the sensuality of his arousal.
 His greedy hands groping you exactly the way he always intended. His tongue swirling on your pebbled bud, his teeth nibbling and leaving their mark on every surface his neck stretches to. His, his, his.
 Hard and rough and so, so good.
  “Luffy! Ohh, Lu-uffy, I-I—” you cry nonsensically, pretty tears falling past your lashes now as the blend of sensations rip through your core. Praises stumbling, gasps falling—
 “Cu-um with me”, Luffy pleads, teary-eyed and hips faltering, “make my cock wet, ple-ahh, please!”
 “ohhh, god!” you wail, your orgasm ripples and you cry out his name like a depraved prayer into the column of his neck as clear cum squirts out and splashes on his pelvis, soaking the makeshift blanket.
 “ye-es, that’s it— ahh-haa”, he giggles hysterically.
 Luffy answers your cries with throaty rasps as he cradles your body, quickly following suit into a mind-numbing pleasure as he rides the wave of your combined release until his stuttered strokes turn into languid glides— filling your spongy walls with hot blasts of cum for a second time.
 Your nails rake down his back, moaning blissfully in the aftershocks of your orgasm, holding him close, smiling wide. 
 For a while, your breaths take the time to even out, slowly descending from the high you shared as he releases your thighs and presses kisses where his hands gripped too tight. Murmuring his apologies for every dig and teeth mark that decorates your supple skin, kisses feeling faintly like pleased smirks whenever his lips touch you. And you melt into it anyway.
His hands, his kiss, his praises.
 Low rasps of “pretty girl” merge with your sighs as Luffy sinks into your arms, panting widely. dabbling kisses on your neck as you cuddle him yet unable to resist the temptation to start slowly rocking his hips just to hear you whimper and push at his chest again. Flaring a gentle warmth between you when it triggers tiny tremors in your creamy walls.
 Luffy laughs breathily between your whines, canting his hips, digging into your flesh. Mesmerised by the hot layer of cum that paints his shaft and the rings of white, slippery juices creating bubbles at the base of your pubic bones at every drag.
 “Luffy”, you whine, exhaustion slurring your words. “I need a minute if you wanna go again. Not everyone has your stamina”.
 “shh, s’okay, look-look”, Luffy pulls out slowly, watching the mixture drool from your sensitive hole. A big spurt spits out first, then ever so steadily copious spills of gooey semen and wet squirts seep from your cunt, soaking the cloth as it pools down your thighs. He snickers, “so dirty, you made my cock all shiny”.
 You slap his arm tiredly, your whole body humming and sticky while he sits back on the balls of his feet, grinning down at you, and you never felt more beautiful.
 He’s silent for a moment, though his eyes are soft as he stares.
Luffy leans down and cups your face, his hands large and warm holding your sweet cheeks in his palms. He smiles widely, gaze hooded, lips parted.
 Your breath hitches.
“You make the cutest face when you cum”.
 You slap him again, and his laughter rings loudly.
 His smile is bright, his joy contagious, and the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin makes him glow that much brighter.
  Luffy is so pretty.
THE END
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reblogs are much appreciated :3 don't repost or translate my work.
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dilftaroooo · 4 months
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Being perverted strikes naturally within Gojo, so when the idea of being a step brother comes to mind during sex he can’t help but act upon the roleplay. You think he’s gross for it, but his questionable passion for it keeps you engaged (oddly enough).
☆word count: 6.3k+
★tags/tw(18+): dark content + stepc*st roleplay + foot f*tish + toe sucking (f!recieving) + dubcon (because reader is unsure at first) + reader is college-aged/gojo is 28 + squirting + age gap + vanilla sex + pubic hairs + scent kink + implied ass eating + hesitancy + reader is afab using she/her pronouns + mentioned latex kink + use of 'satoru-nii' + established relationship + gojo is a lil' mean + and sassy + lots of kissing + nipple play + creampie + getting caught having s*x + exploring kinks + praise kink + pet names + skull fucking + gag reflex + snot + we're talkin' 'big beefy whore with black compression shirt' gojo here + reader is a bit inexperienced + questions of certain kinks.
☆a/n: hey alexa, play 'poundtown by sexyy red' ayyye come suck a bitch's toooes. enjoy y'all, this shit nasty af.
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You’re not a kink shamer.
You understand the sexual thrills of getting off to something that turns one on to the point of fulfilled ecstasy–weighted breaths and skin coated with a sheen of sweat from the unorthodox fantasies that provoke the human mind and manipulate the human body, keeping them bound to the shackles of pleasure as their perversion engulfs them whole. It feels beautiful–ethereal, dare you say, and you get that. Who wouldn’t want to feel blissfully satisfied just by mere thought alone? 
Now, exclusive of the deranged fetishes involving children, scat, or whatever fucked up shit out there that's befitting for a lowlife, you would say that you're a pretty open-minded individual. Always tolerating the naughty anecdotes told by your friends’ concerning their past hookups, distinctively remembering the giggles you all shared when reciting one of the stories from a particular friend that had them clad in a latex suit, lips decorated with ruby red, and three-inched heels coming into contact with the cheek of their previous partner as they squirmed in shameless arousal.
‘It was pathetic to see, but I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t get me going…’ And that mutuality between both parties is what makes it even more fun. They both get a kick out of something they enjoyed, so what’s to hate about it?
You’re not a kink shamer–not at all.
You and your boyfriend of a year and four months, Satoru Gojo, always carried the qualities of a couple depicted in unrealistic romance movies: the nuzzle of the nose that tickled your cheek before delving in for a peck, the surprise hugs he’d startle you with as you prepared an early morning breakfast, as well as the intertwined fingers while you both make your way to his favorite bakery (his kisses are even more sugared after scarfing down the kikufuku he’d order no more than a minute ago).
You always felt like the princess to his prince, stumbling over your gown to keep up with his hurried footsteps as you both venture through the gracious evergreen of a mythical forest. You have no time to remove the pastel violet and pink petals slotting themselves in your locks since your hand remains occupied with Satoru’s, moving exquisitely to the melodic song of the nightingales. It was a dream from a childhood storybook.
Moreover, what was revealed in public was, undoubtedly, the same in the comfort of your bedroom, living at your university’s on-campus apartment that you shared with two indifferent roommates. He would frequently stop by after work to spoil you with his affection. Always asking how your day was and whether or not you finished your assignments.
He was a tad bit older than you–twenty-eight and going, but you didn’t mind the age gap, it gives you all the more reason to tease him for his ‘old’ age, to which he responds with a pout and furrowed eyebrows, ‘Oh, how mean! Who would’ve ever thought that my darling angel could be such a devil…?!’ He’d say with faux anguish. He knows you’re only playing around–such the jokester.
Though, he couldn’t say the same for you in bed. Protected by the warmth of your sheets, you relished at how accustomed your body and soul were to his heartfelt transactions, vanilla-flavored sex, so sweet and tasteful on your tongue as he kissed you with want. Tongues twirling a sensual dance as your lips combine in rhythmic harmony. You also loved it when he coos in your ear, reminding you of how you’re so good to him before wrapping his lips around puffy areolas in a way that makes you writhe.
He’s so gentle with you. Handling a fine china cabinet with the utmost care, he makes sure he touches you in ways that wouldn’t break your fragile body. And when your nude skin presses against his as a result of his thrusts to your core, he reminds himself to get you moaning in his ear and get your hands gripping against the muscular curvature of his back.
It feels good. It always feels good. So, why does a part of you feel…bored?
The love is there, you won’t question that. When you come, you feel as though you’re one with the stars. And above all, he praises you. It’s nothing new, but in this context, you like to be his ‘pretty girl’ whenever the tip of his nose pushes against your wet clit. So, why do you feel like something is missing? You don’t know.
You haven’t been in many relationships. The last one you remember was in high school, dating a boy who only loved you out of teenage fever, and you shamefully admit that you reciprocated his confession. You were both young and unknowing of what the aspects of ‘love’ really meant. You never went past the boundary of hand-holding and cheek-kissing, so it remained stagnant until the moment you both broke up.
None of it was mutual, however. You can recall how distraught you were as you bawled in your mother’s arms, asking her what you did wrong while she soothed you with maternal pets to the crown of your head. That being said, it’s safe to say that you really don’t know what’s missing from you and your boyfriend’s intercourse–like, really.
But, thankfully, Satoru makes up for what you lack, telling you not to fret since he knows a lot and letting you know how much he’s been wanting to get to this point of intimacy with you–wanting to whisk his girlfriend away from the comfort zone that you’ve grown so attached to.
Satoru is without exception, enthusiastic to portray more during times of intercourse, yearning to teach you more than just the fluffy, domestic sex you both indulge in. It’s lovely and all, bleh bleh, whatever, Satoru gets it, but, man, what he wouldn’t do to see you on your knees, between his sinewy thighs parted for your form as he hovers above you, your head tilted upwards to take in his thick shaft through wet lips.
He’d make sure his red, throbbing tip hits the back of your throat so he can hear that sickening gag scurry out your mouth paired with the sloppy froth of your saliva slapping against his heavy balls with each quick thrust. He’d be too occupied to find the snot dribbling from your nose revolting because you’d be taking him in so deep.
That’s forever been his little fantasy–that amongst the vast amount of others. And to try each and every one of them with you would be a delight.
After you confessed to Satoru, you couldn’t help but notice how peculiar his ministrations started to get. It was gradual–starting with spanks on your ass to eating said ass. You’ll even bring up the time he used your feet to get off. It caught you off guard, you’d admit.
That day he had you pliable–on your knees with the left apple of your cheek flushed in the pillow beneath you and arms resting idly on your sides as you allowed your enthralled boyfriend to take the lead.
You assumed he was just gonna spit on your already-soaked pussy before massaging your puffy clit in the teasing, clockwise motions he likes to test you with, cock oozing with leakage before languidly gliding upwards to push in-between your cunt lips, but what you didn’t assume he’d do was trace his slimy precum against the soft skin of your toes to then rub his tip across your soles.
You tried to retract your feet away from him (toes wiggling in the process which had them accidentally graze across his balls. You could’ve sworn you heard him hiss) and protest his weird behavior but Satoru was already three steps ahead, firmly gripping both feet and nearly squishing them together if it wasn’t for the thick base of his cock preventing them from touching.
Each thrust he made ached with raw fervor and fuck him from being incapable of suppressing his passion because he couldn’t help but look down and see your cute pussy pucker and asshole twitch. What a sight for sore, cerulean eyes. Just as sore as your ass after he slapped it with an ever-so-firm hand, silently thanking his calluses for the rough impact.
He found it adorable how your shimmering entrance craved for insertion, winking rhythmically at him as though it’s saying, ‘Please fill me up, ‘toru! ‘M so lonely without you…’ (he chuckles to himself at the personification when done in a high-pitched tone).
But your pussy always gets his attention. You have another hole too, ya’ know–one that sits right above it, unused and virginal. Just imagine his excitement as he leans forward, cock still buried at the innermost part of your feet, to take a closer look. He’d smile at your coyness when you felt his hot breath blow on your skin, unsure of his next move.
In this new position, he can trace the faint smell of sweat emerging from you, and God, does that turn him on. More than it already does. So of course he had to steal a taste, trailing a fat strip of saliva against the rim, you squeal at the warm and wet feel of his tongue touching a place it had never been before,
“S-Satoru…what the fuck!” You jolted before moving from your position, migrating to any spot as long as it's far from your lover. You’ll never forget the sleazy look on Satoru’s face as both corners of his rosy lips tilt upwards for a cocky grin–yuck.
It grossed you the fuck out.
Not in a way that antagonizes your boyfriend, you love him too dearly to feel as such, but in a way that questions his morals. Why on earth would someone like Satoru want to be minimized to using the bottom of your soles for pleasure or savor the briny taste of sweat that builds up around the tight ring of your ass? I-I mean, you excrete from there, for God’s sake! That’s gross, especially in a place where the sun doesn’t shine.
You understand that he likes doing it, but why? How could something so perverse and dirty get him hard so quickly? Where’s his shame? His humiliation? His guilt? Were they not present whenever he sneaks a lick at your toes?
Perhaps you are trying to understand–who wouldn’t want to indulge in their lover’s feet, to caress the tough surface of their heels, and lead up their toes, to draw soft lines against them with plush lips as their medium before dipping them inside the wet cavern of their mouth and sucking the small digits before swirling their tongue and–ugh!–no! No, no, no, that’s sick! How can one do such a thing with ease? You can’t possibly imagine that.
But you’re not a kink shamer…right?
Your question remains unanswered, though, as you’re interrupted by Satoru’s moistened kisses trailing down the curve of your neck. You must’ve been in your daze for quite some time considering that the camisole top and loose shorts you lounge in took their positions on your bedroom floor. 
“Come back to me, baby.” You hear your boyfriend murmur and you deliberately oblige by running your digits through the white sea of his mane, wild and free as your fingers feather against his roots. He hums with love before leaving a kiss that's sloppier than the previous one. It starts with your usual routine, with soft and tenderhearted sex.
He pecks at your clavicle and you whimper in return as silvery lashes tickle the most sensitive areas of your skin. The passionate atmosphere continues to flow within the four walls of your room–containing your moans and your kisses and your touches, reverberating them in your heated figures while filling you both with distinct pleasure. It was good so far.
“Have any ideas in mind for tonight, sweetheart?” His voice is muffled as he joyfully sucks at the skin between the valley of your breasts, teeth clasping over the hot flesh to induce a mark darker than what your skin tone provides. You hold onto the fabric of his black shirt, soundlessly wondering why he is still garbed in unbreathable polyester while you remain bare save from your panties.
Lolling your head to the side in thought, you dwell on his question. Should you have something in mind? This isn’t the same as getting asked where to eat for dinner, per se. And owning to your inexperience with sex and fetishes, you’re incapable of bringing anything to the table in this sense.
You open your jaw, mouth filled with saliva due to the raunchy actions performed by your boyfriend onto your supple body, ready to speak your retort as you lick your chapped lips in preparation, but, Satoru knows you better than you know yourself.
“Yeah, I know you don’t,” It’s like he was born to study you. Your eyes travel to his person again, orbs resting upon Satoru’s scalp as you wait for him to finish. “Nothing in that gorgeous head of yours. It’s okay, though. I don’t blame you. I know an amateur like you wouldn’t have anything planned.” 
As might be expected, your brow raises at his comments slightly glazed with a patronizing drip, it’s gotten your attention, all right, as you turn your head to glare down at him. He’s sucking on your nipples this time and you forge a jerk but don’t falter, perked up by this newfound attitude from your loving partner.
“Oh?” You start and it carries the same uppity weight as his tone. “And I suppose you have it all figured out?”
He nods right after gazing up at you with arctic globes saturated with a heavy rush of sincerity and you can already feel the dreamy sigh materializing in your throat but never emerging. Satoru immediately sniffed out the indignance behind your words like a trained bloodhound. He rises from his spot upon your heaving chest to travel his way to the swoll of your chin, apologizing with a quaint kiss. 
“I do,” His smile is affectionate. “You know I always do, sunshine.” You gasp once something hard nudges against your squishy thighs before poking the outermost part of your panties.
“-Always think of something for that little cunt.” It isn’t long before it's cast to the side for clear access to your glimmering slit, doused in slick because your boyfriend had a remarkable way of handling you. He didn’t miss the embarrassed mewl of his name when he used filthy words.
He also didn’t miss the pull of air you took in as his thick finger swept up your bodily remnants, coating the fingertips of his middle and ring finger. You voluntarily buck your feeble hips in desire for him to push through your entrance but you know he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. “You know, it gets me going when we do stuff like this when others aren’t around–when we do something so forbidden.” 
What–?
“Forbidden…?” Each syllable muddles your tongue as you ponder on its meaning: something that typically isn’t allowed or accepted–you’re not unaware, it’s a simple word, but is that the word he meant to say? “Why would it be forbidden? You’re my boyfriend, are you not?” Unless there’s something you’re unknowing of.
Perhaps he has a wife that he kept hidden in the shadows of his past. What if one wife turned into several wives? Maybe he’s a bloodthirsty murderer, ready to indulge in his next killing after getting you to trust his charming blue eyes and pink-liped smile. You don’t exactly know what the forbidden aspect of it all that he’s keeping from telling you-
You hear him ‘tsk’ and you assume it was meant to be taken seriously but it seems covered in mockery.
“Hah, Boyfriend? Have you no shame?” And he chuckles deep and grimy. “Don’t act like don’t know, dear.” You honestly don’t. “What would our parents think if they saw you, my sweet, little sister, grinding her greedy pussy against her older brother’s fingers?”
Oh.
Oh God.
Gritting your teeth for an evident cringe, you hurriedly toss your head to the side to break eye contact (how did he even manage to hold it for that long despite what he just said?!). There’s no way he’s doing this. Out of all kinks…
“For the love- Satoru. Stop, that’s fucking-” A sharp whine halts your sentence, stressed to the point of exaggeration. You don’t bother looking back up at him, already imagining his brows creasing with complaint at your disgusted remark.
“Ehh, what happened to ‘Satoru-nii’?” You almost would’ve forgotten the fingers sketching light circles on your sensitive button, going in for a pinch before tapping it aimlessly due to its slippery surface.
You clench your thighs together but Satoru’s heaping form prevents you from doing so. He’s a big mass of muscle reminiscent of a bull–broad shoulders along with thickened veins peeking through tough skin in the forms of streams, carrying the pulsing blood flow of adrenaline and transporting through each significant section of the body to energize his raging carnality.
“Are my fingers dwindling your vocabulary already? I just started using this pussy, sugar plum.”
A part of you wanted to believe he was joking–trolling like he usually does on literally every occasion. He knows how acquiescent you were in situations like these. So easily obedient to follow his golden rule when clinging to his hip, taking full advantage of your attributes to get you to do the perverted shit that spoiled his brain to corruption.
Of course, there’d be times when you’d retaliate, shouting out a brief ‘no’ before leaving the conversation unfinished, but it’s okay because he can butter you up to your good side. Use his words and his hands to do the convincing. Satoru has attributes of his own too.
But gazing into his eyes and seeing how aquatic blue dissolves into crimson red, only driven by lust, tells you he’s serious.
You look off to the side once more because staring at your nightstand is more soothing than staring at your deviant boyfriend. Out of all kinks, why this one?
“I don’t,” You close your eyes in an attempt to rid yourself free from his piercing glare. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You weren’t about to do this. You weren’t about to play into his wicked fantasies of being a relative of any sort. That doesn’t sound appealing at all.
“Don’t be like that, babe.” He mutters softly as if other people were in the room, prying with open ears to catch whatever dialogue is being transmitted between the two of you. A fingertip taunts at your sloppy entrance, just barely shoving past its tight grip. Sexual anticipation surged through your core at his ministration (his giggles at your hopelessness didn’t help you any). “You won’t know unless you try. Come on, do it for me?”
He’s too cute to refuse when your peripherals pick up his bottom lip raising upwards for a pout and feather-like lashes fluttering over glossy, blue orbs. Practically, begging you to follow through with this look alone–if only he wasn’t so handsome and used his charm against you in every way possible. God damn it-
“You’re sick, you know that?”
“Then you’re my antidote.”
You exhale in defeat since you unfortunately realize there’s no way out of this. Satoru’s too adamant to get you to play along with him, it’s insane. Turning your head to fully face him, which feels like the one-millionth time you’ve done so, you look him in the eye before aiming at the button of his nose, upturned and perky. Mentally getting ready to produce the God-forsaken words you are about to utter.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You start and the way Satoru’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas irks you. 
You still feel mortification swirl in your skull like second nature. Your cheeks feel hot and it hurts–were you really about to do this?
Satoru was still teasing you to no end. Teasing that doubtlessly wet pussy with expertise. He was killing you by not giving you what you craved, only remaining on the surface as he waited for your verdict. Just one more push, one more shove and you’ll get there.
“And why is that?” He inquires.
Your bottom lip quivers with hesitation before an erotic groan escapes you. He’s so close to putting them inside. “Because you’re-” You pause to wait for a sliver of courage to finish your sentence. You’re not sure if you can-
“...I’m?” He continues.
You both catch on to the shaky breaths you’re letting out, two separate bodies feeling two separate emotions, one agitated and the other electrified.
“You’re my,” You tense but Satoru loosens. “-my b-brother.” He’s the Cheshire cat as of now. You wail once two fingers invade your thirsty hole, entering with a mushy squelch.
“And what is it that we’re doing, huh? What is it that we’re doing that would be so revolting to the public eye, hm? Tell me.” Can he stop pushing you already, for crying out loud?
“You fingering my, my,”
“You got it, keep going.”
“...fingering my p-pussy.”
Satoru cherishes your hesitance and rewards you, his obedient puppy. 
Digits curl upwards in search of that sensitive g-spot resting amongst your gushy insides. If applied enough pleasure, he’d be able to see how your back arches off your cotton sheets. Your mouth opens for a silent scream as the force of his fingers supports the buildup of liquid passion, pounding the area in addition to his palm rubbing your stiff clit the deeper he goes.
“There you go, my sweet girl, my gorgeous, little sister.” He fingers you harder and sucks at your erect nipples–when did they get so hard? As a matter of fact, when did your body feel so hot and needy? As though you’re deprived of something. 
Your boyfriend sucks at your tit before biting the small nub, grazing his teeth along sensitive skin for a chomp, causing your hands to fly to his head and grip the fur of his undercut, all while wincing in pain. He retracts his head with your nipple still in his mouth, giving it a stern tug like an elastic rubber band. You would have cursed him out if it wasn’t for the fingers still beating at your nether regions.
“Ah, S-Satoru!” He bites harder and you remember his request from earlier. “Satoru-nii.”
As if you hear a winner's buzzer, he hums in approval and releases before gorging his lips around the other one, gently guzzling it this time, skillfully whirling his wet appendage around the nub in combination with hungry sucks. He unloosens with an obnoxious, wet pop!
“M’so glad your mom married my dad. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t be able to take care of my little sister’s pussy like how I’m doing now. Wouldn’t that be so sad?!” He inquires gleefully. “I’d be so miserable–jerking myself off to meaningless porn when I could be stuffing my big dick deep inside your aching cunt. Hearing you moan out how much you love your older brother for making you squirt your sticky juices all over me. You even got your hairs trimmed in the way you know I love.”
The sound of fabric grinding against fabric fills your ears as he maneuvers his head to reach down to your pelvis, stuffing his nose on top of the shortened pubes, his mouth hangs dangerously over your clitoris.
He takes in a deep breath like he’s smelling the fresh air of healthy trees and freshly cut grass, basking in your heady scent while feeling his cock go rigid in the plush of your mattress. 
Too aroused to feel embarrassed, you buck your hips so you can finally get his mouth on your itching button and he finally compels, switching between sucking in your clitoral hood and tonguing your labia. Satoru moves his fingers faster in hopes of provoking your climax. He knows your proximity by noting the way your thighs tremble and toes spread across your sheets.
You finally get to the stage you’ve been craving since the beginning of this session. Releasing your fluids onto your awaiting boyfriend, the grip at the nape of his neck more powerful than before, you squeal a brief ‘Satoru-nii!’ as he proceeds to lap at your overstimulated pussy. He’s now sparkling with your juices. Satoru sits up on his knees after wrapping his buff arm around the width of your shoulders to hoist you up and get you closer to his thighs, your figure remains seated as you process what he wants you to do–he wants you to suck him off.
So you lean your sweat-stained face over his clothed member and unwrap it like a Christmas present you’d save for last because it's so big. His cock springs up rudely and smacks at his now naked abdomen (when did he take off his shirt?) with a loud clap. His abs are so detailed and his pecks puff out in pride while he looks down on you, like his little servant.
He controls the length of his cock with a stern hand and traces ivory white lipstick over the plump of your mouth, a hazy web of precum connecting to your upper lip.
“Wrap those beautiful lips over my cock, darling angel. You know it makes me happy to see you stuffed full with my dick, no matter the hole.” He cheeses when he hears a quick scoff come out of you.
You listen anyhow, swallowing the tip of your big brother’s rod, hallowing your cheeks like a skeleton to circling your tongue around its rosy circumference. You feel your remaining cum dribble onto your bed when you hear him make a guttural moan from above. Clenching his ass cheeks as fingers place themselves on top of your head like an armrest, laying idly as of now.
“Oh shit, baby, yeah, just like that. Keep sucking me off juuust like that.” He bucks his hips impatiently once you decide to devour him up to the mid-base, continuing the actions of sucking in your cheeks to tighten around his cock. “Fuck!” He mewls before chuckling humorlessly.
He stares down and you look up. Your eyelids roll back til they’re just below your brow ridge to catch sight of azure undertones. You were just about to wonder why he was tittering until pressure made its way to both sides of your head. When his pearly white smirk twinkled under dim lighting, that's when you knew-
“Hmphh,” The noise was pitiful when subdued by the heavy weight of Satoru’s cock.
“Hold still, pretty girl.” He coos before pushing his hips back and applying the same manner to your head as he controlled you effortlessly and then thrusting forward and forcing your head to do the same. His balls slap on impact with your chin when he buries himself deep into the hot cavern of your throat, you have your nostrils planted on the silvery wisps of his pubes, reeking of potent masculinity. He leaves you in that position, powerless as he ignores the smacks to his meaty thighs.
“Hold it,” He warns. His voice is pitched below the Earth’s surface. “Gotta teach you how to please big bro properly.” You fight hard as his tip keeps irritating the thing that hangs at the back of your throat, trying to oppose your body from naturally activating your gag reflex but it ends up being fruitless. Your throat convulses as it bulges with his cock print and you cough out an ugly sound. Your vision blurs once you feel your eyes start to water up. You want him to move back already!
“Good.” It’s like he heard your thoughts because he finally retracts from his perfect spot lodged in your gullet. His swollen tip tickles the surface of your lips as you gasp several breaths of air. Just what was he thinking? You could’ve puked!
“What the hell was- mmph!” Halted by another intrusion of his cock burying itself in the pits of your throat, you muffle out a sound of surprise. You couldn’t believe it.
Satoru starts, “Less talking from you, sunshine. I wanna hear you slobber on my dick. Think you can do that for me?” He quickens up the pace of his thrust, going at the speed of someone walking. You gag disgustingly at each thrust and you can feel snot starting to leisurely slip from your nose (just what he wanted to see).
“That’s a messy girl, my messy sister. Got you, hah, so worked up you even got snot dripping from your nose and your spit running down my balls. Oh, you don’t know how much I longed for this.” He resumes his praises and tips back his head for a howl, feeling himself approaching his end as he hears you glurg, glurg, glurg on his veiny member.
“Oh shit, shiiit…!” Suddenly, you’re abruptly pushed off of him, freeing your esophagus from the restraint. Your back lands on the bed with a thud, your landing protected by your doughy comforter. Satoru stands motionless as he recovers from edging himself to oblivion. Biting his lip, his cock twitches up and down before it gradually remains unmoving.
You don’t even remember it happening, but you’re already restricted underneath Satoru’s panting body, thighs folded backward for a mating press, squeezing your squishy tits together, and feet perched on top of his shoulders. He takes his infamous spot between your legs, his overworked hands, decorated in calluses and scars, cuff around the underside of your knees.
He gifts you a heated kiss on your lips. “‘Toru-nii-” You say while struggling to keep up with his tongue. He breaks away from you and the string of saliva snaps into two.
“I hear you, baby, want me inside you already, I know, hear you loud ‘n’ clear.” His tip finds your entrance and it's sopping wet tenfold. He’s never seen you so needy in his life. He pushes in slowly and smoothly. Relishing your moans as he delves within you inch by inch, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. You squirm in lascivious desire each time he enters you.
“I know, sugar, I know…” He soothes you upon hearing your sobs go up an octave. His head rests at the empty spot next to your neck and his hair tickles the crevice. “Almost there.”
As soon as he sinks deep in your warm cunt, he pecks your cheek with a softness that resembles duck feathers in a pillow before plummeting into you. A pornographic squelch resounds through your room.
“Hnn, T-Toru-nii is, so deep, ah, in my pussy!” You yelp. He’s so glad you’re still following his gross footsteps. So dazed by his cock hitting every ridge nestled within you.
“Yes, that’s right, little sis. And you’re gonna be a good girl and take it for me, right?”
You give a nod, “Yes, I will. I always will. Just f-for you.”
“Mmm, that’s right. That’s what I like to hear.” 
He inclines his torso backward, finding his attention on the feet placed at each side of his shoulders, more specifically, the one to his left as he grabs your ankle with ease, stroking the bone and putting your pedicured toe between wanting lips, your french tips hitting the roof of his mouth while lapping at your salty skin.
His pelvis hammers into you at a steady rate in combination with the gushes emerging from both sexes, it's so damn loud, you’re quite sure your Resident Assistant will come banging at your door frantically, telling you to lower it down because of the noise complaints that lead to your room.
You giggle, not just at the thought but at how much it tickles to feel Satoru’s tongue swirl around each toe.
“Satoru, that tickles.” You quip and the aforementioned man stares at you with knowing lids, purposely tasting your soles which have you trying to take your foot away, but the position you’re in makes it impossible.  
You feel as though hours go by as your older brother pushes on with fucking you silly and having a makeout session with your foot. His v-line collides with your poor pussy on every steady beat and you can’t help but let your earlier accusations fall from your mind like slippery soap.
The revulsion, the distaste, the discomfort–all of which were confined in a silk-woven case, trapped and compacted hitherto its evolution of approval. Although tentativeness plagues its cycle, the result remains beauteous as a cherry red butterfly protrudes through the rotten surface of the cocoon. The successful escapee finally swarms the sky with a setting sun.
It feels good. You feel good. Your pussy feels good as your step brother pounds it with intent–with purpose. You wiggle like a fearful worm ready to be eaten once the need to release creeps up slowly.
“My little sister always manages to feel so good. This pussy is just gripping me so fucking tightly and-” He stops abruptly and so do your moans as you hear your front door creak open.
The sound of jiggling keys and the chaotic trembling of plastic bags alert both your ears as you hear the door slam shut accompanied by a relieved sigh. You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand–‘10:35 PM’. One of your roommates is back from work. Coming home to rest easy from their enervating shift, she wants nothing more than to take a scalding hot shower, laze in her bed, and listen to nothing but silence as she drifts off to sleep.
But before those temptations come into play, she first wants to check up on you to see if you’re still in your room. Walking up sluggishly to your door, she raises a hand to prepare a few knocks while you and Satoru both stare wide-eyed at the shadow that occupies the crevice beneath your bedroom door–still like Michelangelo's statues.
“Hey, (Name), you in there?” The pause is long as you look up to Satoru and see his gaping mouth transform into a smirk before turning your attention to the door.
“Uh, yeah, I’m here. What’s up?” You ask, slightly hoping that your answer will satisfy her queries on your safety before retreating to her room.
“After work, I took a quick trip to the store for some wings and frozen pizza if you’d like some. Even got honey-barbeque-” You smile at her gentle antics. She remembered your favorite flavor.
“Oh, thanks, I really appreciate th-oh!” You’re stopped once Satoru resumes pounding your sloppy pussy. You cover your mouth in an attempt to conceal your yap but a strong hand grabs both wrists to cuff them above your head.
“Keep talkin', sis. Can’t leave mom pondering, now can we?” He whispered with precaution. That devious little-
“H-Hey? Are you okay?” The squishy slaps of both Satoru’s precum and your wet fluids compose a cacophonic symphony. Shit, if he keeps going, you’ll- 
“Yeah, m-mhm. I-I’m, fuuuck, fine.” Satoru grins maniacally above you his hot breath pasts your cheek and into your ear. The tip of his cock abuses your cervix as he compacts you tightly under giant muscle, arms littered with bulging purple and blue veins as he keeps you steady. His pubes tickle your clit whenever his hips kissed yours. Both breaths were getting heavy.
“Are you sure, you sound…sick.” Her words were laced with worry as she stood there, unmoving. “Do you need for me to come in?”
Satoru finds her naivety hilarious but decides it's time to break the barrier. He does so by raising his hips to an exaggerated extent before hammering back into you, the sound much louder than before as clapping fills the atmosphere. He guarantees your roommate will pick it up. Which she does.
“Wait, are you-” She gasps when she hears your sobbing moans echo in her ears. “Oh my God.” You’re too fucked stupid to give a reply when she blurts out an embarrassed ‘sorry!’ before taking hurried footsteps away from your door.
“Guess we scared her off, huh?” Knowing damn well he was the one who only made the effort to let your roommate know you were being pounded to oblivion. “Think she’s gonna tell everyone about this? Tell everyone how her son and daughter ruin the family name because we were caught fucking each other in your room?” He’s quick to pick up in your roleplay.
“Hnngh, I don’t know, ‘Toru.”
“I’m quite sure she will. What do you say, sweet girl, how about we both give a real reason to soil the family name and let me come in this pussy?” His thrusts start to stutter with each filthy word–cream drips from your cunt and down to the tight rim of your ass. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan quietly.
“Answer me now, sweetheart, or Satoru-nii is gonna-”
“Yes, Satoru, fuck. Please come inside me, please, ‘don’t care about anyone in this family but you! Come inside me, Satoru-nii!”
With that being said, he fulfills your wish by giving you one, big thrust and stilling his cock deep in his little sister’s pussy to pump his hot seed in increments. Whimpering loudly as he does so. His face contorts in the cutest grimace that you wish you could smooch. You heavily breathe in unison until he pulls out of you (fingering his remaining cum back into your fluttering hole).
He kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and lastly your lips before saying, “You did so well for me.”
And it’s after this session that have you thinking–‘perhaps you do get it’.
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atimeofyourlife · 3 months
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Time after time
written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: uncle wayne adopts steve | rated: t | wc: 942 | cw: reference to abuse, reference of canon fake suicide | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, steve harrington needs a hug
The first time they met, Wayne knew the boy couldn't be much older than fourteen. Definitely younger than Eddie, who was fast approaching sixteen. It was early, a little before 6 am, during summer vacation, no less. Wayne had finished his shift and called into Benny's to get a coffee and breakfast, on the mornings he did this, he was almost always the first customer of the day. Occasionally beaten in by a cop, or a firefighter, or anyone else that had been stuck with a night shift. But he had never seen a kid in so early. Sat alone in the corner booth nursing a cup of coffee with an almost empty plate in front of him.
"Mornin' Wayne. The usual?" Benny asked.
"You know it. But, uh. What's with the kid?" Wayne replied, nodding toward the boy in the corner.
"Dick and Linda's kid. They're back in town, and he needs a safe place. So he comes here."
"Why don't you report it?" "You think I haven't tried? His parents paid off just about everyone from the mayor down. Kid's not lucky enough to have any other family around to look out for him."
The kid came over with his empty cup and plate.
"I've told you a thousand times that you don't need to do that kid." Benny said.
The kid just shrugged.
"What's your name, kid?" Wayne asked.
"Steve, sir. Steve Harrington." He replied.
"I'm Wayne. And I wish my boy was as polite as you."
The second time they met, it was in more unfortunate circumstances. Benny's funeral. There'd been weird shit going on in town, starting with the Byers' kid going missing. Wayne didn't believe any of the official stories. But especially not the story of Benny's supposed suicide. He knew Benny so well, and something like that wasn't the sort of thing to cross his mind.  He took his place in the community too seriously for that.
But the kid had changed. A few years older, and a lot more haunted. The look in his eyes giving away that he'd seen more than his fair share in his young life. And he was jumpy, almost always looking over his shoulder.  He kept to himself, away from everyone else there. Wayne didn't see much of him until after. Steve was standing at the edge of the parking lot, his hands shaking as he tried to get his lighter to work.
"Here, kid." Wayne held his own lighter out.
"Thank you, sir." Steve replied, after taking a long puff on his cigarette.
"No need for thanks, kid. You doing okay?"
"I. I think I'm gonna miss him. He's helped me out a lot." Steve admitted.
"That was Benny for you. Always ready to help anyone out. But do you have anyone else you can reach out to if you need it?"
Steve hesitated a moment. "Yeah, sir. I do."
The third time, it was less of a meeting than Steve yelling directions at everyone. Tabitha, a woman who lived on the other side of the trailer park, collapsed in the middle of Big Buy. The kid snapped into action without second thought, checking Tabitha for a pulse, for her breathing. He yelled at an employee to call for an ambulance as he started chest compressions. At another to clear space. At some other customers to block the end of the aisle so no one else could stand around and watch. Wayne approached as Steve gave rescue breaths, before going back to the chest compressions. When he noticed Wayne, he looked like he was about to yell at him, but Wayne spoke first.
"It's okay, kid. She's my neighbor. And I know CPR too, so when you need a break I can take over."
They swapped places a few times before the paramedics showed up and took over.
"You did good, son. You acted quicker than any adults did. You may have just saved her life." "Anyone would have done it, sir. I was just the closest who knew what to do."
The fourth time, it was at the hospital. Steve in the hospital bed next to Eddie's, identical wounds, but Steve's were infected. Wayne got to talking to Steve while Eddie slept.
"I tried to protect him the best as I could, sir. I patched him up, and made sure he got to the hospital in time. I know I should have done more-"
"You did more than enough. You kept him alive, now you need to focus on making sure that you're healthy. And you can drop the sir shit. It's Wayne."
After that, Wayne lost count of the meetings. From sharing the hospital room with Eddie, to being friends, to being more. He would do as much for Steve as he would for Eddie, and wanted to ensure that both always had somewhere safe to return to.
"Steve, if you ever want to get out of that big empty house of yours, you're more than welcome to join us here. We'd love to have you move in with us." Wayne said to Steve one day while they were cooking together. Eddie always conveniently disappeared when anything cooking related came up.
"Sir, Wayne. I couldn't put you out like that." Steve replied.
"Nonsense. You're as much my kid as Eddie is, it don't matter who your momma or daddy is. We want you here, you spend enough time here as it is, we might as well make it official."
"I, Wayne. I'd like that." Steve was quite choked up, so Wayne pulled him into a hug. All was going to be okay, with him and his two boys.
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angelltheninth · 4 months
Text
Archon's Fated One
Pairing: Archon!Zhongli x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, arranged marriage, running away, comfort, gentle sex, possessive sex, growling, tail shenanigans, biting, scratching, breeding kink, past abusive relationship, Zhongli has horns, claws and a tail
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: Written for @tinyyellowtoad. Thank you for you patience and your support!
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You knew from the start that the arranged marriage wouldn't work out. Your so called husband was an abusive, entitled asshole, besides your heart already belonged to someone else. It has for a very long time. He was the only one you loved, the man you ran to for safety and comfort, Rex Lapis, Morax, or as you knew him, Zhongli.
The door to his home opened as soon as you approached, he senses you, moreover he sensed your distress. "Ah, I didn't mean to frighten you. When I felt you approach I... your... your wrists... your neck... what?" His eyes widened in horror as he took you in. You must have looked pretty pathetic to him, crying and cowering by his side as he ushered you inside, placing his hooded coat over you, unmindful of his own half-nakedness.
He didn't push you for answers, he ordered for a bath to be ready for you, and any change of clothes you wished. When you walked beside him you could feel his thick tail caressing your lower back and your legs. No hands. Not until you told him it was okay to do so.
Would he think you even weaker if he knew? You were human so you already paled in comparison to a god. You knew that even if he shared your feelings your relationship would never last. Zhongli opened the door for you to show you into the bedroom you normally stayed at when you spent the nights at his place. He never crossed the line of sleeping with you, he never even kissed you, the most you got out of him were late night cuddles and breakfast.
No wonder your husband was jealous. You spent more time with here then with him. Doesn't change the fact that you never wanted to marry him in the first place. Or what he did to you.
"Wait." You called out, hands touching Zhongli's tail, "Please don't go. I'm... scared of being alone tonight."
Zhongli turned to face you and let his hands hover over your shoulders, still waiting for your signal. After you gave him a nod you felt his warmth, his arms pull you into a hug, against his chest, felt exactly where his arm markings stopped, and when you hugged him back felt where his dragon trail began as your hands rested on the small of his back.
The bed was just as soft as always, like what you imagined sleeping on a cloud might feel like. The only sturdiness was Zhongli himself. "He did this, am I correct?" Your tremble of fear was confirmation enough. Zhongli snarled, his eyes flashing bring yellow for a moment before he took a deep breath of your scent to calm down. "I should have sensed it. I should have been there. I am so sorry darling."
You snuggled deeper into his arms, taking in his comforting words and petname, "I told him I wanted a divorce, that... there was someone else." His arms slackened slightly, but you kept going, "I told him I loved an Archon and he laughed at first. Then I told him... that it was you. He... accused me of cheating on him."
His silence invited you to keep talking, as did his tail, now coiling around you.
"Because I was here so often he thought we were sleeping together. Didn't believe me when I said we were only friends. He got angry, really angry." Your body shook remembering his hands around your neck, the names he called you, the insults.
"So you ran here. To me." Zhongli's voice sounded lower then usual. It sent a very different kind of chill down your body, one that finished between your legs. It was shameful. How something so simple had an effect on you. It wasn't anything new for you, when you were in here you always had your hand between your legs at least once a night, not daring to call his name out.
"Because I knew you'd keep me safe Zhongli. I trust you."
"You love me." He announced, shifting his body until he was on top of you, looking down at you, his face still stoic but his hands conveying his love as they cupped your face. "If you so wish, if you would allow me, I could make you my woman. My mate."
Your heart wanted it, your cunt did too, pulsing and empty, "I don't need you to pity me. I know I'm just a human. I have nothing to offer you."
"That is not true. For years now you've been coming here, keeping me company, talking to me, keeping me from going insane. Also," He bent down and nosed your neck, "don't think I don't know what you've been doing in here. This is my domain, I hear and see everything and everyone."
It was probably you who spread your legs for him, made it easy for his hips to push between them, for him to press his rock hard bulge against your core. There was so much heat between you two, but not enough friction. He could fix that, you could see he ached to fix that if only you said the words.
"Zhongli, please make me yours." Every other time you uttered those words it was in the thorns of passion and without him there to do so. Now he was here, on top of you, pealing off your clothes layer by layer until you lay naked beneath him. His pants followed, revealing that hard cock that's been the subject of your dreams for so many nights.
"Has he..." Zhongli trailed off, his body shaking as he aligned himself up with your entrance, gathered some wetness at the tip and waited.
You shook your head, "He wanted me to submit on my own, but how could I when I only wanted you." You reached back, undoing the tie in his hair with one hand and scratching at the base of his strong horn with the other, feeling the scales there. And with your heels you felt the beginning of his tail as you pulled him closer, "I want you to be the only one for me from now on."
"And I shall be." Zhongli handled you with gentleness, but also possessiveness, his hands running to your hips, his eyes following the bounce of your breasts when he entered you, the gulp you made that tapered off into a moan. It was very much to his liking. "My bite, I will hurt. However if you're to be my mate, my bride, it's necessary."
The pain of it scared you a little, but the pleasure you currently felt, his big, thick, throbbing cock rolling in and out of you with every movement of his hips was enough to distract you. You leaned up to kiss him first, "I do." You whispered against his lips, which made him tilt his head, "It's how humans seal a wedding."
"Ah. Then... I do." Zhongli's lips felt much hotter than your own, every part of him felt hotter. You wondered how his cum would feel. Your pussy clenched around him at the thought. His cock responded by twitching.
You leaned your head backwards, exposing your neck to him. His claws dug into the sheets and bedding beside your hips, clawing and tearing at them, he was trying to hold back from finishing. "I wanted you for so long. So long, my darling. The amount of seed I wasted when I should have been planting it inside your womb instead... it angers me."
Sharp teeth ticked your skin, feeling you gulp before they settled between your neck and your shoulder, "Please. I want to be yours Zhongli. In every sense of the word."
That firm tail now wrapped around your leg like a snake, pulling it to the side so that he could have even more room. You were right, the bite hurt, but the pain was pale when compared to the pleasure that flowed both in and out of you moments later. You were hot all over, hot as your body arched against his, hot on the inside as you would be impregnated by his seed tonight, the sheer amount spilling from you, making your thighs sticky.
Despite giving it your best shot you couldn't leave marks on his back, but you knew he felt that you tried, a pleasant rumble emanating from his lips as they pulled away from your neck. Zhongli rolled you both to the side, his tail trading being coiled around your leg to being coiled around your hips.
One of his hand pressed down against your stomach, his voice low, "I love you." It was almost too quiet to be a whisper. "I will keep you safe, I promise you. Nothing and no one will ever bring you harm again."
If you had enough strength you would have cried again at that very moment. There will be time for tears, both happy and sad in the future. For now you wanted to rest, to sleep your first night with him soundly. With him, Rex Lapis, Morax, Zhongli, your new husband.
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