Coffee. Emergency. Thighs.
Summary: You told Bucky that the only time he's allowed to wake you up is under three conditions: He has coffee. It's an emergency. Or his head is between your thighs.
And today, he really, really wants to wake you up.
Pairing: Beefy!Biker Bucky x Reader
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), consensual somnophilia, praise kink, body worship (Bucky has a thing for thighs).
A/N: Beta'd by the amazing @lunarbuck and @cwbucky. Based off an anon ask.
You’ve always said that the only time he’s allowed to wake you up before your alarm goes off is under three conditions: if he has coffee waiting for you, it’s a dire emergency or if he has his head between your thighs.
Otherwise, you won’t be responsible for what you would do to him if he doesn’t allow you to get sleep in.
He learned this after he woke you up one bright and way too early morning to ask if you remembered where he put his book—it was next to his watch by the way. You found it in less than three seconds and turned on him with a disgruntled gaze.
He can't lie, he loved the fiery way you glared at him.
Do not wake me up again without a good reason, Bucky.
You pulled him down to your level and repeated yourself so slowly and with much malice, that he instantly got hard.
The way you aggressively manhandled Bucky, turned him on more than either of you expected. He spent a few hours apologizing to you, mostly with you on top of him.
It’s a little after six, muted pinks, burnt oranges and streaks of blue mar the skyline, and enough light filters through the spaces around the curtains to illuminate the room in a dusky glow.
Bucky’s been awake for hours. He spent the first two on his back, staring at the ceiling, willing himself to get up and do something, anything.
But that would mean leaving you, all warm and soft and sleepy, he tried once, even got his leg over the edge of the bed but the light weight of your hand splayed across the ridges of his lower abs rendered him immobile, he has no choice but to stay in bed.
After several long minutes of him willing you to wake up, please Gorgeous, cmon baby, open those pretty eyes—Bucky discreetly shifts on his side, head propped up on his palm, elbow buried in his cool pillow, the blunt smooth edges of his fingernails trail across your hip. His hands are rough and calloused and scarred, a stark dichotomy to his featherlight touches, he's always careful with you. Calloused pads of his fingertips sweep over your waist. Back and forth across sloping curves. Drawing the letters of his last name across your soft skin, he can’t wait for the day it becomes yours too.
He misses you, sure you're next to him but it doesn't change how he's feeling. Doesn't change how much he wants you. Granted, he always wants you. Who wouldn’t want someone as gorgeous as you? But having you in his bed, wearing only his shirt with the traces of last night engrained in the sheets surrounding you, stirs these innate primal urges that seem to lurk within his soul to mark, claim, take, and suddenly it’s more than a mere want—he needs you.
He needs to wake up so he can love you, hard and deep, fuck you, soft and sweet. Until you’re just as needy and desperate as he is. Because he’ll be damned if he suffers alone.
Still, he hesitates. The distinct memory of you grabbing his face with your hands, pretty eyes stern, narrowed, the threat dripping from your lips like acid.
Coffee. Emergency. Thighs.
Coffee’s out. After all, you’re the one pinning him to bed, preventing him from walking downstairs to the kitchen. Besides he has no idea how to work that machine anyway. Bad coffee might be worse than no coffee.
Emergency. Can a man die from blue balls? His dick seems to think so. The urge to have you wrapped around him sizzles under his skin, leaving him restless, tormented. Does that constitute an emergency? It should.
But he knows better.
There’s only one option left.
A sly grin slides across his lips, tugging at one corner until it’s a full-blown smirk. Slate-blue eyes rimmed with dense, long lashes span down your sleeping, pliant body, settling on your thighs. His hand curves around your waist and he eases you back, slow, slow, slow pushes of his dry, warm palm until you’re on your back.
He follows. He’ll always follow you. Large hands beside your face, crushing your pillow. His warm gaze languidly moves over your face, drinking in every feature. God, you’re stunning. He hovers over you, weight resting on his tattooed laced forearms, unable to resist kissing you. Bucky cant get enough of your scent, lovinh how it lingers on him. His lips press against your forehead, once, twice before moving down the bridge of your nose.
A soft indiscernible sigh slips past your lips, the sweet sound beckons him and he places a gentle kiss there. His gaze flickers up, tongue daring to trace across the seam of your mouth. Still sleeping. Still gorgeous.
His muscular thigh lies between yours, grinding against your bare cunt while he makes his way down your body. Tugging your shirt open, the fabric flutters to the side and his lips sweep across your collarbone, your breasts, down the valley that leads to your soft, soft belly until he’s right where he belongs.
Between your thighs.
His fingers trace over the stretch marks lining your skin and all he can think is how perfect you are. Bucky kisses each one. He stops right at the crease of your thigh and moves to the other side, showering you with more quiet adoration, caressing every inch of skin he can, moving closer and closer to the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen.
His hands curve around the back of your thighs, easing them up until your knees are bent and spreading them. Opening you up. For him. To him.
“Damn Gorgeous” he breathes out, biting his lower lip. He gazes at you, reverence and lust and something deeper, something innate darkening his blue eyes. “Fuck me.”
He inches closer, inhaling your scent. He needs to taste you, needs to hear your moans and sighs, needs you to tell him how much you love it when he does, how much you love him. Flattening his tongue, he laves it through your folds, with every gentle pass, you get wetter and wetter, your unique, delicate taste blooming in his mouth. Yes. Yes. An ardent, pleased moan sits deep in his throat, he’s not even aware he’s doing it.
Visceral, warm sensations drip into your subconscious, flooding the depths of your mind with pleasure.
Bucky takes his time, deep, slow licks leading to even slower kisses, dragging his wet, open mouth up and down. Devouring you. Your breathing quickens. He watches your head loll to the side, your fingers curling in. Oh. Even before you’re awake, you know it’s your Bucky doing this to you. Making you feel so good. Your hips move in a natural rhythm, instinctively seeking more of him.
He waits until you’re on the cusp of awareness, eyes fluttering open.
“Bucky,” you gasp, gazing down at him.
Your only warning is his grin, full of promises and declarations. He makes sure you see his tongue before he swirls it around your small, aching clit.
“Bucky.” This time, the gentle suction of his mouth seems to pluck his name from your throat, your back arching off the bed before flopping back down. You grab your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers. “Right there baby,” your needy tone is everything he wanted to hear. "S'good, you're so good."
You praise surrounds him, emboldens him. His pace quickens, those gentle licks and languid kisses turn into fast, passionate sucks that make you whimper. His tongue rolls over your clit, drawing over until you want to scream. A kaleidoscope of sensations billows inside you.
Not enough and too much all at once.
Fuck, he’s so good, you want to cry; you want to grind your pussy all over him. Another more sensible part of you wants to pull away for one second, only one so you can breathe, can think.
Bucky must know what you’re thinking, that you might take his sweet, decadent pussy from him, maybe it’s the way the thin keen is traveling up your throat or the way your hands go still on your nipples, the way your wide eyes lock on his because he unleashes a flurry of licks, the tip of tongue sweeping over your clit so fast, you go taut, stomach tensing in, an oh god bursting from you.
His narrow hips clad in a pair of tight black briefs grind into the sheets, trying to relieve the throbbing ache. It’s so inherently sexy, so empowering-knowing he gets off of your pleasure.
Every single thing you’re doing is driving him to please you more, his grip tightens, long fingers digging into your skin, keeping you spread open. Bucky sucks your clit into his mouth with a wet, hungry moan, gently shaking his head.
The coil that’s been building since he first touched you splinters, scattering heady, sultry bliss through your body. The edges of your vision blur and you vaguely recognize that the loud sound echoing in the room is coming from you. He doesn’t let up, not even when your thighs tremble or you claw at the sheets.
You can give him one more, he knows you can.
Bucky keeps sucking, dragging his tongue over you until you prove him right, only letting go when you go limp, weakly pushing at his head. He sets your thighs back on the sheets, placing a wet kiss on the right one.
“Good morning, Gorgeous.” Bucky smiles at you, moving up so his bearded chin is resting on your belly, the heat from your fluttering pussy warming his chest.
You gaze down at him panting. “Morning Bucky.”
“Did you sleep okay?” He cheekily inquires as if he didn’t fuck you to sleep last night. “Yeah, me too,” he answers in response to your smirk. “You hungry? I just ate so I’m good, but I can make you a little something if you want.”
You let out a soft laugh, wondering how you got so lucky. “I want coffee and an omelet. After a long, hot shower.”
“Can I join you?” He sits up, glancing fondly at you.
“Always, but I’m not turning the temp down so I don’t want to hear you compl-Bucky,” the words barely leave your mouth before he’s sweeping you into his arms and climbing out of bed.
Bucky catches a glimpse of the two of you in the mirror, the morning sun illuminates your face as you smile at him, talking about the weekend plans you have for the two of you. The words from earlier play in his head.
Coffee. Emergency. Thighs.
A steady thrum of sheer happiness beats in his chest. He made the right choice. And he’ll do it again tomorrow. And every day after that if you let him. A gorgeous girl like you deserves to have the world and he'll give it to you piece by piece. He'll start with learning how to make your favorite coffee, right after he does filthy, sweet things to you in this shower.
You know what? I want Philip go back to the human world. Like The Collector said, it's changed a lot. I want his Puritan ass to go back and see that women can vote, gay people can get married and couples kiss in public without even being married. Let's see how he reacts lmao.
yes yes theyre probably going to have hunter tearfully tell his friends that hes a grimwalker and then have an identity crisis that his friends help him through but you know whats funnier. if he just. never tells them. and then after canon he does a bunch of grimwalker stuff and his friends just have to deal with the fact that hes weird as hell.
like amity sits next to him in class and hes taking notes and then crumpling up the paper and eating it. and when she asks him why the hell hes doing that he tells her he likes the taste of ink. the kids go on a cruise and hunter does a nosedive into the boiling sea and everyone freaks out but he floats back up again and hes fine and willow tries to touch the water and gets a burn. gus is practicing illusions and he wants to make a bigger one so hunters like “oh! hold my hand!” and gus is like “hell yeah moral support” and then he creates the shadow realm and hes like “damn thats some good moral support.” during flyer derby someone shoots a spell at him and he turns into stone to deflect it and turns back to normal and gets all the flags bc the other team is too busy figuring out what the hell was going on. like what would you even do if you saw that.
been reading about the life of democritus and i'm really enjoying a little snippet from athenodorus where athenodorus demonstrates democritus's remarkable observational skills by noting that a maiden he met one day had CLEARLY gotten some good dick the next time he saw her
Okay, but you KNOW Hunter’s first thought was “they’re not going to believe I didn’t know” you know he was FRANTIC for them to believe him, he didn’t know, he didn’t realize until it was too late, he didn’t put himself over Luz, but why would they believe that, of course her girlfriend is going to think that he kept quiet to save his own skin.
But they DO believe him. Because of COURSE that is something Luz would do. And it DID move so fast. They DO believe him. This ISN’T the coven. They don’t assume the worst of him. When he says “there wasn’t anything I could do” they don’t expect him to have done more, they’re not angry that this is what he “does” to them after everything they’ve done for him. They aren’t like Belos.
Word Count: 3k
Category: Angst, fluff
Warning: Childhood trauma of emotional abuse, unloving family, brief description of a panic attack
Summary: In which Matlida is about Y/N and Harry makes Y/N listen to it for the first time.
Harry was an expressive person. He was so well-articulated that it constantly awed you. Sure, it was his job to write songs and sing them for a living, but he couldn’t be doing it for long if he wasn’t so good at it.
For 4 years, Harry was always verbal to you about you being a constant inspiration to him.
“What’s a writer’s block when I have you in my life?” He had asked you one night.
It always felt surreal that someone could hold their pen, open their journal and jot down words that were inspired by your mere presence and existence, expressing their gratitude and love toward you so effortlessly in the most beautiful ways, but Harry did that, and you weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to it.
Perhaps it was also because you hadn’t always been on the receiving end of love.
Love used to be an awkward feeling; one that confused you and had you thinking you were sick if you had ever gotten close to feeling it.
A warm household that expressed their love to you as a child was not even a dream of yours because you never really knew families were capable of doing so. Safety was a foreign feeling because you were always taught to be guarded and cold to survive.
You needed to feel safe. You needed to feel loved. Instead, you took yourself out, patted your own back, and attempted to love yourself in ways you wished someone else could.
Until you met Harry.
You were a friend of a friend, and fate worked wonders because you and Harry could swear that you both felt like you were going to be in each other’s lives for a long while the moment you greeted each other.
You watched Harry and the others, his friends and yours, openly talk about their emotions. You watched them hug each other for no reason other than to express love. You watched them throw casual love you’s like it was all no big deal.
It made you sick.
“I feel like a fucking alien,” you had told your therapist one day, “They–They celebrate each other’s achievements,” you chuckled in disbelief, “Betty told them I got promoted and they looked so happy. I wasn’t even that happy about it, I was–” You shook your head, “I don’t know what I was. I didn’t think I was worth celebrating.”
Harry was observant.
He watched you smile awkwardly at affection, and he watched you wave off any compliments. He watched you bring everyone up but yourself.
It was a while after meeting when you both were more comfortable around each other, that he realized where it all stemmed from.
“Is everything alright?” He had asked you one day as you approached him, him having had been waiting for you as you had run late, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, clearing your throat, “I woke up a little sick but it’s fine.”
“Sick?” He asked, “Love, you could’ve told me. You should’ve stayed home and I could’ve brought you soup. How are you feeling? Do you need me to, like, drive you back ho-Tell you what, let’s go back to your house. We can do this late-”
“Harry,” your eyes had widened, “It’s fine. It’s no big deal,” you said, “I made plans with you and I’m going to stick to them.”
“You’re sick,” he stated, “If you don’t feel well or if you don’t even feel like it then you can cancel the plans with me.”
“No, I can’t,” you had mumbled.
“You can,” Harry had confirmed.
“That’s not–” You took a breath in, “I can’t, Harry. I gave you a word. I’m not a child.”
Harry had stayed quiet for a moment, only looking at you as you avoided his eyes, looking at the table cloth instead. His hand had reached towards yours, gently putting it on top of yours. “You know you should be putting yourself first, right?”
Your breath had hitched in your throat. Your stomach had dropped. Your heartbeats were frantic.
With all the power in you, you managed to look at him with no words said, only letting yourself be the recipient of the caring look he was giving you.
He had hummed.
“Can you take me home?”
Harry was patient. He, too, understood to a level how it felt like to not receive an ideal childhood, and he held your hand, figuratively and literally as you broke your own cycle.
You were 5 months into your relationship when Harry dropped the L-bomb.
You were cooking a new recipe together at his house, making a video full of laughter as you cooked and joking around when he said it.
His hands halted as he kneaded the dough, head turning to look at you beside him as you mixed the eggs. He could remember smiling to himself as he soaked you in for a moment. “Hey, Y/N?”
You had hummed, attention on the plate as you carefully and quickly mixed.
“I love you.”
Your movement stopped the moment you flinched.
His own smile seemed to falter a little, worry beginning to set in at the thought of making you uncomfortable.
Your breath felt short and your eyes went tearful, anxiety taking over as you felt yourself slightly shudder as you looked at him.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he gently and very softly said, wrapping his arms around you, not caring about getting some dough chunks on the t-shirt of his that you were wearing, “Breathe with me.”
“I’m so sorry,” was the first thing you said, followed by a sob, “I’m really sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he assured you, embracing you tightly, “You’re okay.”
He understood. Harry knew.
“You don’t have to say it,” you cried, “You don’t–”
“I mean it,” he quickly said, “It’s why I said it. Because I love you,” he repeated, “And I’m not waiting for you to say it back. But I love you,” Harry said softly, following with a kiss to your head, beginning to gently sway you as you both embraced, “You’ve given me so many reasons to love you. You are worthy of so much more.”
“You fucking are,” he shook his head, “These are my feelings. This is how I feel about you and I’m letting you know.”
Harry was patient. It was like he wasn’t even expecting you to tell him that you loved him because to him, you showed him love in ways that were so much more than these letters put together.
But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t about to scream, shout, cry and maybe throw up when you eventually did–3 months after he told you.
You were at Tyler’s house for a chill get-together he was hosting when it happened.
You could describe the weather at that moment. Vienna by Billy Joel was playing in the background of the chatter and laughter, a smile on everyone’s faces.
You had excused yourself for a moment of some air in the balcony, a million thoughts running through your head that you, surprisingly, were fine with.
You felt Harry wrap his arms around your shoulders from behind, giving you a quick kiss on your temple he embraced you.
He stayed quiet, and you just knew. You knew that if there was anything you were sure of–if there was any feeling you were, for once, sure of, it was that.
Still in his embrace, your hands held on his forearm as you turned a little and tilted your head to look at him.
A smile was instantly on his face, looking at you for a second before his lips were on yours for a soft kiss.
No deep breaths were needed to be taken, no mantra to tell, and no pep talks. You said it the moment your eyes caught his again, “I love you.”
Harry’s eyes widened and then they glossed. You could feel him get rigid, looking at you in surprise.
You had giggled, shyly rolling your eyes at him.
“No fucking way,” he gasped before letting out a loud laugh, eyes shinning and dimples on full display as he turned you around, “Stop.”
“Haaarryyy,” you whined jokingly and timidly under his gaze, your skin feeling hot.
He had laughed, wrapping his arms around you as he gave you multiple kisses on your head before pulling away slightly to peck your lips, “I love you. I love you so much.”
The cycle of emotional abuse could be broken. Blood was thicker than water, but when your own family had you clotting until you felt like suffocating, it was okay to walk away, and that was what Harry had helped you through.
It was during your second anniversary that Harry had taken you on a getaway to Italy. Warm skin and sleeping through the motions of waves against your body, you spent 5 days embracing what you two had and continued to create.
It was one morning when you both decided to ride bikes around town, Harry surprised by the fact that you could cycle well and actually stand as you paddle.
“I never knew you biked so well!” He laughed, standing on the side with his bike, his phone held in his hands as he recorded you riding towards him with a grin on your face, “Look at you goooo!”
You laughed, pressing the breaks gradually to stand beside him, “Thank you, I was my teacher.”
“You taught yourself?”
You nodded, “I was a lonely kid,” you had joked, but if there was anything Harry was exceptionally good at, it was reading between the lines.
You could also remember one night, you and Harry were in bed, past midnight, cuddling as you talked about everything and anything.
“You know Matilda?” You asked him.
“The movie? The little girl?”
You nodded, “She doesn’t really look like me,” you told him, playing with his fingers, “But I remember feeling so represented,” you chuckled, “But I don’t think I ever had anyone like Miss Jennifer as a kid. I liked staying, like, in the background because I never really wanted to speak and have people realize what kind of home I come from.”
Harry was quiet, listening to you as you spoke, his heart feeling heavy at the thought of you, of all people, going through that as a child.
“I loved painting, you know?”
“Really?” He asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “I had won a coloring set once as a kid, I think I was 6 or something, and it was, like, huge. And I remember painting and giving them as gifts to my best friend at school. We gifted each other these stupid, cute paintings,” you smiled fondly.
“That’s so fucking cute,” Harry giggled, “Why did you stop?”
“My dad broke the set,” you said and Harry instantly frowned, “One day, I was feeling too confident,” you shook your head slightly, “And I painted this flower, and every petal had a different color and everything. It wasn’t much but I was 9 or 10 so you know, I thought it was good–”
“I’m sure it was.”
You smiled to yourself, aware of what he was doing. “It was his birthday and they hardly acknowledged those but my best friend was telling me about how she was going to get her dad a gift, I can’t remember what it was, but it was his birthday so it gave me ideas, you know? So when it was my dad’s birthday, I decided to make him something,” Harry hummed, letting you know that he was listening and waiting for you to go on, “God, he made me feel like shit. He looked disgusted,” you chuckled, “What? You think that will get you anywhere in life? What is that even supposed to be? Kids your age have their names on the newspapers because they’re geniuses. This better not be what I’m paying for,” you almost recited, “Then he broke it because he wanted me to focus on my studies.”
“Yeah. I was 10, so you know, there’s so much to study,” you sarcastically chuckled. “I never really picked a brush again.”
Harry took a harsh breath in, tightening his arms around you.
“You know what’s the funny part?” You asked, sniffling, “That I didn’t really blame him for it. For so fucking long, I kept telling myself that, yeah, it really was a shitty painting,” you let out a breath, “Like, yeah, he was right. He’s my dad, of course he knows more than me. He knows what’s best. He’s an adult and like he always said, he can never make mistakes. They made sure to always remind me that they’re doing me a favor by giving me a house and education, and you know, some clothes and food. That I’d be so fucking lost without them. They’re parents, they make no mistakes. They can’t be wrong. It’s always me.”
“It was never you,” Harry whispered.
You nodded, “It was never me.”
Harry took a breath in again, “Fuck your family, baby.”
“Seriously,” he shook his head, “They were like that–They were fucking awful yet look at you. You grew up to be the most loving person I fucking know. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Give yourself some credit, H. You know you helped me–You help me.”
“No, Y/N, I seriously don’t think I do. Not as much as you think I do at least,” he said, “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
If there were any people that Harry truly despised, your family came on top on his list and despite never seeing them, he liked for things to stay that way; protect you from them for as long as he was alive.
Matilda was written an hour after your conversation as you slept.
Your head was on his chest, his left arm around you as he messily wrote in his journal with his right hand.
He never told you about it until the album was finished and set to be announced.
You didn’t even expect it, despite knowing that your relationship inspired Harry.
He wanted you to listen to the finished product before anyone else from his family and friends.
All tracks were played and praised–all tracks but one.
It was a day after having had listened to what you thought was the entire album when Harry held you and kissed you ever-so softly as you both returned back home from your walk.
“There’s something I want you to listen to,” he said.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Something else?”
He nodded, “It’s on the album.”
“On the album? Didn’t we listen to it all yesterday?” You asked him, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“There’s one more,” Harry said quietly, caressing your cheek softly, “I wanted you to listen to it on its own.”
You smiled, chuckling a little, “I’m nervous.”
Harry chuckled, leaning to press his lips against you. “I love you, you know that?”
You nodded, heart feeling full because you really did know. “I love you, too.”
He made the both of you tea and sat you down on the couch, snuggled beside one another with his arm around you and you scooted into his side as he tapped on his phone to play the song.
Harry took a deep breath in, looking at you for a second, “It’s called Matilda.”
And you knew.
The sound of strumming of the guitar began and already, your eyes were tearful.
“You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal,”” Harry sang.
Your body grew rigid, hand going to cover your mouth as you looked at the ground.
“You can let it go. You can throw a party full of everyone you know, and not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love.”
And then you sobbed.
Harry’s eyes were tearful, wrapping his arms around you as you sobbed against his chest, resting his cheek on your head.
“You don’t have to be sorry for leavin’ and growin’ up,” he sang softly along the song.
You covered your face, crying as you listened, your shoulders shaking against Harry.
“You showed me a power that is strong еnough to bring sun to the darkest days.”
Your arms were around him, crying against his chest as he held you, his hand beginning to gently rub your back.
“You don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own.”
You breathed in and out, staying quiet as you remained in Harry’s embrace, the both of you listening to the song as it reached the bridge.
“I don't believe that time will change your mind. In other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore, as long as you can let them go.”
You nodded to yourself slightly, wiping your cheek before the chorus started again.
Harry peppered kisses to your temple as he held you, not stopping even when the song did.
The moment the song fully stopped, you had reached over to place yourself on his lap, arms going around him as you hid your face in his neck, soundlessly crying.
Harry’s arms around you were tight, his face nuzzled in your neck as he left soft kisses against your skin.
“I love you,” he whispered, “I love you,” he repeated it, again and again.
You nodded, still in your position, “You do,” you reminded yourself, “I’m home.”
“You are home.”
I know I was literally just screaming about this elsewhere, but literally, can you BELIEVE they broke out Buck's balcony this season exclusively so they could use it to define love??
when you say their dick is too big
feat.: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Itto, Scaramouche, Ayato, Albedo, Xiao
warnings: nsfw content, size difference, dacryphilia, degradation, praise, breeding kink, choking, Itto has a knot and barbs on his cock, Zhongli has two dicks
DILUC stops immediately when you tell him to — hurting you is the last thing he wants —, though he can't help but chuckle when you, teary-eyed, tell him that his dick is too big and that it won't fit. He quickly shushes you with a gentle kiss, his smile warm and loving as he reassures you that it'll be fine, he'll try to be as careful as possible.
Even though he tries to go slow for your comfort, he groans in pleasure when he finally bottoms out inside of you, your hips flush together, and while he had originally planned to give you some time to adjust to his size, he can't help but pick up a fast and hard pace a few moments later, because what you don't know is that your words sent a white hot spike of pleasure up his spine. His size kink is thriving, especially when there's a slight bulge showing through your stomach as he thrusts into you.
“You're alright, dear. It'll fit, don't worry. Ah, fuck—, you feel so tight around me. Archons, you can even see my dick through your stomach — fuck.”
When you complain to KAEYA about his cock being too large to fit inside of you, he genuinely can't help but laugh. You're adorable — really, he's at a loss of words here. There's a smile on his lips as he tells you that you'll be alright, and he doesn't bother to stop pushing into you; giving you time to breathe would only result in you overthinking even more. Besides, he knows you'll be fine.
When he finally pounds into you, his hips slapping against your own with lewd squelching noises accompanying each thrust, you're moaning and keening, your back arching, and there's mocking words and teasing sentences falling from Kaeya's lips before he can stop himself, but, really, who can blame him? Just a moment ago, you were protesting and worrying, and now you're taking his dick like a champ — it's almost ironic, really.
“Ah, look at you, darling. Weren't you just whining about my dick being too big for you? Now you're practically sucking me in. That's adorable. Makes me wonder if that innocent persona of you was but an act, doll.”
CHILDE has got you bent in half in a mating press when you whine about him being too big, his dick being too deep inside of you, and he couldn't deny that your words made his cock twitch inside of you even if he tried. He scoffs, obviously amused, and it's such a huge ego boost that he thrusts into you roughly, his hips flush with yours as he bottoms out in one quick movement that has you gasping and crying out.
There's some half-assed shushing from him as he assures you that it's fine, you'll be alright, but in reality, you're barely able to understand what he's saying with the almost violent pace he has set and he knows it. You're drooling while he pounds into you, saliva dripping down your chin, and Childe isn't shy to mock you for how desperate you look. By the end of it, he makes sure you're literally dripping with his cum.
“Fuck, babe, that's so hot—, you think I'm too big for your tight little hole, hm? Don't you worry, baby, I'll fill you up so good. You'll be fine—, ah, fuck, I promise, just let me make you feel good. Just let me breed you.”
ZHONGLI raises his eyebrows when you complain about his size in a seriously worried tone, but he's quick to shush you despite not understanding why you seem to have trouble taking only one of his cocks. The other one is resting against your abdomen as he slowly but surely continues to push into you, the tip of it dripping precum onto your skin.
While he's constantly praising you for how well you're taking him, he can't help that he enjoys seeing your eyes all glassy with tears, and his thoughts immediately go to how you'd cry and whine under him if he were to fuck you with both dicks, only to fill you up and breed you.
“You're so good for me, darling. You take me so well. In fact, I'm quite certain you'd even be able to take both of my cocks if you'd like to try.”
Honestly, ITTO is used to this kind of reaction. He's a big guy all around, which is why it doesn't come as a surprise when you claw at his back and whimper about him not being able to fit inside of you. Still, while he understands your worries, he's too much into it to stop now; he can't help that he continues to push into you until you're stretched wide around his dick.
He at least has the decency to apologise while thrusting into you, his hips slapping against your ass, even though he gets a massive ego boost from the way you're crying out. His apologies don't make it better — especially because his size isn't the only thing you have to deal with. What's much more difficult to take are the barbs on his cock, as well as his knot once he fills you up, but what can he say; he's an oni through and through and his biology is intent on breeding you.
“Ah, baby, fuck, 'm sorry, I don't wanna hurt you, fuck, I promise, you just feel so good, can't stop, please, babe, I need to fill you up—”
Honestly, SCARAMOUCHE thinks of you as ridiculously naive for even hoping that he'll be merciful when you blabber something about his cock being too big. You're on all fours underneath him, cheek against the ground and ass raised, and he's not above taunting you as he repeats your whiny plea in a mocking, high-pitched voice.
As if inspired by your words, he thrusts into you at once, his pace rougher than it needs to be solely because he wants to see you cry on his cock, your cheeks flushing and your eyes crossing as you clench around him. When he feels particularly mean, he even wraps a hand around your throat, if only to hear your high-pitched keening noises as you choke and whine, your thighs trembling and tears dripping down your cheeks.
“What are you saying? It won't fit? Oh, I'll make it fit, don't you worry. Besides, you're already dripping wet. Fucking slut. This is the only thing you're good for, so shut up and take what I decide to give you.”
While AYATO is quick to coo soothing words at you, his voice a low purr and with his hands gently caressing the curve of your hip, his lips also curl into a smirk. You can't see the way his eyes sparkle with mischief and something more sinister because of your position — your cheek pressed against the pillows, your back arched and ass raised —, but that his polite words are just a facade is obvious in the way his hips snap against yours.
The urge to make you cry just because of his cock makes his movements more hurried and rough, his usual effortless grace bleeding away into impatience and brutal thrusts. His nails dig into your hips as he rocks into you until your thighs are shaking and tears drip down your flushed cheeks, needy noises falling from your lips, and Ayato can't help that he wants nothing more than to truly break you.
“Oh, am I too big for you, love? Are you saying you can't take it? That'd be a shame, I was hoping to have you come on my cock. Ah, there you go — look, it fits. You're such a slut in reality, hm, darling?”
ALBEDO pauses the second you whine about his dick being too big to fit inside of you, his head cocked to the side in a curious manner as his gaze meets your teary eyes. While he's an attentive and observant lover, he also can't deny that his cock twitches inside of you at hearing you say that.
He tells you matter-of-factly that there's no need to worry, that your body is quite literally made for this and that it's obvious in the way your cunt is basically sucking him in, before continuing to push in until he bottoms out, your hips flush together. If you haven't relaxed until then, he's honestly at a loss of what to do, though a feeling of pride spreads through his veins when you finally moan and mewl in pleasure rather than in fear. He just loves being correct.
“Oh? Look at you, dripping wet around my dick. Didn't I tell you you were going to be alright? You're literally made to take my dick, love, and it seems you're a natural at it, too.”
When you first tell him to stop, please, that his dick is never going to fit inside of you, XIAO scoffs, his eyebrows drawn together into a frown. For a moment, he genuinely thinks you're making fun of him, though he quickly stops moving when he notices that there's tears welling up in your eyes.
The last thing he wants is to hurt you, which is why he pauses immediately. It doesn't matter how aroused he is, your comfort is his top priority, which is why he'll only continue once you give him the consent to. Even when he finally bottoms out inside of you, his hips flush with yours and with you mewling underneath him, he checks in on you to make sure you're alright.
“Fuck, I—, please, love, are you alright? Tell me. How are you feeling? May I continue? Fuck, you're so damn tight around me.”
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notes: more genshin filth more genshin filth
tags: @black-rose-29 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @kaz-zuha @serenareiss
—❝ 𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐲, 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐲 ❞
✦ catching you masturbate w/ kazuha, itto, venti, ayato
✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact
✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, voyeurism, mutual masturbation (kazuha), dry humping (venti), nipple play (venti), cunnilingus (itto), squirting (itto) degradation (ayato), toys (ayato), overstimulation (ayato), unedited
There were always extended periods of time Kazuha would set off across the town, never knowing when he would arrive. It was always a gamble whether he would flash you a smile and greet you when the sun was still in the sky, but even now you figure it would be alright satiating the desirable burn you felt below.
Disrobing your clothes, your fingers immediately went below, rubbing slow circles along your clit as your other hand groped at your chest. You let your eyes flutter, trying to imagine Kazuha’s half-lidded gaze and the callous pad of his fingers sinking within you feeling your walls flutter against him. As soft moans escaped your lips, you didn’t notice Kazuha leaning by the door with a small smile on his face.
When you drifted your eyes out, walls caving down on your fingers as you let yourself fall under the spell of lust, your eyes widened seeing Kazuha’s. He simply laugh, shushing your surprised bumbling words as his own hand-pulled the layers of his pants down.
His cock sprung up—already pulsating in desire—as a shaky breath escaped his lips as he took grasp of himself. The noise of his precum lubing up the length of his cock as he stroked himself continuously echoed out in the small room, his autumn eyes focused on your fingers slowly drifting in and out of your sobbing hole.
It didn’t take long before your body shook in pleasure, and the sight of you reaching your end made Kazuha absolutely lose it. Thick globs of cum shot out from his tip, coating your hand and parts of your fold with the sticky substance. With a lazy smile, Kazuha could only lean over to give you a chaste kiss, his fingers pushing back the cum he wished was deep inside of you.
You couldn’t help yourself, you just couldn’t anymore. It seems like whenever you would go towards Venti, probing him for sex, he would tell you some kind of excuse and avoid it. You knew this was one of his games to work you up, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.
Hearing your small whines of pleasure, a goofy grin laid on Venti’s lips as he claimed victory. He skipped up towards the bedroom peaking in to finally have visuals on what exactly you were doing to yourself. Your plush thighs were squeezing one another tightly, rubbing back and forth as your fingers rapidly flicked along your clit.
Venti giggled, walking into the bedroom asking a rhetorical question about just what you were doing to yourself. Hearing you curse him out, only made him laugh harder as he laid on the bed next to you, a cunning smirk on his face. He commanded you to not stop and continue. He brought his lips down to your nipple, giving it a kitten lick letting his hard-on nudge and grind onto the bed.
You whined out his names as he pulled your pebbled bud up as he continuously bucked his hips back and forth, clothed cock bursting in pleasure. His rambling on how good he felt watching you were cut off from his sucking, his other hand squeezing the other part of your chest. His teeth bit down as the burst of pleasure finally took him in.
He could feel the wetness in his pants, the bed minorly stained compared to the large wet mark in his green trousers. Venti’s cheeks were hot, dopey smile on his face as his hand pressed against your own that was still on your clit. He isn’t done with you just yet, this was a game after all and he would be the winner.
Pressing his ears on the door to confirm the small noises he had heard Itto felt his face turn bright red. Outside the door to your bedroom, as you played with yourself, Itto paced back and forth conflicted on what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to respect your privacy. Maybe you wanted some time alone to yourself. But on the other hand, he could feel his cock already twitching to life desperate for some kind of attention.
He would be a good guy to help you, right? He’s supposed to as your boyfriend, right?
Gaining the new confidence and motivated by his own desires, Itto opened the door stammering out that he wanted to help you. As your lips quivered, nodding in acceptable, the diamonds in his eyes immediately narrowed to slits.
Your folds were glistening as your slick was pooling out of you and onto the sheets as he could feel himself slowly salivating watching your hole tighten and untighten on the mere thought of his cock. Your skin seemed to glow as well, as sweat clung onto your thighs and body. Licking his lips in excitement, Itto immediately put your legs up on his shoulders darting his tongue inside of you.
Your hands immediately tightened against his horned feeling his fat tongue enter you, slurping all the juices he can. Your whole body shook in pleasure, feeling the coolness of his tongue piercing his against your hole, nose nudging against your throbbing clit. You tasted so sweet to him, he couldn’t help freeing his cock and giving it a few lazy stokes as he tried to get deeper and deeper inside of you, tongue massaging your velvety walls.
It wasn’t a shock when you spasmed against his hold, a stream leaving you as you ended up cumming. Itto only laughed, soaking up as much of your squirt as he could on his tongue amazing at what you just did. With his cock demanding more attention, he wonders if he can get you to do it again with a different part of his body.
Ayato could only click his tongue, eyes peering into the bedroom hearing you muffle your moans with the pillows. Along with the soft noises, a buzzing rang out—he knew exactly what you managed to get. Ayato sighed, crossing his arms as he entered the bedroom. He had been edging you for a week straight wanting to see what you would break, and this seemed to be your tipping point.
Still, he had to make it a point to show you couldn’t disobey his orders.
Hearing him clear his throat, you’re greeted by the cold lilac eyes of Ayato—his lips pulled into a deceptive smile. He saw your body shiver and tremble as you tried to ignore the toy, looking up at him as if you were a deer caught in headlights. He could even see your slick bouncing up as the vibrator churned on your clit.
Telling you to open your eyes wide to give him a show, you hesitantly obeyed, albeit you were much shyer than what you had previously been. Ayato could only click your tongue, muttering just how needy you were before his own had taken hold of the vibrator.
Pressing it roughly against your clit, Ayato threw off his pants, sinking his hard cock into you. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist as his pelvis pushed against the vibrator even harder against your throbbing nub.
The pleasure was getting too much as tears pricked your eyes, as you managed to cum with Ayato not even thrusting once. He could only give you a cruel laugh, finally letting himself shove his cock in and out of you, your walls fluttering tighter against him. He could only tell you that this was your punishment and he was heeding your calls of you wanting to cum. He’ll make you cum again and again and again to the point you wouldn’t know anything but Ayato.
That’s only fair, right?
"why did you die?"
“I was very sad.”
Singlehandedly probably one of the best things ever from that stream, and that is so much coming from a superb stream.
"Why did you die?" is so reminiscent of a question a child would ask if their parent had died, whether from suicide or other means (in this case, suicide).
It is a question of anger and frustration and pure not understanding. it's the same thing a kid would ask because they don't understand how a person could hurt so much to do that, or how they could leave them.
Fundy was angry and mad because Wilbur left him. he didn't know why he left him, he didn't know or understand why they couldn't do something else, anything else. He didn't know that Wilbur was hurting, he didn't know, and in those moments he didn't care. it's the question from a hurt child.
In that moment, that's what he was. a kid suddenly very alone in the world, knowing that the only person he had just left him, and everyone after would follow suit.
"I was very sad." Is such an... honest answer. It suffices. He doesn't have to say 'i was paranoid, i was depressed, i was tired, i was hopeless'. He said what was true, it weighs just as much as everything else simply because it's a fact not many people knew or picked up on.
Wilbur was honest with his intentions in Pogtopia, but not his feelings. When he was revived, he also made such a point to pretend he hated something just to keep up this sort of image that he never cared and that it hurt him how much he cared. But... that's the point. He was sad, and he was hurt.
Not only is this a punch in the face hearing Wilbur say this, but it's the only real time we've heard him say much of anything about what he felt during Pogtopia (similarly to Tommy and his silence on exile. in my opinion, this felt very similar to 'it was a wiggly time in my life).
But it also fits in line with the previous comparison. It's such a simple explanation that someone may use to explain to someone, like Fundy, who didn't understand why someone would leave them in that way. It's similar to how a family member may explain to a child why their parent is no longer with them.
It's not too detailed or grim, but it's not lying or sugar coating it. It's simple, and true, and an answer that Fundy, all too clearly, understood.
It's even more impactful, gut-wrenching, with the follow up question,
"Why couldn't we walk away? Just you and me?"
The League was introduced to Dick indirectly. For sure, they knew Batman had a kid — but they thought it was more of a “mentor- protege” type situation than a “father-son” thing like what they had witnessed in the conference room.
No one knew that Batman could be so…sweet and attentive. They knew he was caring and protective, but not sweet. Not attentive.
Flash didn’t even know Batman’s voice could go higher than the monotonous, raspy voice he always had.
It was cute. Odd, but cute.
They had been discussing budgets for the upcoming year and Batman was about to speak his piece when his phone rang. It was a loud buzzing sound that made him pause and stand up from the table.
Batman: Excuse me.
Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman and Green Lantern watched Batman as he walked to the corner and turned away from them.
Batman: Hello? Why aren’t you sleeping?
Was that Batman’s voice? Barry thought. Could he sound so…gentle?
Batman: You have to go to bed or you’re gonna be grumpy in the morning.
Flash looked at Wonder Woman, who was smiling to herself as she watched.
Batman: You’re waiting for me? I won’t be home till late, though. I know I have to tuck you in, baby.
Batman put his hand on his hip and if Flash craned his neck far enough he could see a smile on Batman’s face.
Batman: Can you at least put on your pajamas and brush your teeth? You know how to brush your teeth.
Flash heard a high, childish voice whine through the phone.
Dick: I want you to do it! Please!
Batman: If I brush your teeth you’re going straight to bed, you know that right?
Batman: Yes! No stories, no nothing. Straight to bed!
Dick: Okay I’ll do it myself but you have to tuck me in!
The kid had to be about six — definitely no older than eight.
Batman: Okay, I promise. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.
Dick: Kay! I love you!
Batman: I love you more.
The kid’s voice got quieter and Flash couldn’t hear anymore.
Batman: Yes, I miss you too. Okay. Bye. Yes, I promise. The longer you keep me on the phone the longer it’s gonna take for me to get home. Okay, fine. So many hugs, I promise. Okay. Okay. Bye.
Batman slipped the phone back in his pocket and turned around.
Flash looked around the table and couldn’t help but smile as everyone else smiled at Batman.
Wonder Woman: That was cute.
Batman: Let’s move on.
Green Lantern: No seriously. That was so cute.
Superman: I didn’t know you could be so mushy.
Batman: Not you, too.
Flash: I just didn’t know your voice could go that high.
Batman: Guys, enough.
kirishima x bakugou x f!reader
summary - you and your boyfriends attempt to study. attempt.
a/n - smut, threesome, bakugou and kirishima are both bi and so is reader, college au, quirkless au, praise, degradation, shy reader, sorry for slandering shinsou, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, face fucking, impact play, cumplay ig im, i forgot that this was mostly filth when i went to re edit it. repost from my old blog, katsupeach. kirishima and bakugou's heights are described but they're bigger than you, daddy kink. poly au <3
this is within the kiribaku au that this fic is in
MINORS DNI - You must have an age visible on your page somewhere to interact with this post.
“So if you look over here,” You guide Kirishima’s gaze to the painting on the glossy page of your $300 art history textbook, “This is a scene from the tempest, by William Hamilton,” you turn to look at the redhead, who is chewing on the end of his pen. “Are you listening to me?” He blushes.
“No.” He admits, reaching over and smoothing your hair. “You look so pretty today.” You swat at his hand and across the study room table, Bakugou scowls.
“Shitty hair. You cannot fail this class if you want to graduate on time.” He gets up and sits down on the other side of you, scooting his chair over. “What are you trying to get through his thick skull?” He growls. You turn to the blonde.
“It’s just that he has to remember that this is from the Tempest, which wouldn’t be as much of an issue,” you cock your head a little, “If he’d bothered to read it.” Kirishima groans.
“It’s so long, and I read a bunch of the other plays, maybe I read the Tempest!”
“Kirishima!” You say indignantly. “This is not a class that you can pass without doing the reading!” Bakugou puts a calloused hand on your thigh.
“S’not your fault the idiot doesn’t care about school.” An evil grin spreads across his face, “Baby just needs some incentive to pay attention, is that right?” Kirishima blushes at the pet name and looks away.
“I don’t need anything,” He mumbles, “I’ll, I’ll try harder, promise.” Bakugou shakes his head.
“You’ve got an exam tomorrow.” He raps his boyfriend’s head with a plastic pen. “The time for tryin’ harder was about two weeks ago.” He pushes you to your feet and moves one chair over, taking your seat.
“Katsuki,” You say quickly, “What are you…” You trail off when you see him unzip his black skinny jeans, and free his hard cock from his green boxers. “We. are in. the library.” You hiss.
“You say that like it’s church.” Bakugou snorts.
“It is to me!” You snap, and he shakes his head.
“We’re in a study room. It’s 2AM. We’re probably the only one’s in the fuckin’ building.” He argues.
“Probably isn’t good enough for me.” You respond haughtily and he grins.
“Princess.” Blood pools in your cheeks. “Princess,” he growls again. “Take those panties off and be a good girl, bend over for daddy.” You look over to Kirishima, his mouth is open, eyes wide. You bite your lip and bend over a little, slipping your hands under your skirt and pulling your pale blue lacy underwear down to your ankles, and stepping out of them. You go to hand them to him and he shakes his head. “Shitty hair will hold onto those.” A low whine escapes Kirishima’s lips as he takes the soft fabric in his hands, watching as Bakugou reaches a hand under your plaid skirt,
“This is what you wanted, right?” Bakugou rasps, squeezing your bare ass, now positioned in front of him. “Fuckin’ slut, wearin’ that skirt, knowing what it would do to us.” You feel the cool air between your legs and let out a low hum. Kirishima reaches for you but Bakugou glares at him.
“Shouldn’tcha be studying dumbass? I’m fucking busy. If you want to get your dick wet you better finish that fucking chapter.” Bakugou squeezes your soft thighs then runs a finger up your slit. “Oooh,” he almost coos, “Baby’s wet, huh?” He grabs your ass so hard you gasp. “Keep tutoring.” He orders, and you look back at him, surprised. “Did that sound like a suggestion to you?” You shake your head. “Then get to it.” You clear your throat and attempt to focus.
“So in, um,” You turn to Kirishima, whose eyes are lust drunk, but you can see he’s trying as hard as you are to focus, “In the Tempest, when Prospero,” you take in a gulp of air, as Bakugou parts your folds with a finger, “When Prospero is seeking, uh, ah,” Your eyes widen, and your pupils dilate as you feel him slip a single calloused finger inside of you.
“Focus.” Bakugou taunts.
“When Prospero is seeking justice,” You get out, “He really does um, after losing his throne,” You take a deep breath as Bakugou scrapes your velvet walls roughly, “He does believe he’s in the right.” Kirishima nods.
“And you have to remember,” You say, closing your eyes for a moment, squealing softly as Bakugou adds a second finger, “That, that, um,”
“Help her out, Kirishima.” Bakugou says, “What’s she gettin’ at?” Kirishima wracks his brain, lost in your already debauched expression.
“Uh, if he believes he’s okay to uh, do whatever he wants to get his throne back?” You swallow.
“And uh, but he does do some bad things, to try to get it back.” Kirishima continues. And you nod emphatically, eyes unfocusing when Bakugou scissors his fingers inside of you.
“Right, so justice,” you pause, hands curling into fists when Bakugou presses up against that spongey spot inside you, “Um, in this world, justice is, justice is subjective.”
“Prospero could be like, an unreliable narrator!” Kirishima exclaims, forgetting for a moment, that Bakugou was knuckle deep in your core, so proud of himself for getting it right.
“He-he could be!” You choke out. “G-good job.” Bakugou withdraws his hand and you let out a shaky sigh. He holds the two fingers out to Kirishima, who sucks on them hungrily, groaning.
“Can we uh, take a break?” Kirishima asks desperately and Bakugou looks livid.
“You got exactly one question right and you wanna take a break?” He pulls you onto his lap and spreads your legs across his. “No fuckin’ way.” He taps the textbook in front of him. “Keep going.” You turn around a little to protest and Bakugou snatches your wrists. “And you,” You melt under his stern gaze, “Stop fuckin’ squirming.” He lets go of one of your wrists and you shiver with anticipation as he rubs the head of his cock against you. “Yeah, baby,” he says, “You want this, tell me what you want?” Your face burns. It’s late but anyone could open the to the study room, and it makes your heart race.
“W-want daddy’s cock.” You mutter and he shakes his head.
“Louder.” You look at him desperately and he chuckles. “Think you heard me just fine.”
“I want daddy’s cock.” You say, a little louder, but it’s enough for him to, thank god, start easing himself inside you. “Ah, fuck, Katsuki.” You groan as he settles you on his lap, and scoots the chair in, under the table.
“Get back to work.” He snaps and you turn around, he can’t be serious, you’re so full you’re dripping down his cock, you squirm a little and he presses your thighs down against his. “Stay. Still.” He growls, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“O-okay,” You say softly, “Kiri, um, Eij,” Your eyes are glossy and unfocused as you turn back to your boyfriend.
“Katsuki,” Kirishima says turning to Bakugou, “That’s not fair, to punish her because I haven’t studied enough.” Bakugou moves, and even a small thrust of his thick cock against your walls is enough to elicit a tiny whimper from the back of your throat.
“If you don’t want her to suffer,” Bakugou emphasizes the last word, “I suggest you buckle the fuck down.” Kirishima nods, blushing a bright red as your face contorts in frustration. You try and move a little but Bakugou holds you fast to him, not allowing any friction or pressure to change, you feel so full, you can feel his cock stretching you but you can’t get any relief for your aching core, for the coil tightening in your stomach. “Focus.” He growls in your ear, and you whimper again.
“R-right.” You chirp. “S-so, back to the painting.” Kirishima nods, you have his full attention now, “William H-hamilton was an architect,” you swallow, Bakugou leans back on the chair, enjoying the feeling of your soft walls, tight around his cock. “This isn’t one of his well-known works, but if, uh, if we think about it in terms of the themes of justice, or uh, subjective justice.” Bakugou snickers. “Katsuki,” you whine, “Please move, please please please.” You turn around and beg him, eyes wide, pleading.
“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.” He rasps, shrugging. “Beg him.” He gestures to Kirishima.
“Tell me about the painting,” you whine, tears pricking in your eyes with frustration as you struggle against Bakugou’s iron grip on your soft thighs.
“What’s your color, first?” Kirishima says, eyes flicking to Bakugou.
“Green,” you choke out, “Green, green, green, just tell me about the fucking painting.” Kirishima’s ears go as red as his face when he stairs down at it.
“Uh, uh, the angel, the angel is choosing, right?” You bite down on the bottom of your lip, “She’s like lighting up the guy in the right,” you nod emphatically, “Prospero,” you nod again, a single tear rolling down your face, you need some kind of relief, you need something, the agony of the gentle press on your g-spot was enough to make you choke out a sob. “But he isn’t necessarily the good guy. Because he did bad things, so um, if I look at the painting, again, uh,” he runs his fingers down the page and Bakugou thrusts up cruelly, pressing his palms down on top of your thighs so that he’s buried in you to the hilt.
“Fuck,” you warble, a sad little song as you bury your face in your hands. “Please, please daddy, need you.”
“When he gets it right we’re gonna make you feel so fucking good.” Bakugou snarls, pressing a burning kiss to your neck. “So hurry up, shithead.”
“Oh oh, could he be, could he, uh, the villain, is he protecting the girl, from the other guy?”
“Possible.” You whine. “With oil paintings, watch the light,” You close your eyes quickly.
Then open them again, squinting in the harsh industrial flourescents.
“Oh shit, he’s uh, he’s standing in the shadow.”
“Yes!” You say, too loudly because Bakugou lifts a hand and covers your mouth with it.
“That’s good enough for me.” He groans, lifting you and bouncing you up and down on
His cock. Even once, your vision goes white for a full second at the feeling of his withdraw and then the return of the pressure against that bundle of nerves he always found so easily. Your mouth drops open, a harsh cry escapes your lips, only slightly muscled by Bakugou’s huge hand, at finally receiving the relief you’ve been seeking. Bakugou keeps your legs spread and thrusts up into you, groaning. “C’mon dumbass,” he snaps at Kirishima, “Say thank you to your tutor.” Kirishima wrenches the chair out from under the table, diving onto his knees and flipping your skirt up over his head. He licks up from Bakugou’s balls all the way to your clit, and you cry out sharply when he starts to ravish it with his full attention, rough tongue flicking over your sensitive nub as tears stream down your face from overstimulation. Bakugou feels you clench and flutter.
“Does she want to cum?” He growls. “Does my little bitch wanna cum?” You nod vigorously, words fail you, your mind is completely and utterly blank as Bakugou fucks you brutally, with your legs wrapped around his, he frees his arms up to touch your chest, pinching your nipples hard through your shirt. “Cum for me, slut.” He rumbles, and you go to scream, or you would, if Bakugou didn’t shove three of his fingers in your mouth as you come undone between the huge men, gushing all over Kiri’s face, as he slurps it up hungrily, making loud smacking sounds in the quiet of the library. You gurgle around his hand, eyes rolling in the back of your head, drooling a little as Bakugou keeps fucking you through your orgasm, getting impossibly hard and groaning loudly as he finishes inside.
“Gonna paint that pretty fuckin’ pussy with my cum,” he rasps, and when he hears your choked sobs he swears, “Fuck yeah, you like that baby, wanna be fuckin’ mine?” It’s so much, you can feel everything, Kirishima’s huge hands on your shaking thighs, Bakugou’s cock filling you up all the way and then some, and of course, Kirishima sucking on your clit to the point of painful pleasure. You’re twitching and crying as you come down from your high.
“Jesus Christ,” Bakugou says, “You bit the shit out of my fingers.” You mumble some kind of apology, but he just slaps your thigh. “Shitty hair.” He says. “Fuck her brains out. We’ll carry her home.” Kirishima grins, standing,
“Come here,” He coos, positioning your limp form over the table. “Open up,” he says, just as sweetly, as he tucks your panties into your mouth, “Gotta be quiet for me, okay princess?” You mewl softly into the fabric, tasting yourself as you bite down on the cotton. He puts one huge hands between your shoulder blades, forcing your back into a slightly harsher arch. “Wrists please,” he says, and you extend them behind you. He takes both of them in one hand, you’re still trembling from cumming a few seconds ago, as he eases gently inside of you. “Good girl,” He says kindly, “Takin’ me so well.” Even after a month of dating you’re still not really used to how big Kirishima is, and you know he’s marveling at how you stretch to accommodate his huge mushroom head, pink with need, pushing Bakugou’s cum further into your pussy with a lewd squelch.
“Kiri,” you whine through the panties, “S’so big,” he chuckles, brushing his fingers through your hair with his free hand.
“I know baby, I know.” He lightly runs his nails down your back and you shiver. “Bakugou’s so rough with you, so rough with baby, hm?” You nod. “Aww,” He says, and then cruelly shoves his whole cock inside of you in one thrust, and you let a harsh whine out that even the panties can’t muffle.
“Fuck,” Bakugou says, getting up and stabilizing the table as Kirishima rocks into it and knocks it back and forth with his brutal thrusts. “Careful, idiot, don’t break her.” Kirishima nods, keeping a firm but careful grip on your wrists for leverage,
“She’s so good for me though,” he coos, “So perfect,” you hum with pleasure as he fucks you slowly you’re so wet that you’re creaming around his cock, your plush lips open, eyes teary and glossy. You can feel every inch of Kirishima, and you’re becoming accustomed at least, to the painful pleasure when he fucks you. He groans loudly every time he bottoms out in you, every time the tip of his cock kisses your cervix you see stars.
“Mmmh,” you whimper, your toes curl in your sneakers, he presses you down harder on your back, flattening you against the table.
“What do you want, sweetheart,” He says, “You can have it, whatever you want?”
“M-morrrruhhh,” You choke out from around the panties and he chuckles.
“You want more,” he asks, looking up at Bakugou, “Our little slut wants more, huh?” Bakugou shrugs, smiling evilly,
“Better give baby what she wants.” Kirishima pounds into you, hard, and the tears start to fall again, and you bite down, you’re so distracted by Kirishima fucking you into oblivion that you don’t even notice Bakugou sitting down in the chair next to you. “I want her mouth.” He orders, and Kirishima spins you around so that you have to stare directly at Bakugou while Kirishima rails you. The blonde is lazily stroking his cock, which is mostly hard again, you lean down to suck him off but he catches your chin.
“Uh, uh,” He growls, He removes the panties from your mouth, shoving them in his pocket before he pushes your head down to his balls, and you try to focus on what you’re doing, try to lick and suck softly at them while he jerks off above you, while Kirishima fills you up completely, you feel your stomach tightening, listening to Bakugou groan with pleasure as you drool on the base of his cock,
“Fuck,” Kirishima snaps, “Gettin’ tight again, huh babe, gonna cum?”
“Yeah,” you pant, lifting your head, looking up at Bakugou, “Can, can I daddy, please, can I cum?” He takes your head and shoves it all the way down his cock, so that your nose is buried in the tuft of blonde hair at his base.
“Yeah baby,” He snarls, “Go ahead and cum.” You’re so full, you can’t breathe, with Bakugou’s length all the way down your throat, but you let go of the coil in your stomach and he moans when he feels the vibrations of the sounds you can’t hold back from him. Tears leak down your face as your orgasm rips through your body like a knife, you feel Kirishima finish inside you at the fluttering of your walls, he always cums so fucking much you feel it leaking down your leg. Bakugou lifts your head off of his cock and you fall to the ground of the study room, sputtering and gasping for air, curling up in the fetal position as the last aftershocks of your orgasm run through your body like an electric current. Bakugou finishes himself as Kirishima wipes his brow, gathering you from the floor and peppering you with kisses.
“Baby,” He sings softly, “You alright baby, come back to me.” You moan in his arms, snuggling into his chest. “Such a good girl, the best girl.” You smile a little and open one eye. “Anything hurt?”
“Uh,” your hoarse voice says it all, “My throat a little.” Kirishima nods.
“Katsuki will make you tea, okay it’s late, we should get back to our place if we’re going to crash there.” Bakugou cums again with a loud groan and a viscious stream of swears.
“Didn’t mean to get hard again.” He admits. “Somethin’ about watchin’ you fuck her just drives me fuckin’ feral.” He leans over and kisses Kirishima’s forehead as he stands. “Good boy.” Kirishima’s face burns at the praise.
“Just uh, takin’ care of her.” Bakugou nods, gathering the backpacks and textbooks while you yawn in Kirishima’s arms.
“Eij,” You say, sighing, “M gonna be sore tomorrow.” He nods.
“Will you give me a massage,” you whine needily and he chuckles.
“What the fuck’s wrong with my massages?” Bakugou roars, leading you out of the little study room and into the empty top floor of the library.
“We always end up fucking again.” You mumble and Kirishima laughs.
���Ohhhh, baby needs a break, is that it?”
“24 Hours without getting my brains fucked out, yes,” you pause, “I think I do need that.” You think about it. “The question is, do I want that?” Bakugou barks out a harsh laugh as he stabs the button for the elevator, running his hand absentmindedly up and down Kirishima’s arm.
“Think I know the answer, princess.” You yawn again.
“Yeah I think you do.”
hii! i loved ur egyptology series 🤭 i was wondering if u can make like a cockwarming fic with any of the moonboys 🏽🏽🏽
no but this is one of my biggest kinks because it’s so PEACEFUL and so STEVEN at the same time like ejshqojxje yes please
Summary: Working in a gift shop with zero hours of sleep can ruin a man’s spirit, unless he has you as his girlfriend
Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: slight dom/sub dynamic, orgasm delay, praise kink, cockwarming, unprotected piv, handjob, facial
That was never a good thing to ear at 9pm on a Monday. Steven was late, even later than usual, which probably meant that Donna had managed to get him to stay after his shift had ended with a random excuse. You despised that woman with a passion.
You sat up on the couch, you rested your cup of tea on the coffee table and stretched your arms behind your back, then up above your head. It was late, you had tried to watch an episode of Bake Off but it wasn’t fun without Steven and his commentary, witty remarks and all.
He closed the door quietly, put the safety lock in and then locked it again, leaving the keys in the keyhole. It was his routine, he needed to follow it religiously without fail, every night he did the same thing, you were used to it by now. You didn’t feel safe without it anymore.
“Hey, handsome.” You greeted him, a hand on your lower belly. "Are you alright?"
"No." He sighed and beelined toward the couch, plopping down next to you with his eyes closed. He still had his name tag on. "It was a shitty day, I bloody hated it."
You gently grabbed the tag and took it off, placing it on the table before pushing a hand in Steven's hair so that he could rest on your chest, face smushed between your breasts. He loved being there, he loved moving his hand up to your tits and just holding onto them while you petted his hair. He thrived during those situations, he felt safe.
Steven whimpered and clung to you, his eyes were still closed, his hands were gripping your arms tightly and he was breathing a little too fast for your liking. He needed to unwind, he needed to relax and let go for the night, forget about everything so that he could be happy, even for just a few seconds.
"Come here, let me take care of you." You murmured in his head, he nodded and curled up next to you on the couch. "Relax."
You kept petting his hair, you kept brushing your hands up and down his shoulders while Steven kept buzzing with anger and nervousness. It should have worked by now, but he was still lost in his thought, he was still uneased by it all and you didn't know what else to do. Nothing, not even the gentle rubbing of his ears, seemed to work.
"Okay, no, stop. Sit up."
"Why?" Steven let out a deep sigh and looked up at you. "I'm comfortable here."
"You're not relaxed enough, darling. We need to change that or you'll never fall asleep."
You started to take off his jacket, then his shirt and his jeans. Steven let you do it all, he didn't let out a single word, he didn't even open his mouth, he just raised his arms, his bum and then his legs to allow you to take care of it all. You kissed his forehead before straddling his lap, his hands immediately shot up to your hips, holding you while your soft fingers traced lines up and down his toned chest.
His nipples pebbled up when your nails gently brushed over his happy trail, his cock twitched and you chuckled, pressing a kiss on his jawline while you started to grind down on him. He sighed, head dropped to the side and eyes closed, blissed out and a little calmer than before.
"Are you feeling better, baby?" He hummed, low and gentle. "You just wanted me to take care of you, mhm?" He nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Didn't want to seem needy."
His voice was so low and so quiet that you chuckled, holding him a little tighter while your pussy brushed down on his fully erect cock. "Do you wanna talk about what happened today?" He nodded again, his tongue poked out to lick his lower lip. "Can do you do it like this without getting mad and overworked again?"
He stilled, brows knitted together as he stared at you and then at the ceiling. He was struggling to not get mad and not lose his composure, he was trying, for you. He was doing his best. You knew he was already starting to panic again, you could feel it under your palm, his heart was beating fast and loud.
"Let's try something new, baby."
"I don't feel like experimenting tonight." He whispered.
"No funny business, but I know that this will relax you and calm you down." He perked up, a small smile on his face as you undid your bra, letting your breasts bounce down. "If you're good, I'll let you play with them before work tomorrow."
Steven stayed still as you took off your panties and his boxers, you gripped his cock in your hand and it twitched in your palm, making you chuckle and kiss him on the lips. You got lost in there for a few minutes, kissing Steven was your favourite pass time, you couldn't stop pressing your lips on his while your tongue invaded his mouth, chasing his characteristic taste and the faint residue of tea.
You sank down on his cock and he moaned on your lips, his hips bucked up, trying to chase your heat and tightness. You shook your head and cleared your throat, he was so big and the stretch was so pleasurable that you almost forgot what you were even supposed to do.
"No, stay still. I'll sit here, you'll talk and then I'll jack you off."
"Oh god, don't think I can last that long." He joked and you rolled your eyes, thighs tight around his. "I'll try."
He beamed at that and went slack under you, his cock twitched in your pussy and your walls clenched around him. You had never tried this before, you had never kept his cock inside you just because you wanted to. However, it was quickly becoming your favourite thing. Steven seemed so at ease, so peaceful already, that you wished you had done that sooner.
"Donna said I was late today, which I wasn't because you drove me there, yeah? I was on time. I told her, she said it wasn't true and that JB didn't see me get in until much much later." You cocked an eyebrow at that, prompting him to go on. "Told her he isn't a reliable source, right? She said it was my fault anyway and that I'm going to do inventory for the rest of the week." He licked his lower lip and looked up at you. "And I can't do that because I wanted to take you out on a date and then maybe sleep. I haven't caught a wink of rest tonight, and I've knocked down a few hangers at work today because I lost my footing."
He was rambling, but he wasn't panicking nor fussing over anything, he was just telling you what had happened. You had never seen Steven that calm, you had never seen him so placid and at ease before. You slightly moved, feeling him shift deeper inside you, a whine left your lips and Steven looked up at you, head cocked to the side as he kept staring, lips parted in a small smile.
"Anyway, I talked to Donna about the inventory duties, I don't wanna be stuck there for the whole week, I already made our reservations and I don't wanna cancel, it took me a month to finally find a table. She said it's my problem and that I shouldn't be late if I want to be treated right." You snorted and Steven's hand moved up to your chest, resting it on one of your tits. "She fucked up with that. I went to the department manager, and told him what had happened and he said that it was not fair. So now they're checking all of my clock-ins and clock-outs."
You nodded quietly, he was still hard inside you, you could feel him twitch and throb whenever your walls pulsed around him. A vein was slightly popping out on his neck, his fingers were brushing over your nipple and his eyes were relaxed, barely closed, as he kept staring at you.
You loved when his eyes got hooded, you loved when you could see the white sclera under his iris, he looked extremely fuckable like that, almost wicked. You leaned in, your hands gripped his shoulders and you tentatively raised your hips before grinding down on him.
"I'm not done."
You were not expecting that. You looked at him with your lips parted, you settled back down and he sighed, going slack under you and harder inside your pussy. He had the self-control of a god, that was for sure, you didn't know how he was managing to last that long, he was hard as a rock but he was refusing to let go and fuck you.
"They checked my clock-ins and clock-outs, saw that I've been working a lot, like, a lot and Donna is the one who basically forced me to take those shifts due to her personal vendetta against me, god knows what I've done wrong in her opinion." You nodded, you were starting to lose track of what was going on, he had moved under you and now the tip of his cock was brushing and pressing right against your sweet spot. "So now there's this whole... issue- you're so bloody tight."
You huffed out a laugh and kissed him on the lips. "Do you want me to get off?"
"No." He swallowed hard and shuddered. "I can last a bit longer."
"Do you want me to tell you what I think of this?" He nodded as you adjusted yourself. "You can't cum, though."
You kissed him on the lips, soft and gentle while your hands moved up to his hair, fisting his curls as you started to grind down on him, swaying your hips left to right as his hands tightened around your breasts, nipples caught between his index and middle finger.
You were trying to stay still but you couldn't, Steven was hot and big and thick and you didn't have the willpower to slow yourself down and not ravage him with your hands and lips. You trailed kisses down his neck, he tilted his head back with a whimper when you gently bit on his Adam's apple.
"I find you so hot when you get all bothered and stand up for yourself." Your lips trailed up to his ear so that you could whisper in his ear. "You did good baby, you did so good and I'm so proud of you for speaking up. Donna is scum, she will lose her job if she keeps being like this." You kissed the spot behind his lobe and Steven gasped, nails softly scraping the soft skin of your breasts. "And you booked us a fancy dinner out of nowhere, I can't believe you."
Steven's breath was ragged and short, it was fanning over your skin and it was making you clamp around him like a madman, you couldn't wait any longer and he couldn't wait either, you could feel strain inside you and struggle to not blow inside you. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it down to your dripping pussy.
"Oh." He whispered, eyes fixed on your clit. "Can I?"
His fingers started working on your swollen nub of nerves, Steven put the right pressure on it, he was rubbing you hard and fast, making you squirm on top of him as you slowly moved on his cock, slightly bouncing up and down on him while he squeezed one of your breasts in his free hand.
You didn't want to hold back, you didn't want to pretend you weren't already on edge and ready to cum all over him and his strong hand and cock. You gasped when the pressure increased, your lower belly tightened and your walls started to pulse around him.
"Oh Steven, oh baby, that's... yeah, like that, you're doing so good." Your hips started rocking back and forth while your hands rested on his chest. "Just like that, just like that, I'm gonna come, shit, shit."
Your thighs trapped his legs and you jolted forward, your pussy clamped on his cock and he yelped, his vein was even more protruding and you stared at him as you came, gushing over him and wetting his cock and groin even more. You shivered and panted, high and breathy, while you kissed him, pulling him up toward you by his jawline.
"You did so good." You whispered over his lips, staring down at his body. "You did so good, baby, I know it must've been hard to not come with me."
Steven nodded, too lost to reply and too overstimulated to even think about anything but his cock still buried inside you. You softly pulled up, letting his dick slide out of you and bob on his belly. You stood up, you kissed him once more before kneeling between his open legs.
His cock was red, swollen and hard under your touch, the tip was leaking profusely and his thighs were shaking, straining to be good for you and not come until you said so. Steven was great when it came to following little rules or orders.
You kissed his cockhead while you started to pump his length just how he liked it, your thumb brushed over the slit and the frenulum while your soft palm enveloped his shaft - or at least tried to. He whined and threw his head back, eyes tightly shut while his chest heaved wildly,
"I can't." His voice was quiet and broken, you were positive he had tears in his eyes. "Please."
"You can come when you want, baby, I'm not stopping you." You kissed the tip again, swirling your tongue around it.
You jacked him off a little faster, your hand twisted lightly around him and his thighs tensed, he arched his back and his toes curled. He throbbed in your hand and you leaned forward, his hot release ended up splattered on your face, covering in streaks your cheeks, your lips and chin.
Steven kept breathing heavily until you let go of his cock, it had softened in your palm and you had kissed his thighs and hips until he had stopped quivering and shaking under you. You might have overworked him, you weren't sure, but you had managed to make him come all over your face for the first time ever.
He groggily raised his head and rubbed his eyes, he looked at you and hummed to himself. He furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side and chuckling.
"Nothing, you look pretty like this, the light is making your eyes shine bright."
Leave it to Steven to focus on your eyes when you had his come all over your face.
There are a lot of fics in the fandom where Jaskier is a concubine or bed warmer and is gifted to Geralt (usually warlord Geralt) and that becomes his path to freedom and love. Some of them are among the best fics in the fandom. One of them is one of my favorite fics ever.
But I do get to thinking...
Men who are physically strong and skilled in combat (like Geralt) can also be exploited. In fact, physical power is one of the most limited forms of power, and witchers are exploited and oppressed in canon. And by the same token, men who can't wield a weapon (like Jaskier), can be very powerful if they are born into the correct family.
So. What if we flip their roles in the narrative? (I'm sure there are flipped fics out there, but I'm going to spin my own idea for a minute.) Alright. Here we go. My idea for Prince Jaskier/Gladiator Geralt.
CW for references to past sexual abuse. Do not read further if you don't want to read any references to sexual abuse. As I said, it is a reversal of the trope mentioned above, so none of the abuse is between Geralt and Jaskier, but the premise does involve servitude and abuse.
Jaskier is a prince sent out on his very first diplomatic visit. He has been chosen for this task (negotiating a treaty) because he has come of age, and his father wants him to make a match with the princess. His father has managed to keep his country's economic crisis a secret, but it won't stay that way for long. If Jaskier can impress his hosts perhaps he can marry the princess, and his people will be pulled back from the brink of financial ruin.
But before Jaskier goes, his father counsels him that he will see some barbaric practices in this other country. Though this other country is wealthy and advanced technologically, it still engages in things like gladiator fights and indentured servitude. Jaskier says that he understands. He can keep his mouth shut no matter what he sees. He knows that they are counting on him.
The first day of the visit goes well. During a long session of intense negotiations, Jaskier makes a brilliant first impression, so much so that the king invites him to be the guest of honor at a gladiator fight. Jaskier does not have a stomach for violence or gore. So he downs a few goblets of wine to take the edge off and to keep himself relaxed enough to not vomit at the first sight of entrails.
Their prize gladiator is a striking, white haired warrior with mystical powers. He has an enviable streak of wins, and the people love him. Part of why they love him is because he seems to hate killing people. He will do it efficiently and well, in order to defend his life. But when they push someone out into the ring that is ill prepared or a poor match for him, he does everything he can to stall or stop the fight.
Once, the king tells Jaskier, he refused to fight and managed to convince his opponent to refuse to fight. They publicly executed several prisoners in retaliation, so now he fights. But he curses them elaborately after every win.
Instead of it weighing on their conscience, however, the audience moons over him as a noble assassin, a killer with a heart of gold. It's the irony, it's the angst. They love him. Not enough to free him of course, but they love him.
Jaskier worries he is not drunk enough for this, but he manages. As expected, the warrior wins the fight. It is a tough match against a skilled and weathered opponent. But he fights with the mesmerizing grace of a brutal dancer and he wins in a spectacular fashion. The crowd goes berserk.
Though Jaskier finds the warrior incredibly compelling, his eyes drawn to him over and over like a beacon, he is relieved as fuck that the whole thing is over. He can't wait to go back to his room and cleanse away the memory of that horrible pulsing severed carotid with maybe a song or another drink. He can't wait to have more power and ban some of these horrific practices.
But before he can get back to his room, the king makes him an offer that he is entirely unprepared for. He has taken such a liking to Jaskier that he offers to send the champion up to his room.
That is when Jaskier learns that the royal ladies (and some of the men) take great pride in partaking of the warrior after a match. It is the highest honor.
It's partly his beautiful physique. They have special clothing made up for him that resembles his armor, but offers more access. It's partly the danger and the thrill of conquering such a violent beast. They bind him and they station guards close by so he can't retaliate. But the thought that he could kill them with the twist of a wrist is part of the appeal. It is also partly the exclusivity. The entire kingdom loses their mind for this warrior, but it is only they who have access to him. It gives these wealthy, bored, royals a rare thrill.
When his host explains all of this, Jaskier's stomach drops almost to the soles of his shoes. His first instinct is to be outraged. To say no. His kingdom has done away with bed warmers and...well...sex slaves, really. He has been brought up to believe that ravaging someone, anyone, is a base, cruel, horrible thing to do.
So he almost says no. He almost shouts it. Frankly, he would like to slap the king across his smug beastly face. Obviously he can't do that. But he wants to. But then a thought flickers across his mind. If he says no, then this warrior will be sent to someone else. And who knows who that person will be and what they will do to him.
Jaskier feels sick to his stomach when he accepts the king's offer. He hopes his disgust isn't apparent. He tries to make it sound lusty. To his own ears, he fails at it. Besides his disgust for the idea, he is also incredibly inexperienced. If he has to feign an intimate understanding of the specifics of sex, he'll reveal himself to be the young amateur that he is.
But the king is so drunken and self absorbed that he doesn't even notice. He claps Jaskier on the back, calls him my boy, and motions to his guards. The guards jump to attention. The king points down to the arena at the warrior. The warrior is slick with sweat and blood and grime. He is quietly cleaning his sword with a far away look on his face. The cheers of the crowd weigh on him.
Just then, the warrior looks up at Jaskier. His golden eyes feel like a punch to the solar plexus. He sees what is happening. He knows who is being conferred the honor of his body tonight.
Jaskier wants to mouth an apology. To explain himself. Of course he can't. They are too far apart and there is too much noise between them. Besides. Jaskier is currently pretending to be into this. But his eyes slide away guiltily. He feels queasy and he is regretting the wine right about now.
The king asks Jaskier if he wants the warrior grimy or clean. They can bathe him before they send him up, or they can just walk him up as he is, for a more authentic experience. Jaskier feels a cold fury bubbling inside. He shoves it down. He says to send him as he is. Jaskier will draw a bath in his own room and give the gladiator privacy.
The king makes a crude joke about Jaskier liking it dirty, and he almost bites through his tongue in order to hold it. He tastes copper.
Soon, Jaskier is alone in his room, pacing the marble floors, clenching and unclenching his fists. He is deep in concentration, trying to figure out how to play this. When the guards bring the warrior, will they leave? Or will they insist on staying close by? How will Jaskier hide his true intentions from them? Whatever they see, they will undoubtedly report to the king.
Jaskier chews his bottom lip and whispers to himself, practicing what he will say to the warrior if he can get them alone.
You'll be safe tonight.
You don't have to do anything.
Would you like to bathe yourself? I won't look.
Do you want...other clothes?
Suddenly Jaskier feels like the inexperienced, sheltered young prince that he is. His success during negotiations this morning feels like a fluke. He has never taken charge of anything. He's not even fully finished with his second decade of life. Why did he think he could do this? He can hear his own heart beating so hard that his chest cavity is vibrating. He is terrified. Terrified what this grizzled warrior will see when he looks at him. Terrified he will fuck it all up.
When the guards drag in the champion, he has to duck to pass through the doorway. His broad shoulders fill it almost entirely. He comes to stop in the middle of the room, his chains settling and his shoulders stiffening. They have changed him into his costume, which is little more than flimsy strips of leather. Wide expanses of skin glisten with sweat. He lifts his chin and his eyes bore quietly into Jaskier.
Jaskier swallows hard. He can feel his fingers trembling, so he clasps them at his waist. There is something about this man. He isn't like anyone Jaskier has ever met before. There is honesty and nobility but also flint and defiance in his eyes.
The young prince is indeed inexperienced, but in that moment, he understands something very important. He knows the truth in his very bones, and the truth is this...
He is in way over his head. He is utterly doomed.
Not because of the guards or because of his host, the lecherous king. He isn't even doomed because of his father or his obligations.
He is doomed because he already knows in his marrow that he will give anything, sacrifice anything, maybe even his own people, to give this man anything he needs.
courting rituals III
Summary: Driven by infatuation and love, the boys try and court you in their own ways.
A/N: I’m sorry to say this is the end…of this mini-series. I’m excited to continue writing and with all the positive review, I feel motivated to do so much more. As of now I don’t have anything else planned, so please leave me a request if you want anything specific. Also, sorry if Zebek’s a little long, I have a soft spot for him.
Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lillia VanRouge, Sebek Zigvot
Malleus Draconia (Dragons) :
Dragons are some egotistical creatures, theirs flirting is insults and flattery, however their insults are just a test to see if their potential mate is strong. After Malleus realizes his feelings for you, he’s constantly switching between complimenting you and making fun of you. His compliments are so sweet on the ears while he spits insults out like fire.
“Ah, it brings me joy to see you got rid of that hideous dress, this one suits you much more.”
Dragons are as materialistic as they are egotistical; they like shiny things, why not put shinies on the apple of their eye? As of recently, you notice necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and jewels appear on you counter and you knew it was him. When Malleus saw you wearing the emerald necklace he had left on your counter the night prior, his heart swelled so much. He honestly felt like it would burst.
“That necklace looks gorgeous on you.”
Dragons always want to be right and so does Malleus, even if that means twisting your mind so that you agree with him however he likes when you argue with him. Malleus loves that fire in your eyes when you when you know that you’re right. He wants a future with someone as strong as you; he wants one with you and he knows it.
“You are still intent on arguing with me on this aren’t you, Child of Man.”
Lillia VanRouge (Bats) :
Bats like to follow around and guard whoever they seek as a mate. Lillia is usually found near Malleus’s side however whenever Malleus is off doing his own things, Lillia is found right beside you. While you’re laughing at some dumb joke he made, Lillia is glaring at some students who are taking a look at you.
“Maybe we could go to the library, its too crowded here.”
Bats use sound for lots of thing, one of those things just happen to be for attention grabbing. Lillia was getting annoyed that you were playing more attention to your studies than him. So what could a little squeak do?
“You’re so jumpy, khee hee hee.”
Let me tell you this next one might take you out…nose boops. Bats like to boop each others noses. Picture this, you sitting down eating while studying and suddenly Lillia is standing over you. The second you bring your head up to meet his eyes, he’s right in your face. Boop
“Your face is absolutely adorable, little one.”
Sebek Zigvolt (Crocodile) :
Crocodiles are furious beasts, when they see a mate; they stalk them. Things are differnet with Sebek, he was on a call with his mom the second he figured out his feelings. His mom told him, “You must watch them from afar, figure out the best course of action.” So, Sebek being the mama’s boy he is, he tried that. He’s been watching you walk to class, what you eat, how you study. Of course you caught on, he was so embarrassed he ran away.
“I NEED TO GO ATTEND TO WAKA-SAMA!”
These next two will knock you out, crocodiles will do jaw rubs when passing by a potential mate. I see Lillia becoming very interested in Sebek’s little schoolyard crush and started to bother him about courting you faster. So, when they were on their way back to the Disonmia dorm and Lillia spotted you walking towards them, he knew he had to give Sebek a little push…literally. The second he did, he scurried off in to dorm, leaving Sebek to get flustered and rub his jaw against yours in the heat moment. Sebek then ran off.
“FORGET ABOUT THAT HUMAN!”
Crocodiles blow bubble when they see a mate they want. Sebek would be drinking something while studying with you. You’ll look up after hearing popping noises, only too see Sebek staring at you with a look of pure love. The second he notices you caught him, he chokes on his drink. He’ll start trying to play it cool while his face sits at a cherry red.
“Ahem…do you need help with something, human?”
praising mammon as you stroke his cock after his brothers have been especially mean. giving his forehead soft kisses as he whimpers softly, telling him he’s your favorite while he cums, that no one looks as pretty
#𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 — 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍.
✧ — t a g s : nsfw 18+, gn! reader, hand jobs, praise
✧ — n o t e s : moans :,) i want this. also THEYRE SO MEAN TO MY BABY AND FOR WHAT
a small part of mammon almost wants to make his brothers even more mad, there’s a tiny part of him screaming that if he does, they’ll be harsh again—and then you’ll pamper him like this even more. he pants, head thrown back as you kiss his neck, hand stroking his cock slowly. it’s almost a little too slow—but you want to take your time with him, want to remind him just how perfect he is to you.
“you look so pretty,” you murmur, squeezing his tip as he whines, hips bucking into your fist as he chases the friction, “are you sure you’re a demon? look like an angel to me, baby,” you grin, watching as his eyes shut and his cheeks burn crimson.
“s-stop…stop sayin’ things like that,” he huffs, moaning when your thumb glides through his slit, and it’s weeping with pre cum. his cock is pulsing, hot and heavy in your hold, and he’s aching—he needs to cum in your hand right now but you’re insisting on being so slow. he almost thinks you’re punishing him yourself, in your own twisted little way. “go faster—fuck, what are ya waitin’ for,” he pouts.
you hum, pressing a gentle little kiss to his forehead, free hand smoothing through his locks as your palm drags up and down his length—still agonizingly slow. and mammon isn’t used to touch that’s so delicate, so deliberately sweet and laced with care. any other day, and he’d be embarrassed by the sounds that you force out of him, but today he can’t bring himself to care.
“but i wanna take my time with you,” you whisper against his skin, breath fanning over him and making him shiver. you kiss his forehead again before trailing them to his cheek, “want to make sure you know how good you are.”
he lets out a choked whimper, chest rising and falling with his erratic breaths, hips rutting into your hand as best as he can with you straddling his waist.
“f-feels good,” he whines, “more…need more.”
“i know, baby,” you hum, and he’s ecstatic—he’s never heard you call his brothers by a pet name like that before, “so sweet to me, always watching out for me. you’re precious, did you know that?”
he digs his head into your neck—it’s almost too much, almost makes him overwhelmed with the way your words are so sweet, and your hand feels so good—and then you squeeze his tip again and he lets out a muffled whine.
mammon has always hated when you hear his brother’s jeers, has always had to push down the fear that maybe one day, the words might just stick and you might just believe them too. and he hides it—he hides it well, takes the taunts and insults like they ricochet off his skin. but sometimes they settle down deep, right into his bones as they weigh him down.
you scatter kisses all over his face, let your lips paint over his rosy cheeks, and this time something else beside harsh words seeps through his skin—something sweet and warm and kind. he lets out a shaky exhale, hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling your body closer against his.
“always make me feel safe too,” you murmur, nipping at his skin as you trail your lips down the column of his neck. “you’re nothing but sweet deep down,” you chuckle, smiling against him as he gulps, “my sweet boy. that’s why you’re my first.”
something crossed between a moan and a choked sob leaves his lips at that, and you gift him with a faster rhythm, hand pumping his cock quicker now. the ache between his legs builds, making his head fall back as his mouth parts with wanton moans spilling past his lips. your other hand brushes back hair that clings to his sweaty forehead, thumb trailing down to trace his cheek lightly before you feel his cock twitch in your hand.
“gonna cum,” he rasps, “fuck, ‘m so close,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long after, just a few more drags of your palm and he chokes on a moan, falling off the edge with thick spurts of cum that paint your hand. you watch his cock twitch with each rope, watch his jaw slack and his features tense with pleasure, and you smile before pressing just a few more kisses to his forehead.
he deserves them you think, he deserves to feel something tender and warm.
“look so perfect,” your lips whisper against his blazing skin, “my favorite. you’re my favorite you know—bet no one looks as good as you like this, cumming for me.”
“sh-shit, like that,” he pants, bucking into your hand as you stroke him through his orgasm, helping him ride out his high. “ya b-better mean it,” and he tries to sound stern, but you hear the slight waver in mammon’s voice.
“mhm,” you hum, “of course i do. my prettiest boy. the greatest.” now that—that’s exactly what he needs to hear, it’s exactly what he craves to be told for once. he buries his face into your neck, feeling your hand cup the back of his head as he whines as he finishes, shuddering as you milk the last few drops.
he pants, catching his breath for a few moments before speaking. “course i’m your favorite, i already knew that. ya can’t get enough of me, right?” and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say his tone is pleading right now.
“there’s never getting enough of you, mammon,” you chuckle, grinning to yourself when you feel the small smile that stretches on his lips against your neck.
“don’t go tellin’ people i like bein’ pampered, ya hear? i’ll eat ya. in one bite,” he warns, biting his lip to fight back a grin as you giggle softly.
“wouldn’t want that,” you murmur, “i’ll keep it to myself.”
i would willingly eat raisins for him. that’s how much i’d sacrifice. i love him greatly.
Summary: When five teens completed a mysterious ritual, they decided to ignore the changes it wrought. Now, five years later It’s time to face reality.
“I’m so sorry,” the man says, hands falling away from her neck. He buries his face in them so that only his red beard peaks out. “I just don’t know how to kill you.”
Ashlyn gasps for air. She can feel the imprint of his fingers along her throat and each steady beat of her heart rings loud in her ears. “Understandable,” she wheezes. “I myself am somewhat at a loss.”
She’s not sure how long she’s been in this warehouse. A few hours at least, likely more. The windows are covered with cardboard and the damp smell of mildew tells her that they’ve been covered for a long time. No sunlight peeks through, no outside sounds, no indications of time passing at all. When the assassin had first brought her here, she’d assumed it’d be the last thing she’d ever see. Twenty-years-old and dead with soggy cardboard the last thing she sees.
Now, surrounded by shocking cables, bent knives, and shattered clubs, she feels her irritation at her attempted assassination slip into pity.
“Maybe fire?” she suggests. It’s a strange sort of lunacy to suggest her own mechanism of murder. But something in her had shifted after the assassin - Dylan? Dexter? - pressed a stake to her heart, raised a mallet with his other hand, and shattered the wood rather than plunge it into her chest. “Fire usually feels hot to me.”
“I tried that,” the assassin says. He climbs off of her and throws himself into the wooden chair she’d been tied to when he’d tried slitting her throat. “Right after the electricity knocked you out. You wouldn’t catch.”
“That’s weird,” she says. The rafters above her looks just as sodden as the room smells. “Did the flame go out or…?”
“Just sorta flickered,” he says, waving his hand once before closing it into a fist. He tips his head back, eyes closed, and presses his fist to his chest. “What sort of creature doesn’t burn?”
That’s what I’d like to know, she thinks. Out loud, she says, “Would you believe I’m not a vampire now?”
“Yes.” He sits up to glare down at her. “But you’re something and that something is still part of the coven. It’s my job to eliminate all members of the coven so we are not leaving here until you’re dead!”
Since he hasn’t been wildly successful in that direction, she can’t bring herself to be too upset. “Hurrah,” Ashlyn says, pumping a fist in the air. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see his reddening face. “That’s the spirit.”
Silence rises around them. She breathes deeply, feeling every ache and contusion in her body, and listens to water drip on the other side of the room. There are probably rats in here. She bets that there are a lot of rats that will feast on her body once this man figures out how to—
The assassin’s breath hitches. He sniffles. His breath hitches again.
Ashlyn opens her eyes. “Are you crying?”
“No!” The assassin sniffs and frantically scrubs at his face. “I’m not!”
Ashlyn sits up painfully. Her ribs aren’t broken, but certainly not for lack of trying. The assassin is twisted away from her, hunched over his knees with his hands over his face again. “Hey, listen. Dylan, listen to me.”
Damn. She only had two names to choose from and she guessed wrong. She recovers quickly. “Dexter. Don’t be upset!” She reaches out to pat his knees. “You are doing a wonderful job killing me.”
Dexter blows his nose on his flannel. “Really?”
“Oh yeah,” she says. It’s sort of gross how wet his jeans are with her blood so she quits patting his knee. “Honestly? Ten out of ten. If I were a normal person or even a normal vampire, I’d be dead several times over.”
“You would be, wouldn’t you?” Dexter looks cheered by the thought. “I’ve used that stake on ten vamps. It’s never failed me before.”
“It’s definitely my fault that it failed now,” she assures. Her cracked ribs are nearly healed. She leans on one hand as casually as she can and keeps her expression even when her fingers brush the hilt of one of Dexter’s abandoned knives. “You’ve proven yourself a very capable vampire hunter.”
“I’ve already killed all of your coven members,” Dexter says. He ticks them off on his fingers. “Maybell, Roger, Kassius and Adelaide. Bomb, fire, stake and stake again. That’s just this week!” He puffs his chest out. “You’re right. I’m doing a really good job.”
Ashlyn’s glad he’s not looking at her as he lists her fallen coven members. She slowly palms the knife. “That’s right, you did. They were really strong too. But you’re stronger, right?”
Dexter shoots to his feet. “I am! My family’s been stronger than vampires for generations. Hundreds have laid dead at my feet!”
“Overcome!” She cheers as he looks boldly into the middle distance. She brings her legs under her as quietly as she can. “Vanquished! Conquered!”
“Exactly!” He twists back to look down at her, a crazed look in his eye. “And you’re next!”
“I think the fuck not,” she says, surges to her feet, and plunges the knife right in his throat.
Ashlyn stomps into the apartment with blood still dripping from her hems. “Really?” She can hear the TV on in the living room and stalks right for it, slamming the door behind her. “A bomb?”
Maybell peeks over the couch. Her green eyes are distinctly guilty under her heavy bangs.. “Oh, hey, Ashlyn. You, uh, met Dexter?”
Roger, in the process of plugging in the Xbox, doesn’t look guilty at all. “How’d he kill you? I set a mannequin on fire and he legit thought it was me.”
“I pity let him stab me,” Adelaide says, twirling her auburn hair and lounging in the arm chair. Her eyes are glued to the romance novel in her hand. “After the gun failed.”
Kassius, sitting at her feet, raises his hand for a high five. “Same!”
Adelaide high fives him without looking, before turning the page of her book.
“He held me captive for eight hours,” Ashlyn seethes.
Roger whistles. “That’s commitment to the bit.” He tosses a controller to Maybell with supernatural speed. “I think I played with him for about an hour tops.”
“Thirty minutes,” Maybell says. The screen loads with Mario Party. “I call being Princess Peach!”
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear,” Ashlyn says. She rounds the couch so she can stand in front of the TV. Her roommates all protest, but she ignores them easily. “I was held captive against my will for eight hours while a madman proclaiming himself to be a vampire hunter tried to kill me.” When they continue to stare at her, she waves a hand at her bloody clothes. “And failed! Repeatedly!”
“You didn’t pretend to die?” Adelaide asks, surprised. She rests her book on her chest. “That’s kind of mean, Ashlyn. He was really trying.”
“He’s got a wife and kids,” Kassius says. He shrugs when Adelaide raises an inquiring eyebrow. “I overheard him on the phone with them after he staked me.”
“Aw,” Maybell says. She smiles. “That’s so cute. Little vampire hunters!”
“He had a wife and kids,” Ashlyn says waspishly. “Back before I stabbed him in his stupid, murderous throat.”
Her roommates gasp. Roger presses a hand over his mouth. “Ashlyn, how could you?”
“Easily,” Ashlyn snaps. When they all continue to glare at her, she throws her hands up in the air. “Am I taking crazy pills? It doesn’t concern you guys at all that we, apparently, can’t die?”
“Good thing we can’t,” Adelaide mutters, “or else you’d have to worry about your immortal soul after killing Dexter.”
“He was trying to kill me!” Ashlyn doesn’t know why she ever thought living with these three was a good idea. Nostalgia from their childhoods growing up on the same street? An early warning sign of lunacy? “He was failing! I got stabbed, electrocuted, strangled, choked—“
“Geez,” Roger says, impressed. “He really went all out on you.”
“What’s the difference between choked and strangled?” Kassius asks Adelaide. Adelaide shrugs.
“”It’s also sort of an issue that we got mistaken as vampires by an actual vampire hunter,” Ashlyn continues. “Like, a real vampire hunter. One with lots of kills.”
Maybell frowns. “That is kind of weird. We totally go out in daylight and everything.”
“I thought we were vampires,” Ashlyn says. She feels tired all of a sudden. She sinks to the floor, uncaring of the blood that gets on the carpet. After the ritual, she doubts they get their deposit back. “I was really, really hoping that we’d just be vampires.” The other three exchange a long look. Ashlyn feels her temper snap to life. “What?”
“Nothing!” Maybell fidgets on the couch. Ever since their stupid, teenage-mistake ritual, she’s been more restless, always tugging at her clothes and kicking her feet. “It’s just…”
“You had expectations?” Maybell asks. Her lips twitch as if she’s resisting a smile. “We read mysterious, untranslated Latin in a drunken ritual and you had expectations for what would happen?”
“Ashlyn’s always been an optimist,” Adelaide tells Kassius.
“Ashlyn’s always been an idiot,” Kassius mutters.
“At least I’m not the idiot who brought the ritual home from the library!” Ashlyn buries her face in her hands. Then, when the dried blood rubs against her skin, she roughly rubs her palms against the cleanest part of her shirt. “Now we have no idea what we are, we can’t die, I’ve killed a man—“
“Yeah, that’s kind of fucked,” Roger says. “He had kids.”
“He was trying to kill me!” Ashlyn screeches. To her horror, she feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Guys, please don’t tell me I’m alone here. I am freaking out. What did we do to ourselves? What have we become?”
“Hey,” Maybell says. She slides off the couch and crawls over to Ashlyn. It’s like they’re kids again, ducking under the low door of the tree house. She wraps her arms around Ashlyn. “Sh, don’t cry! We didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Kassius is on his knees, torn between going to Ashlyn’s side and refusing to take responsibility for her tears. “We’re still alive, Ash. We’re still us.”
“But we don’t know how long it’ll stay that way,” Ashlyn sobs. She wipes at her tears. They haven’t talked about that night, not really. At first it was because they didn’t believe anything had happened. Then, she thinks, it’s because they refused to admit anything had changed. They were just kids and then they were moving out and then they were here. “When— when the ritual finished, I felt something. I felt an energy inside of my chest. I-it changed me. Changed us.”
Maybell hugs her tighter, conveying without words that she remembers. Ashlyn feels a knot in her chest ease even as the tears continue to pour down her face. She didn’t imagine it. They changed and this fiasco with Dexter has highlighted those changes in a very real way.
“It’s like we’re kids again,” Ashlyn whispers. “Just— without any control. I hate it. I hate it.”
“Oh geez,” Roger says. He rubs a hand over his face and then slides to the floor as well. “Ashlyn. Look at me.” When she refuses to, he reaches for her hand. “Look at me.”
She looks up to find his face only a foot away. For the first time in a long time, his eyes are serious. She swallows, hard. “What?”
“We are not helpless here,” Roger says. He sits back on his heels. “I’m sorry we’ve been taking this so lightly. I don’t think any of us haven’t had the same thoughts you’ve had. We’re all worried. We’re all scared. We’re in this together, okay?”
Wordlessly, Ashlyn nods.
“He’s right,” Adelaide says. She’s the only one not on the floor, but she’s set her book aside and her full attention is on them. That’s as good as being part of the group hug forming for her. “We aren’t helpless. We may not know what the ritual was, but we can change that. We have the book. We have our memories of that night. Just four years ago, right? It’s still fresh. There are answers out there. We can find them. Together.”
“Together,” Maybell says firmly.
“I don’t know,” Kassius says, “I kinda wanted to enjoy being immortal for a while—ouch!”
Roger rubs the spot on the back of Kassius’ head he just slapped. “Together,” he says. He smiles at Ashlyn. “Like always.”
Ashlyn feels a lonely, scared part of her ease in that moment. The day she’s had, the torture, the murder, all seems to fade away. She has her friends with her, finally on the same side. “Together.”
Maybe she’s glad she roomed with her childhood friends after all.
“Of course,” Kassius says, “we should probably send Dexter’s wife some flowers first.”
This time, Ashlyn hits him first.
Thanks for reading! I love writing scenes with loooots of characters so this was a fun exercise for me! there’s something about a pack of new adults roaming around with immortal ritual-related consequences that appeals to me!
I post all my stories a week ahead on Patreon! Read next week’s story there now :)
Summary: You don't ever want to be the main character. In your town, that's deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid. He’s really, really cool.
— “ ‘𝐌 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊 !! ”
when you surprise him by getting a customized necklace with his initials on it, does he kiss you harder or fuck you dumber?
ft. kokonoi, izana, mikey, sanzu, wakasa
cw. 18+ only. fem!reader. unprotected sex. creampie. praise. dacryphilia if you squint. slight nipple play (f!receiving). sensation play (biting and light touches). fingering. use of princess. possessiveness
an. request! kinda like this idea now. also, likes and reblogs help a lot and are appreciated!
a shaky breath leaves your parted lips as kokonoi settles his sturdy body on top of you. the weight of his body grounds you and your thighs spread wider to make space for him. “i love you so much,” he gasps as you peer at him through your beautiful eyelashes. it tickles your skin when his bleached-white strands of hair fall on the smooth surface of your face and you crack a smile for him.
“then show me,” your voice comes playful, devilish desires behind your gaze and kokonoi understands what you want. “yeah? want me to fuck you dumb, princess?” an involuntary moan leaves past your lips and you can feel your arousal dripping from your cunt to your ass.
“and i love what you have around your neck too,” his voice comes raspy and you’re begging with teary eyes and gasping breaths for him, to feel him inside you. and that’s exactly what he does — this cock is perfectly shaped, so girthy and shaped with a curve that touches your sweet spot oh so well.
“hah— haji—,” you choke on syllables, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth at each unrelenting thrusts of his cock. it’s deep, so deep and it leaves you breathless. your toes curl as your legs wrap around his torso. he knows your body like the back of his hand and each touch, each burning sensation of his lips on your neck makes you whimper in his arms.
your insides feel warm and your skin glazes with sweat. “you make me feel so good,” he groans when your walls clamp down on him. you can’t hold back any longer, your heartbeat is erratic as your cum fills against his pulsating cock. you look so hot with his initials on your neck and it makes him want to mark you all over your body.
he pulls out with his essence dripping from your hole. “oh f-fuck!” he’s biting his lips just so he wouldn’t lose his composure and white spurts of his cum paint your velvet walls. it feels euphoric and you glee when his lips sink on yours. “maybe i should get one too,” he whispers against your lips and his breath is hot as it fans your face.
“so you’ll understand why it turns me on so much,” he smiles but you see his desire in his gaze. “hajime—”
“you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” his stare is intense as he grabs your sweaty hands and places them on his twitching cock. “i want you,” his voice is low and he’s sure, he’ll never get enough of you.
your back feels cold as it’s pushed flat against the tiles on the wall of your bathroom. your body shivers under izana’s gaze as your eyes meet his purple orbs. his hands are restless, grabbing and bruising any part of your skin he can get a hold of. “hah— izana,” you call for him but your voice comes out like a sweet whine.
it makes him proud, so cocky in his abilities to make you whine for more, for him. but as his eyes catch something shining on your neck, he grabs your chin with his hand. he makes you tilt your neck to the side and he inspects the two charms that hang from your necklace — K and I, his initials in two capital bold letters.
it has him mesmerized and for a moment his eyes soften. “you know what this means, right?” he whispers against your neck and you couldn’t help but bite back a moan.
“what does it mean?” you finally ask with half-lidded eyes. “baby, this means you’re mine.” he chuckles and you feel his cock throbbing inside you. the water from the shower glides down your body, yet it doesn’t help cool down the aching heat that’s building up in your abdomen.
you gasp aloud at the sudden snap of his hips, his cock stroking your velvet walls with harsh deep strokes that have you gripping his forearms. “mine,” he whispers into the crook of your neck as his fingers play with your necklace. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he grunts, “f-fuck!”
you’re sobbing in his arms, the pleasure he’s offering so good and your walls grip his girth tighter, so fucking good. the sounds of his balls slapping your ass fill the quietness of the bathroom and he feels it too, he’s close. “y-yes,” you stutter.
“you can do better than that,” izana says as his grasp on your thighs fixes. the gaze of his eyes makes you nervous and it elicits the sweetest desire in you. “i’m yours!” you moan a bit louder as you feel your high crashing down on you.
it makes him lose his mind, and he feels his chest tighten, his muscles clenching. he buries his cock deep inside you to spurt his essence inside your walls. his load is thick and it fills you up so good that you want more.
as you seated yourself in the leather seats of mikey’s car, your shining eyes peer at him expectantly. mikey’s white bangs falls on both sides of his cheekbones, his eyes dark as they look at you with love. “hey,” he greets before leaning closer to kiss you with a smile. “how was work?—”
“notice anything different about me?” you cut him off and mikey thinks you look the same as you did that morning when you left his office. you watch your boyfriend scanning you from head to toe with furrowed eyebrows and a small pout on his lips, which you found adorable.
“look again,” you say, tilting your neck to the side and you move some hair away. “is that?” he says as he catches the two letters written in calligraphy hanging by a thin golden necklace. “manjiro—” this time, he cuts you off by kissing you harder, so passionately and you wrap your arms around his neck immediately.
you’re pulling him closer to your body as he lowers your seat. “you love me that much?” he questions in a mocking tone, but you see the smile he’s desperately trying to hide. it makes you weak, and you can feel the heat between your thighs growing as mikey presses a kiss on your neck, right where his initials rest on your body.
“why? you don’t love me?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrows and mikey only wishes to fuck the little attitude out of you. “you know i do.”
“then show me,” you gasp and it doesn’t take long before mikey’s hands slip inside your panties, fingers spreading your folds. “you’re so wet, baby.”
“hah—” you throw your head back with a low moan as mikey slides his long pale fingers inside your slippery cunt. your walls hug him so perfectly, it has him losing his mind. his eyes refuse to leave the gaze of the M and S hanging on your neck.
“you look beautiful with it,” he whispers against your ears, sending sweet shivers down your spine. your thighs tremble with each deep and fast stroke of his fingers inside you. and with a final curl of his fingers to that sweet spot, that has you gripping on his shirt tight, you feel your euphoric release reaching you. it feels so good as you sob in his arms.
you have mikey mesmerized, he leans closer to kiss your wet cheeks. “’m gonna fuck you so good when we get home,” he chuckles and it only makes your thighs snap together as you feel your arousal pooling.
your skin is burning up, your cheeks heats with embarrassment as your boyfriend settles his body between your legs. your arousal is glistening as it drips from your cunt and it has sanzu breathless. “haru—” you back arch as you feel his cock nudge your folds, pushing past into your walls.
he doesn’t respond. his eyes wander all over your figure, so beautiful to him. “you’re so pretty like this,” he coos. leaning closer to your figure, his mint-blue orbs catch something shining on your neck. two letters hanging by a thin silver chain.
his initials. and as the thought of you wearing his initials— H and S settles on his mind, he calls out for you, “baby. . . on your neck.”
“do you like it?”
“i love it,” his response comes breathy. sanzu’s eyes trail from your eyes to your lips to those letters. something evokes inside him— love, desire, he doesn’t know. but the thought of you loving him enough to wear his name on your body has his mind going crazy. and his grip on your hips tighten, almost bruising it.
“you look beautiful with it.” a smirk graze his lips and his hips snap against yours. the unrelenting and fast thrusts of his cock has you letting out the sweetest moans. “gonna make you feel so good. f-fuck!” it feels so good, so fucking good when your walls clench around him so well.
the squelching sounds of his balls slapping against the underside of your ass has you gasping for air. as you look up at him, his eyes are fixed on your neck where your silver chain bounces with each stroke of his cock. “hah— baby i’m gonna—” you sob, your nails leaving crescent marks on his shoulders.
“oh sh-shit.” he feels your thighs trembling on both sides of him. you’re both so lost in the feeling of each other and your whines and moans rise in volume as the sweet high reaches you. you look so beautiful like this, and sanzu is losing his mind.
his abdomen clenches, his muscles tightening and he feels it. it’s close and you can feel his essence filling you up so well, so good. “i’m not done yet, princess.”
your fingers tap on his skin, fingertips tracing the scars on his chest and shoulders. it makes you gasp when wakasa pulls your body closer to him, your cunt sliding down his cock slowly, so slowly that you don’t notice how you’re holding your breath as he grips your waist tighter.
and you have all of his length inside you, covered in the warmth of the arousal that drips from your cunt. “waka, what are you doing?” your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones as you peer at him with curious eyes. “giving you what you want,” he chuckles as he leans closer to leave small open mouthed kisses on your collarbone.
“i didn’t know you were into this.” the thin golden chain that hangs with his initials on your neck glisten at his fingertips. your skin feels so soft under his touch, he swears that he could wander every inch and every curve of your body — worship it and affirm sweet love with his lips. and today, you have him wrapped all prettily around your fingers.
wakasa is unable to take his gaze away from you and you pull him away from his daze with your soft voice, “say what you wanna do to me.” his lips part to take in your lips in his, sucking and coating it with his saliva with so much fervent, you moan. “let me show you, baby.” the movement of his hips against yours is fast, the strokes of his cock inside your walls so deep that your eyes roll back in great ecstasy.
the squelching sounds that reach your ears feels sinful, yet it elicits the sweetest desire in you. his lilac orbs settle on your breasts and he takes no time and wraps his tongue around your perked nipples. he groans as he sucks on it, filling you with more pleasure, so much that you feel the tight clenching of your gut.
your thighs tremble on both sides of him and wakasa pulls away with a thin string of saliva connecting his mouth to your breasts. “hah— w-waka, it feels so good—” your heartbeat is erratic and you feel his cock pulsate inside you before with a guttural groan, he paints your insides white with his thick juice.
“if you wanted to be marked as mine,” he breathes out, his teeth lightly tugging your jawline. “i can leave my mark all over your body instead.”
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relax • p8
Bucky tries to keep things composed and civil as he confronts Steve - but his composure only lasts so long.
Content Warning: Nerd!Frat!Bucky x Reader, mature themes, angst, mention of coercion and dub!con, protective!bucky, best friend!sam, violence, blood, injury.
"Why do you look so nervous?"
Your leg stops bouncing and you look up at Sam, who's raising a brow as he folds his arms across his chest.
"You gonna tell me, or do I have to torture it out of you?" He asks you, tilting his head.
Knowing better than to call his bluff, you let out a sigh. "Just... boy drama," You answer casually.
His face drops and his hands clench into fists. "I'm gonna kill that pretty little white boy," He grumbles menacingly.
"No, Bucky didn't do anything!" You exclaim, standing up. "I don't mean drama with me, I mean... him and Steve are going through a... disagreement."
Sam seems to be surprised at that as his brows furrow together. "Really? That's not like them," He mutters. "What are they disagreeing about?"
You regret saying anything at all. Taking his hand in yours, you shrug. "I don't know the details."
"Well, why are you stressing about it, hmm?" He asks you. "It has nothing to do with you, does it?"
It makes you feel nauseous to lie right to his face, but when the alternative is breaking his heart, you know what you'd rather do. "No, it doesn't," You answer. "But I care about Bucky, so I don't like knowing he's upset."
He tuts softly, pulling you into a hug. "Don't worry, baby, I know those guys," He assures you. "They're best friends. Ain't nothing breaking them up."
Your brows raise up. "You think so? Nothing at all?"
"They're brothers," He tells you. "And nothing can come between brothers. Whatever it is, they'll eventually forgive each other. That's what brothers do."
You hum against his chest, nodding slowly. "Right."
Bucky's buzzing with tension. After spending the night at your place, his mind is scrambled and the only thing he can feel is rage. Blinding, scalding hot rage.
The second he walks into his apartment, he sees Steve sitting on the ground, drawing on a piece of paper. There's a faint bruise on his chin from Bucky's punch the day before, but he still musters up a smile.
"Hey, man," He greets Bucky, putting down the felt-tip pen in his hand. "I thought you were in your room. When did you leave?"
Saying nothing, Bucky shuts the door behind him, taking deep breaths in an effort to compose himself.
"Peg's got me making signs for the pep rally," Steve says in an effort to fill the tense silence, keeping the pleasant smile on his face. "Greatest ex of the year award goes to me."
Taking a few steps further into the apartment, Bucky finally speaks. "I spent the night at Y/N's," He states lowly.
"Oh," Steve says, his brows furrowing slightly. "So... you sorted things out, then?"
Bucky sits on the couch, keeping his face blank. "She told me," He reveals casually. "She told me the truth about what happened that night."
Steve feels his blood run cold, but he remains calm. "About... I mean, the truth is the truth. What more was there for her tell you?"
Clenching his jaw, Bucky sits forward. "You failed to mention the fact that it was you who initiated it," He states coolly. "The fact that she was uncomfortable with it. That you coerced her into having sex with you and then dropped her like she was nothing."
Steve stands up, his cheeks flushing pink. "What the fuck, dude?" He scoffs. "She said I raped her?"
Bucky raises a brow. "She didn't explicitly use that word. Funny how you did, though."
"What the fuck is your problem, pal?" Steve sputters. "Do you really think I'd do that to someone?"
Standing up, too, Bucky's eyes darken. "I didn't, until I find out that you did."
"Dude, I'm your best friend," Steve states. "How are you trusting this bitch over me?"
Unable to hold back, Bucky lunges at him, raining down a flood of punches to Steve's face. All he can think of is you in pain, being manipulated, forced to put on a happy face and continue being Steve's friend just to keep the peace.
But there is no peace. Not until he pays for what he did.
"Bucky, stop!" Steve tells, pushing him away. "You're insane; she's got you all twisted!"
"Fuck you," He seethes, breathing heavily. "Just take responsibility for once in your goddamn life. Accept that what you did to Y/N was fucking disgusting. Admit it."
Shaking his head, Steve stumbles backwards. His eyes hold fear as his hands twitch. "Buck... I don't-"
"Please, stop lying to me, man," Bucky begs, his voice cracking. "You hurt the girl I love, really fucking bad. What you did was... it was wrong. So wrong. If you can't own up to it and apologize to her, then I won't be able to stop myself from hurting you."
A shaky breath leaves Steve's mouth as blood begins to leak from his broken nose.
"When she told me what you did, I wanted to kill you," Bucky admits without exaggeration. "But you're my brother, man. I... I fuckin' loved you. This isn't who I thought you were. Please, just be honest. What you did doesn't define you, but how you act now does. If you choose to continue treating Y/N as though she isn't a human being who deserves for you to at least acknowledge that what you did to her was wrong, then... Steve, I'll..."
Steve remains silent, his lips parted as though he's forgotten how to speak.
Rubbing his mouth, Bucky shakes his head. "Please. I know you. You're the kid that cried when we had to dissect a frog in biology. You're the guy that would die for your mom. You were my best friend. And you've hurt Y/N, man," He says lowly. "We can't get back from this. Knowing what you did, our friendship is over. But if you continue to act like you did nothing wrong that night, and you downplay the trauma that you caused Y/N, then I'll fucking kill you, Rogers."
With a deep breath, Steve nods. The pain is clear on his face, and Bucky himself is hurting, but neither of them can claim to be in more pain than you were that night.
Timidly, Steve clears his throat and looks down, unable to meet Bucky's eyes as he says, "I wanna talk to her."
"Where's Sam?" Bucky asks you as the three of you stand in the living room, the mention of your best friend causing Steve to stiffen in fear.
You're terrified when you open the door to see Steve's bruised face. Though Bucky told you they'd be coming over, he left out the part where he'd given Steve a black eye and a crooked nose.
"He's asleep," You mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.
With furrowed brows, Steve looks over at you. "I... Y/N, I'm sorry," He begins, immediately bringing you a catharsis you didn't even know you so desperately craved. "That night, I manipulated you into sleeping with me. I wanted to beat Brock, and in doing so, I ended up using you like an object. That was wrong of me. I... I'm not gonna stand here and claim that my feelings were anywhere near as hard to deal with as yours were after that night, but I lost sleep knowing what I did. I knew what I did to you was wrong, but I ignored the guilt. And pretty soon, I buried it enough to forget about it, which must feel like a kick in the teeth because it wouldn't have been that easy for you to forget it. What I did to you was horrific. Scarring. I will never, ever forgive myself."
It's a lot to take in, seeing as you never thought you'd hear the words from his mouth, but it feels freeing. You feel validated, knowing that he accepts the truth.
"I convinced myself that you weren't that hurt over it," Steve tells you. "I told myself that I was imagining your obvious discomfort during the ordeal. That you enjoyed it, and you were only upset because of Brock. But... deep down, I knew. I knew I had coerced you into bed, that I had grossly violated our friendship, and permanently tarnished your trust in me. And for that, I hate myself. I never... I never wanted to hurt you, but I also didn't try hard enough to protect you. I'm sorry, Y/N. I will spend the rest of my life being sorry for that night, and regretting what I did to you."
As your heart races, you nod, at a loss for words. Bucky notices your discomfort and takes your hand in his, silently reminding you that he has your back and is on your side.
"I appreciate that, Steve," You find the strength to say. "And, for what it's worth, I do forgive you."
"Thank you. That's much more than I deserve," He replies. "What I did to you was sexual assault. I recognize that, and I recognize that I need to work through a lot of shit."
"What the fuck did you just say?" A cold voice cuts in, making your heart skip a beat. Looking to the left, you see Sam in the doorway with shock and rage pooling in his eyes.
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i think sometimes dean calls crowley and he answers like ‘im in the middle of a very important meeting with very important demons about very important hell things what do you want squirrel’ and dean goes ‘wanna have sex’ and crowley drops everything immediately no hesitation no second thoughts just pops in the bunker in a cloud of red smoke, and i think it happens one too many times and dean points out he calls him more for sex than for supernatural stuff and jokingly renames him ‘booty call’ on his phone while snickering like an idiot and crowley fondly rolls his eyes. my point is that one day for some reason sam is going though dean’s phone, sees this contact called ‘booty call’, goes on a long rant about how thats very disrespectful and he could at least add a name and the poor girl doesn’t deserve to be reduced to that, and decides to call her in the name of feminism to let her know how horribly she’s being wronged. i think dean’s annoying big brother instinct to embarrass his little brother overrides every speck of internalized homophobia there was left in him and so he just watches silently trying not to laugh as sam stands there huffing and puffing waiting for someone to answer. and then sam hears ‘hey squirrel horny again are we’ and his expression makes dean laugh so hard he almost chokes to death