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vanderilnde · 3 months

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rugby player soap fucks you after a win. that’s it. extension from this post of mine

cw for dubcon smut, noncon exhibitionism, and gross johnny + simon

“Did ya see that, hen?”

Johnny’s words come out stifled behind his mouthguard. He smiles, and it’s bulky, a little dim-witted in how he darts his tongue out, licking up a wash of blood that sluices down his lip. His eyebrow is split and his nose is bent out of shape, his cheeks all swollen and ruddy.

He pulls you into a crushing hug, shaking like an ebullient dog that’s unaware of how big it is. His jersey, a royal blue, turns cobalt with his sweat. It sticks to his skin and outlines his chest, peeling off of your shirt when you sheepishly pull away.

The pitch is glutted with celebrating teammates and their loved ones, but the broadcast camera is raptly focused on you and Johnny. On the grudging hold he has on your waist and the unwieldy trophy he’s just won for his team.

Johnny grins like it’s a challenge. Like he wants to make the camera turn away. He forestalls the protests on your tongue by sinking into you for a hard kiss, bruising, and almost brutal in its force. It’s like he hasn’t separated himself from the game yet. Like he doesn’t want to compartmentalise you from the barbarous sport he plays.

The scruff of Johnny’s stubble tickles you as you try pushing him back, try twisting out of his hands. But his fingers, as bandaged and torn as they are, press dimples into your jawbone and keep you in place. Keeps you squirming and shameful beneath the dissonance of celebration.

He peels away with a kitten lick, pressing a wet smooch to the corner of your mouth. He’s smiling, pulling your jeans against the bulge beneath his spandex-like shorts, chuckling.

“Scored that last try for you, hen,” he pants. Spits out his mouthguard and passes his tongue over his bloodied teeth. “Did’ja see it?”

Johnny stinks of iron musk and sweat. He hands the trophy away and uses both hands to pull you close, clemently kissing your jaw.

“I did,” you hum. You consciously lilt your voice upwards, telling it to Johnny how he always needs to hear it. “You did so well, Johnny. So good.”

He whimpers into your neck. Just barely gyroscopes his hips against you.

“Did it for you,” he slurs. Johnny’s words are all soft, melting on his tongue as if he’s drunk. As if his brain is belated and stuck in the grip of your praise. “Did so good, right? A’practiced so hard.”

You take the bait that Johnny has given you, petting him, because if not, he’ll get ratty and make a scene. You pull back and cup his face, preening under the cornflower blue of his eyes and the puppy-like dip of his lips. You smile. “So good. I’m so proud of you.”

Johnny is half-lidded and dizzy, nodding to himself, swallowing your praise like an empty-headed dog. Impatience and lust are written into him—you can tell by the darkened shade of his eyes and how hard he clutches your hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, leading you through the stadium entrance, shouldering past fans asking him for autographs and photos. “We’ve time before the team goes for dinner. Nobody’ll be in the change room.”

Your cheeks flare with the implication of Johnny’s words and how purposeful they are. Marked by firm determination, leaving no room for objection.

He tugs you like a puppy pulling its owner. Excited, working against its leash, your feet struggling to catch up. Johnny pulls you into his team's changing room, slamming the door shut behind you. The sound of you getting pressed against the lockers is thin, tinny, and fleetingly impairs you. When you reorient, Johnny has his skinned knee between your legs and against your pussy. His hand palming his cock through the tight material of his rugby shorts.

“Johnny,” you pant, “what if someone comes in?”

“Let ‘em,” he huffs out a laugh. “What’re they gonna do? Ban me from the league? I just won us a trophy. ’m on top of the fuckin’ world, baby.”

Annoyance cycles in your stomach at his lack of consideration. You try wiggling out and mewling, but the thigh between your legs is an immovable object. Your clothed clit catches on his sinews at every angle, pushing a gasp out of you regardless of how you twist and turn.

“Haud y’r wheesht,” he barks. A hint of aggression bleeds into Johnny’s words, and that makes you pliant. “We’re just celebratin’, hen, no need ta ruin my win.”

Your eyes are on the door while Johnny shucks down his shorts. It rolls down his thighs and he leaves it at his knees, too eager to toe off his cleats and pull it all the way off. He stands awkwardly now, a little stilted because he can’t stretch his legs all the way, but that doesn’t stop him from bevelling his thigh into you and flexing, grinding into you.

Johnny peels your shirt—a replica of his jersey—off of you, and kisses you deeply. You can taste the salt and blood crusted against his lips, feel his small smile.

Johnny spins you around and folds you over the bench. Your knees bruise against the rubber flooring and your chest flattens against the cold wood, your brain reeling in the gross implications of it, whatever Johnny and his friends get up to in this locker room.

He rips down your jeans, almost popping the buttons off, almost burns your skin with the denim, and settles himself behind you. Johnny grabs a fistful of your ass and spreads you open, swatting your pussy with his other hand.

“Johnny…” you mewl, and he chuckles. Gives you a waggle, slipping his large hand over and thumbing your clit.

“Thought you were feart of bein’ found?” He asks, lowering to his knees and kissing your dewy folds. “Why’re y’being so loud?”

Johnny waits for a second, giving you time to think of a reply, but with the first sound to leave your mouth he’s licking a fat stripe up your pussy, collapsing your words.

He laughs at himself and it sends vibrations up your spine. Your bones are grinding together, your nerves filaments of live wire under Johnny’s hands that dig divots into your thighs and his mouth that sucks on your clit, tonguing your sticky folds.

He spits on your cunt, spreads the wad of saliva around with his tongue. He pulls you into his mouth and suckles, moving his wet lips against your dewy ones.

You stretch your arm back and tug on Johnny’s fleecy mohawk, scratching your fingers against the dew-skinned, shaved parts of his head. He expels a groan against your clit and you mewl, pushing into him, wiggling so his nose buries further, his tongue plunging into you and licking a stroke up your walls.

You’re quivering now, shaking against the cold bench and Johnny’s hot mouth. A knot of energy crackles in your stomach as he wraps his lips around your clit and slurps.

“Gonna come on my mouth, hen?” Johnny pants, but pulls away before you reply. Punches a whine out of you by spinning you onto your back against the bench, pulling his cock out and giving it a few tugs, his dick so hard it droops with laden weight and a slaver of precum.

“Or would’ya rather do it on here?” He asks, stroking himself. His balls low-hanging in front of you, the fat head of his cock all ruddy and red and flaring as he pinches it.

You stare, dull-headed, with your mouth hanging open and a hazy film behind your eyes. Johnny giggles.

“Cannae think with this in front of ye?” He smears his cockhead on your lips. “Sweet girl. So cute.”

Johnny winces and pulls away. He swings one leg over the bench, settling himself on top of you. His cock is a heavy mass of muscle between him. Swinging, bobbing in place. Dumb and drooling with precum that drops onto your navel.

He slips himself between your puffy folds, panting like a dog. Equally as impatient as one, squeezing his cockhead past your first ring of muscle, writing off your small cries of pain. He thinks cupping your cheek offsets the burn—still, Johnny’s cock is so heavy and so big inside you. Spreading you open, stretching you out. Making a home inside your belly.

You hic his name, and he shushes you with a kiss. Johnny weaves into short, quick thrusts, because pulling himself to the tip means losing most of your warmth, and he can’t have that. He settles on barely rolling his hips, focusing on burying himself deep, folding himself into a frog position if that means fucking you meaner.

“Takin’ so much cock, bonnie,” he moans into your neck. “So good. So good.”

Johnny’s ears turn pink and his eyes turn glassy. He keeps rocking inside you, his cock filling you out so well, so full, your thighs shaking and damp with slick. He fingers your clit, and in his pace, wild and unfettered, you wrap your legs around his waist like a cobbled together leash that you use to pull him closer.

Johnny grows feral at that. He slaps his balls harder against you, biting your shoulder. Sweat and blood rolls down his cheek and onto your face, augmenting the icy gold of his first place medal. It drags along your chest with each of his thrusts, turning into a ball of liquid fire as your body saturates with sweat. Johnny leans down, his lips slick as he kisses you, the push and pull of his hips ripening into a more jagged, desperate rhythm.

“Gonna fill y’up, hen,” he pants. There’s a strong dissonance that impairs you, echoing within the locker room. Johnny’s degenerate moans and the slap of skin against skin. The pitched sound of the wind being knocked out of you, the sticky sound of your cunt getting spread open on his big cock.

Something else poises itself on Johnny’s tongue, something impure, but it gets shaved-off as he cuts himself off with a long, flinty moan. Johnny quivers as he comes, and that pushes him deeper as he fills you with his warm ropes.

He presses down on your clit, pushing the rise of your orgasm out of you. Your spine curls off the bench, your nails digging divots into Johnny’s arms, your mouth hanging open and a rough wave of pleasure curling over you and breaking into your skin. Your orgasm is so consuming it burns, eating you whole.

It chews you up and spits you out. You tremble around Johnny’s softening cock as he peppers kisses down your sternum, and while you reorient, you see an unearthly spot of colour in the corner of your eye. It isn’t composed of matter—it’s big and blurry and hides between two rows of lockers.

Then, you realise the drapery England flag, the absence of a Scottish one.

The man who stands in the corner is blonde and huge and has his fat cock out, curling his fist around it, pumping. He’s so quiet, an ambush predator as he just stands there, continuing to beat his dick even after you make eye contact with him.

He turns to Johnny, grotesquely smiling.

Johnny returns it.

#johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #soap/reader #cod mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny writing

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 2 months

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The creator had a:

sea streaked child

WC:800

Cw: reader is said to breastfeed but isn't written doing so

Checking the blinds to make sure they were clean, remaking the ruffles so they are even.

Furina had spent her entire morning jittery walking everywhere in the palais mermonia.

Now across the room she is digging in between the blue roses hiding any less than stellar bloom under one of its prettier sisters.

Changing the tea set on the table in the middle of the room, cerulean blue, cobalt blue and sky blue swapping places faster than Neuvillette can pay any mind to.

She sighs, looking defeated at the sets and almost begging them to tell her which one is supposed to be best yet for one second the teapots looked like mocking faces. Throwing herself on a loveseat the room starts to feel smaller and she isn't even totally sure what tea to serve.

“Breath” neuvillette says from the desk, ever since he took over the leading role in Fontaine he spent more time between pages of legal documents, if that is even possible “they are arriving for a simple chat to check on the general management of the region”

“How do you even expect me to be calm when they themselves asked for my attendance for this meeting!” she sits up wobbly, the soft swirling getting worse “I can't even remember what cake you told me they liked… this is going to be a mess”

“Their grace has quite the sweet tooth, as long as what you planned doesn't have coffee it's going to be alright”

“Why no coffee?”

“miss furina… they gave birth a few days ago, it’s disadvised to breastfeed and have caffeinated drinks” seeing her nod and her little ahoge bobbing along he feels the need to confirm “that not only includes coffee and variations but also most teas” and with that she jumps to her feet, quickly excusing herself to make some changes.

“That child…” he sighs as he reviews the documents he wanted to show you and a rough overview, his head resting against his hand and a finger between his teeth. Feeling the door whining softly he laughs from the bottom of his throat “back soon early?”

And as his heart skipped a beat as you spoke “Oh, my, I know I am 30 minutes early but I thought you would like to meet me particularly” you walk deeper inside the room, past the meticulously fixed flowers that you wouldn't have noticed the mistakes on and past the three teapots on the table, each a slightly different shade of blue. Now standing besides neuvillette and facing the documents he just noticed the bundle of white cloth you held onto.

“Did the crops get better with the method I recommended? It left me worried when I left”

“The production got better, if you want to check the report is here” he offers the three papers stuck together by a metal clip when he notices that doing it with a single hand might be hard “if I might help you” he positions his arms to grab the baby and you let her between his arms

“Let's hope she stays asleep, she is such a colicky baby” you whisper but as soon as you finish the sentence she opens her eyes and starts wailing “my goodness…” you sigh deeply.

“Let me take care of it, just focus on that” he stands up and tries to mimic what he saw parents do with their small children whenever something upsetting might come up during the trials and small children would cry.

He grabs her neck and head with one hand and her legs with another, cradling her like you. As he was swaying softly the blanket covering her hair slid down to show pointy ears and softly cartilage mixing on her thin white hair.

“Is she…” but is soon shushed by you, pointing at the door and then to your ears, the message very clear ‘someone might be listening’ but he keeps his eyes glued to you only to catch you mouthing a soundless yes. His hands cradle her head onto his neck, soft blue cartilage sneaking past his fingers.

Now soothed, you two find comfort on the soft sound of passing the pages and Cordelia's breathing, the baby's name he would later find out.

“NEUVI I managed to get a cheesecake and fontas did i save this?!” Furina pushes past the door, holding a full size strawberry cheesecake and hugging three fontas against her chest but seeing you head on thinking you weren't on Fontaine yet “HIYY”

The screech caused Cornelia to get startled and start wailing “Miss Furina.” neuvillette says sternly, almost like a father telling off his daughter. But the only thing it caused was for her to see him hugging a baby suspiciously similar to him which didn't take her long to join the dots.

“OOAH!”

“Furina please stop scaring my daughter!”

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillete #genshin neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #meme made in WhatsApp my beloved

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silentium-symphony · 5 months

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So This is... Lust (Link x Reader) SMUT

(a/n) ya'll, i finally finished it ToT i'm so sorry for the wait, but it's finally here now! i had so much fun writing this!

i took a look at my schedule for next semester and i have *a lot* of free time, so hopefully that'll mean more time to write and, in extension, finally open up my inbox for requests!!! i've never done requests before at least on this account because i was always so busy. i'm not too sure how much time my new research position will take up (i was told it would be time-consuming, but i'm not sure how time-consuming), so i'll keep you guys updated!

as always, i hope you enjoy this ~steamy~ oneshot! and remember: if you are a minor, do not interact.

cw: afab!retainer!reader, reader wears a dress, link masturbating to the thought of you :), mentioned reader masturbation (like one line), cunnilingus, missionary, mentioned doggy, overstimulation, tried to make link a soft dom heheh, swearing, dirty talk, dumbification, fingering

wc: 6.5k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

"(F/N)?" Zelda slinked her back against her chair, sinking into the worn, plush cushion that coddled her stiff vertebrae.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Please prepare the horses... We're going to take a little walk." She pinched the bridge of her scrunched nose. "If I am to look at these documents a moment longer, I believe my head will explode."

"But Your Highness, Link should be coming any minute now. We must discuss the security details for the upcoming ball." Your usually terse expression softened at the royal's groan. "But we can go out afterwards.”

"Yes, you're right... Apologies (F/N), I completely forgot about that meeting. Will anyone else be coming?"

"No, Your Highness. It will just be—“

Knock knock knock!

"Ah! Perfect timing." Zelda tapped a thick, disheveled pile of documents against her desk into a more manageable bundle. "Come in!"

The brass doorknob shifted slightly and clicked open, revealing Hyrule's most renowned knight. A pair of cobalt eyes went from you to the Princess and he bowed wordlessly.

"Link. Thank you for—“

A loud bang, then wood stuttering against stone, quickly followed by the airy splish of dozens of documents fluttering to the ground. You dove across the desk, grasping a few documents you were lucky enough to catch and watched the rest pool by the table’s legs.

"Oh Hylia—!”

"Your Highness! Are you okay?!" Your hand flew to the staggering princess, documents be damned; Link sprung to Zelda’s side and placed a restful hand on her shoulder.

"I-I'm fine, really...” She muttered, rubbing her sore knee. “Goodness, I'm so sorry for the mess. Let me clea—“

"Absolutely not, Your Highness. I’ll take care of it." You cut, already circling the desk and shuffling the disarrayed documents on the floor. Link joined you on his hands and knees, carefully scooping up piles of paper onto the desk and into your arms. A jolt of electricity shot through your heart as you felt worn leather chafe against your skin. You turned away, 'looking' for other scattered documents, and coughed out,

"Thank you Link, but please don't worry. I can take care of this."

A determined look gripped his features as he stared and shook his head. Without uttering another word, Link once again began gathering the parchment. A soft sigh left you, and an even softer smile graced your lips.

"Can you hand me that document, please? I think these go together... Oh, and... these have matching headings, so I'll take that and you can have those..."

Even in her mildly frazzled state, Zelda wasn't blind to the faint red that whispered the surface of your cheeks when Link got a little too close, or the shifty flash of Link's blues whenever your fingers 'accidentally' grazed his. As much as she wanted to jump in and rectify the mess she made, maybe... She should sit this one out. Enjoy the show. Or better yet... Hm... When was the last time you and Link had a day off?

In no time at all, all correspondence was off the floor and either in your arms or on the desk. Your fingers flew this way and that, reorienting texts right side up and shuffling this paper behind that, and this one goes over here, and wait… Shouldn’t these be bundled together?

"Once again, I apologize for the mess I had created. Thank you both for cleaning it up."

"No worries at all, Your Highness." You finally looked up and cast a warm smile at the knight. "Thank you for helping me, Link."

A bashful grin cracked the stoic man's lips and he awkwardly rocked his feet. All that extra motion certainly drew attention away from the fists tightening behind his back. Zelda cleared her throat and eyed some documents pertinent to the upcoming social.

"Right. Now that that's all settled, let's get down to business."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

"A-Ah... Mmph..."

The knight threw his head back, feeling his temples drum in time with his cock. Sweat dewed his ivory skin and his Adam's apple bobbed a name he dared not utter, lest someone discover the target of his hidden fantasies. A scene from earlier that day has been playing in his head on repeat, fueling the sensual fantasies that has drawn him awake past the midnight hours; his fist thumped faster against his thighs and his back careened toward the ceiling.

You—gorgeous, gorgeous you—bent over a desk grasping desperately for a document fluttering to the ground.

With slight modifications, of course. The hem of your dress pooled about your hips—hips he oh so desperately wished to sink his teeth and fingers in—your hands tied prettily against your lower back as he thrusts into you again and again, his fingers tenderly coaxing your feathery soft hair... But the best part? You looking back at him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, and his name spilling out of those plump lips he yearned to taste.

He could hardly remember what the Princess had told him. Something about the security details for the upcoming ball, but Hylia only knew if he retained anything past that. All he could think of was you, you, you—the Princess's loyal, respectful, diligent, beautiful retainer. How he craved your presence! If only you knew how much he liked you! Oh, the things he dreamt of doing to you.

"Ngh... (F-F/N)...!"

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The garbled talk of Hyrule's high society bounced off the castle walls and the guards' helms, which flickered bright flashes of torchlight. A pair of cobalt eyes flitted about every corner of the room, filing away mental notes of the ball's invitees and the stream of people that flowed in and out of the ballroom. Link scooted along the wall—weaving around young, giggly wallflowers and decrepit, lonely barons in search of another wife—always making sure you the Princess stood in his line of sight.

After sending you away to drop off another gift at the crowded gift table, Zelda turned around with the polite smile most nobility had during these sizeable socials. She caught eyes with her loyal guard and slowly made her way over, skillfully avoiding conversation with the withdrawn, mysterious grace of a royal. Eventually, she found herself at the side of one of her most trusted confidantes.

"Link, I believe the next song shall be a waltz. Do you still remember how to dance?"

Link nodded dutifully, sensing an incoming question. Is Her Highness hinting that she wants him to ask her to dance...?

"If so, why not dance with (F/N)?"

Link, who happened to be swallowing his spit as she said that, hacked it all back up and proceeded to draw the most distressing and deprecating attention an introvert could draw to themselves in a single night. He turned to her, lovestruck panic evident in his eyes, and shook his head like a wet, storm-logged puppy.

"Now now, don't be shy! I'm sure she'd be happy to share a dance with you."

"Your Highness! There you are." A bright voice from yonder drew closer to the duo, and Link could feel himself shrinking. "I've been looking all over for you. Why are you all the way over here? Have you grown tired?"

The torpid, repetitive chords that most patrons had droned out this part in the night livened into a steady waltz. Link could feel Zelda's smirk and knowing gaze burn into the side of his head.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, but I assure you I'm fine. I just wanted to have a little chat with Link. But (F/N), you should dance! Enjoy yourself! You've been working far too hard these days."

"Thank you for your concern, but I would feel better if I were attending you."

"(F/N), don't be like that." She squeezed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I'm saying this more as a friend than your queen. Please go have some fun. Maybe you'll meet your Prince Charming, just as you've always hoped you would.“

"Zel—Princess!" Your heart dropped to your stomach and a pair of hands immediately flew to cage Zelda's arms. "T-That was so long ago—I mean, I was only a little girl and—!"

A genuine, lighthearted laugh alighted your friend and she gazed at you with a sisterly fondness.

"Just teasing. It's always so fun to do so."

"Your Highness..." Your head hung as low as your spirits as you felt Zelda's frame shake from a stifled laughter.

"Your Highness?" All eyes turned to the clear, bold voice a few bodies past you. "Can I have this dance?"

The young suitor flashed a kind, dimpled beam as he held out a gloved hand to Zelda. The royal returned her own practiced, elegant smile and took his hand.

"I would be honored." She turned to you. "My apologies. I'm afraid I must go. But do have fun tonight, okay? You deserve it."

And with a swish of her gown, she was escorted through a parted sea of people to the middle of the dance floor. She locked eyes with you for a second, and cast a knowing tilt towards him.

You two were locked in a domain of stiff silence, both looking helplessly towards your mutual friend who had seemingly forgotten all about you. Link's timbers began shivering like no other as he replayed a thousand ways this night could go.

Freeing himself of his chains of self-doubt, he pushed himself off the wall and slowly made the short way over. Your heart had practically stopped pulsing while Link's was pounding away all breath from his lungs. He felt a sickly pallor drain his cheeks; he silently thanked the gods for the bright lights that filled his cheeks with artificial ruddiness.

"(F/N)...?" You turned, your thundering heart almost drowning out the Hero's squeak. "Can I have this dance?"

Pure, unadulterated sincerity crinkled Link's eyes, which held a certain life-like sheen typically absent for the soldier; for the briefest of moments, you felt that you were allowed a glimpse into his heart. Fighting the urge to scream 'til your lungs gave out was the understatement of the century as you dipped your fingers into his palm.

"I would be honored."

The small, anxious smile widened into one of pure delight as he led you further into the ballroom. He pulled you into the fringes of the waltzing couples and placed a steady palm close to your shoulder blades, inadvertently pressing you closer to him. Clothed fingers weaved through your own and pulled your hand away from your trembling frame. You could only hope he couldn't feel the aggressive thumping in your chest.

"Are you okay?" His voice rumbled in your ear.

"Y-Yes!" You blurted suddenly, your nerves not quite heeding your volume. You were practically melting from the stinging, judgemental stares thrown your way and you swallowed thickly.

"Yes, I'm okay. Thank you for your concern."

"We don't have to do this for very long if you don't want to." He muttered, his hand slipping to your waist as he dipped you. Your delusions led you to believe that his eyes lingered on your neck a moment too long... But surely your eyes were just playing tricks on you.

"It's just... Well, I'm rather nervous, so..."

You slowly turned your gaze upwards, peering through quivering lashes and fully expecting the knight's visage to be contorted in mockery; you were pleasantly surprised that his eyes held nothing but warmth for you.

"I understand." He effortlessly guided your next movements into a spin. "How can I help you feel more at ease?"

"Mm..." You unknowingly gave his shoulder a light squeeze, causing Link's heart to flutter. "Would it be all right if we talked some more?"

"Of course. What would you like to talk about?"

"Well... I've actually always wondered this, but have you always wanted to become a knight?"

"Hm... That's a good question." He chuckled, his hot breath tickling your cheekbones. "I wasn't particularly against it. As you may know, I come from a long line of knights, so it was only expected that I became a knight too."

"How did it feel when you found out you bore the legendary Triorce?"

"... Surreal." He concluded, a glimpse of wistfulness in his eyes. "My life hasn't been the same since."

"Oh... I'm sorry if this brought up difficult memories."

"Not at all!" His tired eyes snapped to life. "Yes, training became much harder after that and the pressures of the throne are very much there… But it wasn't all that bad. After all, I got to meet you—“

At the utterance of the last syllable, Link's face twisted into horror; not even the bright, warm lights could disguise his drained cheeks. You felt your entire face engulf in flames and screamed your heart out smiled shyly.

"That's... really sweet of you, Link. Thank you."

He cleared his throat and desperately wished for a Link-size hole to swallow him up this very second. Every gear in his brain cogged away as he chose his next words carefully.

"You and the Princess seem close."

"Yes..." A bittersweet comfort gripped your heart as deeply cherished memories flashed through your mind. "We were girls together."

"How long have you been her retainer?"

"Since we were very young. Like you, I come from a long line of individuals who serve the royal family and, well... Zel and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember."

"'Zel?'"

"O-Oh!" Panicked side glances jittered here and there; you let out a deep breath, thankful that no one heard your insubordinate casualness. "Please forgive me. That was a nickname I used to call Her Highness."

"No worries. I just... thought it was very cute."

The both of you were completely oblivious to the crimson that coated the other's cheeks—how could you be when your own face ran hotter than the lava at Death Mountain? You were startled out of your mushy haze with a bright, chime-like laugh.

"Her Highness was right. You are fun to tease."

Before you could retort some type of response, the ensemble played its final note. While all the other couples were separating and bowing to their dance partners, Link was quite slow to release you, and you were even slower to leave his arms.

"Thank you for the dance, Link. You are a wonderful dance partner."

"Likewise," he straightened his back, "I hope we can do this again."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Gods, you wanted to go to bed.

Your nice, warm sheets were all you could think of as you clicked the door to the Princess's bed chambers shut. You threw your arms above your head and groaned out the tension that had carved its way into your joints.

Your feet automatically led you down the long winding corridor, past the soldier's quarters and towards your—

"Mm... F-Fuck..."

Wait a damn minute.

Your feet ceased their dragging as a voice that sounded eerily similar to a certain Hero echoed nearby. You gripped your chest, as if that would quiet the thundering pounding in your ears.

… Silence...

Were you losing your mind?

Chalking whatever... that was to your perverted imagination, you once again began your trek towards—

"Ah...!"

—Link's room wait since when did you start moving in this direction oh gods oh Hylia

"Mmph! Fuck- yes- hah..."

The noises were undoubtedly coming from his room, your ear pressed against the door confirmed that. Your hand flew to your mouth as your knees locked in place, your ears feasting listening to the sinful whimpers and pants of Hyrule's sword and shield. You were thrown into the deep end, drowning in a cacophony of your own thoughts.

What the fuck holy shit what the fuck holy shit what the fu Was he alone? Wait, but the bed squeaked just now, so does that mean he’s with someone? And if so, who? But if he's alone... Who could he be thinking of?

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong of you to be violating his privacy like this. You would be mortified to learn that someone was listening to you pleasuring yourself—everyone's entitled to have these moments to themselves. So why couldn't you just... walk away?

"Mm... Oh, (F/N)..."

... Huh?

“I need you I need you I need you…” He slurred with sloppy breaths. Shame swelled within you as a wet heat pooled between your legs and wickedly delightful thoughts ruminated in your mind. Your chest constricted, sensing the crossroads that would undoubtedly decide your future relations with your long-time crush; you toyed with either option as carefully as your lust-hazed brain would allow. With your heart mere moments away from seizing, you carefully lifted your hand, suddenly aware of every muscle needed to execute the simple motion.

Four docile raps lisped the wood. You froze, the veil of sensuality finally lifted from your senses as the gravity of the situation bucketed you like cold water. Oh gods, what have you done? Your heart raged against your ribcage and beckoned you to flee! Run! There’s still time, go!

A quiet click.

A pair of blown-out pupils amidst a thin strip of blue peered out at you.

“L-… Link?”

“… Yes?”

You listlessly felt yourself move forward; sex-clung darkness draped over your bodies as you pushed yourself through the door, slamming your lips against his in heated desperation. Link returned your fervor with a fluidity that made you wonder if he’s fantasized about this as much as you have. You cocked your heel against the door, shutting out all unwanted light to carry out your feral desires in the dark.

He pressed you against the thin slab of wood, rough hands claiming residence in the plush of your hips while his lips conveyed a primal urge to claim. You didn’t hesitate in welcoming his tongue, feeling the hot muscle drag against your bottom lip and wrapping itself with your own in a sloppy but passionate dance. Thick golden locks tangled your fingers and you pulled him closer, closer, closer until his muscly frame was melded into yours.

He departed from your lips and quickly found refuge in the crook of your neck. His hot breaths dragged across your flushed skin, sending an anticipatory chill down your spine as he speckled your softness with nips and butterfly kisses. Large hands explored what they could, never settling in one place for long while his lips began imprinting deeply-colored marks by the junction of your neck and shoulder. His grabs and kneads were desperate, as if he fully believed that at any moment you would depart from him forever, leaving him with a ghost of what could have been.

Your chest heaved into his. Colors you’ve never seen before danced before your eyelids in a pandemoniac parade while hellish flames seared through your core. Link lapped and kissed and teethed your neck, relishing in the bit-back mewls that occasionally leaked out of you. The moonbeams that had passed through the clouds applauded the red desire he worked into your skin and Link felt a surge of boldness rush through him. After speckling your rising and dipping chest with his spit, he dropped lower and lower.

The cold absence of his hands didn’t go unnoticed by you, and before you could process what was going on, the unfamiliar cold that whipped your exposed legs pinched a yelp out of you. In one smooth motion, the Hero of Hyrule was under your dress and kissing the pillowy softness of your thighs—as he always dreamt of doing—silently worshipping Hylia’s masterpiece.

And oh, how he worshipped you. How each fiery, wet kiss was a prayer of gratitude to the goddess for creating someone like you. How every bite, every mark he left you with was all in the name of you, his true deity, and your moans that served as his gospel. By the end of the night, he was determined to have you chanting his name like some mantra that would bind you two past a one night stand.

Your heart roared in your ears, anticipation for where his lips would fondle next nearly causing the overworked muscle to implode; your legs nearly gave out when you felt his teeth graze the edge of your drenched panties. The lace dragged and coiled into a thin strip as Link buried his face into your sex, relishing the ambrosia he was to partake in. Before that though, his lips traced a languid line to your hips, which was promptly suckled and bitten with the gentleness of a doe. His fingers hooked themselves under your panties and, with painfully slow movements, dragged the nuisance down your hips, your thighs, and finally, the ground. With all obstacles out of the way, Link turned his attention back to your throbbing lips, licking his own with the hunger of a starved animal.

He wasted no time in burrowing himself into you, tonguing and lapping the juices that have dared to slip out and refusing to waste a single drop. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he completely lost himself in you, rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb while drinking up whatever you could give him with his mouth. You bunched the noisome fabric about your waist, desperate to sink your fingers into his hair. He chuckled at your slightly buckling knees, and a wonderful idea flashed through his head.

He threw one of your legs atop his shoulder, and his heart nearly gave out from the sheer joy of seeing you spread like this. The new position allowed him deeper access into you, and a lone finger soon replaced his tongue’s sinful ministrations as the latter wrapped and toyed with your puffed-up bud. A full moan lapsed out of you in earnest and you unknowingly tightened around his digit. Link’s cock tented painfully against his pants, but he was set on having you cumming all over his face before he even thought about touching himself.

One of your hands anchored itself in his hair, knotting his disheveled locks into messy bunches that only grew wilder the faster he went. Uneven, haggard breaths and pleas for more echoed off his walls and Link had never been more pleased to carry out a request. His fingers and tongue would take turns wrecking you, never giving your poor clit and drenched entrance a break as he tongue-fucked and fingered you closer and closer to blissful oblivion. Link knew the milky white end was in sight, and he eagerly pressed his tongue flat against your cunt.

“Cum for me… Fuck, give it to me. I need you to cum in my mouth…”

His filthy request buzzed mind-shattering tingles to the deepest parts of your core, finally tipping you over the edge. You fell from a high you’ve never experienced before and your orgasm was borderline violent. A silent scream left your gaped mouth and you collapsed, panting, quivering. Link’s heart and ego swelled at your blissed out face as he leisurely wiped the juices dribbling down his chin. He scooted closer to you and pressed a deep kiss against your lips, leaving traces of you in your mouth. He pulled away with a pop, a smile, and an effortless huff as he carried you to his bed.

You were still fighting to regain some semblance of normal breathing when he set you down on his sheets. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and pulled away, taking a moment to relish in how you looked in your sensual vulnerability. His pulse quickened and his pants tightened further, eager for release, but Link was patient. He waited for your breathing to slow, caressing your cheeks and cooing praises into your ears. His tenderness was enough to almost lull you to sleep.

“(F/N)…” Adoration dripped from his tone. “Can we go further?”

You opened your eyes slightly and practically melted from the gentleness in his voice and the care in his eyes. With a soft, albeit tired smile, you nodded and traced small circles into his cheek. Puppy-like enthusiasm exuded off him and he kissed the tip of your nose, plucking a small giggle out of you.

“Just relax… I’ll take care of you.”

He worked the hem of your dress into a bulky bunch by your hips before throwing the whole thing over your head and gently discarding it on the floor. A soft, wonder-filled smile cracked his lips as he drank in all of you.

“You look beautiful… You are beautiful…” He murmured to the air, voicing his most private thoughts aloud. A slightly pruned finger traced down your sides. A shiver ran through your body and his name whimpered out of your mouth.

“Say it again.” He breathed shakily. “My name. Say it again.”

“Link…” You flushed under his piercing gaze. His expression flickered darkly for just a moment before his eyes crinkled warmly.

“You have the prettiest voice, you know that?” He nuzzled into your neck. “I can listen to you for hours.”

“Link…” You cradled his face in your palms. “You don’t… have to hold back. I’ll let you know if anything hurts.”

His eyes widened before a small chuckle left him.

“We’ll get there eventually, I promise. For now though…” His lips coupled with yours in tender obsession. “I want to make you feel good tonight.”

While his lips reunited with your own, his fingertip traced lazy patterns from your chest, down to your stomach with swirly circles, and finally in between your legs. He moved his hands with battle-hardened precision, skirting around your still-pulsing clit, being extra careful not to overstimulate you yet. The simple trail coaxed the neediest whine out of you and you jutted your hips up and down, side to side. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Eager, are we?” He purred, skimming the surface of his lips on your cheek before redirecting his efforts towards your nipples.

"Gods, look at you... You're so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me." His tongue swirled and sucked the perked bud while your other nipple rolled in between his thumb and index. He dragged the tip of his tongue from one nipple to the other, repeating the process again and again until he was satisfied with the glistening rawness. A long moan, honeyed with need and fringed with desire, escaped you as your back arched in toe-curling pleasure.

His fingers hastened their movements, circling the hardened pearl with calloused finger pads and teasing your slit, sometimes dipping the beginnings of a finger past its entrance. But it was never enough. Never, ever enough. Your pleas and cries and begging only sent Link further down this power trip, molding your sex-steeped senses however he wanted until you were a sobbing, hiccuping mess.

“Please Link…” You sputtered in between sobs, the knot in your gut constricting and loosening in sync with his tease. “I need you inside, please, please, please…”

“Shh…” He murmured, silencing your chants with a soft kiss. “Patience.”

“Link, please, I-I can’t—“

“Yes you can. Just a little more… Show me more of those lewd expressions.” A rough pinch on your clit scored a scream out of you and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Good girl… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Gods, yes! I’m all yours Link, so please—“

Your voice sputtered to a stop, caught in edged ecstasy as the friction you had been craving for for the past Hylia-knows-how-long was suddenly served at blinding speeds.

“This is what you wanted, right?” He cooed, his chill tone contrasting the growing flush in his cheeks. You squirmed and writhed uselessly under him as your mind blanked and reeled from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

“T-Too fa— Link, you’re—! I’m—!”

You were practically catapulted into your next orgasm, but despite your shaking release, Link never let up—in fact, he picked up his pace until veins marbled the surface of his arms. Another orgasm was ripped out of you, then another, and another, all while Link whispered,

"Oh, sweet girl, I know you can do it. I know you can cum one more time... Just one more, c'mon..."

Nothing else mattered to you at that moment. Nothing in the world could pull you out of the ecstasy Link had so readily given you. The only sensations you were capable of feeling were the coiling and spasming release of your gut as the man before you worked you into a mindless little thing. Link’s heart swelled at the fucked-out, dazed look on your face and he finally released his cock from its clothed prison.

"Do I have permission to fuck you senseless?" He husked into your ear, tending to his weeping cock with the residual slick left on his fingers. You nodded your head vigorously, dumbed down to your most base desires.

He slotted himself in between your legs, rubbing and dipping his tip a little bit past your entrance before his patience snapped in time with his hips. A gaspy whine rasped out of both of you, thickening to sweet, candied moans for more.

You were so tight… So warm... So wet… He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing—a concentrated attempt to not just immediately cum on the spot. Link stretching you out choked a groan out of you and your arms clung tightly about his neck, clawing desperate lines into his back.

"Gods, you feel so good... So tight for me... You're just made for me, aren't you? Made to take my cock..."

His fingers doled soft dips into your hips, coaxing the tight muscles into releasing their tension. All you could do was nod fervently, your voice too hoarse and mind too fogged to formulate any words. Link pervaded every single one of your thoughts, and all you could really muster was a gaze into his darkened blues, glazed over with lust. It took every ounce of mental fortitude to keep Link from pounding you into his bed; he softly kissed away the tears that threatened to spill.

"I'm gonna start moving now... Are you ready?"

A nod; Link positioned himself until your noses were almost touching, braced his hands on either side of your head, and slowly rocked his hips. The simple, fluid motion ellicited a moan out of the man and a whine out of you, electric pleasure shocking you to your core. His watchful gaze gauged your reactions, your comfort always at the forefront of his mind.

He flooded you with kisses and deluged your senses in heartfelt tenderness. Your head rolled into his arm, nuzzling him, and he smiled softly.

"You're so cute... My heart just explodes whenever I see you..."

"Liiink..." You reached up to caress his cheek. He pressed further into your hand before turning his head and kissing your fingers.

"You're perfect. Everything about you is gorgeous." He breathed, his hips slipping into a racy tempo. Your breasts pooled and trembled with each thrust, which didn't go unnoticed by the starved knight. Sounds of wet suckling filled his room, accompanied by your airy mewls and calls for his name.

"Say my name..." He growled into your chest, eyes flitting to look at you through quivering lashes. "Say it again."

"Link..." You squeaked, hiding the lower half of your burning face behind trembling hands.

"Louder." A hand clutched your wrists and dragged them down, fully exposing your slutty expressions to his hawkish eyes.

"Link...!"

"Louder." He scurried to the crook of your neck and bit down. "I want everyone in this castle to know who's fucking you breathless."

"L-Link!"

His pace quickened, the steady rhythm degenerating into wild pistoning. Shaky, uneven breaths stretched into high-pitched whimpers while his hand fondled your abused clit, repeating the circling motion that had you seeing stars several minutes (hours?) ago. His lips traced the shell of your ear, your jaw, down your neck, and finally your lips. Again and again, his mouth met yours in messy passion, each kiss more crazed than the last. He pulled away just enough to see your sloppy expressions, a thin strand of spit connecting your moistened tongues.

"Can you cum for me one more time? Just one more, I promise."

"I can't, I can't—Link, I'll die—“

"No you won't, love." He crooned. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, just in time to see stars exploding into a symphony of colors. "Just one more. I know you can do it."

Your face scrunched in response to the nearing summit, the precipice that you had been thrown over more times than you could count. You could feel your core spasming and knotting and folding in on itself; Link was totally immersed, body and soul, in your essence as he neared his own powerful climax.

"You're all mine." He panted, his hips accentuating each word with increasing ferocity. "Mine, mine, mine."

A tremor unlike anything you've ever felt before rattled your bones. A voice unrecognizable to you called for Link as you released all over his twitching cock and sheets. Your violent clenching rocketed Link to cloud nine, who pulled out just in time to cover you with thick, white ribbons. His warmth splattered onto your thighs, your stomach, your chest—all of which still tingled from his earlier acts.

His quaking frame crumbled, landing squarely on top of you. Your breaths hitched and mixed with each other, and a satiated silence enveloped the room. Once Link had mostly recovered, he heaved himself off of you and draped a lazy arm over your spent form.

"Are you okay?" He rasped, smoothing the sweaty nest that your hair had become. "Let me clean you up."

You tried to lift an arm—a finger even—to assure Link that you were okay but gods if you had to exert any more effort you were certain you would disintegrate. Link swung his legs over the bed, tripped into his boxers, and hobbled over to a pitcher sitting on his desk. The clear sounds of liquid life flowing into a bowl were like music to your ringing, pulsing ears.

In just a few moments he was by your side, bowl, towels, and cups in hand. You tried to sit up, but the bed stuck to your back like a bond that could not be broken. The rough cloth gingerly wiped away Link's earlier messes, and he dipped the other towel in the bowl before patting your face with the same degree of care. The cool water against your flushed skin sent pleasant jolts through your body.

"How are you feeling?" He asked again, pressing his palm into your cheek and pulling you up to drink. "Are you hurt anywhere? Was I too rough?"

You took the most refreshing swig of water in your life, feeling your parched throat soften enough for use.

"I'm okay, Link." You croaked at last. How long had it been since you last spoke coherent sentences? "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Of course." His warm smile alighted butterflies in your stomach; however, his features faltered slightly and his eyes turned downcast. "I, um..."

Quiet hesitance warbled his voice into a gut-wrenching tune; you gently cupped his hands, running your thumbs over each scar as you steadily held his gaze.

"I don't want this to be a one-time thing, I want..." He sucked in a quivering breath. "To be with you."

A kiss, soft and sweet, silenced all the doubt pounding away in his chest. Your lips moved purposefully, taking time to convey all the pent-up feelings that had been swirling inside you for so long. You dangled your arms behind his neck as you pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to meet his blown-out pupils.

"I want to be with you too."

Relief unfurrowed his brows and relaxed his jaw.

"Really...?"

"Yes! Though to be honest, I've always pictured our first few moments together as a couple in a more... innocent setting." You gestured to... everything and Link's belly flexed in laughter.

"So did I. But gods..." His lips ghosted the curve of your shoulder, traveling up your neck, and ending at your ear. "You felt so good, (F/N)..."

"L-Link..." You whimpered, your body lowering back down while your now-lover towered above you. Without warning, an arm snaked under your knees and the other wrapped behind your back. With a yelp, you spilled into his arms and two towels fell into your lap.

"The baths are just around the corner." A soft warmth bloomed on the center of your forehead. "Let's get cleaned up, shall we?"

♤♢ ~ bonus scene ~ ♡♧

"Your Highness, are you sure about—?"

"Yes, yes! I've already got it all figured out. All you have to do is pack your things and go!" Zelda shoved two official-looking documents into your arms and scooted you and Link closer to the door. Your dug heels were no match for the princess's sudden prowess.

And what could those documents possibly be?

Why, records of a cabin rental in Faron Woods, of course!

"B-But what about Link? He's your personal knight, after all."

"I've already arranged security details with one of the squadrons. They will be watching over me until you both get back. In regards to who will be overseeing your duties, I have a few staff members who will help me keep track of everything."

"Your Highness—"

"It's decided!" Zelda exclaimed with more effort, her energy sapped from lugging two unwilling bodies. "You both have been working so hard, so I've been thinking about giving you a weekend off for awhile. Now that you're a couple, this is a perfect chance to have your own little romantic getaway!"

"Wait, Princess Zelda..." Link started slowly, the gears in his head churning away. "It says here there’s only one bed. If you didn't know we were a couple until now... Why did you prepare a cabin with a single bed for the two of us?"

"That...!" Though your back was toward the royal, you could clearly see the 'oh shit' expression on her face. The corner of Link's mouth twitched into an amused smile while your cheeks scarleted.

"Zel, I swear to Hylia, I'm—"

"—gonna have a wonderful time in the woods where you can be as loud as you want. Farewell, and safe travels!"

With one last push, Zelda managed to shove the two of you out of her office before a resounding slam sounded the finality of her decision. But Zelda's closing remarks hung in the air, thickening the atmosphere in blood-chilling realization.

"What's wrong?" Link's sing-song voice mismatched the gravity of of the situation.

"Oh gods... Oh gods oh gods oh gods... How many people do you think heard us last night?"

"Enough for the whole castle to know who fucked you breathless." His face lowered until you were eye-level with his mischievous simper.

"Link!"

"Her Highness was right—you are fun to tease."

"LINK!!!"

#link #link x you #link x reader #link x reader smut #loz link #loz link smut #loz link x reader #link legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz smut #legend of zelda smut #legend of zelda

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ovaryacted · 3 months

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Probably not at all what you want but .... kink shaming leon for his mommy kink But you are actually into it too. He doesn't know it just yet, you just like to tease him and make him flustered. You two would be making out, and he just slipped it and you were going along like "yeah? you like when mommy does this" but then suddenly you're like

"god, Leon, what a sick pervert you are" you'd say and he'd be with wide eyes like he just fucked up entirely, "is this mommy shit really turning you on? that's disgusting" then he'd say he's sorry and tell you to just drop it but you'd keep teasing him to the point he thinks you're being mean and just making fun of him. "Aw, you don't like when mommy teases you?" Well eventually you'll tell him that you think being called mommy is hot too

He gets off being when he's humiliated too, that's why even though you were being oh so mean he came like he's been saving it for weeks

cw: suggestive smutty content.

Hey anon! Thank you for the message!! So this technically wasn’t what I meant, but I don’t mind it either way! This is like if kinkshaming becomes your kink LMAO (I relate), but I’ll entertain you for a bit cause I’m down with this.

It’s like you’re both in denial of the fact something like this would turn either of you on. For Leon, he just revealed one of his deepest secrets, not knowing how you’d react to hearing him call you a name that’s considered taboo in a sexual context. He doesn’t watch porn much, but he’s not an idiot, he knows there’s videos out there depicting exactly what he’s imagining in the back of his mind. He’s just a bit too pussy to admit outright that he wants something else in the bedroom, something only you can provide.

On the other hand, you get your chance at challenging the roles in the bedroom. You’ve already been hinting that you wanted that dominance, wanted to take control over Leon and he’s been letting you. Thing is, there wasn’t a title that really fit your role, mistress was too harsh and ma’am was what Leon would usually correlate with you anyway so you wanted something new.

You didn’t have an honorific established yet, so it takes you off guard when he calls you mommy by accident while you’re kissing him so passionately and gently tugging on his hair. You couldn't ignore the shiver that went down your spine, the way your lips curled up in a grin at the sudden revelation from Leon. You didn’t let him backdown from his confession either, nor did you immediately give him what he wanted. Playing along, you decided to tease him about it.

“Mommy huh? That’s what you think of me?”, you said against his lips, caressing his chest from your spot on his lap.

“That’s not what I meant…”, Leon can’t find the words to explain himself properly, but his eyes said it all. He liked this shit.

“No, you know what you meant. I didn’t know you were such a pervert Leon”, his cheeks reddened the more embarrassed he got, but the growing bulge in his jeans told you otherwise.

“What? Don’t you want to play with mommy?”, now that got a rise out of him. The way you easily fit into the role he needed you to be no questions asked made his body pulse.

“You don’t have to hide from me baby, mommy likes this too”, you whispered into his ear, biting at his earlobe and pulling a pathetic whimper out of his mouth.

“Really?”, he asked you, voice shaky as he spoke. The desperation in his body language was almost comical, and you couldn’t wipe the smirk off of your face even if you tried.

“Yeah, really”, you watched his eyes grow hazy, going from clear crystalline blue to a misty cobalt. He was not expecting your reciprocation, much less how effortless it was for you to adapt into this persona.

You indulge him, a mixture of shame and acceptance intertwined as you enrapture him in the newfound dynamic. Things change for the better between you two, and you now hold the title Leon wanted you to have from the very beginning.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #sub leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #ovaryacted asks #Leon is a pathetic puppy dog of a man #argue with the wall

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enbyspeedster · 10 months

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Because I'm really curious and I'm also super super bored so I wanna see how everyone headcanons Eddie!

#personally i headcanon him as a closeted gay and that he's a trans man #but trans isn't on here because im specifically asking about the other stuff #though if you do hc him to be trans feel free to add that in the tags or in the comments too!!#eddie thawne #cobalt blue #the flash cw

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vexic929 · 11 months

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Eddie Thawne deserved so much better but I gotta admit the Cobalt Blue suit? Kinda fire

#the aesthetics are iconic #the storyline was not #eddie thawne #cobalt blue #the flash cw #cw the flash #the flash #vexic lives

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diejager · 8 months

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Hello! Your works are really great could you please write a Non-Con For Philipp Graves? 🦅 EAGLE SCREECH

Shackled

Pairing: Philip Graves x fem!reader

CW: CONSENSUAL NON-CON, DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, P in V, creampie, unprotected sex, BDSM, leather cuffs, torture/interrogation, rough sex, soft Graves, kinda aftercare?, tell me if I missed any. WC: 1.6k

You shuddered, the hair on your skin standing high from the cool air of your isolation room. You were strung up by your hands, leather cuffs wrapped snugly around your wrists with the short chain hooked over the claw of a clasp, holding your weight firmly. Two other chains linked the cuffs of your ankle, spreading you open for whoever would walk into the cell. You flushed in shame and embarrassment, naked in the cold cell, tied to the ceiling and spread open by leather and chain shackles.

You were weak and vulnerable, unable to fight off anyone or anything that’d come in the room and the low temperature made your numb, fingers and toes curling in an attempt to stave off the cold. Squirming would be useless, hips swaying and legs kicking in all ways would make you waste energy, precious energy that could be used to escape your imprisonment when - if - you were free from your restraints. You grumbled, staring at the metal door, eyes burning the hate and anger into the door.

Sudden, loud steps heading towards your cell had you biting back a flinch, imposing and strong steps made to scare you, to intimidate their captives. You especially, the commander’s prize. Keys jingling, followed by the click of the lock, the door cracked open and you caught a foot breaching the entry of your room.

“Shaking, ain’t y’a, sweetheart?”

The familiar drawl in his words, the cocky and teasing tone he used in every visit had you wishing he could shut up, but you were more annoyed that he was so pretty. His cobalt, blue eyes framed by luscious lashes and a caramel-like tan to his skin, glistening under the white light of your cell, thick brows and beautiful, light brown hair. Age had only made him prettier, his rough stubble and rugged wrinkles made him look sinfully appealing, and the scar that stretched when he smirked added to his appeal.

Phillip fucking Graves.

You glared at him, burning into him your shameful anger. He only smiled, closing the door behind to give himself a bit of privacy with a lazy kick. He approached you brazenly, arms crossed over his chest as he admired your nakedness. His eyes wandered over your perky nipples and round breasts, down the valley to your navel and between your open thighs. His eyes narrowed, a lustful gleam when he placed a hand on your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your freezing skin.

“Why the frown? I thought we were getting somewhere,” Graves cooed, standing flush against you, hands wandering to feel you up.

He ground into you as he chuckled, his cock poking at you from the confines of his cargo pants, the harsh cloth chafing your soft folds. His expressions tempted you, coaxing you to lash out, to scream and fight, to bite down on the finger that lingered too closely to your face and to curse him to hell. Against your better judgement, you let him touch you, his warm palm cupping your cheeks. The harsh pads of his calloused digits drew a line under your eye and down to your sneering lips, pressing softly on your lower lip.

You shuddered from the gentleness of his acts, the almost loving touch with that soothingly calm voice cooing at your current submission. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, the sudden dryness of it had you sucking at his finger, swallowing what little saliva you had left. Your eyes fluttered, taking in the warmth Graves exhumed with a sigh. Your time alone in isolation had you craving warmth and attention, but the nagging part of your brain shook you awake, eyes cracking open and lips pulled back. Your teeth sunk into his finger before he pulled it out with a hiss, waving his hand around to ease the sting off.

“Fuckin’ Christ-” he growled, seeming shocked that you tried to bite him. He frowned at your laugh, the sweet, yet smug sound riling him up.

He backed away, face flushed angrily, he pulled his hand back and backhanded you, throwing your head aside. You groaned, teeth digging into your lower lip, the force he used left your cheek pulsing, burning with the promise of a bruise. You whipped your head back, spitting at him with a red-tinted liquid. You missed horribly, landing your spit on his shoulder rather than his face.

He chuckled, launching himself at you and pressing himself to you, his hands grasping at your scarred skin with hard, bruising grips. Your chest swayed, squirming against him to fight him off from undoing his pants. His cock sprung out, the angry, leaky tip slapping his clothed navel. His hardened length stood proudly, drooling from the slit, down the slight curve and the base, where hung heavy balls, engorged and thick.

“Fucking bitch,” he cursed, forcing himself on you with the vigor and vitriol of a berserker, rutting against your moist pussy lips. “Who’s laughin’ now?”

You jerked, a scream retching out of your throat when you felt his bulbous head bob between your folds, drawing a line of pre up and clit and down your ass. You forgot every thought of taunting your captor, to tire him until he decided to untie you from your hooks and simply cuff your hands to the back of a chair, to be left alone and escape by yourself once Graves was tired of you. You squirmed and fought, feet kicking from their bent position and voice rising to an outraged cry, calling him names that would most likely shame Price.

He cackled, hands holding your waist still, flush against his hard, throbbing cock that drooled over you. His hips pushed off you, pumping himself with a hand as he led it towards your wet cunt, the slipperiness easing his way in. He groaned, mind numb to your screams and cries, he was solely drawn into the heat that wrapped around him, the tightness and the wetness.

He pushed in slowly, taking every second to enjoy the sensation until he bottomed out, hips against thighs and balls to your ass. Graves’ only thought were to fuck you and keep you, maybe drug you into a clumsy and submissive doll, but still having that bratty spitfire. He rolled his hips, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix, pulling out and slamming back in, the head bruising your ring of muscle.

His chest rumbled with a satisfied hum, ignoring your useless struggle as he fucked you, teeth nipping at your collar, placing red marks on your sweaty skin. Every thrusts had you moaning, body jerking upwards with bouncing tits, your body burned, sweaty and exhausted. Your once cold tenure became boiling hot, the heat from Graves searing its way into you with heavy strokes of his cock. Your toes curled and legs shook, the chains holding you up rippled with the same force as Graves’ strength.

He drove himself deeply, his angry head bruising your cervix, he groaned and grunted, hung on your cunt’s tenseness, throbbing around him with a pulse, tightening and loosening, close to coming, but never really falling from the edge. He lips trailed a line down to your nipples, lips wrapping around your perky button and sucking, the sound as equally erotic and as disgusting. He sucked as if he was searching for milk, rough and toothy, before he let go with a wet pop.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he slurred, pulling back and slamming in with a loud, dirty squelch. “Gonna come, doll? C’mon, don’t be shy.”

You hated how sensual his voice was, how it called to you and coaxed your body to react in ways that he wanted, that he willed, even against your mind’s wishes. Your back arched, cunt pulsing and clinging onto him, the knot in your navel tightening to an unbearable urge. He grew sloppy, his fast and rough pace slacking in haste but still holding on his deep and rough strokes. He was slow but deep-hitting and rough. You mewled, pleasurable sounds pulled from your throat by Graves, moaning and gasping, seemingly asking - pleading - for more, for it to be harder and faster, rougher, but never uttering a word.

When he tilted his hip, changing the position, he rubbed against your g-spot, his bulging veins massaging you while his head pounded your crying cervix. It was all it took for the knot in your core to pop, furling outwards as you clamped down on him, milking him for his worth. You came with an embarrassingly loud cry, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock, under the thickest part of him. He groaned, curling into you as he stuttered, bottoming out as deep as he could before he came, spurting ropes of potent cum from his tightened balls, painting you with the marks of your torture, of your mistake that led to a failed mission. It was your sin, one you’d hold onto you for the rest of your miserable life like a visible scar.

“Fuck, doll,” Graves slid out, his flaccid cock plopping between his soaked thighs. “You all right?”

You hummed, watching him untie your ankles and kneeling to place your feet down before uncurling your wrists. He hissed at the red chafing on your skin, soothing it with kisses and promises of aftercare. He wrapped a blanket around you, holding it over your shoulder for you to grasp, kneeling before you to pick you up, one hand under your knees and the other on your back.

“You were amazing, sweetheart. Thank you for indulging me.”

You giggled softly, dried lips finding his chiselled jaw with fluttering pecks.

“Anything for you, Phil.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

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softshuji · 10 months

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𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟐𝐏𝐌 | 𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀

Title: Little Black Dress

Summary: Working for Bonten has always had it's perks, like the anonymous gifts you receive every morning. But surely your secret admirer and the Boss you're sleeping with can't be one and the same... right? (see a/n at the bottom) reblogs appreciated! Link to masterlist here!

cw: fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, pet names (pretty girl, good girl) izana and reader both have a sir kink (I'm sorry), alcohol, assumed unrequited feelings (he's a bit dense and awkward), jealousy, implied panty stealing, unprotected sex, ptv, possessiveness, thigh riding, foreplay, a hint of degradation (it's not much promise), biting, marking, orgasm denial, breeding, hair pulling, light choking, loads of praise, it's pure filth i'm sorry. MDNI. This is my first time writing NSFW so be nice yeah?

You and Izana like playing games.

The kind where you pretend like you’re using each other for some purpose or other, ravenous appetites that you sate till you’ve had your fill, two equally gluttonous, hungry people who don’t mind the copious sex and the copious money and all the splashed cash that you think might suffice enough for you not to talk about the type of relationship you have.

Maybe it’s because he’s your boss, and you’re his subordinate and you have long foregone that boundary that separates you as something more but you’ve never questioned it, why he calls you into his office to sit you on his lap with his fingers dancing over your skin, a ghost of a touch that often slips between your legs. By accident of course, as if it’s your own needs and desires that he’s relieving, and not the fact that his skin thrums and his stomach jumps when you buck your hips against his hand to chase the friction he’s denying you by pulling you along to cynically laugh at in desperation.

Maybe it’s because in the late hours, long after the sunset has bled into a cobalt blue night, he finds you still here, at work in an office, the dress he gifted you still sitting pristine in a box on the desk, looking over accounts and reports and emails that you’d sworn couldn’t wait till morning.

And maybe that’s how it had started, closer to midnight, and he’d found you for the first time, in the dress you’d been sent by an anonymous sender that swelled from where your hips were flush against the fabric, all curves and shadows and accented silk that had his cheeks flushing, as if he hadn’t stolen into your house to read your sizes during your absence.

Not that he’d stopped after that, and perhaps if you’d bothered to check your undergarments drawer you’d have noticed the worryingly thin stash of black lace panties that you could swear wasn’t half as short in supply last time you checked.

Some habits are hard to break, no? And really, did it matter when there was always something on your desk to make up for it at the end of the week? A pearl necklace, coral shell pink and rose gold that sat against your skin, jade earrings and dainty Rolex watches that the others marvel at when they catch your eye in the mornings, all sleep and slumber still caked under their eyes marred by half-shadows.

‘That’s Pretty,’ Ran says and holds up your wrist to the light, your palm now stroked by his long and lithe fingers, the callouses grazing the sharp indent of your wrist, enough to have you sucking in a breath when he grazes your knuckles achingly slow, torturous in the way he likes. ‘Someone get that for you?’

You’re too drunk on his touch to notice the dark and heavy glint in his eye, violet rays that splash over your arms, roaming over the silk that hugs your body, the curve of your neck where the amply applied concealer hides the heavy purple bruises left by your boss the night before.

‘Yeah, an anonymous sender,’ you say and flush when he smirks, half hidden by the way his mouth ghosts over the veins in your wrist, soft and warm breath that tickles your skin down to your stomach where the ache settles unremittingly.

‘Uh-huh… They’ve got a good eye. Pretty things for a Pretty Girl huh?’

You pretend it means nothing when the others let their gazes slide over and away from you, some forbidden thing, when Izana walks into the room, a stiffness that permeates the air then and never a moment after, once he has left and they release a collective breath trapped in equally lustful lungs.

‘Something came for you this morning,’ Kakucho says, a card slid over the table, a boutique name you don’t recognise, and a velvet box inlaid with burnished gold. You feign surprise, a raise of your eyebrows, as if it’s something new, as if Kakucho hasn’t had the conversation so many times already.

‘Why not just tell her how you feel?’

And Izana scoffs, turns towards the window where the rain falls in droves, a darkened shadow against the grey velvet curtains, the thin slap of it on the roof where it drowns the aching pulse of his heart against his ribs. It should be easy, everything else considered. He’s killed before, bled out in the snow and lived, but it seems trivial when he considers the frown that could accompany your rejection, a slice of fresh pain across his lungs that he’s convinced could be enough to kill him outright.

‘Again?’ you say, and the thin gold chain slips out onto your palm, the light dancing on the marbled ceiling, a shaft catching on Kakucho’s ivory white eye. ‘There’s never a return address so I can’t even give it back.’

‘Someone must really like you,’ he says, offhandedly, his waistcoat shuffling as he lifts a coffee cup to his lips, turning away towards the mahogany table as the others shuffle towards the door, a smirk hidden behind the hair dancing against his cheek.

‘Mhm, I don’t really deserve all this though, and I don’t even know who they are.’

He turns, an eyebrow raised over the lip of the cup, a graze of his gaze along your collarbone where the dainty chain sits, a kiss of gold on your skin. ‘You deserve that and more, clearly someone else thinks so too.’

Often, you wonder if there is a game being played here, a cat and mouse that you can never grasp, constantly clutching at the end of the string as it’s pulled. They never seem worried and it should bother you, would bother you, if you didn’t feel so safe in the warm encompassing circles of their arms, your heart cradled by their rough hands, a soft touch and graze along your cheek that you pretend is only ever part of the job.

Izana finds you like that on the same night, the rain slapping against the windowpane, the soft and tinny clink of it that slips in through the open window, smooth jazz that fills the empty space in your office, underlaid between the scratch of your pen on paper and the click of your nails on the keyboard.

He knocks once, a whispery, ‘It’s me,’ that slips underneath the draught at the bottom, before the door swings, a creak on the hinges and the soft pad of his feet on the beige carpet. He holds a hand against the door, as if he’s ashamed of the sound, a frequent glance back at the empty corridor, where the overhead lights seem to pull the shadows closer, a quiet beckon into the safety of your office.

‘Izana sir,’ you say and lift your head from behind the monitor, the blue light pulling at the taut skin of your cheeks, where the tiredness clings to your skin, a thin sheen of exhaustion curling at the faint shadows under your eyes. ‘Is everything okay?’

It’s not uncharacteristic, though the two of you like to pretend it’s new every time, like it’s the very first instance of him coming to you for comfort, for warmth, a quick grab of your light that he eats so ravenously, that he wishes he could swim in and perhaps if you believed in yourself anymore, you could admit that it wasn’t just that you were convenient to sink his teeth into, that maybe you were something more.

‘Mmh? Yeah I’m fine.’ He teeters on the edge, a foot inside the office and not, a hand on the doorknob, his body angled so that he’s both inside and out, a step from foot to foot with apprehension. He curses himself then, inaudibly, for biting his lip, his hand clammy against the door, the hesitant shift of his suit that seems inexorably loud in the otherwise quiet building. He hears a laugh, somewhere far off, Shion and the Haitanis receding towards the exit, the full and raucous giggling that falls to an abrupt stop when the doors close, the tinny plink of the rain that patters on the window. ‘You’re still here?’ he says, for something to say, a furious press of his nails into his palm at his own lack of tact, and it burns that he’s nervous and hiding it this many months later, as if he hasn’t stolen into your house to run his lithe fingers along your sheets, his mind marvelling at the indent of you on the mattress.

Your eyes fall over him, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the honey of his skin where the streetlight sits so perfectly, the silver glow of his hair that kisses at his cheeks. ‘Y-yeah, I didn’t want to leave this until morning.’ Your tongue trips, in the way it always has around him, a thick and heavy film that coats your teeth. ‘Come in, I’ll get you a drink.’

You stand, and he moves, the door clicked shut as he lingers along your desk, his fingers drumming on the velvet box, a bare and quick glance at the gold trim. He knows you like pretty things, and maybe he finds it easier like this, copious gifts and sex that he hopes is enough to tell you what he can’t, the complicated tangle of his feelings barred behind the trapdoor, and really, Kakucho is right, he could tell you how he feels, and then wait for the inevitable hurt that he is so sure is coming, the icicle of pain and rejection you’re sure to stab into his heart, because he is just your boss, and you are just his employee.

You turn away from him towards the drinks cabinet and he allows a single moment to marvel at how the dress clings to you, a slip of a thing that licks at your thighs, a little shorter when you reach upwards for the glasses in the cabinet, the lacey trim of your stockings slipping into view. Maybe it’s shameful, how you wear the things without knowing who they’re from, as if you don’t know how he’ll tear it off you, run his hands along the insides of your thighs to feel the silk and satin on the backs of his scarred hands, a harsh tug of your hips to pull you flush against him.

‘You should have gone home,’ he says, a lie of course, slipping effortlessly through his teeth, and you only smile over your shoulder, a thin and watery thing that has his throat aching.

‘I don’t mind.’ You hold two glasses in one hand, and pull the decanter off the shelf with the other, the amber swirl inside lightning to gold when you move past the window again, copper light that weaves through your dress and his hands itch, a harsh and aggressive clench of his fists against his sides.

There is a slosh, amber swirling into the crystal and a glass handed over, a murmured thank you that’s lost underneath the undulating slap of the rain on the roof. He watches you over the rim, the fold of your legs, one on top of the other and alluringly splayed out so that your stockinged foot grazes his ankle, your bare arms kissed by goosebumps prickling across your skin. The gold chain sits on your collarbone, a single flash of light on your otherwise bare skin.

‘How come you came? I thought you’d have…’

He tilts his head, the sweep of his sharp white hair falling against his nose, the dress shirt slipping open as he lifts his glass to tease the patch of golden honey skin on his chest, his tie skewed. ‘What?’

‘Just….’ You suck in a breath, a quick slip of your gaze from the haunting violet burn of his eyes, to the marbled ceiling, the silhouette of him spreading his thighs on your sofa burned onto the roof, a dark shadow of opulence that has the heat crawling along your flushed skin. ‘I thought you’d be going to see a girl that’s all.’

He raises an eyebrow, a twitch of his mouth that you try not to linger on, full and pink lips glistening with a thin sheen of whisky, the translucent shine of them that you think tastes of sugar and vanilla, honey and warm coffee.

He shifts, lifts his hips to adjust his dress pants and your eyes fall, unashamedly, on the prominent bulge half hidden by the darkness, a single shaft of copper light dancing on his thigh, and you can’t help it, the way your teeth bite at your lip hard enough to hurt, a blinding flash of pain and arousal that pools in your tummy. You hate it, the betrayal of your body that comes so easily, the fold of your veins and control that comes from a few simple actions, the dance of your heart against your ribs.

‘Would it matter if I was?’ he says and leans back, the amber swirling along the crystal of the glass, raising it to his lips where the warmth of his breath mists against the surface, the imprint of his perfect lips now flecked with the heady taste of whisky, the ice clinking at the bottom of the tumbler.

Your eyebrows shoot up on instinct, the flush of embarrassment, spreading along your exposed cleavage, where Izana’s eyes drift lazily before flitting back to the pert mouth where your faded red lipstick still sits. ‘N-no, obviously not, I mean yes- no- I’m not sure.’

‘Hm? That makes no sense. So which is it?’

Your heart thrums against your ribs, an embarrassment so loud you’re convinced he can hear the ringing in your ears, the thin and tinny pressure that has red blooming across the nape of your neck. ‘I- I only mean…’ Your tongue is too heavy for your mouth, a weight that has the words drying on your whisky-flecked lips. ‘...that, if you went to see a girl, you’d be allowed, and it would be your right.’

He hums, a slow roll of his neck, where the sharp angles of his clavicles slip into view, the golden sand of his skin now catching the copper glow filtering through the window and you squeeze your thighs together in some attempt to subtly relieve the ache slowly building there.

‘So, you wouldn’t be jealous?’ he says and spreads his legs wider, his arms moving to rest on the back of the sofa, the faint warmth in his chest now simmering with a growing heat.

‘Should I be? Is that what you want?’

‘Maybe. But why would you get jealous? Don’t you have the others to give you the attention you want?’

You burn at the tone, the teasing lilt and airy whisper that melts against your skin, the silhouette of him with the rain-dashed window slicing across the pristine and pressed white shirt now unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled to the elbow.

Your tongue aches when you lift it to run over your teeth. Faintly, in some recess of your head, you hear a door slam, undulated by the thwack of the rain on the window, the occasional click of shoes on linoleum and the screech of tires beyond the 19th floor window and it’s so far away, so quiet when you’re here so high up and the ringing in your ears has a constant hammer to your skull.

You lick your lips and his eyes flick to your tongue peeking out. ‘That’s true but, what if it’s not their attention I want so much?’

‘Oh? And whose attention do you want?’

You bite the inside of your cheek, uncross your legs and cut your eyes to the decanter on the table, the empty glass still poised between two lithe fingers and there is a beat, a long and draining silence that swallows the air between you while you let it drift and hang, your eyes flitting between the violet haze roaming your skin and his lips where the aftertaste of whisky lingers.

‘Here.’ You pick up the decanter and stand, using one hand to smooth down the front of your silk slip, a barely perceptible shake that you’re quick to hide as you lean over to steady his waiting glass. ‘Let me refill that for you.’

He watches, a wolf eyeing prey, a heat between his legs that has his mouth drying, uncomfortable and thick as the tension dragging through the air.

You make to turn, the decanter set onto the table when he grabs your wrist, a tight squeeze that has your ribs closing around your heart. You turn back, a less than subtle squeeze of your thighs together, where his eyes flick from the crease in your dress, to your lips parted with the thin sheen of whisky.

‘I don’t think you answered my question,’ he says, his voice a low hum as he strokes a slow circle onto the dip in your wrist. ‘I asked whose attention you wanted.’

Your tongue drags along the roof of your mouth, your palm clammy and curled into a loose fist, the warmth in your blood beating at your skin. ‘Yours, only yours.’

‘Mhm, really? I don’t think I believe you.’ His lithe fingers dance along your forearm before he pulls, harshly, a tug that has you reaching an arm out to cage him between you and the sofa. Your heart punches against your ribs. Your warm breath fans the tip of his nose, a hairdbreath from your parted lips as you gasp, your thighs now straddling and pressing him to the fabric of the sofa.

‘It’s true, I swear,’ you whisper, your silk slip riding up towards your waist, panties now brushing the rich polyester of his dress pants. ‘I’m yours, I belong to you.’

‘Not to Ran? I’ve seen how he looks at you.’

You shake your head, adamantly, the shuffle of your slip matching your bated breaths. ‘Not to Ran, only to you my Izana.’

He runs his hands along your thighs, a press of his fingers into your skin, the rough pads of his thumbs tracing a line to the swell of your ass before he pulls you closer still, a slow and languid grind against his quickly hardening cock, the press of it against your clit that has your panties dampening.

‘That’s right, I own you, so are you going to let me have you?’ And he bites hard on his lip when your hands come to tangle in his hair, a harsh tug that has a quiet gasp slipping between his lips. Your mind crumbles too quickly, and you find yourself rolling your hips, a glide along his thigh, the wetness pooling in sticky warmth, your panties clinging to your skin, the patch on his charcoal dress pants now darkening with your arousal.

‘Yes, yes I- I need you,’ you gasp, sparks of pleasure rolling against your clit, and it’s too much, the ringing in your ears is too loud, the fog in your head has your eyes fluttering, the piercing violet gaze slipping and out of view.

He groans, his grip tightening around your thighs, your soft and supple skin spilling between his fingers, silver rings that burn cold where they graze the sensitive inside of your thighs.

‘What do you need? Tell me, I want to hear it.’

‘Please, don’t make me say it,’ you whisper, breath caught in your throat where one ringed hand slides to squeeze lightly at your neck, the faint pulse and quicken of your heartbeat sending waves of pleasure along his spine.

‘Mhm, you have to.’ And he drums his fingers down your shoulder blades. ‘Use your words for me, you can do it.’

‘I need- I want- just want you to fuck me, please.’ You almost whimper at the soft sultriness of his voice hot on your ear, the warm dance of his rough fingertips along your skin, tracing a line from the curve of your breasts to your hips. He squeezes, thrusts up once, a light bump of friction against your aching clit, chuckling when you moan unabashedly at the sudden jolt.

‘Good girl, such a good obedient girl for me aren’t you? Does it hurt?’

You nod fervently, your mouth latched to his neck, hot kisses and bites that elicit shivers along his skin. He likes this, you know as much, the tit-for-tat, the teasing and pulling at you, drawing along your pain till it satisfies him, and you’d feel angry about it if the pleasure didn’t feel so hazily sweet after.

‘It hurts, Izana please, just wanna feel you inside.’ And it does, a heavy and dizzy ache between your thighs that has you shamelessly grinding on his now drenched dress pants for the barest lick of friction.

‘Mhm I know, you poor thing, am I being too mean by keeping this from you?’ he says and dips his head, a flick of his tongue along your exposed collarbone, the scent of your perfume lingering on your skin before he eagerly takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, bites, and slides his tongue over it, alternating between both while you tug at his hair wound tight in your fist. ‘You want me to make you cum?’

‘Please sir.’ Your breath is caught in your throat, your soaked panties clinging to you, the slick of your arousal pooling between his thighs and yours.

He almost laughs, giddy with the heat from your skin, all warmth and hot anticipation that has him lifting his hips to pull his dress pants down as you eagerly tug at his belt, your hands shaking when you fiddle with the clasps, your lips bitten raw in need.

‘You sound so sweet when you beg like that- it almost makes me not want to let you.’

You freeze, the warmth in your blood chilling with the subtle undertone and the delicious promise of your pleasure in his waiting palms and you keen in response, palming at his hard cock leaking pre-cum till he’s slipping your panties to the side with a loud groan against your neck.

You’ve done this before obviously, it’s a common occurrence, him finding warmth in you, between your soft thighs, the trail of purple marks left on your neck and chest, his tongue lapping at your slick and fingers in your throat to gag on, the shaky convulsing and spasm that he controls by pinning your legs to your chest.

He kisses you, softly at first, a single moment in which he lets you hold eye contact, your dazed and watery expression where the reflection of him with his shirt pulled open and his hair in your hands peers back at him. He lets his tongue gently slide along yours, a light trace of it along the veins of the underside, a soft bite on your reddened lips, a suck on your tongue that has the saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth.

‘You’re so pretty, you know how badly I want you?’ And he teases the tip of his cock through your folds, the slick coating it in a translucent sheen. You yelp when he thrusts in one go, half of his cock slipping into your warm pussy. You grab at his shoulders for support, your eyes scrunched in partial bliss and pain. He knows you like the stretch, the burn of his cock inching its way in and it’s why he’s so tantalisingly slow with it, millimetre by millimetre, the brush of the vein on the underside pulsating warmly inside.

You mewl and bunch his shirt in your hands, knuckles white and squeezing at the fabric, practically drooling on his shoulder as he lowers you down, your slick webbing on his thighs.

‘It’s too much, I can’t do it, I can’t Izana,’ you say despite yourself, despite the forceful squeeze of your walls sucking him in, the delicious thrum of pain and dizzying pleasure rolling along your clit.

‘Shhhhh, yes you can, you know you can, be a good girl and relax, you can do it,’ he says, his ragged breath fanning the nape of your neck, hands bruising at your hips in his firm grip. ‘Look at how you’re sucking me in already, my good and obedient girl.’

You hardly have time to register the praise before he pulls you firmly, with his hands held tight around your hips, flush on his cock, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs, a gasp pulled from your throat as your eyes squeeze shut.

‘Izana!’ you tug harshly on his hair, a groan spilling past his parted lips as you adjust to his size, the electrifying zing of pain rolling with the stretch of him inside you. Your breath comes hot and fast, your chest pressed to his. He grazes his lips along your breasts, a slight bite and playful nibble on your nipples that has your pussy squeezing him further.

‘Relax, let me make you feel good.’ He sighs, a bubble between a moan and a whine as he begins a languid grind of your hips on his.

You try to lift your hips, a bit of breathing room from the hot and heavy air, to slow him down from where his cock kisses at your cervix, the press of it that you feel inching towards your tummy and you’re biting down hard on his shoulder in the process, your broken whines pressed to his skin. It aches and he’s slow about it, a lazy drawl of him dragging through your walls, the vein zigzagging and pulsating and licking at your aching pussy.

He pulls your thigh higher, hooks it further on his waist, and his cock presses deeper still, till you’re babbling a broken version of his name, your mascara smeared on the white lapel of his shirt.

‘Ah- Izana, please, more, need more-’ and it comes out as a whine and a whimper, your clit brushing against the rough fabric of his pants and you moan at the friction of it, at the way he throws his head back and bounces you on his cock, all shame foregone, the chase of your pleasure that has him eagerly panting your name.

‘You’re such a-’ he pants, his eyes clouding with lust, a dip of his gaze from the bliss written across your face to the place where his cock disappears inside you, ‘a- greedy girl aren’t you? So greedy and needy, and all mine, only mine.’

‘Only- hah- yours sir.’ You’re breathless, the air stifling hot, warm with the scent of perfume, sweat and sex, your hands finding purchase in his shirt now pulled entirely open, his hair now messy and curling around his ears.

‘Sh-shit, oh fuck- you feel so good around me, so fuckin’ perfect-’ a drawl almost, his head thrown entirely back, the languid and lazy grind of his cock now picking up speed, a ruthless thrust that has your voice breaking, grasping at him, the flexed and taut arms that keep you pressed to his chest.

‘You’re too deep ‘zana!’ And in your delirious haze, you’re minutely aware of the wet slap of skin on skin, the renewed effort to keep him inside despite the pooling of your slick soaking down to the sofa, and it’s all so wet, so dirty, that you almost don’t notice how he pulls your hair back by the root, the silver rings grazing your neck till he presses his lips to yours and swallows the moan now rolling along his tongue. He bites you hard, a yelp that has your clit pulsing and your legs tightening, and his groan is breathy, high pitched,

‘You’ll take it like my good girl won’t you?’ You’re doing so well f’me.’

‘Zana! Please- please- just like that-’ You rake your nails along his back, a scratch against his spine that has him arching off the sofa, pushing further into you, his thrusts forceful and rough, the air blown from your lungs, the shaky and dizzying gasps along the shell of his ear.

‘I know, I know, you’re so pretty like this- never letting them have you, you belong to me,’ he says and punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, your breasts bouncing and a hand coming up to stroke the curve of your spine under your dress. You shiver, a mewl and a whine as your orgasm creeps along your nerves, your clit pulsing and tingling, the drag and graze of his cock kissing at your cervix and your mind reels, the pounding in your ears so intense it drowns out the dirty squelch of your hips meeting in every harsh thrust.

‘Feels good-feels so good- don’t stop ‘zana,’ you say, pressing your nails into his skin, and in your daze, grabbing at his face to press a kiss to his bitten lips, your saliva smeared all over his chin, pooling in your mouth as your tongue sucks at his, a kiss that’s all teeth and high pitched whimpers that he captures with his lips latched firmly on yours. You see your saliva dribbling down his chin, shiny pearlescent tears streaked onto your cheeks, black caked mascara on his neck from where you’ve eagerly pressed your skin to his.

‘Say it,’ he says, his hand around your throat squeezing in time with your racing heart, a loud punch against your ribs. ‘Tell me you love me and I’ll let you cum. Tell me I’m the only one.’

‘You are!’ you fervently nod, clutching his shirt, the bounce and slap of your hips against his creating a messy and slick squelch. ‘I love you- I love you- I love you,’ you say, eager to chase the sweet and delicious high now teetering before your eyes.

‘Louder.’ He grabs your hips, grinds his cock back and forth, dragging it along your slick walls, a shaky hand snaking between the wet and warm mess of your bodies to rub smooth circles over your puffy clit. ‘Want to hear you scream it, or I won’t let you cum.’

You whimper into his shoulder, your hoarse and tired voice choking out the words muffled by the now decorated skin of his neck. ‘I’m yours! I belong to you, only you- please let me cum ‘zana.’ You don’t think of the possible embarrassment of being heard, the assistants running to and fro in the corridors hearing you moan so loud it has your neck flaring with heat, or that your faded lipstick is pressed to his collar, your sticky arousal pooling on his thighs, the indent of his fingers pressed into your hips.

‘Do you deserve to cum? Tell me,’ he says, the squeeze of your walls around his cock making his head spin, a delirious and dizzying rush of blood in his ears and you hate him, a ferocity of such loathing that has you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, shameless and broken moans spilling past your parted lips.

You’re minutely away of the brush of your dress hiked to your waist now clinging to your sweat-slicked skin, the shimmering black now folded in creases from where his hands have bunched it in his eager grasp and you gasp when his cock grazes your cervix just right, messy and wet enough to have him slipping out from where his thumb presses to your tingling clit.

‘I deserve- I deserve it- I’ll never misbehave sir- I’ll do anything, just let me cum, please.’ And you rock against him in selfish need, pushing yourself further against him on the sofa, hoping to chase your orgasm into peaceful bliss.

He groans, latching his mouth to your neck and biting hard, the tug on your hair baring your clavicle for him where he lets his teeth graze your sweaty perfumed skin. ‘Good girl, that’s what I like to hear, you sound so pretty like that.’ He thrusts messily, once, twice, his thumb rubbing tighter circles on your clit. ‘Go ahead and cum for me, all over my cock, let me feel you.’

It’s messier still, wet and gushing all over his abdomen, soaking into the fine hairs of his navel when you do cum, all translucent pearly arousal slickening his thighs, you rocking your hips to ride out the high and smearing it further, your body slackening, the hand around your throat squeezing enough to have your mind numbing and falling apart.

‘Izana, sir…’ Your parted mouth sighing and whimpering his name as the bliss washes over you, heavy and thick enough to have your eyes fluttering against his neck before he languidly aims a punchy thrust, his cock twitching against your pulsing walls.

‘There you go, that’s a good girl, I’ve got you- you going to take my cum now? Let me breed you like the good girl you are?’ he says and stills your hips, an arch to his back as he sucks in a heavy and choked breath, the squeeze of you wrapped around his cock that has his hands shaking on your hips.

‘Mhm, want you to fill me up ‘zana, I’m all yours.’ And you press further against him, into the sofa, the rough fabric against your thighs eliciting a shiver that runs across your spine.

‘Sh-shit, That’s right- all mine, gonna give you a baby and make you mine forever,’ he moans and his hips jerk, a strong and sloppy thrust against the ache inside you before he spills entirely, thick and warm rivulets of heavy cum now seeping between your legs, the soft skin of your thighs coated in a shiny white sheen.

He rides out the high, a punctuated grind that has your clit tingling with the friction, your name falling from his lips in divinity, in a soft and breathy whisper, hoarse whine bubbling at the back of his throat as his features settle into bliss, peaceful pleasure that has his lashes shivering against his cheek.

You come down together, a moment of brief quiet, the air permeated with the lingering aftertaste of sweat and perfume, warm and cloistered, the rain beating on the windowpane, gentle lashings of ice and wind that have the trees creaking beyond the glass.

He runs a hand along your spine, you sitting still there with your head resting on the apex of his chest, smooth and littered with bites and broken capillaries under the skin, a garden of blooming reds and pinks and purples that’ll fade to a violet hue by morning, the thin sheen of sweat curling his white hair at the back of his neck, sticky and plastered to his nape.

There is little talking in these moments, just the faint and steady breaths taken in time with the other, the rhythm of his heart beating wildly against your cheek and you, gathered in his arms while the ringing in your ears subsides, a tick-tock of the wall clock and the peaceful transient bliss pervading the space between your breaths, soft sighs and shy smiles that you’re eager to hide against the swell of his shoulder.

He clears his throat, a circle traced across the fine bones in your spine. ‘Are you okay? Was it…good?’ he says, the veil of his barrier broken for the moment, the shaky timbre of his voice that has your heart aching, resting gently in his palms where it has since the day you’d met, and you’d first tasted him all those months ago, sweet and honeyed and full of promise.

You lift a hand to touch at his cheek, the back of one shaky finger following the proud and pronounced arc of his cheekbones, his straight nose, the bloom of his full and pink lips now bitten down by the both of you. ‘It was good, Izana sir, really good.’

‘You’re….happy? It didn’t hurt?’

‘I’m happy and no it didn’t hurt.’ You pause. ‘Well, not in any way I didn’t like.’ And your thumb catches on his lips, a kiss pressed to the indent of your wrist, the veins jumping under the warmth of his talented mouth, a heat flaring across your skin now hidden by the moon sprinting behind the clouds.

You stay like that for a while, the rain beating against the window, so high up and far, away from the Haitanis slipping into a car on the road, the screech of tires half hidden by the heavy pounding of thunder booming across the sky.

‘Think he’s gonna tell her soon?’ Rindou says and spares a glance at the window of your office, far away from prying eyes, the darkened interior illuminated only by the patch of moonlight where your open laptop sits faded to black.

‘Mhm, maybe. But you know how he is, he thinks no one can tell he’s in love with her.’ Kakucho says and stubs out a cigarette against the top of a street bin, the rain dashing against the bonnet of the car.

‘Anyone could, especially after all those gifts, he’s not really as subtle as he pretends to be.’ This from Ran who leans languidly back against the drivers seat while the others crush their half-finished cigarettes and throw them haphazardly into the trash, the single slice of moonlight falling from your window leaving only the darkness of the night to swallow up the interior.

‘Yeah well, don’t let him hear you saying that, he’s trying in whatever way he knows. Only reason he hasn’t told her is because he thinks she’s going to reject him.’ Kakucho pulls open the passenger door and slips in, the collar of his black coat now frigid with cold. Rindou stretches his legs out behind them, pulling his door shut against the biting wind nipping at his cheeks, a shiver breaking out across his skin.

‘I guess you’re right. I wonder if she knows they’re from him.’ Ran says and revs the engine of the car, a sound you minutely hear under the layers of rain and wind whipping at the window, the two of you settled for the moment, a weak and watery peace you know can never last, that can only survive till morning, where you know that you’ll slip into the title of employee once more, where he is cold and far away, warmed only by the slightest touch of your knuckles to his as you pass in the corridor, strangers again till the night comes.

…That and you expect to find a new gift on your desk when morning comes too.

You’ve always known a little more than you let on haven’t you?

a/n: hi everyone (god I'm nervous), this was a submission for @sleepysnk sugar daddy collab (of which you can find here, i'm sorry I am so late, i've been very busy between working and finding a new job but I hope you like it anyway) as always, feedback is welcome but pls be nice and constructive about it. (I'm embarrassed enough just to leave my digital footprint here like this lmao) I love u all x

nsfw taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added) @blackfire2013 @haitaniapologist @nikokopuffs @mochimiyaas @mingodaddy @longlivebaji @sin-and-punishment @keiskyutie @bertholdts--butt @tetsutits @reiners-milkbiddies

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #kurokawa izana

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sakkiichi · 11 months

Text

BABY BLUE.

“Tell me you will live through this and I will die for you.”

You can imagine any of your favorite characters for this, but I was specifically thinking of Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Kaeya x fem! reader.

genre/cw: very soft spice, angst to comfort, fluff, some slight aftercare.

word count: 1.4 k.

To someone I cherish, this is for you. If you ever see it, I hope it brings you some semblance of comfort on nights that feel lonely. Even if I’m asleep, I’m on the other side of the screen, dearest 🩵

The rain falls.

Your palm rests against the cold window glass, drops splattered on the other side.

Raindrops.

Looking up at them, you could feel like flying to the grey heavens; you always liked the weather better when it was gloomy.

Shades of light blue seem contained in the still free falling rain, before it shatters against the dull concrete.

You could relate to that, one amongst millions, forgotten afterwards.

Only so many loved to splash in muddy puddles, after all.

With a sigh, you pull away from the blurry glass, the imprint of your hand outlined against the indigo hues of the approaching night.

Is that all the world will have to remember you by?

Are you really that… ephemeral? Impermanent?

Unimportant? Is the word that lodges into your heart, freezing it, each beat painting in dark blue your lips that used to smile, the fingers that used to caress him, so lovingly.

Wrapping your soft blue blanket around your form, you step towards your room’s balcony, the curtains an eerie muted cyan in the dim light. Knuckles white, you pull the crystal doors open, frigid rain almost piercing when it touches your skin.

And yet, it feels peaceful, it feels good.

Perhaps you just missed hurting in ways that were not emotional, and maybe the cold drops in the night provided that.

“I knew you’d be here.” A familiar voice pulls you out of your daze.

Startled, you turn around. Your hands tremble around you, your rumpled up blanket falling off your shoulder, your yellow sweater akin to a blue sun, the water splatters over it, storm clouds. Your hair is plastered against your face, its vibrant shade, ashen in the faint moonlight through decaying skies.

Sighing, his hand wraps softly around yours.

Warm. Loving.

Not his usual chill; not his dominant or fearing for you hold; not his usual teasing; not his trembling hold in twilights when he begged you to please not go.

Permanent. Grounding.

Your lover pulls you into him, under the awning, freezing cobalt bleeding into smaller sapphires when it hits the canvas.

He doesn’t care how you’re dampening his clothes, his hair, arctic hues spreading like watercolors to his core.

Carefully, he guides you inside, the warmth of your room welcome to your shivering form.

The wet blanket is lifted from you, hung on a low chair before the balcony’s doors, the dripping water pooling in a mirrored image of the half concealed moon.

Your partner’s arms hook under your legs, cradling you close, walking towards the bed.

He lays down by your side, svelte hands slipping your ochre sweater off of you. His hands caress your hips, the skin right above your black pants, and the skin under, when slightly calloused fingers slip beneath the turquoise silk of your underwear.

His own shirt meets the same fate as your discarded sweater, both yours and his trousers following after.

Scarred hands travel up and down your sides, his gem-like eyes reflected in your dilated pupils.

Tears shine like colorless emeralds in your lash line.

You want him. You need him. So bad.

But do you deserve him?

As if he was the only one privy to your thoughts, your lover’s hand laces with yours.

His gaze is comfortably piercing, completely set on your pretty face.

A gentle squeeze, before his hand slips delicately under your sports bra, unclasping it, alice blue fabric slipping off your frame.

“Beautiful.” He breathes, his stare dilating, his hands fondling with your breasts, gently pinching your nipples. He relishes in the little moans you let out.

Even if he never liked to see you cry, you were still perfect with teal eyeshadow running down your cheeks.

“My love…” you utter, a choked out sound. You want him to go on, but you want him to find better than you too.

And yet, he doesn’t think there’s anyone better, not here, not on any of the seven nations, not in another world.

“What is it, my bunny?” He whispers, kissing down your jawline, your neck, your collarbones.

You let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you sure? That I’m the one you want to do this with?” You ask, not meeting his gaze, head lowered.

“My dearest, look at me.” His tone is mellow when he takes your chin in between his fingers, gaze haloed in night and starlight, magnetized by you. “You’re the only one I want this with, the only one I’ll ever want. Do you understand?” The shadow of a smirk crosses his perfectly sculpted features when his lips brush the shell of your ear, feeling your frame shiver at his every touch.

All you can do is nod, throbbing and wetness starting to pool in your core, shades of pink and amber merging into the blue lighting of the night when his fingers brush your hipbone.

Skilled digits prod at your needy nub, thumb circling it, pearlescent juices leaking out of you.

You were always so perfect, and right now, you’re ethereal.

Reflected moonlight paints your skin azure, the city lights fiery against your hair, splayed out around the pillows.

Lips that have smiled, smirked, bitten and brought you endless pleasure envelop yours, his tongue swirling over the rosé of your parted mouth, asking for an entrance that was and would forever remain his.

His hardened tip teases your hole, as his arms wrap around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer, two colliding meteors, so bright, the sun would never need to rise again.

He enters you, in a melody of skin against skin and moans of yours and his name mingling in a million colors in the dark.

You can feel him. Deeply. Every vein and drag of his length spreading you out, taking you higher with every kiss of his tip on your sweet spot, to a vantage point from where you can see the skies end.

“I love you…” your boyfriend groans, pushing deeper inside you, one of his hands intertwining fingers with yours, the other, firm on your hip. “I love you, my darling… I’ll repeat it until you believe it… you feel so good, archons, you’re perfect.”

With one last forceful thrust, you feel your walls clamp around him, ribbons in a myriad of bright lights you only see after the nebula you and him create, painting your walls in every little detail that constitutes him and all the sheer adoration he holds for you.

Perhaps he once was a fallen god, now wandering in search of his own identity; or a broken angel, casting everyone in light, except for himself, donning a mask, kept in the shadows; maybe he is a crafted alchemist, still wondering about what it means to be alive; he could have been a silent scribe, caring more than his hardened stare let on, always peering from behind a book or another; at times you swore he was an artist, the architect that designed your very soul. Or maybe you’ve dreamed of him as a suave knight, his heart concealed behind a wall of spiky ice.

But what never changed is that his heart was always yours, in every version of the world, in every chapter of the story you still write, in the hours you dream away.

And so, you let go.

Liquid starlight coats him in your burning desire, as his nails dig into your skin, claw-like marks in his wake.

You’re a star, him, the moon, or the sun, that will forever orbit around the shine you don’t always see. Together, you meet the zenith of more than just entangled bodies, his lips descending upon yours once again tonight, feather-like this time.

With breaths mixed and labored, he pulls out, his arms not letting go, never letting go, for the gravity of you will forever tie him to your heart; even if his is hollow, icy, corrupted, or hard and gold, the threads of your sweetness are all he needs to feel alive.

Gently, your lover pulls the covers snug around you.

Summer sky blue, he sewed them himself. Or was it just his design? You can’t recall, but they are coated in him, his scent, his goodnight kisses.

Tender fingertips brush sweaty strands of hair away from your face. ‘So that I dream of you’, are his unspoken words, before his eyes close and his lips meet the tip of your nose.

In his arms, your lashes flutter closed too, in tandem with his.

Will you find wine and warm light on the other side? Lanterns to guide your night? Perhaps vast expanses of greenery with paths to find yourself and libraries to lose yourself in. Whatever the case, you hope for clear skies.

When dawn approaches, the baby blue of your now dry blanket matches the heart shaped rays expanding in the horizon.

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