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softlyspector · 1 year

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Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.”

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word.

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side.

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped.

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer.

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you.

You roll your eyes gently.

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either.

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders.

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it.

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical.

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.”

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.”

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.”

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back.

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling.

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him.

Maybe, you just know him too well.

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival.

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there.

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops.

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for.

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.”

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.”

“A weapon?”

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?”

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing.

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant.

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved.

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur.

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips.

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.”

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies.

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well.

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu.

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine.

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils.

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore.

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you?

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you.

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant?

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself.

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse.

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious.

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child.

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter.

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some.

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter.

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf.

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?”

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.”

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it.

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.”

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?”

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man.

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a.

“And how did you learn?”

“My…” you trail off.

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined.

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.”

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.”

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence.

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.”

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.”

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of.

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic.

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.”

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all.

“Mando?”

Still, he doesn’t answer you.

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough.

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping.

“No.” He answers curtly.

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why.

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,”

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright.

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.”

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it.

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?”

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon.

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him.

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.”

He goes back to eating, already distracted.

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means.

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh.

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone.

Riduur.

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings.

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser.

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands.

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit.

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod.

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.”

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.”

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?”

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.”

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.”

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?”

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.”

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.”

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.”

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh.

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?”

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly.

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists.

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you.

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.”

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.”

“Told me-,”

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him.

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.”

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time.

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?”

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.”

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.”

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words.

But you don’t.

You’ve never been surer in something.

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.”

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine.

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor.

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them.

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you.

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.”

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke.

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.”

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.”

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.”

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.”

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.”

“Elek,” you agree.

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice.

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right.

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this.

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not.

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this.

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate.

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people.

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly.

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet.

You want to kiss him at the very least.

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself.

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze.

“Open your eyes.”

“What? No-,” you begin to protest.

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth.

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,”

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little.

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time.

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.”

“Open them.”

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough.

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it.

Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at.

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger.

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him.

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes.

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling.

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew.

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice.

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger.

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.”

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?”

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.”

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression.

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.”

“That’s my line.”

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there.

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.”

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.”

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes.

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat.

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows.

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers.

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language.

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this.

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper.

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #significant verse

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rynwritesreid · 26 days

Text

I like the way you kiss me| Spencer Reid

A/N: So, I haven’t written smut in a good while, but I hope this okay. It’s defo romantic, but I promise soon there will be some good angst.

Summary: Spencer is nervous about being in a relationship with you, because of what his friends would think and the age gap you two had. But when it comes down to it, all that matters to him, is you.

Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Fem!reader. Use of nicknames (just princess). oral(R!receiving). PinV.

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Spencer Reid knew dating you was playing with fire. You were younger, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Spencer knew if his friends found out about the two of you, he would never hear the end of it. But when he was with you, he didn’t care, all he could think about was you.

He couldn't resist the way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you loved, or how your pupils dilated when you were looking at him, or how you laughed when he told any joke. He was infatuated with you, although he knew he should never have got attached to you.

But despite the risks, Spencer couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you. As he watched you across the table, he couldn't help but smile at the way you crinkled your nose when you were deep in thought. Your passion for life was infectious, and he found himself getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes.

Maybe he loved you, or maybe he loved the idea of you, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed been around someone who saw life as colourful and bright, rather than how he saw it and how the majority of everyone he knew saw it.

But if Spencer was to ever admit what he truly liked about you, he enjoyed the way you kissed him. How every kiss you gave him was memorable. He could tell with every kiss you missed him when he wasn’t around, you cared about him and that he was the last person you thought about as you drifted asleep.

As the night grew late and the restaurant began to empty, Spencer realised he couldn't keep pretending that what they had was just a casual fling. He needed to admit to himself that he was falling for you, hard and fast. The way your hand felt in his, the sound of your laughter filling his ears, it was all too much to ignore.

"I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You make life worth living. Whenever I see your name flash across my screen, or every time I remember your face, I want to kiss you.”

“Spencer Reid as romantic, who could have imagined.” You chuckled, you felt the same way, but you could never put it into such words. “I feel the same way. I want to be yours.”

“You’ll always be mine. You are perfect for me, and I am, well perfect for you.” Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by the fading chatter of the restaurant and the gentle glow of the streetlights outside, Spencer knew that he had found something rare and precious with you. As your fingers intertwined with his, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded expression of happiness spreading across his face.

Spencer flagged down a taxi, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Spencer held the door open for you, a small smile playing on his lips. The city lights glimmered in your eyes as you settled into the backseat, his hand finding yours instinctively. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, the air crackling with unspoken words and promises.

Once the taxi had arrived outside his apartment, he leaped out and open the door for you. “A real gentleman you’ve got there.” The taxi driver smiled, giving you a knowing look as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spencer chuckled softly, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks at the driver's comment. Escorting you up to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.

Once you were in the comfort of his apartment, he grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. He gazed into your eyes, seeing a reflection of his own desires and emotions staring back at him. Without uttering a single word, he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you with a fervour that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Spencer except for the connection he shared with you.

As the kiss deepened, a wave of passion and longing swept over the both of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Spencer's hands moved gently to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly as if to reassure himself that you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.

Maybe it was out of instinct, but Spencer moved his hands down the back of your dress and felt the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. His fingers found the top of the zipper and he slowly started pulling down, while his mouth found its way to your neck.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “You are beyond beautiful.” Spencer gently whispered against your skin; his breath warm against your neck.

Spencer's fingers traced a delicate path along your spine as he slowly lowered the zipper of your dress, his touch felt like feathers dancing along your skin. Every nerve in your body felt alive and electrified under his gentle caress, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with a raw intensity that threatened to consume you both. Lost in the heady rush of desire, you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse your very souls together.

Spencer was never the kind of man to hurry into get you naked, he liked taking it slowly, savouring every moment and committing it to memory. His hands moved with purpose, but also with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. As the dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, Spencer's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.

“I don’t how I ever got so lucky.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and desire. Spencer guided you towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, tonight felt more romantic, more intimate.

Spencer gently laid you on his bed, his gaze never wavering from yours. The room was imbued with a sense of intimacy and affection, as if every object bore witness to the love shared between you and Spencer. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.

Though Spencer was still fully clothed, you didn’t feel vulnerable, you felt loved and adored. You felt as if Spencer was your biggest fan. But Spencer, been the gentleman he is, wasn’t going to allow you to be the only one naked. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the expanse of his chest as he shed the fabric, every movement deliberate and filled with a silent promise.

As his shirt fell to the floor, Spencer lowered himself onto the bed beside you, his body radiating heat and a quiet intensity. His mouth left a trail of kissed down your body, igniting a trail of fire along your skin as he worshipped every inch of you with his lips and tongue. Each touch was a testament to his adoration, a silent vow of devotion that echoed through the room.

His lips started moving down your body, his lips finding your nipples and gently sucking them, his tongue flicking over them. But they weren’t the centre of his focus, because if Spencer was one thing, he was giving. He loved hearing you moan for him, how you complete surrendered yourself to him. He enjoyed knowing he had ruined anyone else for you, because he knew you the best, he knew what made you squirm. He wasn’t usually the type of man who wanted to ‘own’ something, but you were different. He had always wanted you for himself, even if at the start he was nervous.

His hands moved lower, caressing your hips, your thighs, his fingers dipping into you, the warmth of your body accepting him wholeheartedly. He felt you tremble under his touch, your body responding to his every move, and he felt a surge of power and desire within him.

Your breathing quickened, every gasp and moan a testament to the pleasure that was building within you. Spencer's eyes met yours, the fire in your eyes mirrored in his own. He knew then that this was more than just a physical connection, it was a soul-deep bond that took his breath away.

He paused, the tip of his finger hovering over your sensitive spot, teasing you. You knew what you wanted, and you could tell that Spencer knew it too. He smiled, a warm and genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

"Please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please, what princess?” Spencer teasingly asked, stroking your inner thigh with his fingers.

You swallowed hard; your desperation clear in your eyes.

“Use your words.” He insisted, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

His lips were soon on your clit, his tongue plunging inside you, tasting you, exploring you. Your body arched beneath him, a silent plea for him to keep going, to never stop. And he obliged, his tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers working in perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered apart underneath him. You came with a cry, your body convulsing beneath his, and he felt the wave of your release wash over him, taking him to a place of pure ecstasy.

As your body relaxed, he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of pure satisfaction. He moved up beside you, his hands steadily exploring your body, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

But Spencer was far from done. He knew exactly what you needed; he could read your body like an open book.

Spencer slowly slid inside you, feeling the walls of your body cling to him like a force of nature. He moved slowly at first, savouring every moment of the connection that flowed between them. Your body arched towards him, eager to feel him deep inside, seeking the completion of a desire that had been building for so long.

As he thrust deeper, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment making your heart race and your breath quicken. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body craving the warmth and connection.

He picked up the pace, each stroke more fervent than the last, the sounds of your breath and his groans filling the room. The air was thick with desire and the scent of your arousal, heightening the passion between you.

Your hips met his with each thrust, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper into you. Every movement felt more intense, every touch more electric. In that moment, you and Spencer became one, moving as one, feeling as one.

Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer, every sensation heightening, every touch becoming more intense. Spencer's breathing was ragged, mirroring yours. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies moving in a primal dance, lost in each other's eyes.

Your breathing became higher pitched, signalling your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, your head falling back as you screamed his name. Spencer felt the walls of your pussy clenching tighter around him, and he knew that he was going to cum too.

He thrust harder, feeling the heat of your body engulfing him, taking him over the edge. His orgasm was explosive, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He held you close, his lips pressed against your neck, his breath still ragged with desire.

Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still connected. Spencer gently stroked your hair, his expression filled with love and affection. "You are my everything," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t wait to tell the world about you.”

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 2 months

Note

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT-

A oneshot where the rest of the hazbin crew finding out that Alastor already owned Reader's soul?! Fluff btw!

Like like

"Some overlord owns your soul?? Who?!"

Reader: "hahaha.. I wonder who.."

Husk: "you don't wanna know."

Alastor sipping his tea on the other side of the room (obviously listening in)

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

[ SFW ] + [ FLUFF ] [ SLIGHT LANGUAGE WARNING ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

The Hotel was abuzz with life; Charlie rushed around checking in with everyone as they worked on various tasks, and said occupants tried their best to focus amid her constant scurrying.

The Princess of Hell had decided a Grand Opening event would benefit the Hotel.

You didn’t think it was half a bad idea, recently a resident of the newly improved establishment yourself and a sinner with a rare knack for helping others. The promise of redemption did seem silly to you, but the idea was fresh, and you desired to see if it was possible before completely disregarding the Princess’s dream.

You gave a helping hand whenever asked, smiled as kind as ever, and had a genuine nature subtly, inviting the others closer into your friendly aura.

Angel referred to you often as the “sweetest doll in the shop,” poking fun at your generous endeavors, but truly a fan of your presence nonetheless. Vaggie came to you for advice often, needing a calmer voice of reason when Charlie’s overbearing tendencies became too much for her, and you’d give your time graciously. Husk and Niffty, you knew all too well before you arrived at the Hotel, generally comfortable in their company and able to enjoy a drink with them occasionally.

Everyone cherished you in one way or another, which showed significantly in their approach to you.

Angel, as vulgar as he was, tended not to tease you as often as the others. Though there were times he couldn’t resist a good jab at your modesty, amused by how quickly you blushed while attempting to stutter out an equally snarky remark.

The two of you were at it now, taunting one another while giving a once over of the hotel's new advertisement flyers, but your focus was nowhere near the polished posters as you tried to retort Angel's last statement. He’d made another comment about your avoidance of the hotel's resident facilities manager.

Alastor…

The mere sound of his name made you skittish and visibly flustered, and Angel took notice of said reactions very quickly. “You sleepin’ around with him, aren’t ya toots?…” He snickered as you froze up, ears fluttering down as your eyes widened in his direction, “N-no!? Angel…you shouldn’t say things like that!” You puffed your cheeks out, the tip of your ears turning bright red as the spider demon cackled across from you, “Hah! You aren’t denying it either, doll face, so now I know it’s true!..”

“No, it’s not Angel!…” you grumbled childishly, glancing around the room apprehensively as if the overload would emerge from the shadows at any moment, and he very well could…

However, Alastor remained hidden, shadow lingering on an armchair in the dimmest corner of the room, and his attention fully fixed on your exchange with the raunchy spider as it progressed.

The deer demon was intrigued by the interaction, mildly curious about how you’d handle Angels prying, and quietly prideful of his effect on you.

“You can’t fool me toots. I see how you look at ‘em’ when he’s in a room. He breathes, and you’re a mess! It’s actually kinda cute how much you like him!” You glared at Angel, ears standing straight as you seethed at him, “I. Don’t. Like. Him…”

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward with a coy smirk, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence you get all nervous around him but do everything he says without question?… “ Angel was unfazed by the quiet growl you responded with, “That doesn’t mean I fancy him-“

“Okay, so how else would you explain it then?” Angel sat back, arms folding over his chest and torso as he peered at you expectantly.

By this point, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk were listening to the rift between you two. Although, Husk lost notable interest when he realized the subject of discussion while the others subconsciously chimed in without warning.

“He’s right, though..” Vaggie stared at you intensely, trying to piece together clues you swore weren’t there, to begin with, and Charlie soon joined her in the friendly interrogation. “Did you know Alastor before you came here or something? You do act a little off when he’s around…”

For the love of Satan!

Why couldn’t they just let it go?!?

You huffed and hung your head, agitated with so much attention being thrown onto you and becoming uncomfortable under pressure.

The matter of your soul belonging to Alastor was a subject you weren’t fond of breaching for several reasons.

1. Everyone would want to know why and how the arrangement occurred.

2. You were afraid they’d look at you differently, as less than worthy of being treated as a friend or reduced to being Alastor’s property and nothing else…

In reality, you meant much more to the overload than that, but no sinner needed to know such a thing, and to an extent, you weren't aware of his affection either.

Alastor preferred it that way.

It gave the overlord a vague thrill to leave you clueless about his infatuation while enjoying the way you couldn’t hide your adoration for him…

He chuckled to himself watching you squirm under the group's collective curiosity, admiring the deep rose color that set into your cheeks as you pouted.

Precious little thing…

The stag’s grin grew as the thought settled in his mind, eyes hooding over as a hum filled his chest, and though the sound was quiet, you still heard it.

He was there.

In the same room.

Waiting and watching…

Fantastic…

A small groan fell from your lips as you lifted your head, gaze shifting around the room to pinpoint where Alastor was, but there was no trace of him…

Or so you thought…

“My, my, you all are a nosy bunch! Leave the poor dear alone …” Alastor appeared behind you, mic in one hand while the other came to rest on your head.

He petted your hair softly, silently comforting your frazzled state, and you welcomed the gesture with a soft sigh.

Angel raised a brow at the sight, gaze shifting from your content expression to Alastor’s satisfied one as he caressed your ears. “See, this is what I was talking about. You act as if he owns you or something-“

Alastor whipped his head in Angel's direction, startling him and the others a bit as he interjected the observation. “That’s because I do own her, my good man. Mind. Body. & Soul…” The air grew thick with static, an uneasy wave of tension drowning the hotel lobby as Alastor glared daggers at everyone.

However, you still sat obediently under his touch without anxiety clouding your demeanor.

Charlie laughed nervously while Vaggie’s eyes widened as the revelation dawned on them both. Angel's mouth fell open, and Husk grumbled before rolling his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious…” the winged feline mumbled to no one in particular, refocusing on organizing the bar's alcohol arrangement as the conversation carried on.

“A-Alastor owns your soul?” Charlie asked, clearly shocked but actively masking it with a light-hearted tone. You nod slowly, choosing not to speak as his claws scratch behind your ears tenderly.

Vaggie shrugged, “Now, it makes sense…”

Angel finally clasped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh as he leaned further back into the parlor's sofa. “So I was right!” He shouted triumphantly, which earned a side glare from you. “Oh, shut up! Just because he owns my soul doesn’t mean I like him…”

Alastor gave you a quizzical look, humming thoughtfully as he processed your words, “Is that so, my dear?… You feel nothing for me at all?…”

Oh….maybe I shouldn’t have said that-!

Your mind raced to find a suitable reply, but all you could manage was a shaky laugh. “W-well, I wouldn’t say…’n-nothing’…”

His smile grew, “Would you like to elaborate on your true feelings for me in private, then?…”

“Sounds kinky…” Angels mumbled cheekily while flashing a closed-eye smirk, but neither Alastor nor you offered the remark a response.

“Wait, where’d they go?!..” The spider demon sat up pin straight as he realized you two were no longer in the room. The only sign left of your disappearance was the lingering tufts of black shadows swirling the spot he’d seen you and Alastor occupying a moment ago.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to return to the task she’d left undone moments ago, “Not my business…” she sighed.

Charlie followed after her, stuck between confusion and giddiness over the newfound information, “I would’ve never thought Y/n belonged to Alastor. Wait, do you think she can still be redeemed, or are there strings attached…?”

Her rambling continued on as everyone found themselves busy again.

Everyone except you and Alastor…

You found yourself all alone with the owner of your soul, hidden in his infamous Radio Tower with the beginnings of a confession poised to slip from your tongue as he sat you in his lap.

“Now, I believe you were going to tell me exactly how you feel, darling….” Alastor lowered his head, hands resting on your waist to keep you flush against his chest, and your heart nearly flew from your chest as he did.

“You have my full attention, sweetheart.”

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I rewrote this five times….all because of writer's block :( ❤️ someone please send help -I'm hanging on by a thread rn…

[ NO BONUS CONTENT - ]

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tender-rosiey · 2 months

Note

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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innocent - coriolanus snow

you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with a peacekeeper in your bed…

cw: 18+//loss of virginity//piv sex//handjobs//fingering

an: this gif is him above me 🤭🤭

perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear such a short skirt to the hob that evening. you’d caught the eye of many men as you swayed to the tunes of the covey; cheap moonshine in hand. you noticed one in particular—the one with those piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde buzzcut—was watching you intently.

you couldn’t help but blush, cheeks dancing with the warmth of being seen, chest filling with that sticky feeling. you’d felt it before, but the smiles of those other men had never amounted to anything more than a lingering kiss or two. your heart stirred when he came up to you, and you realised he was a peacekeeper. you knew better than to get entangled with one, or so you thought.

it was hard to resist one so charming and attractive.

'i saw you looking at me,' he remarked, drawing his arms around your waist.

you could barely meet his gaze, embarrassed by the way his cool touch sent a shiver down your spine and made your thighs tingle with want.

'shy are we, bunny?' he asked, removing one hand to cup your chin, drawing it up to meet his icy blue eyes.

you shook your head, but your eyes told the truth; fluttering about the room, trying to look anywhere but him. you wondered if anybody could see you—it would've been shameful to be caught so close with a peacekeeper. but nobody seemed to be paying you any heed, and so your pounding heart ceased its nervous palpitations.

‘how about a dance?’ he laced his fingers in your hand, moving it up so it rested against his shoulder.

you were acutely aware of the other hand which rested at your waist, and you couldn’t exactly say no when he had already moulded you into the perfect stance. the band began to play a slow song, and the blush stained your cheeks once again. he laughed, an almost mirthful laugh—although, coriolanus snow was never somebody to really, truly laugh—not that you knew that.

‘are you going to tell me your name, officer?’ you drawled, deciding that there was no harm in flirting. he was so handsome after all; and it would be rude not to talk to him.

‘it’s private, actually,’ he admitted bashfully, as if he was ashamed of his inferiority. but next to you, he felt powerful. you were just a district girl, and much smaller than his six foot frame. he could do anything he wanted to you.

‘well private, you ought to have a name,’ you began. ‘and it’s awful rude to not introduce yourself to a lady.’

you were teasing him; he wondered how many men you’d used that line on, but when he looked at the way you were bright red, and how your knees buckled a little, even as you attempted to maintain your composure, he reckoned it couldn’t have been many.

‘it’s private snow,’ he told you curtly.

you smiled; a pretty name. much different to the names here in 12, though you reckoned a peacekeeper was probably from one of the other, wealthier districts. not that you knew much about those.

‘well, private snow,’ your voice had a sweet twang to it, and he found himself thinking of another girl he knew, once, with that same appalachian drawl. he had come here to find her, and yet had no luck.

but you weren’t so bad—no, you were even prettier, and probably didn’t have a man like billy taupe clinging onto your skirts. he wondered if you had ever even kissed a man before. you had the sweetest looking lips, so plump, and a little wet with the moonshine you’d been sipping.

‘how are you liking district 12?’ you continued, brows quirking up with interest.

‘it’s alright. commander hoff works us to the bone but i suppose that’s the price you pay for 20 years,’ he huffed. his eyes looked a little distance—sad, perhaps. you wondered if he’d had much choice in the matter. still, even if he hadn’t, you did have to admit he would probably look good in his peacekeeper uniform.

‘20 years?’ your mouth stretched into a circle of surprise. ‘my, that’s terribly brave.’

his own cheeks reddened a little, though he quickly swallowed that feeling. he couldn’t blush, that was pathetic. that was something his fellow peacekeeper sejanus plinth did. no, a woman like you wasn’t to be caught by a blushing man. he needed to show you what it meant to be had by a peacekeeper—not the ambitious schoolboy in academy rouge that he’d left as soon as he’d set foot in 12.

‘i suppose so…’ his voice trailed off.

‘how do you keep yourself entertained, private snow?’ you asked as you swayed a little to one of the songs the covey was playing.

his mind flickered to what he’d been planning on doing to you—he’d not touched a woman in weeks, and at night he often found his body receptive to any and all thoughts. tonight, he had the chance to actually satisfy that ache that had been bottled up for weeks. he wondered if you’d feel better than that girl he did in the alley—at least his mind was clear tonight.

‘oh, dancing with pretty girls like you is one way of staving off boredom, bunny,’ he pressed a kiss to your hand, watching as your lips puckered into a bashful smile.

how innocent. he’d love to ruin you. he wondered what noises you’d make with his cock buried deep inside of you. you were probably tight as anything, just begging to be filled up with his cock.

‘well, if you think i’m pretty then i suppose i’ll have to thank you,’ you gazed up through your thick lashes, fluttering them ever-so-slightly.

his cock stirred in his pants—you were so fucking tempting. the way you were just begging to be fucked. he cocked a brow, curious as to what your intentions were.

‘what kind of thanks, bunny?’ he asked, breath fanning your ear.

‘well…’ feeling daring, you stroked at his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his shirt. you noticed the dog tag dangling, and a smirk played at his lips.

‘how about a kiss?’ you offered. oh, you were so innocent.

he nodded, and you felt your heart flutter. you worried he’d think you were being too forward, what, with you offering so quickly. but he was just so handsome. you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.

perhaps you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out…

you dragged him to a more secluded place, feeling a little too embarrassed about kissing him in the throng of people. he wondered, as you led him down the corridor of the hob, just how much you’d be thanking him. maybe you’d let him touch you a little, hands straying to cup your breasts, and then perhaps caress your hips. one thing would lead to another… and sweet virgins like you were easily persuaded.

coriolanus was swift with his kiss, leaning into you as you were pressed against the wall. you kissed back, soft at first, but when you felt his tongue pressing against your lips, you opened your mouth and surrendered.

he wrapped his hands around your waist, palming at the skin beneath your shirt. a heat crept upon your cheeks as his lips kissed yours with a hunger. pressed up against you, his cock twitched a little in his pants. he had to have you, you were practically begging for it in a skirt that short.

‘you taste so sweet, bunny,’ he mused as you pulled away from him. he wondered what you’d taste like in other places, whether your cunt had the same sweetness of your mouth.

you wanted more—your cunt ached, an unfamiliar feeling, but nontheless you knew you needed to be satisfied.

coriolanus could see this, the way you clenched your thighs together, and how your heart thumped inside your chest. he’d felt it when he’d been flush against you.

‘you wanna thank me some more?’ he inquired, blonde brow cocked.

you bit your lip, but you knew you couldn’t deny the rush inside your body, the way you were growing increasingly wet between your thighs. the ache that nagged at you, yearning to be satisfied.

‘mhm,’ you nodded dumbly, feeling his hands grab at your thighs.

‘you live alone?’ he asked, desire glinting in his eyes.

you shook your head, and a frown scampered upon his lips.

‘well, my pa’s not home til late, if you wanna come over…’ you drew a heavy breath, nerves making your knees buckle.

his frown turned to a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. how endearing, the way you called your father pa. you were so beneath him, and he was determined to teach you that you belonged to him, the poor little district girl who’d been snapped up in the peacekeeper’s trap.

—

your house wasn’t far from the hob. coriolanus was glad of this, his cock was straining so hard in his trousers—he worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and finishing without even having touched you. well, that would just be a waste; embarrassing even.

you fumbled with the keys, and he felt a smile scamper upon his lips as he watched you, so afraid, his poor little bunny, struggling to open the door. when you finally slotted the key in the lock, coriolanus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lightly across your skin.

‘you know bunny, you really should be careful around strange men,’ he murmured against your ear. you were acutely aware of what was pressing against your bottom.

‘but you’re not strange… you’re a peacekeeper,’ you hummed, moving your legs over the threshold. he still clung to you, breath heavy, hands roaming.

you had to get inside before anyone saw, and god forbid, alerted your pa. there was something deliciously thrilling about having a man inside of your home—you wondered if it made you a whore, inviting him inside and only having known him an hour. but you knew many girls who did that, and at least you weren’t taking money for it.

‘mhm, but men like me… well, they just can’t resist taking what’s theirs,’ he pinched you, watching you gasp at the stinging feeling of your delicate skin between his fingers. you looked so sweet when you squirmed.

‘well maybe i want you to take what’s yours,’ you looked up at him with wide eyes, fingers lacing against each other as you swung about.

you looked like a little lamb, so sweet and innocent. he wanted to take you between his jaw and make you bleed.

‘is that so, bunny?’ he asked, and you nodded dumbly.

you trailed along to your room, not desperate enough to let him have you against a wall, glancing back at him every so often and watching as his eyes followed you. you shoved the door open, and switched on the little lamp by your bedside table.

your room was bare, for the most part, but coriolanus felt it suited you, the cream bedsheets and the old floral wallpaper. it was so innocent. he wondered if you’d stain those sheets tonight as he stretched you out. he’d want to keep them, as a reminder of what he’d taken from you.

you sat down on the bed, and he followed suit, still reminded of his achingly hard cock. you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his trousers; it was of a considerable size, and made you gnaw at your lip in anticipation.

‘i want to help you,’ you said, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

‘help me, bunny?’ he inquired. your words were a little cryptic, but he could tell that your eyes were clearly focused on his achingly hard cock.

‘mhm, you’re so hard,’ you murmured. although you were innocent, you’d read enough romance novels to figure out what he needed.

‘you can certainly help me,’ he grabbed your hand and guided it to his clothed hard-on.

you palmed it lightly, gasping as you felt it. he watched as your mouth spread into an exclamation of delight, lips flickering a little. you were so innocent, the way you were gentle in your touches, how you sighed with amazement.

he groaned at the touch, but moved your hand away to free his cock from the restraints of his pants and boxers. your mouth hung agape as he pulled them down to his knees and you were presented with his hard cock. he was big, not that you’d really seen a cock before, but it had to be at least eight inches, and it was throbbing desperately against his stomach.

coriolanus guided your hand back, and wrapped it around the base. you could feel the blood coursing through it, and saw a little bit of precum dribbling from the tip.

‘just move your hand up and down, princess,’ he cooed, and you stroked him, sweaty palms not causing as much friction as he expected.

you moved your hand to the tip, and he urged you to give it a squeeze, groaning as you did so. you felt so good, the way you were thumbing his dripping head, stroking so diligently. but he wanted more, he needed to feel you.

your thighs burned as you continued to stroke him, and you watched as he bucked his hips a little at your touch. you fastened the pace, not too quick, but just enough that his breaths grew haggard. it didn’t seem so intimidating now that you were doing it, and his moans suggested you were doing a good job.

but still, your own body was aching with need, and you found yourself grinding into the bed. coriolanus saw this, the way you were practically squirming, and moved one of his own hands to grip at your thigh.

‘does bunny want me to touch her too?’ he said between breaths.

you nodded lazily, hand still pumping his cock. he was close already, the feeling of your hand too much, and the anticipation of finally burying himself deep inside of you was sending him over the edge.

coriolanus’ fingers traced lightly up your thigh, and when he reached your skirt, he pushed past the hem and slipped between the apex of your thighs. you spread them, and gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the wet patch of your panties.

‘oh bunny, you’re so wet,’ he sighed, his cock throbbing. he was so close…

you mewled as he removed your panties, fingers gently prying them off of you and leaving them to hang at your ankles. you kicked them off, but were left sighing as he ceased his touch for a moment.

his cock twitched in your grip, and he let out a loud, rough groan, spurts of cum coming from the tip of his cock. you blushed, watching as he came onto your hand, and his stomach. he’d have to wash his uniform tonight, because it was stained with the pearly ropes.

sweat beaded at his forehead, but he didn’t let the waves of his own pleasure distract from what he wanted most, which was to feel you. you spread your legs, and he sighed at the sight of your glistening cunt.

he ran one finger over your folds, and you clutched at the bedsheets, attempting to ignore how sensitive you already were. his thumb pressed against your clit, and you couldn’t stifle your moan this time, a feeling of warmth shooting across your body. you wanted more, and ground into the feeling of his thumb running circles against the sensitive spot.

‘so wet for me, aren’t you?’ he muttered, his long fingers edging further down your folds.

‘feels so… good,’ you huffed, eyes fluttering shut with bliss. of course you were already lingering on the edge of your own pleasure—he doubted you’d ever even touched yourself before.

he eased a finger into your hole; feeling your slick walls take it in, but only barely. you were so fucking tight, and he watched as you winced a little at the feeling. it only hurt for a second, but you were so wet that you were longing for more.

‘oh please,’ you gasped, feeling him arch his finger while his thumb began to vary its ministrations against your clit.

‘gonna cum for me, bunny?’ he cooed, moving his thumb up and down, watching as your thighs began to tremble.

the heat was unbearable now, and when he added another finger, stretching you out, you felt your whole body begin to tingle with the beginning of your release.

‘mhm!’ you cried out, exasperated from his touch.

you gushed around his fingers, though he continued to rub his thumb against your clit, and arch his fingers inside of you, mesmerised by the wetness coating them. your breath hitched, and you came completely undone, burning and trembling as he made you cum.

he felt his cock harden again at the sight of you coming around his fingers, and as he removed them from your hole, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

coriolanus pushed you back into the bed, cock pressing against your thighs. your head swam with the excess of your desire, but you surrendered yourself to him, longing to feel him buried deep inside of you.

he guided just the tip towards your hole, and ran it teasingly through the soaking folds of your cunt. you mewled, and clutched at his back in an attempt to get him to push into you. deciding he was greedy, he pressed the tip into you, and you let out a shocked groan.

it hurt—he was big, but you hadn’t expected it to make you tingle so much. you bit back a few tears, and let him put the rest of the tip in. you were so tight, he couldn’t believe it. if you’d felt tight around his fingers, this was a whole new sensation. you were clenching around his cock, and he had barely so much as the head of it inside you.

‘too big,’ you gasped, feeling him ease his cock further in. it stung a little, the stretch slightly unpleasant. but you wanted him so bad. ‘it hurts!’

‘poor bunny,’ he mused, stroking your cheek. ‘you gotta learn to take it, like a good girl. i know you want it, bunny.’

you did, you wanted it so bad. even though it hurt, you felt your stomach knot tightly as it did when he’d rubbed your clit. he began to buck his hips, grunting at the tightness of your cunt. your walls stretched around his big cock, taking him in as best they could, slick with want and need.

‘fuck, you’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned as thrust inside of you.

more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. he watched as you tried to fight off the feelings of pain, surrendering yourself to the pleasant feeling of fullness and his throbbing cock inside of you. he wanted nothing more than to pound into you, make you scream his name as he filled you up, but you were too delicate. he’d have to wait until you were ready, and you were special, anyways. a pretty doll just for him.

‘oh,’ you gasped as he fucked himself deeper, reaching a new angle inside of you.

the sound of your slick mingling with the slapping of his balls echoed against the walls of your room, and you clutched at his back. your desire began to brim again, edging its way up your thighs and deep into the pit of your stomach. coriolanus could hardly contain himself, you fit around him so perfectly, slick walls coating his cock as he thrust in and out.

‘fuck bunny, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ he admitted haggardly. he attempted to control his urges, but you were just so tight. what was stopping him from coming in you right then and there?

‘need you,’ you mumbled as he rutted against your hips, thrusts growing more desperate.

he moved one hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit, fingers deftly helping to unfurl the ache inside of you. you sputtered at the sensation, head spinning as he fucked you into the mattress.

he was so close, the clenching of your walls sending the blood straight to his head. he let out a final grunt, and slowed his thrusts, and felt himself come undone. he ground his cock into you, letting the thick spurts of his cum coat your walls. he came a lot, more than he’d ever done before, balls draining with what felt like every last drop.

he still continued to fuck up into you, wanting you to finish around him before he pulled out. your legs began to tremble, the feeling of his cum too much to handle, and you let out a sweet cry.

‘so good,’ you pressed your lips together, coming undone around his dock.

coriolanus pulled out, cock coated in a milky ring of your spend, his tip still red and angry from use. your body tingled, and you felt his cum trickling down between your legs. he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked, all fucked out for him, drunk on his cock.

he’d turned such a pretty innocent thing into a stupid whore, who could barely form a sentence without sighing from the excess of her pleasure.

he wondered how long he’d have to wait to go another round, and whether or not you’d let him. but you’d been so good to him that night, doing exactly what he told you and coming for him not once, but twice.

‘such a good girl for me, bunny,’ he mused, stroking your thigh. ‘and so innocent.’

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ayyy-pee · 3 months

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Summary: After waiting all this time to have you, Suguru finally gets to taste you in a whole new way.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

** A sorta Part 2 of Do Not Answer **

Story Warning: Post Partum Sex, LACTATION KINK!!!, Smut, Milk Drinking (Suguru), Mutual Masturbation, Female and Male Masturbation, Profanity because I can only be me, Sprung Suguru, Primal Play/Marking, Creampie, A Sprinkle of Breeding Kink, Fingering, Fingersucking, Sensitive and caring Sugu, Needy Reader and Needy Suguru, Missionary, Cowgirl, Dripping Titties, Got Milk??, Threats of violence sorta, Domestic Suguru

WC: 5.6k

Divider Cred: @hitobaby

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Baby…”

“Suguru, I promise. I’m sure. I’m ready. Besides, the doctor said we could…” You loop your arms around his neck, watching worry etched across his face slowly begin to fade. “I’ll let you know if I need to stop.”

The deep frown lines between his brows disappear, expression softening as he peers down at you. Since you’d returned from your most recent appointment, Suguru had been on edge, tenser than ever. But that’s been his baseline mood for the last nine months anyway. Though, today was worse than others.

Suguru knew this moment was coming and on a normal day, he’d be looking forward to it. He’d be jumping for joy at the prospect of having you. However, all he can think about is how terrible he’ll feel if he ends up hurting you. He runs one hand gently along your thigh in soothing motions, and he’s not really sure if the act is to ease your mind or his.

You’ve been beaming, going on about doing this from the moment you’d left the doctor’s office, all smiles and eager eyes. Suguru told himself he’d resist, give you more time even as you chirped an excited “I can’t fucking wait!” in the car.

But as Suguru stares down at you, all soft and beautiful lying in bed in your cute little silk nightdress, he knows he’ll give in to you no matter what. He’s weak for you. Always has been. It’s why he couldn’t let you go when he’d left jujutsu society. It’s why he took the risk of trying to win you back.

And it’s easy to give you everything you want and more when you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. He really should have known from the moment he settled his hips between your legs that all you had to do was ask and he would be yours. It’s always been that way when it comes to you.

Suguru brings his face down to yours, runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours and like a reflex, you tilt your chin up to meet him. He watches your eyes flutter closed, lips pursed with anticipation. And just before your mouths collide, he stops.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks again, slight panic in his voice.

He’s certain he doesn’t sound like himself. He’s full of nerves, voice trembling the closer you get. But you roll your eyes playfully with a giggle and it calms him just a bit. “Suguru, just kiss me,” you whisper against his mouth.

His lips meet yours hesitantly. His kisses are careful. Tender, like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he devours your lips the way he truly desires.

His hand squeezes your plush thigh and a soft whimper falls from his mouth and into yours. When you moan back into him, the sound sends tingles up his spine, making his legs shake ever so slightly. It’s been some time since you’ve made noises like that, and it does something to him. That, and the combination of your little makeout session currently happening. Suguru is struggling to keep it together. You’ve barely been kissing and he’s trying to resist pressing his hips roughly into yours. He so desperately wants you.

See– Suguru has been waiting months to be able to touch you like this again. To have you like this again. Nine long months actually.

Six weeks ago, you’d given birth to your son, the perfect blend of you and him.

Your pregnancy had been unexpected and if Suguru’s math was right, he’s pretty sure it happened the night he’d crawled through your dorm window at the school and begged you to leave with him. It’s been almost a year since you’d abandoned all of your beliefs and hopes to fully stand alongside him as a curse user.

After not being able to touch you for so long, just when he’d finally gotten you back, he found himself right back at square one.

But, the payoff was worth the wait.

Not long after your defection, you’d come to Suguru in the early hours before he was to meet with the monkeys lined up outside the monastery. Your eyes were rimmed red, evidence of your tears as you stood before him. You looked ill, and you had been for some days. This had Suguru worrying. You’d been having such a hard time coping with the choice you’d made already.

And it likely didn’t help that Yaga ripped you a new one days after your defection had become clear. Satoru had given you hell via text, promising to end you both if he saw either of you again.

But Suguru could not have gave less of a fuck about his ex friend’s empty threats. He did, however, care about how much it affected you. It only took a few weeks for your health to decline, for you to be sick and in bed most of the day. Suguru truly believed this to be depression settling in for you. The same had happened for him. He couldn’t help but be concerned.

On the days you felt well enough to be out, you opted to be without him. And because old habits die hard, Suguru had of course had curses following you in the shadows. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. Which was even more worrisome to him.

Where was the fiery attitude he so loved about you? Where was the woman who gave him absolute hell if he overstepped?You were nowhere to be found.

His mind began eating away at him as he tried to find reasons for your sudden change. Perhaps you had decided to return to the school and leave him behind again? Maybe you were beginning to regret your choice… Regret him?

Well, that would just be unacceptable. Suguru could not imagine what he would do if this were the case. He’d already risked everything to have you again. To beg you to leave with him and give up all you’d known to join him in his fight. It still took convincing even after you’d joined his cause. Now you may be entertaining the idea of leaving again?

Suguru lost his mind the first time he thought he lost you.

This time, he thinks he would destroy everything and everyone in his path if he lost you again.

Luckily for him, and everyone else, all of his worries melted away when you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently and told him the news. “I know this wasn’t the plan, Suguru. I know we were going to move forward with…” you paused, choosing your words carefully, because you never knew who could be listening. “Celebrating Christmas Eve.”

He knew what you were referring to, of course.

“I don’t care about any of that.” Because he didn’t. Even as his heart roared in his ears, all he could think about was the gift you were giving him; the blessing that was now going to be coming.

A child – His child. With you. The perfect heir to his legacy.

But pregnancy had not been good to you and you spent a good majority of it uncomfortable and sick. And so, Suguru had been reluctant to initiate intimacy with you. Not because he didn’t find you attractive anymore. It was truly the opposite. In fact, Suguru found you so incredibly enticing during your pregnancy that he was afraid he’d hurt you if you became intimate. He feared he would not be able to fight his urges to fuck you through the bed if he had you.

Seeing you all round and soft? It had his dick aching. He found himself showering three, sometimes four times a day, fisting his cock as he imagined all the ways he wanted to have you. It was embarrassing, the way his body reacted to the simple sight of you. So, he had to find some sort of outlet. You were already struggling so much with your pregnancy. He couldn’t add onto that, be the reason you had more discomfort than you were already dealing with.

Now, you’re six months postpartum and you’ve been an absolute angel. You’re glowing, the epitome of beauty, ethereal almost. Motherhood has only made Suguru fall even more in love with you.

The doctor has finally given you the green light to be intimate again. Though, with a warning to be careful as the risk of becoming pregnant again is incredibly high right now. Somehow, the thought makes Suguru even harder if possible. Some sick part of him wants to bury himself as deep as possible. Breed you again and again. Pump you full of his seed and have you round with him as many times as he can.

A tiny groan escapes Suguru as he deepens the kiss, lips slotting sloppily against yours. Every moan he pulls from you is making it more and more difficult for him to resist pressing his hips against yours, strip you of this flimsy little fabric and make love to you until you can only think of him. The same way he only thinks of you. His hand glides up your smooth thigh, slipping beneath your gown and up to your waist.

He finally breaks the kiss, and the gentleness does not make a bit of difference because you’re both left gasping for air between each other. Suguru’s eyes roam down your body ravenously, every new dip and curve gifted to you by your newfound motherhood so goddamn enticing. Even moreso, when he feels it…or doesn’t feel it, rather.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he mumbles, more as an observation than a question. He pulls his hand from beneath your dress to glide over the smooth material of your silky gown along your stomach, up to the valley of your breasts.

You shake your head, a cheeky grin spreading along your face. “Didn’t think I’d need them.”

Suguru hums, hooking a finger into the cup of your gown and tugging down. He watches with heated desire as your supple breast falls free from its confines. So round and full. He can’t help but run his tongue along his lips.

“Did you pump before bed?” He asks. He cups your breast gently in his palm, biting down on his bottom lip when you sigh a soft no, followed by a quiet gasp. Suguru clicks his tongue, delicately squeezing the tender flesh and honing in on the small pearlescent bead of liquid that forms at the tip of your pert nipple. His heated gaze watches as your eyes fall shut, back arching as you press your breast further into his touch.

Suguru has watched you pump many times. Watched you breastfeed and has always wondered about this–what it tastes like. It’s not as though he’s picky when it comes to ingesting things. He’s a curse eater, after all. He’s sure your breast milk tastes heavenly. Everything he’s tasted from you has never been anything but delectable. But this…this is new. This is something he’s never had from you. But he will soon.

He must have every part of you.

“You okay?” Suguru asks, gaze locked on the warm liquid cascading down your breast. He meets your gaze and because you know him so well, you nod almost immediately. He dips down to wrap his lips around your hardened bud, pulling another sigh from you, a little louder this time.

The rush of liquid filling his mouth surprises him at first, only for a second. Then he takes his time to taste you. Your milk is rich. Sweet. Buttery. But there’s an aftertaste there that’s so incredibly intoxicating, it has Suguru’s eyes rolling straight to the back of his head. It shocks him, the way this taste travels straight to his cock, and has him painfully erect to the point that he lets out a garbled moan against your breast.

It only takes him a few seconds, after more than a decade of knowing you, training with you, fighting beside you that he realizes this taste is your cursed energy. And it has his dick is pulsing between his legs.

‘How delightful’, he thinks. To fully have you like this. To be able to literally taste the essence of your being. To consume what makes you superior to all others in this world.

What makes you powerful.

What makes you a sorcerer.

The thought alone makes him want to fucking cum in his pants right this second.

But he can’t. He needs to reel it in. At least, long enough to please you. He takes a deep breath, swallows what’s in his mouth. And just in time, because you roll your hips up into his and he has to pull back with a quiet hiss. The heat of your core meeting his clothed erection has his legs quivering already. It’s pathetic.

He peers down at you, strands of hair stuck messily to his wet cheeks. Under the soft moonlight peeking in through your bedroom windows, he can just make out the way your chest heaves with shaky breaths, the slight parting of your lips as you stare lustfully up at him. His gaze trails down to your other breast, now soaking through your gown, your milk having leaked while he was giving all his attention to your other breast.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Suguru whispers sweetly, hooking his finger into the other cup and pulling it down. “I spent so much time on one, I forgot the other.”

His hand cups your soaked breast, a thumb brushing gently over your erect nipple and you gasp again.

“Sugu…” you whine, hands coming up to grab hold of his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage, eyes fluttering closed as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Sensitive.”

Suguru hums, slowly brushing his thumb over your nipple again, groaning when he elicits the same reaction from you.

‘So responsive’, he thinks. You’ve always been, but it seems you’re increasingly so today.

When Suguru slides his wet tongue over your nipple just before taking the peak into his mouth, you squeeze down on his shoulders, a choked sob falling from your lips.

“Oh, I love that sound you make,” Suguru breathes against your breast. He drinks greedily from you, savoring every little tingle the taste of your cursed energy sends up his spine, every little mewl you let out. He’s sure his skin is covered with goosebumps.

This must feel like sweet relief for you. Your body melts into his as he mouths at you, slurps you up, devours you and all you have to offer.

You’re delicious.

And Suguru means that literally.

When your hands tangle in his hair and pull him up from your nipple with a loud pop, it’s only then that he realizes he’s been so focused on your breasts that he damn near forgot about you.

Panting, he stares down at you. He’s certain he looks all kinds of disheveled – lips swollen and glistening, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.

And you, you only stare back at him lovingly – eyes full of arousal, hungry and wanting, lip swollen from biting down on it in attempts to stifle your moans. You bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently. You swipe your thumb along his chin, collecting whatever liquid resides there. It’s sweet, cute that you’re wanting to clean him up. But then you press your thumb to his lips, your mouth falling open as you slide the digit past the threshold until you reach his tongue. You peer up at him expectantly. So Suguru wraps his lips around your thumb and greedily sucks the remaining drops of your milk from your thumb.

Your other hand wraps around him, fingers delicately tracing a line up and down his back and Suguru releases a muffled groan.

“I want you,” you whisper and you grind your hips into his again. He can feel your arousal through the fabric of his boxers. He can’t even stop his own hips from rutting desperately into yours and you whine softly, “Please.”

He can hear the desire in your voice. It shoots straight to his dick and the throb that follows has Suguru wincing.

There you are. There’s his girl. So fucking needy for him like you’ve always been. He loves it when you get like this. And it’s been so long since you’ve begged for him that he has to resist yanking his pants down and sliding right into your dripping cunt.

He’s so hard for you, wants to fuck you until you can’t stand. But he has to remember, you may not be ready for that. He needs to be careful with you, take his time so as to not hurt you.

“You sure?” He asks, just one more time. For his own peace of mind.

You fix him with a deadpan look, much like the one you gave him the night he’d climbed through your window and threatened to splatter your little boyfriend’s insides along the streets of Tokyo.

“Okay,” he acquiesces, a small smirk playing on his lips. He loves your little attitude.

He’ll take his time with you, let you get used to this again because god knows he’s gonna need a second or else he’ll be losing himself to you in no time. He dips his head down, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses before he lightly sucks at your skin, making quick work of leaving a mark.

In the morning, when you’re getting ready for the day, he knows he’ll receive your wrath and it will have been worth it. Suguru loves to mark you up, though it pisses you off. He only cares that it signifies to everyone that lays eyes on you that you belong to him and him alone.

His possessiveness takes over, makes him bite down on the already tender spot on your neck and you cry out, which only makes Suguru moan against you.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he nuzzles against your throat, nipping and sucking lightly as he goes.

“More,” you whimper, and your fingers trace down his bare chest, along his abdomen until they reach the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand inside, finding his cock with ease and wrapping your hand around him.

The sensation makes Suguru buck into your fist, a weak cry falling from his lips as he thrusts himself into your hand.

“Baby…” he whines into your neck. “Fuck, wait–”

But you don’t listen. You pump his cock, matching his rhythm as you throw your head back with a soft moan.

Suguru slips a hand between the two of you, cupping your pussy and groaning when he feels how soaked you are. It’s probably for the best that you ditched your panties tonight. He runs a finger through your folds, finding your clit and massaging circles around the sensitive nub teasingly.

You’re writhing beneath him, keening quietly into the air as you stroke his cock and let Suguru mark your skin as he pleases. He’s moved onto your chest now, lips back on your nipples and he suckles any drop of milk he can get from you.

The sounds coming from you are driving him insane. The sounds coming from him are almost foreign. He’s never heard himself sound like this before, so desperate, so needing, so fucking in love with you. He wants more, wants to hear more, wants to feel more.

He breaks free of your breasts and crushes his lips against yours. When you gasp in surprise, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth while simultaneously slipping a finger easily inside of you. Your movements pause, a sharp intake of breath making Suguru pull back.

“You okay?” He asks, panic clear in his voice. “We can stop.”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You begin pumping him again, smirking when you see the way Suguru’s jaw clenches, how his hips stutter slightly. “It’s been awhile. Keep going.”

Suguru is a little hesitant. This is exactly what he was worried about. He knew you weren’t ready. He should stop –

His thoughts are interrupted when you squeeze the head of his cock, his precum adding enough lubrication to make the sensation dizzying for him. He has to catch himself on his free arm.

“Goddamn,” he grits, pulling his finger back just slightly before burying it knuckle deep inside you again. “Fuuuucking stroke my cock.”

You have your fist tightly wrapped around his length, twisting and pumping him just the way he likes. Like you haven’t missed a beat. You gaze up at him, all flushed cheeks and eyes glazed over in bliss as Suguru slips one more finger into you.

“Like this?” You ask innocently and Suguru leans down to press a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips.

“Just like that,” he pants against your lips. “You’re s– ah – so good at that. Good fucking girl, ” he praises.

It goes on like this for some time, you and Suguru getting each other off. He feels as though his nerves are on fire, skin prickling as the pleasure begins to take over. He wants to cum so fucking bad. Wants to coat your little hand in his load and have you use it to keep jacking him off. But nothing is getting him off more than the idea of being inside of you right now. Though, he knows he’ll have to take it slow.

“I need to fuck you now,” he grunts roughly. “Need you so bad.”

He pulls his fingers from your core, chucking low when you whine at the loss. He reaches down to his waistband and you let go of him as he pushes his boxers down, working them off until he can kick them across the floor.

“You ready for me?” He asks, kissing you messily again. He settles between your legs, brows knitting when your bare cores finally meet. It’s so hot. Literally, he can feel the heat radiating from your pussy and the anticipation of your answer is killing him. You’re already drenched, coating him with your slick arousal. He wants to be inside of you. Please don’t deny him.

“I’m ready, baby.” You reach down between your bodies and take him in your hand again, position his tip at your entrance. “Please fuck me.”

He nods. Your eyes are locked as Suguru eases forward. It’s a tight fit, and Suguru doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to get all the way in without blowing his load.

“Oh god,” he groans. “Fucking tight as shit, baby. Fuck.”

He keeps going, pushing in and parting your walls with difficulty even though your core drips for him. It's as if you've gotten even tighter since giving birth. Suguru has to pull back slightly several times and try again before he’s all the way in. He has his eyes squeezed shut, fists clenching the sheets tightly.

You whimper beneath him, hands having now found Suguru’s biceps and gripping on for dear life. It’s a slow, delicious, painfully snug journey through your walls. And when he finally bottoms out, he takes time to look at you. You’re biting your lip, breaths coming rapidly as you grasp onto him.

You’re so fucking beautiful like this.

He's embarrassingly hard. He wonders if you can feel it. He thinks you can, from the way you squirm beneath him.

“Good?” He asks, checking in again and you roll your eyes.

“Yes. Now fuck me.”

Suguru rears his hips back, watching as your lips part with a quiet gasp just before he rolls his hips forward. He does it again, just so he can hear you make that sound one more time. Then he does it again and again.

His movements are slow, careful. He gives you soft and languid thrusts that have you digging your nails into his arms, has him gritting his teeth so he doesn’t cum. He can hear and feel how absolutely wet you are with each agonizingly slow thrust.

It’s driving him insane to be so gentle. He wants to fuck you so bad, destroy your little pussy, bury himself so deeply inside of you he can’t fucking see straight.

And it’s like you know this, because you whisper his name. When he looks at you, you’ve got a cute little pout on your lips, glaring up at him. He tilts his head questioningly.

“Suguru, stop treating me like you're gonna break me…” You loop an arm around his neck, pulling him down into a rough, sloppy kiss before pulling back just slightly to tell him, “...fuck me like you mean it.”

And he does. Doesn’t need you to ask twice. With a deep groan, Suguru pulls his hips back, all the way until just his tip sits inside of you. Then he thrusts forward, plunging into you over and over.

Each snap of Suguru’s hips brings a new sound from you. It’s music to his ears – this mix of your mewls, his grunts and moans, his balls slapping against your sopping cunt. He’s losing himself in you, the way he always does, swallowed by your warmth.

“Ah…I- I’ve been waiting so long for this, beautiful. Been craving this - ngh - pussy for months,” Suguru rasps, dipping his head down to find your breasts. He can already see the bruises forming along your skin from where he marked you earlier and it has him choking out a soft sob. He pounds into you hard, fast, chasing his high as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. “Missed your pretty little cunt. Missed fucking you so bad, baby.”

He licks a long strip between the valley of your breasts, eyes rolling to the back of his head and hips stuttering when he tastes the remnants of your breast milk from earlier.

“Yeah, babe?” You ask, pressing your hands against his chest.

You move your hips against his, meeting every thrust eagerly and Suguru inhales sharply. “Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, kissing his way up to your lips. Just before he meets your mouth, you push against him and shift your weight, effectively rolling you both over so that you’re not straddling Suguru. His hands find your waist immediately.

“I missed you. So fucking much. Couldn’t wait to have you again,” you sigh as you lean down to kiss your lover. Your hips begin to move, grinding yourself down on Suguru. His back arches, the feeling of him tapping against that spongey in your walls completely overwhelming him.

“Shit.” Suguru watches you move your hips against him, feels his dick twitch within your walls at the sight. “Feel good, baby?” He asks. Because it damn sure feels good to him. Suguru thinks he may lose his mind just watching. You sit up and his eyes follow you, watching the way your kiss swollen lips part as you let out another moan when he thrusts up into you.

You can’t do anything but nod your head, your hands falling to Suguru’s chest to keep your balance as you bounce on his cock. His gaze drinks in all the dips and curves of your body until they find where you two connect. He watches as you roll your hips forward, as his cock disappears into your pussy over and over. A quiet moan rushes past your lips and Suguru’s hands find your ass while you grind down on him. You’re so wet, he can feel your arousal dripping down his cock, drenching his balls.

“Oh my god, Suguru,” you cry out quietly, halting your movements to lean down and crash your lips into his again. “Feels good, feels so fucking good,” you gasp between kisses. Suguru pushes against your ass, prompting you to keep going.

“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck me like you mean it,” he repeats your earlier words, a sly grin on his lips when he smacks your ass, making you yelp.

You sit up, lifting your hips all the way up until just the tip of his cock sits inside you. Suguru’s eyes are glued to the view and he can visibly see himself pulsing between your legs. He lets out a low hiss that quickly turns into a loud groan when you slam your hips back down on him.

“Shhhh,” you shush him. “Gonna wake up the whole compound.”

He grips your ass tighter. “I don’t give a fuck. Let them hear us.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust that has you keening loudly. He thrusts again and you let out another sharp cry. “Want them to hear me fucking the mother of my child, fucking my whole heart tonight.”

The air is filled only with the sounds of the wet slap of your hips meeting, your soft gasps and moans, the bed creaking with every hard thrust he gives you. Suguru’s eyes roll back, each pump of his cock in your pretty little cunt bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Your walls are so tight, so wet, so hot, squeezing the life out of him.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me you love my cock, baby. Tell me you missed fucking me as much as I missed fucking you.”

Your nails dig into his chest as you cry out his name, tell him all about how you craved his dick, wanted him so badly it drove you crazy some days. The feeling of his tip pressing against your most sensitive area with each pump lighting a fire in both your cores.

“Fuck, baby,” Suguru gasps, voice hoarse with arousal as he stares up at you with nothing but love in his gaze. “So sexy. Look at you. Riding my cock so good – fuck.”

“Suguru,” You gasp as he holds your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks up into you pace increasing. “I’m…I’m gonna cum, Suguru. Fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my dick, baby. I wanna feel it. I need to feel it,” he grunts, driving into you. He feels his balls tighten, his release approaching quickly. He tries to stave it off, but then he feels it. Feels warm droplets of liquid hitting his chest and his stomach. He follows the trail, eyes landing on your breasts and the droplets falling from your pert nipples and onto him.

The sight is so erotic, so goddamn sexy, it sends chills racing up Suguru’s spine. You, taking his dick so fucking well, your breasts coating him in your essence, the very essence he got the luxury to taste early and god, did it taste incredible. Your mouth slack and eyes pinched shut as you dissolve into pleasure on top of him.

One more drop hitting his skin.

Your walls squeezing him for all his worth.

Your mouth crying his name.

It’s enough for him to shatter beneath you, enough to trigger that first rope of cum shooting from his cock.

“Shit, oh– oh fuck, baby, I’m cumming,” Suguru sputters, holding your hips painfully tight and with one last powerful thrust, he shoves himself as far as he can go before emptying himself inside of you. His muscles tense, breathe hitching as he rides out the shockwaves of his release. Every pulse of his cock is met with your walls sucking him back in, milking every drop from him.

He thinks he’s seeing fucking stars, the muffled sound of your moans drowned out by the pure euphoria he’s experiencing right now. He doesn’t even notice that excess of cum that leaks from your core and onto his groin. He feels that damn good.

Suguru’s head falls back on the bed and his grip on you loosens, leaving you to lay your weight down on him. Both your breaths come rapidly, your matching heartbeats racing against each other’s chests. And this is Suguru’s favorite part of it all. He loves this, loves the feeling of you pressed into him, loves the feeling of you completing him.

His eyes drift shut, his fingers tracing a line up and down your spine. And for the first time in almost a year, he lets himself fully relax.

- - - - - - -

The warm beams of the early morning sun peek through the bedroom. Suguru shifts, turning onto his side to get more comfortable.

Until he realizes something is missing. His eyes shoot open and he sits up quickly in the bed, eyes roaming the room for you. When he finds no trace of you in the room, he decides it’s time for him to get up, too.

You’re likely up with the baby and he wants to help you with his morning routine.

He makes his way across the room to your master bathroom and when he opens the door, he’s met with a cloud of hot steam and the sight of you naked in front of the mirror. You’re scowling, craning your head to the side like you’re looking at something.

He sees it the moment your hand reaches up and touches your neck and your chest. You’re riddled with hickeys and bruises, marks covering almost your entire upper body. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, a murderous glare staring at him in your reflection.

And it’s not like Suguru is particularly sorry. He wants you to be all marked up and claimed so everyone knows you’re his. But that look in your eye tells him he really may be in danger here.

Luckily for him, the shrill cry of his son pierces through the tension. So he shoots you a smug grin and backs right out the door.

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wonbriiize · 4 months

Note

bestfriend!Anton who puts you on his lap to give you affection, touches your hair, kisses you on the neck...being super clingy and fluffy :(

pairing; anton x reader

genre; fluff, best friends to lovers

note; i thought this was such a cute idea so i wrote something based on it.. hope u like it anon ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

listen to your heart

while working in retail isn’t all that horrible most of the time, you despise it over the holidays. everyone goes crazy as they search for last-minute christmas presents for their loved ones, friends or anyone else.

today was one of those days when everything was so annoying that you really thought about quitting your job right then and there.

luckily, your shift has ended and you are now on your way back home. you seem to be forgetting what a terrible day it has been so far as you imagine yourself curled up in your warm bed while drinking hot choco and watching your comfort movie.

“*y/n*, someone is waiting for you in your room,” your mom says after giving you a big hug when you arrive at home.

you‘re confused as to who it could be, until you recall that your best friend anton texted you saying he‘d drop by later as you were spamming him with messages about that one costumer who was extremely rude to you.

you run up the stairs to your room. you’re not so sure why you’re so eager to see anton, but you can’t help yourself. being with anton after a tiring day makes you feel at ease. he just has that effect on you.

“ohhh, slow down,” anton sits up on your bed. you can tell he made himself feel at home because just a second ago he was laying in your bed as if it was his own. “why are you running? is the rude customer after you?”

since you can’t tell anton that you hurried up to your room because of him, you just throw yourself on your bed. “no, i just really missed my bed. it has been an exhausting day.”

“and here i was hoping that you were running because you couldn’t wait to see me,” anton pouts, leaning back on your bed.

you’re right, you think. but i can’t let you know..

“well, apparently you were missing me because how are you at my house when i’m not even there?”

anton shrugs. “so what if i missed you, is it so wrong to miss your best friend?”

you’re shocked at how casually anton can say things like this. does he truly not realise how much of an impact his words have on you? it irritates you that he's saying these things and acting so dreamy when you're already trying to shake the thought that you like him — much more than you could ever imagine liking someone.

you sigh, laying down on your back. “i just really need to rest.”

“hey, come here,” anton pats next to him. “we can rest together.”

for a second, you’re not sure if you should really go and sit down next to him, because your feelings are all over the place today and you don’t know what could happen, but you push those thoughts aside and just go for it.

“you can lay your head on my lap. i will give you a head massage. i‘m a pro,” anton softly smiles at you.

god, he really isn’t making it easy to not fall in love with him, you sigh. your head is telling you not to do it, but for once in your life, you decide to listen to your heart instead.

you place your head gently on anton‘s lap. you’re afraid you won't be able to resist kissing anton if you open your eyes and see him staring down at you, hence why your eyes are closed.

anton starts massaging your head softly and you’re surprised at how good it actually feels.

“i didn’t expect you to be actually good at this,” you say.

“i told you i‘m a pro,” anton chuckles. hearing him giggle put a smile on your face and usually you would try to hide that, but right now, you’re just letting it happen.

“there it is,” anton whispers softly as he touches your cheek, causing you to open your eyes immediately.

“what?”

“your beautiful smile.”

you start laughing nervously. what’s his deal? why is he being extra sweet today?

“don’t say such things, anton.”

“why not?" his hand returns to your head, but instead of giving it a massage, he plays with your hair, twisting it around with his index finger.

“best friends don’t say that..” what you just said has a sad undertone, but you don’t care. maybe if anton knows that he’s kind of playing with your feelings, he will stop being like that.

anton shakes his head. “no, they don’t.. but here’s the thing, *y/n*..”

the sudden change in the atmosphere makes you nervous so you sit up. still close to anton, but there’s a little distance between the two of you now.

“i‘ve been trying to tell you for the longest time that i don’t want to be just best friends with you,” anton blurts out. “i thought it was obvious that i like you.”

world stop. anton likes me?

“but everytime i try to make a move you put me back in the friendzone, saying things like ‘best friends don’t do that..”

with a sincere expression of sadness that makes your heart hurt, anton glances down at his hands.

“i guess you really don’t like me in that way and i was just stupid to to think that-”

refusing to let anton continue, you take hold of his hand and place it directly over your heart.

“do you feel this?” you whisper.

anton nods unsure.

“my heart beats this fast everytime i‘m with you.”

“is that a good or a bad sign?” anton pulls his hand away and looks questionably at you.

his question makes you laugh. “of course it’s a good sign.. it means that you’re the reason why my heart feels so alive.”

“oh,” anton nods, a little smile forming on his face. “so you do like me.”

now it’s you who’s nodding.

just a while ago you didn’t want anton to know how you really feel about him because you were so afraid that the feeling was one-sided, but now that you know it’s mutual, you’re ready to take the initiative.

you slip closer to anton and sit down on his lap. first he’s surprised at your sudden move, but then you feel his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

seconds later, your lips meet his. not only was your heart racing faster than before, but because your bodies were so close, you could literally feel anton‘s heart racing as well.

you weren't expecting it, but as anton plastered kisses all over your face and neck, things heated up quickly. you didn't want him to stop, but knowing that your parents could walk into your room at any point made you want to go slowly.

“maybe we should continue this when we are alone, like completely,” you whisper as anton was kissing your neck.

“hmmm,” kiss. “maybe..” kiss. “you‘re..” kiss. “right.”

he stops, looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“this big smile looks good on you,” you put your arms around antons neck.

“and you know why i’m smiling like this? it’s because of you,” anton softly whispers before he plants another kiss on your lips.

#riize #riize imagines #riize fics #kpop #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize anton #anton lee #lee chanyoung #anton x reader #anton fluff #boyfriend anton #riize oneshots #riize short story #x reader #anton scenarios #sumi‘s requests ೀ

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breesperez139 · 7 months

Text

Dc x Dp Prompt #4

Viral Thirst Trap AU:

The only thing Danny could feel right now was complete and utter humiliation. As always, it started off as a joke. Tiktok was something Amity Park didn’t have access to for a while considering the fact that they were cut off from the rest of the world until a few months ago when Technus and Tucker teamed up to fix the media blackout.

Amity Park debated on this topic heavily weighing the pros and cons and eventually decided on the outside world only knowing about things Amity Park allowed. Meaning unless an Amity Parker posted it on social media platform meant for the public, no one would know. Hacking would be impossible without ghost resistant tech and visitors wouldn’t be able to expose anything without it so truly there was no downside to this unless someone slipped.

Inside jokes on Phantom and Amity Park were a norm often leaving others confused before scrolling and moving on. In fact most of the posts coming from Amity Park are ignored by the masses. But not this one. No this time someone just had to post a thirst trap edit of him under the “think I need someone older” sound with the caption “when he fits the Bill 😍😍“ on tiktok.

And he knows it’s meant to tease him because of the Invis-o-Bill reference (which fuck whoever’s acc that was for bringing that up) but why did it have to go viral?? Like yes he knows this is a joke on him being “older” because of time travel shenanigans and “colder” because of his ice and “take the weight off your shoulders” because he’s a hero. But why??

Now he had people simping over him and wanting to know more about him and Amity Park (and man where they overjoyed to let others know about their local (and favorite) hero). And just when he thought his undead life couldn’t get any worse, the fucking JL had to show up after he was kidnapped (summoned) by some crazy ass cult. Even worse, their sidekicks immediately recognized him as the quote unquote “hot dead hero from tiktok”. Someone finish killing him now.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #ghost king danny #ghost king danny phantom #good parents jack and maddie #Idk about vlad though #Danny is 18 or older #your choice on who posted the tiktok #the thirst trap was meant as an actual thirst trap #but op didn’t want Danny to know it was real so they made the invis-o-bill reference #Danny is embarrassed about all the good attention he’s been receiving from non amity parkers #it’s strange but nice

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seungkwansphd · 9 months

Text

contusion confusion

pairing: seungcheol x afab reader word count: 4K synopsis: your clumsy lab partner left a bruise on you. seungcheol seems disproportionately upset by it, but it makes way more sense once you understand why. themes: college au, best friend seungcheol, double sided repressed feelings, possessive and jealous seungcheol. warnings: smut, mentions of bruising/marking, mention of reader being smaller than seungcheol.

a/n: i started this literally one year ago and lost steam. and then blonde.fucking.scoups comes along and truly does a number on me. anyways, bon appetit, LOL

“What the hell happened to you?” Seungcheol’s eyes widened as you stretched your legs across his lap on the sofa.

“What?” you blinked at him, taking your eyes off of the television momentarily.

“What’s this bruise from?” he asked, resisting the strong urge to touch the bluish purple mark just above your elbow.

“Ah, that!” you shrugged, “I almost tripped the other day in lab. Mingyu grabbed me, but he might as well have let me fall! Who knew someone could bruise you just from grabbing you! Like how strong is that dude even?” you rolled your eyes. Grumbling, you returned your attention to the screen.

Seungcheol stewed next to you. While he had no real claim or reason to be upset at your lab partner, every time you brought him up, it made him want to strangle someone.

Mingyu was so tall that you had to readjust the titration burette between replicates. Mingyu was all sweaty because he had come to lab right after the gym. Mingyu didn’t cover his face while sneezing.

Seungcheol eagerly awaited next semester when he wouldn’t have to hear about this man anymore.

Swallowing, your eyes flitted nervously to your best friend’s hands, which were stroking your calves absentmindedly as he watched the show. While just a mindless gesture on his part, you were struggling silently with the way it made your insides turn just slightly into jelly.

“Cheol, that tickles!” you finally pulled your legs away, curling into a ball against the armrest of the sofa.

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled sheepishly at you, seeming distracted. It almost seemed like your friend was sulking, but you couldn’t understand why. You were watching a sitcom!

…

“There you are!”

You looked up to see your lab partner standing over your table, clutching the straps of his backpack.

“Oh, hey Mingyu,” you furrowed your brows at him, “Did you need something?”

“I thought we were supposed to be working on our lab report today?” he cocked his head at you, wondering if he had gotten the time wrong.

“Oh shit!” you cursed, “I’m so sorry Gyu, I totally lost track of time!”

“That’s okay,” he laughed, “It’s not that big of a deal. You want to work on it now?”

“Sure!” you nodded, glancing at Seungcheol and Jeonghan, who were immersed in their computer programming assignments. “Do you mind if Mingyu joins us? We have a lab report.”

“Yes, we heard,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes at you, “Sure that’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Mingyu nods before taking the seat next to you.

“Did you start anything for it yet?” you asked, pulling your lab notebook out of your backpack.

“Whoa, did I really grab you that hard that day?” Mingyu exclaimed, seeing the purple bruise on your arm.

“Yes, it fuckin’ hurts too!” you squinted at him, annoyed.

“I didn’t think you could bruise someone just by grabbing them. I guess I’m just super strong, huh?” Mingyu preened.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you threatened to punch him.

Jeonghan observed Seungcheol’s shift in mood with mild interest as you and Mingyu muddled your way through your lab report.

“I need some coffee or I’m going to rip my eyeballs out,” you announced after calculating mole fractions for far too long. You stood from the table to move towards the cafe in the library. You tapped your fingertips on your wallet mindlessly as you calculated how many shots of espresso you could consume without your heart bursting out of your chest.

“YN!” a familiar voice greeted you as they tapped your shoulder.

“Ah, hey!” you smiled at Bina, your lab partner from last year. “Ugh, I’m working on a lab report and it is giving me flashbacks to last semester!”

“Oh my god, please don’t remind me!” she rolled her eyes. You two had barely managed to scrape through that class. Unlike you, it had been her only chem requirement, so she was free of the horror of lab reports now. “Who’s your lab partner this semester?”

“Mingyu Kim,” you scrunched up your nose slightly, “God bless him, but he is such a klutz.”

“Wait, no. Mingyu? The Kim Mingyu?” Bina paled slightly.

“Why? Do you know him? Is there tea?” you looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, god I wish. He’s just so hot to me! I’m jealous, I would slog through another semester of chem to be his lab partner.”

“Would you?!” you gaped at her, thoroughly alarmed. “You’re sick in the head over this man,” you laughed heartily.

“No, probably not,” Bina chuckled after giving it some more serious consideration. “But I’d think long and hard about it.”

“We’re sitting over there if you wanna stop by and say hi. I’ll introduce y’all,” you offered before placing your order with the cashier.

“I might do that,” she craned her head to see exactly where your table was. “You’re sitting with Seungcheol too? My friend is infatuated with that man. They’re in Comp Sci together. Can she come say hi too?”

“S-sure,” you answered blankly. You had no stake or claim, but something in you wanted to scream ‘NO!’ when you heard Bina ask that question.

“You’re the best, we’ll be over in a bit,” Bina smiled brightly at you, giving you a squeeze.

“Okay, I’m ready to resume crying,” you announced when you returned to the table with your beverage.

“Okay, good, cause I’m ready to take a break from crying,” Mingyu looked up at you pitifully. “I think I figured out 4. So then if we can figure out 5, then we just need to pull together some nonsense for the discussion.”

“Okay, okay,” you nodded determinedly. By some miracle, question 5 was just some simple dilution practice, so before long you and Mingyu were typing furiously, chipping away at the remainder of the lab report.

“Hey YN!” Bina’s voice pulled you out of a sentence about how (DUH) important it was to switch pipettes between samples.

“Oh, hey Bina! What’s up?” you waved excitedly at your friend, eager to do some meddling for her.

“Not much, how are you? Long time no see!”

“Yes, luckily you’re done with your chem requirements, otherwise you’d be here crying with us,” you laughed as Mingyu and Seungcheol looked on at you with interest. Jeonghan had long ago put on a pair of noise canceling headphones and was ignoring everybody. “Mingyu, Bina was my lab partner last semester. And she was a lot better than you are,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“Hey!” Mingyu pouted.

“I mean at the very least she’s my height, so I didn’t have to readjust the biuret every time we titrated,” you rolled your eyes playfully at Bina.

“It’s not my fault you’re both short,” Mingyu protested, eyes flickering to Bina for some support.

“If it makes you feel better, I was terrible in lab too,” she offered up sympathetically, “YN is my patron saint of chemistry. Did she ever tell you about how I exploded two crucibles one time?”

“No!” Mingyu looked at her with interest, “Was YN also very mean to you and made you finish your work way ahead of time?”

“Yes!” Bina giggled excitedly, “Like why can’t we pull all nighters like normal people?”

“Hell no, I’m not disrupting my sleep schedule for y’all. No thanks,” you shook your head stalwartly. “Anyways, you two should exchange numbers so you can complain about me on your own time,” you chuckled. Bina and Mingyu seemed to agree and set about that task enthusiastically.

“Ah, sorry I’m being rude, this is my friend Hayoung! We’re in a writing foundations class together so we were working on that.”

“Hi,” she waved at everyone shyly.

“Hayoung, what’s your major?” you asked.

“Computer science, focusing on human & computer interactions.”

“Ooh?! Love me a girly in STEM! These two are comp sci as well! Do you all know each other?” you asked, mostly Seungcheol as Jeonghan was still intent on ignoring you.

“Maybe? You look kind of familiar, but I don’t talk to many people in class,” he chuckled honestly.

“I think we might have a class together?” Hayoung smiled.

“Oh wonderful! You two should exchange numbers too! Maybe you can work on comp sci stuff together,” you suggested. They weren’t really giving you too much to work with, if you were being honest.

“I’d actually love that,” Hayoung’s eyes creased into a smile, “I don’t know that many people in the major.”

“Is it because they’re being sexist?” your eyes widened and you raised a fist theatrically, “I’ll fight them all for you. Cheol, you will too, right? Jeonghan’s not much use in a fight, if I’m being honest,” you commented quietly, glancing at the target of your teasing.

“Sure,” Seungcheol’s face creased into a real smile as he watched you whisper about Jeonghan animatedly.

Hayoung and Seungcheol exchanged phone numbers as you watched on excitedly. Hayoung was clearly pleased, but Seungcheol was making a face as if he had tasted something odd, but was too polite to say anything about it.

“Bina is so cute!” Mingyu remarked happily after they both left, “Lucky you with your cute lab partners!”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes at him, “I love doing unpaid babysitting in the lab.”

…

“Cheol, can I crash on your couch?” you spoke after he picked up your call.

“Yeah, of course! Are you okay?” Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, worried.

“Yeah, I’ve just been sexiled,” you grumbled, starting your walk towards Seungcheol’s apartment. He met you about halfway and the two of you caught up on the walk back.

“How are things with Hayoung?” you asked, not quite making eye contact.

“What?” his hand slipped as he was moving to turn the doorknob.

“Hayoung, did you guys ever meet up to work on comp sci together?” you asked, lips pursed as you followed him into his apartment.

“Oh, no, she texted me but I forgot to text her back,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“Text her back, you jerk!” you poked Seungcheol insistently, “Hayoung’s cute! And she likes you.”

“That’s good for her,” Seungcheol grumbled, irritated at your attempt to push him towards someone else. Maybe his cause was truly hopeless.

“You’re acting weird,” you glanced at him oddly before flopping down on the couch.

“No, you take the bed,” Seungcheol ignored your statement and plopped down near your feet, tapping your legs lightly.

“No! I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed!” you protested.

“No, seriously, sleep on the bed. I always wake up before you anyways. I’ll end up waking you up if you sleep out here.”

“I-,” you tried to think of another excuse, but he wasn’t your best friend for no reason. He knew you just as well as you knew yourself. “Okay,” you acquiesced, hopping up from the couch to walk into his room, “Do you need anything from here before bed?” you turned to ask him, hand on the doorframe.

“Nope, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, thanks again for letting me crash,” you smiled at him before pulling the door not quite closed behind you.

Once inside, you dropped your bag and helped yourself to a t-shirt and pair of shorts from Seungcheol’s drawers. You laughed at the way you were swimming in the shirt.

“I look ridiculous,” you laughed, walking back out into the living room. “Cheol, look,” you spread your arms out to your sides, showing Seungcheol the way that his t-shirt just swallowed you.

“I-,” his brain stopped for a few moments. He wouldn’t say anything, but he could in fact see your nipples as you tried to show him whatever you were showing him. “What?”

“Your shirt is too big on me,” you folded your arms over your chest, irritated that he had been listening.

“Oh yeah, well I’m bigger than you,” he replied curtly.

“Well, yeah,” you glanced away from him. He was in such an odd mood today! You grumbled just a little bit before flopping down on the bed. You were tired.

Tossing and turning, you fought for a long time to push down the arousal that was building in your gut. Being enveloped by Seungcheol’s scent was making your brain go haywire. You could feel yourself throbbing and you bit down on your fist in an effort to try and distract yourself, but that hadn’t worked. Glancing nervously at the door, you contemplated seeking some relief, but the idea of doing it in Seungcheol’s bed while he was just outside the door inspired guilt, worry, and worst of all, excitement.

You managed to ignore yourself for about ten minutes before your left hand snuck down between your thighs, stroking them softly. Sinking deeper into Seungcheol’s pillows, you closed your eyes and imagined your best friend’s hands softly caressing and spreading your legs apart. You were embarrassed to hear the wet sounds of yourself opening up, but not embarrassed enough to stop. Your right hand came to tease the sensitive undersides of your breasts as your fingertips stroked languidly through your folds.

In the living room, Cheol wrestled with whether to disturb you or not. Several minutes ago, he had noticed that one of his textbooks was still in his room. He’d been planning to get ahead on a problem set, so it wasn’t as if he needed to disturb you, but he also didn’t see himself falling asleep anytime soon. Chewing his lip, he noticed that the door was still slightly ajar and decided to retrieve the book as you must not have gone to bed just yet.

When his eyes first landed on your face, your brows were knit up in utter concentration as your hands worked feverishly under the covers. Your front teeth had your lower lip pinned down as you bit back the loudest of your desperate noises. Seungcheol’s pupils dilated as he registered what was happening. Frantically, he tried to back out of the room, but his sweater caught the edge of a pamphlet that had been hanging off the bookshelf, sending a handful of items clattering to the floor.

“Fuck!” your eyes shot open, panicked as you met Cheol’s gaze, “I’m, you-, help!” you squeaked, pulling the covers over your face as you wished to vanish off the face of the earth.

Seungcheol’s mind went blank as he walked towards you, placing his hands over yours to pull down the covers. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, so overcome with embarrassment that you failed to register the look of hunger in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Cheol, I didn’t, I shouldn’t have done that here!”

“What?” he cocked his head to the side, brain not really functioning.

“It’s your bed!” you looked at him as if he was crazy, “I just-, you smell so good,” you spoke without thinking.

“I…,” he looked you up and down, “You’re telling me I inspired this?”

“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, oh my god!” you groaned, trying to shrug under the covers again. Seungcheol’s large hands held you still and you watched in disbelief as he brought your left hand up to inspect it. The shine of moisture on your fingers was mortifyingly telling, but he surprised you to your core when he brought your hand to his mouth and sucked your wet fingers inside.

“Huh?!” you choked out, eyes fluttering shut as he tongue stroked between your digits, tasting you thoroughly.

“You should’ve told me about this sooner,” he told you, voice gravely with desire, “I’ve been torturing myself trying to ignore how much I think about you.”

“Oh?” you blinked at him in disbelief.

“Yes, oh,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes at you, “Now let me help, as you requested.”

His fingers wandered. His eyes widened slightly when he felt just how wet you were. The rumble that emitted from his chest almost sounded like a purr and you found yourself quickly breathless at his ministrations.

“Cheol,” you moaned, melting slightly as his substantially larger fingers swirled dizzyingly through your folds. He smirked down at you, more than pleased to hear your saying his name in that manner.

“So needy,” he chuckled, eyes flicking over you.

“Well I was halfway there when you walked in,” you teased him and his eyes flashed at you, a subtle warning.

He raised one eyebrow at you before sliding his fingers inside of you. You choked on your breath at the intrusion, though your legs parted asking for more.

“You-, your fingers!”

“Mm, how do they feel?” he smirked at you, confident.

“I knew they’d stretch me out, bigger than mine,” you panted and his eyes widened at the realization that this wasn’t the first time you’d imagined this.

“You think about me a lot?” he raised an eyebrow at you, now cocky.

“No,” you lied, glancing away to avoid his eyes.

“My thick fingers spreading you open,” he continued anyways, smirking when he felt the way you reacted around him.

“Seung-,” you whined, overwhelmed at the way he teased you.

“God I like hearing you say my name like that,” Seungcheol shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Can I see you?” he asked, other hand itching to peel back the comforter.

You nodded wordlessly. You were slightly mortified to reveal yourself to him in this way, but his other hand quickly distracted you. You watched his eyes rove across you appreciatively until they trained in on your bruise, his jaw clenching.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he exhaled sharply.

“Why? It wasn’t on purpose!”

“No, it’s not-,” Seungcheol paused. “That’s not why. I was annoyed because the idea of getting to be the one to leave marks on you has rendered me…basically unable to produce coherent thought.”

“Oh? OH,” your eyes widened, gears in your brain turning. “I mean…all yours, Cheol,” you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Really?” he groaned, looking at you appreciatively as he thought about exactly where and how he’d like to mar your skin.

“Seungcheol!” you snapped at him as he continued to mumble to himself.

“Maybe a handprint here?” he grazed your upper thigh with his palm, eyes dancing mischievously at you. “Or a necklace of hickeys,” he growled as he nipped at the base of your neck. He had decided to seize the opportunity to tease you, and as much as you liked it, you only had so much patience.

“Cheol, please,” you pouted, grabbing at his collar, “I can’t take anymore of this.”

“Yes princess,” he pulled an old nickname out of the vault. You melted.

“Mmmpf!” he smothered your next protest with a kiss.

“Seung. Cheol!” you moaned desperately as his hand grabbed your thigh, hard.

The strength in his grip set your nerves alight and your head fell back against the bed, arching your chest up towards him. His mouth took the opportunity to latch onto the underside of your breast, biting down firmly. Your hand fisted itself in his hair.

It was so much sensation. It was so good.

“Hn,” he pulled back with a breathless smile. His eyes flicked down to the spots where his mouth and hand had been and his lips curled into a cocky grin at the bright red marks. With any luck those would be bruised nicely tomorrow.

“That was…a lot,” you murmured as you caught your breath.

“In a bad way?” Seungcheol’s brow furrowed with sudden worry.

“No,” you smiled at him, slightly fuzzy, “In a good way. A really good way.”

“Really?” his eyebrows raised back up with delight. “So you won’t mind if you bruise a little?”

“I don’t think I’ll mind even if you bruise me a lot,” you answered after some thought.

Your best friend’s eyes darkened. The way you had rearranged his words hit the possessive button in his brain like crazy. His lips nibbled and nipped their way down your torso while his hand came to cup your breast. His grip was on the hard side of firm as his lips latched onto a spot on your inner thigh. His tongue stroked across the sensitive skin as he sucked firmly.

Your thighs parted of their own accord as you squirmed at this building onslaught. As you shifted, you could hear the wet sounds of yourself spreading. Open and inviting.

“Cheol, please,” you tried to pull him towards you. “Please,” you panted.

Seungcheol, the bastard, increased the intensity of his sucking before releasing his lips with a loud ‘pop!’. The jolt of the disconnection sent a shiver through you and the spot where his mouth had been now felt woefully cool.

“Pretty,” he looked at the red mark appreciatively. The thought that you would be reminded of this encounter over the next weeks sent a streak of pride through him that was unexpected.

“Seungcheol!” you grabbed his face by his cheeks, directing his attention to you. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to kick you out and take care of it myself!”

His eyes widened and he chuckled sheepishly before reaching over you to pull a condom out of the nightstand. You watched, almost painfully aroused, as he undressed and unrolled the condom over himself. His cock bobbed proudly as he pulled his sturdy torso over you, slotting himself between your thighs.

You sighed when his cock came to rest against your core. You could already tell it was going to be good.

“Seungcheol, please,” you placed your hands around his jaw. “Need you.”

He nodded, reaching down to slip himself inside of you. A soft gasp escaped you as his head pushed in and you couldn’t help but relish in the stretch. Seungcheol took his time sinking into you. The whines and gasps that you made were way too good to be rushed.

“Cheol,” your hands clutched at the back of his thick neck until he was pressed flush against you. “Fuck,” you exhaled into his ear.

Seungcheol’s hand was gripping your hip so hard as he struggled to keep control of himself. Of all the things that he found overwhelming, the way you pulsed and squeezed around him, the little sounds you made as he had pressed into you…the worst of all was the way you smelled. His hand fisted itself further in your hip as he inhaled you, a most intoxicating scent.

You clenched around him as his hand tightened. He was sure to bruise you there, too, and you couldn’t wait. Knowing that you’d be able to see these marks as evidence that this wasn’t another crush induced dream made you feel crazed in a different way.

“You feel perfect,” Seungcheol groaned against your skin as his hips started to move. “I just knew it.”

Clench.

You hooked your legs around his hips as he pumped into you deeply. Each thick stroke pushed you dangerously closer to the precipice and you were ready to fall off the edge.

“Cheol,” you pulled back slightly to meet his blown out gaze. “I’m there.”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged you, aching to feel you come apart around him. “Be good and come for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let go. Your hands clutched desperately at his shoulders as your pussy fluttered around him. You didn’t even know what kinds of sounds you made as you simply didn’t have the presence of mind.

“So good,” he smiled, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. “So good,” he grunted before his hips shuddered and he emptied himself inside of you.

You wrapped your arms around his torso as he slumped down on top of you. He smiled when you gave him a squeeze with your entire body.

“So you’re kind of possessive, huh?” you chuckled softly after you’d regained your sanity.

Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut with a laugh. He hadn’t realized it, or maybe it was just because it was you, but yes. Yes he was.

#scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svthub #seventeen smut #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #svt fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungkwansphd:writes

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

Text

Lost and found - Chapter 2

adult Neteyam x female human scientist

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Neteyam hates humans. One day, he finds you all alone and lost in the forest, but quickly decides against killing you. What might be the odd reason for that?

Warnings: explicit smut, oral, somnophilia, kidnapping, non-con elements, Na‘vi in heat, scent kink, size difference, semi-public, biting, fingering, p in v, language barrier

Notes: Here is the long awaited pt2 and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the first one 🫶🏻 (check my masterlist to view all parts)

The tiny human looks so peaceful in her sleep.

With her chest evenly raising and falling, soft noises of dreams leaving her parted lips and hair in a mess.

Neteyam was lucky he arrived at high camp way past the eclipse and everyone was already sound asleep, otherwise he wouldn’t have managed to sneak her into his marui without anyone noticing. His parents would most definitely skin him alive the next morning anyways, when they find out his chosen mate was not only a human but an RDA scientist too. Maybe he could hide her for a few more days of peace, if he could somehow manage to make her understand that she wasn’t allowed to leave his marui and make any noises.

But that was something he didn’t want to waste a thought on right now. He would have to think about a solution for this little problem in the morning. Right now, he was entirely too busy watching her sleep.

Her sweet scent still lingers in the air. Usually it wears off after the first mating but he knew that his heat would probably last a while longer than that. A day or two maybe, he didn’t know. Maybe even longer, given how potent her scent was when it first hit him. Originally, Neteyam wanted to give her space and let her rest for a while, at least until he truly couldn’t bare it no more and had to mate with her again. But it seemed like this case didn’t even need to occur. He hadn’t even reached his physical limit yet, and already couldn’t withstand her any longer.

Neteyam made sure to be as quiet as possible, as he got up from his current position and moved over to her. Utilising years of experience in stealth as a warrior and skilled hunter, he pulls the thinly weaved blanket off of her, to reveal her bare limbs. She was still naked, no surprise after he had left her destroyed clothes behind in the forest. She wouldn’t need them anymore anyways. Tomorrow, he would make her some new ones. Some that didn’t made her look even more like the alien that she was.

Carefully, he repositions her to lay on her back, her soft thighs spread wide enough to make room for him. Neteyam places a gentle kiss on her inner thigh, both eyes fixed on her face. Her features are clam and relaxed, eyes still closed shut and he smiles to himself. He knows it’s probably not the best idea, knows he’s testing his luck but it’s just so hard to resist her.

He kisses her again, on her pubic bone this time. A quick look to her face –still nothing. Another kiss is left right on her core and when she’s still seemingly sound asleep, Neteyam knows he’s good to go. His tongue is gentle on her, sliding from her clit, leaving soft kisses here and there, to her entrance. She tastes as sweet as she smells and he can’t help the excited sway of his tail moving behind him when he realizes. A small gasps leaves her lips, when the tip of his tongue experimentally dips into her. Neteyam stills for a moment and musters her face before he continues.

He’s still gentle but there grows a force behind it, a need desperately restrained because he doesn’t want to wake her. He wants her so bad, yet he knows the human needs her sleep to fully recover. She’s just so fragile, he didn’t want to break his newly found mate.

Neteyam carefully spreads her open with one hand and finds her opening with the other. Deceptively small, but surprisingly elastic. She seems so tiny until his dick was splitting her open, swallowing him up, hugging him deep and tight. He traces his name over her clit with his tongue, marking her most sensitive part for himself, before he slowly slides a finger inside her. She moans quietly in her sleep, her cheeks now flushed red and Neteyam hopes her dreams are as sweet as she was.

She was getting wet –like, really wet.

He smirks as he laps up some of her slickness where it leaks around his finger and his eyes roll all the way back into his head from her taste. He’s getting hard, too. Playing with her like this was a lot more fun that he thought it would be. Neteyams eyes fall closed as he devours her, relishing in the sweetness of her arousal. He doesn’t even realize how her breathing increases until suddenly, her tiny hands find the crown of his head. She mindlessly brushes through his braids, not fully awake and aware of what was happening yet. But then she tugs on his hair, just as he sucks on her clit. She hums, a confused sound leaving her lips before she fully registers where she is and Neteyam opens his eyes to look up at her. "Sleep well?", he asks her, using the very few words in her language that he actually knows, with a kiss to the little nub that brings her so much pleasure and her hips jerk.

"What the–", her eyes widen in shock and she tries to close her legs around his head, but a pair of strong hands effortlessly keep them apart. Neteyam is quick to hush her. "Shh, be quiet", he whispers, "I‘ll make you feel good, but you have to stay quiet for me."

"Listen, I have no idea what you’re sa— ah!" Before she can finish her complain, Neteyam lowers his head again. Expertly, he finds her clit and sucks. He circles it with his tongue, but when a moan escapes her lips, he stops. His gaze flies up to find her face and he simply looks at her with his brows drawn together. No words are exchanged, until the only sound that‘s heard is that of her rapid breathing. Only then, Neteyam lowers his lips back down again, eating her out like a starved man.

Her thighs quiver in his hold and her hips jerk, desperately trying to get him where it feels best to her. At one point, Neteyams tongue slides over her entrance and dips inside, as far as he can reach and she moans again. And again, Neteyam stops. His eyes find hers, a stern look on his face and she swallows thickly.

"Okay, okay I get it", she murmurs quietly between breathless pants, "Quiet. I‘ll be quiet."

What a smart girl, Neteyam thinks with a grin. The second he closes his lips around her clit again and sucks, he could feel heat spread through her entire body, heralding her impending orgasm. With the way she squeezed her eyes shut, her lower lip sucked in between her teeth to prevent herself from making any noise and the way her hips bucked up —She was begging him wordlessly to make her cum and so he pushed another finger into her, pumping in and out of her wet center. When she starts to tug on his hair again, in an effort to get him exactly where she wanted him, Neteyam can’t help but grind his hard cock against the ground, desperate to get to his release himself.

He then forces another finger inside her and she throws her head back, whimpering quietly. "You’re doing so well, so good for me. Cute little human", Neteyam coos in a whisper, comforting her. A new wave of her sweet scent suddenly rolls off of her, as if she was reacting to his words or his actions, he didn’t know, but he wonders how she was even doing this. For a faint moment, he wonders if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he feels his heart hammer inside his chest and it felt like he had been set aflame. His body was reacting to her scent instinctively. The sensation was particularly acute between his thighs, where an aching need throbbed, beating to the frantic tune of his heart.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

There was that yawning, aching void inside her, and her body needed something to fill it. Her body needed to be filled, Neteyam was sure of it. Her cunt pulsed, clenched around his digits and then a feverish wave of shivers went down her back, making it arch off the floor. Neteyam chuckled and the vibration against her core almost sent her over the edge. But then he draws away from her and sits back on his heels.

Her eyes fly open and it’s almost adorable how she looks at him, as if she was disappointed that he had stopped. Keeping eye contact with her, he licks his fingers clean of her slickness and watches her cheeks turn red– a quality his people did not possess. It told him that she was embarrassed. Flustered. She really was an adorable thing. Still a human, but a cute one.

Neteyam settled himself between her spread thighs, hooking her legs over his arms to fold her into a weird position where she was trapped, not only under his, but also her own weight. A soft whimper escaped her at the sudden closeness and Neteyam cursed the mask she was wearing, because he was close enough to kiss her like this but the thin glass hovering over her face prevented him from it. Instead, he choose to bury his face in the space where her delicate shoulder met her neck. He felt her pulse, rapidly beating, where he pressed his nose against her.

He kissed her soft skin there, while his cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum, glides between her wet folds. He grinds himself against her for a while, relishing in the feeling of her slickness covering him like a second layer of skin until he was nice and wet and ready for her. He draws back a little more, until his tip catches on her entrance and then he pushes himself inside. She’s still so tight, clamping down on him with enough force, it makes him hold his breathe in order not to groan out loud.

Neteyam was doing what his body was clamoring for. He kept filling her, his cock stretching her walls, making room for himself inside of her. She was tiny, but she was taking him. Even better than the first time, he remarked. Her body released more of her slickness to ease the way and finally, he was flush with her. Connected like two pieces of a puzzle. She was keening as quietly as possible but when he moved his hips and thrusted into her for the first time, a moan slipped past her lips.

Where he had left soft kisses earlier, Neteyam suddenly bit down on her neck. Not hard enough to draw blood or actually hurt her, but enough to remind her what she had learned earlier.

"Quiet, remember?", he whispers into her ear through gritted teeth and her breathing hitches. He feels her shift and quickly nod her head as if she understood what he just said. Not the words maybe, but their meaning.

Neteyam feels how she focuses on breathing, on getting air into her lungs. What had once been such a simple, effortless task was now a struggle. He could hear her whimper softly as she gulped oxygen in small gasps and when he thought that she was ready, he snapped his hips against hers. Every part of her tensed, her bottom lip sucked in between her blunt, human teeth but she kept quiet. "That’s a good girl", Neteyam says against her skin, kissing the marks his teeth had left on her.

Unfortunately, the only thing neither of them could keep quiet, where the slick, obscene noises at every stroke of his cock inside her pussy. Neteyam had to grit his teeth hard to keep himself from groaning, cursing and praying in his mind that nobody could hear what was going on in his marui.

The pace in which he was fucking her in switched constantly, trying to make the sounds less obvious just in case any of his family members would wake up. From short, deep strokes, to fast, rapid thrusts that had both of them panting into each others ears.

The little human was close again, he could feel it. She was trembling on the edge of it, squeezing around his cock painfully tight. Instead of the groan he wanted to release so bad, a huff of breathe escaped him. Just barely.

"You know, you really don’t make this easy for me, little one”, Neteyam whispered as she kept clenching around him. Her small arms had laid themselves around his neck and pulled him close, like she was trying to hide herself underneath him.

The little punched out noises she makes every time he thrusts into her and the mewling whimpers she can’t stop every time he pulls out are music to his ears, but she’s just too fucking loud like this. Her noises are barely above the sound of a whisper, but still enough to be heard by any Na’vi– thanks to their distinct hearing.

"Shhh", he coos, "I know it feels good, but you need to be quiet."

Neteyam knows he’s asking too much of her, yet it makes him all the more proud when she finally comes and not a sound falls from her parted lips. It’s a silent scream, like she’s choking on her vocal cords. But in exchange, he soft, velvety walls suck him and clench around him, squeezing tight enough until he’s unable to pull himself out. To him, it felt like she was trying to milk him dry and suddenly, it felt like the whole world came crushing down on him.

Neteyam couldn’t help it.

He buries his teeth in the crook of her neck, bites down onto her sweat slicked skin as he comes –because if he didn’t, he would’ve been moaning for the whole clan to hear. The human twitches below him, her hands clawing to his back as he fills her with his cum. It’s on the edge of overstimulation, but he keeps trusting into her a few more times just to make sure that every last drop of his pleasure was pumped into her pussy, before he finally pulls himself out.

They’re both covered in sweat, panting and trying to catch their breaths as Neteyam sits back on his heels to admire her. Her eyes are half lidded and she’s seemingly on the verge of falling asleep again, much to his amusement. He was going so easy on his mate, yet the little human could barely keep up with him.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s not like they could just sit there and talk, let him explain anything to her, so he quickly settles to lay beside her. He would let her rest for a while longer and then, in the morning, he would decide on how to handle the situation.

The sounds of her odd breathing mask were a little annoying at first, but at the same time strangely comforting. It reassured him of her presence, even when he closed his eyes. Thanks to this, he could pinpoint the exact moment where her breathing evened and she fell asleep. He curled himself around her smaller frame, his tail coming to rest over her thigh, gently swaying over her skin to comfort her in her sleep. She was so tiny and fragile, a very primal part of him made him want to protect her even more because of that. He pulled her closer until her back was flush with his chest, her head coming to rest on his arm.

Neteyam laid with her like this for a while.

He wasn’t sleeping though, still cautious of any noise that could imply that his parents or siblings were awake. But the only sound that reached his sensitive ears, where the ones coming from right next to him– the low grumble of her stomach. She was hungry.

Carefully, he slips his arm out from underneath her head. He redresses himself quietly, before he moves outside, in order to find something suitable for her to eat. Fruits would probably do, he saw Spider eat them once. If he could consume them without further complains, she could too. Neteyam didn’t want to let her try any meats or other things for now. Based on her blunt teeth, he wasn’t sure if humans were even meant to consume meat. He would have to ask her what food she preferred, once she had learned how to communicate with him.

A small smile spread over his lips by thought of that.

But when he pulled the woven cloth that represents the entrance to his marui to the side, his heart stops for a beat and his smile drops instantly.

The sight of his brother standing right there in front of him made him swallow dryly. With his arms crossed over his chest, Lo‘ak glances over his older brothers shoulder.

"You’re gonna be in so much trouble, bro."

Oh great mother help him.

#･｡ﾟ☆: *my works* :☆ﾟ.#avatar 2 #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #neteyam sully #awow #neteyam #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x human reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam x f!reader

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

Text

Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

Text

thinking about eddie being a grower not a shower and being self conscious about it until you show him how much you love it

warnings: sexual content 18+, piv sex, handjobs, size kink (but not in that way yk)

it’s not that you’d intentionally noticed it before. it was just that. well—

there wasn’t necessarily anything to look at when you did. eddie’s cheap, starchy jeans didn’t give anything away, fabric so thick that it concealed pretty much everything below. and you didn’t care about size, never had, but it was the first time you’d ever truly struggled to picture what you’d be working with once you got there.

he’s nervous, you can tell — you’d been making out and grinding on his thigh for fifteen minutes and you couldn’t even feel a hard press against your leg. you’d heard around town that he was eager, giving, clearly experienced in some kinda way. so what was the issue?

“do i not turn you on or what?” you gasp, lips still brushing his as you rut against his leg a little harder, whining when said starchy jeans catch on your clit and drag, the soft burn making your insides ache with want.

eddie goes bug eyed, grappling for your waist and squeezing tight, “no, no. s’not that, sweetheart. you’re fucking beautiful.”

you huff, still rocking slowly but not enough to chase your high properly, just enough to keep you on edge, “what is it then, why aren’t you hard?”

“you make me nervous,” he says, honestly. his eyebrows marry with worry, a shaky sigh escaping his lips, “just — worried m’gonna disappoint you. it’s not much to look at once i get there.”

you pout, running your hand up from where it grips at his shoulder to rest gently on the side of his neck, “don’t say that. i’ll make you feel good, if you’ll let me?”

eddie nods, though he’s clearly still so nervous, chewing on the inside of his lip as you dismount from him, settling in between his spread legs and pawing at his clothes.

he helps you undress him from the waist down, lifting his hips so you can slide his jeans and underwear off in one swift motion, leaving them pooled at his ankles.

and. well.

he’s still completely soft, laying over the soft hang of his balls. maybe three inches at most, foreskin rippling at the head. there’s girth there though, so you’re absolutely working with something.

you’re slow with it, dragging the pads of your fingers up the inside of eddie’s shaking thigh until he’s hissing, and you catch his cock kicking up in interest when you do.

he’s gripping at the sheets, no doubt a nervous habit, trying to keep himself grounded as you finally wrap your hand around him, giving him a short tug. he gasps at that, eyes widening further as he watches you jerk him off in a steady rhythm.

it’s weird. feeling a dick grow hard in your hand, fattening up until he’s fully erect and somehow double the size he was when he was flaccid.

it’s like magic. sexy magic that’s kinda got you hot and bothered.

“oh, shit,” eddie’s hands grip the sheets tightly, hips canting up a little into your hand as you work him with a tight fist, “your hand feels really good.”

you make a little delighted noise as you pull his foreskin down and the pretty pink head pops out, shiny with precum already and looking needy, “s’pretty. i like your cock.”

he moans, head thumping back against your cushioned headboard as you continue pumping him up and down, unable to tear your eyes away from it — seriously, where had his dick been all your life?

“can i — do you wanna have sex?” you ask, glancing up at eddie momentarily to gauge how he’s feeling.

his cheeks are flushed pink, tendons in his neck flexing as he watches you with hazy eyes. he nods, a quick motion, and you’re so glad he says yes — you need him in you. like, yesterday.

you keep your hand steady on the base of his cock as you manoeuvre yourself back to almost where you were originally. straddling his hips, panties pushed to the side so you can slide down on him with minimal effort and no resistance.

his grip goes back to your hips as you sink down, a quiet little whimper bubbling out of his mouth as your cunt grips him, “oh fuck, you’re so tight.”

and like, yeah. he’s stretching you nicely, not enough to hurt but enough that you can feel him. and he’s curved nicely into your frontal wall, rubbing against the soft tissue, making your insides coil.

you place both hands on his tummy, using it for leverage as you begin bouncing up and down. you can’t do it too fast, otherwise he’ll slip out, but it’s a nice steady motion that has you both panting and gasping.

“y-you had nothing to worry about,” you stutter, moaning quietly when the head of his cock catches nicely inside of you, at the same time your clit rubs against his dark thatch of pubes, “your cock is so good.”

eddie moans, punching his hips up from below and choking a high pitched sound out of you as he does, eliciting an even louder noise from your gushing cunt at the same time, “y’r gonna make me cum, shit.”

“yeah? gonna cum in me? fill me up?” you ask, tummy blooming with a low heat, a telltale sign you’re close too. it just feels so good.

“you can’t say that, fuck,” eddie groans, gripping at your hip even tighter, blunt nails digging into your soft skin until you’re gasping, “need you to cum first, sweetheart.”

“almost there anyway,” you admit, rutting down against him as he fucks you from below — you’re unsure of when he even took over, too drunk on it to care either.

he smooths his thumb down your pubic bone, over your mound to dip under your hood, catching your clit once, twice with his calloused fingertip and you’re cumming with a wet cry, digging your nails into the soft skin of his tummy as you grind down on him, the deep heat inside of you bursting and settling just as quickly.

“you’re so — fuckfuck,” eddie stutters over his words, punching his hips up into you and pushing you down on him all at once and he’s spilling inside of you. in your own haze you can feel his cock pulsing, filling you with his release.

it’s quiet after that, and he slips out soon after.

your obsession with his dick never does go away.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #grower supremacyyyyyy #my fave kinda p*nis #my fanfic #mine #drabble

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foxy-eva · 7 months

Text

Wild Honey

Summary: Reader gets emotional during sex with Spencer

Request: Spencer dicks down Reader so good it makes her emotional. Then lots of fluff with aftercare (originally requested to @imagining-in-the-margins)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut, Fluff

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) crying (happy tears), praising, implied breeding kink, unprotected penetrative sex, aftercare

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

The color of Spencer's irises reminded you of wild honey, so warm and alluring when he looked at you. His lips captured yours as he hovered over you, letting you taste the sweetness of his kiss.

Being with him truly was one of life’s greatest pleasures.

You whined when his mouth left yours, only to be soothed by the sensation of him caressing your neck. Gently, he kissed and licked over sensitive skin until you couldn’t think about anything else than being one with him.

"I love you," he whispered right before your bodies merged.

There was no need for you to speak those words for him to know that you loved him, too.

"Spencer!" You moaned instead.

With a smirk spread over his face, he purred, "I know, it feels so good."

He took his time entering you, relishing the sensation of your walls enveloping him. You shared your body with him without any resistance, almost feeling greedy to feel all of him. When he was at your deepest point you could feel both of your hearts beating inside of you. Just for a moment you had to close your eyes to let this moment enter your memory, to be able to cherish it forever.

When you locked eyes with him once more, his pupils had almost completely swallowed the warm amber of his irises. His cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly parted when he slowly began moving. Even with his weight on top of you it felt like you might start floating at any moment now.

Spencer knew your body better than you did, so it was no surprise that he had you dancing along the edge of euphoria with just a few skilled motions. The sounds of your pleasure fell from your lips as he pushed into you and he became eager to hear even more of them.

"You're doing so good, my love," he praised you. "Are you gonna come for me?"

"Yes!"

With your arms and legs wrapped around him there was no distance allowed between your bodies. Spencer found your neck to bite on your pulse point, eliciting the most enticing sound he had ever heard from you. It all became too much for you to handle, it felt like you might drown in the love you had for him.

When he kissed your cheek he could suddenly taste the ocean on your skin. In an instant he stopped moving and propped himself up on his arms only to find saline droplets spilling from your eyes.

"Please don't stop," you whimpered as you wiped your tears away. "I'm so close."

"Oh my sweet girl," he cooed. "Are those happy tears?"

A bright smile formed on your face while you nodded. "You make me feel so good."

"You have no idea how much I adore you," Spencer breathed as he kissed one of your tears away.

You began grinding your hips against his and demanded, "Show me."

He met your motions with his own thrusts, moving with you in perfect synchronicity to guide you into the sensation of pure bliss. Your lips were attached to his, your kiss only interrupted by the moans and sighs escaping your throat.

With one particular hard thrust he finally pushed you over the edge, your entire body trembling as your walls began pulsing around his hardness.

When you came down from your high he whispered against your lips, "Good girl."

Once he was sure you could take it, he accelerated his pace again, now chasing his own climax. You moved with him, watching his face intently as he got lost in the pleasure.

"You feel so good," he groaned when you clenched around him. "So tight for me."

"Please, Spencer!"

He knew what you were asking for, aware of what it was you needed from him. When he shared his essence with you, you moved with him until he had nothing left to give. The warmth Spencer provided spread through your entire body and you couldn't stop smiling at the thought that the love you two shared could one day grow into something more.

“I love you,” you cooed and welcomed him inside your arms.

He kissed away the stray tears he still found on your cheek before he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You held him tightly against your body until he had caught his breath enough to whisper, “I love you more.”

Your bodies were still connected and you fought against letting him go but he slipped out of you eventually. Spencer got up from the bed and offered you a hand to follow him into the bathroom. He motioned for you to sit on the edge of the bathtub while he ran some warm water over a washcloth.

When he kneeled before you, he gently parted your legs to get access to your center. He let the washcloth run along the insides of your thighs and followed it with his lips, kissing every inch of your soft skin the piece of fabric had touched. There was the utmost tenderness in his motions when he reached your folds, ridding you of the remains of your shared desire. He took care of you, cleaning your body as if it was some sacred ritual. In a way it was.

Once he was done with that he set the damp fabric aside to continue with his kisses. He let his lips move along the apex of your thigh until your hands flew to his unruly curls, tugging on them until he tilted his head to lock eyes with you. He looked up at you like you were some kind of deity and he was ready to worship you.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” You snickered when he wanted to bury his face between your legs again.

“Showing you how much I adore you.”

When he got too close to your core, you shied away from him, still sensitive from your previous high. He got up from the floor to place a soft kiss on your lips before asking, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” you reassured him. “I just want to be close to you.”

Spencer took your hand in his to guide you back to the bed. Gently, he pushed you onto the mattress just to join you seconds later. You found your home inside his arms with your head resting on his chest. His fingertips began dancing over your back, drawing soothing patterns on your skin as he pushed his body further against yours.

You turned your head to find the wild honey of his eyes again, longing for the warmth they radiated. Gratitude washed over you when you realized how much sweeter your life had gotten since you met Spencer.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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beyondthesefourwalls · 2 months

Text

A Verbal Agreement

Summary: You hated Jake Seresin. Truly, you did. Or at least you strongly disliked him. But as it was, he did something for you that no other man could, and it kept you coming back for more.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.2K (no one is as shocked as I am that I kept it short)

Warnings: Smut. Dirty talk. Enemies with benefits. Language. The Blonde One™️.

---

You hated him.

Truly, you did.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe strong dislike would be a better way to describe it.

Jake Seresin was a smug son of a bitch. He was the bane of your existence in so many ways, and got under your skin like he was trying to burrow there and make it his home. His arrogance annoyed you, constantly walking around with a holier-than-thou attitude, like he was God’s gift to women, the Navy, and society in general. His smirk made his face punchable in a way that you were barely able to resist smacking him when he shot it in your direction.

But damn, if his ability to string together filth didn’t drive you fucking crazy.

“That’s it. Fuck. That’s my good girl.”

You clenched around him at his words, a moan leaving you because of the praise.

Dirty talk was something you considered to be an artform. It was one of your biggest turn ons, and so little men knew how to actually execute it. So often when you’d ask for it, it came out awkward, cringy or obnoxious. They fumbled over words and made everything sound so unappealing, unable to find that perfect balance of praise and degradation that you longed for, that you would barely be in the mood to finish after they spouted off what they thought was sexy.

So it would figure, of course, that you discovered Jake was the best dirty talker you had ever been with after what was supposed to be a one time mistake after a few too many drinks at the Hard Deck. He made everything sound so flawlessly erotic and natural, you were basically a puddle for it every single time.

It was no secret that Jake loved to hear himself talk, and this was the one situation where you not only didn’t mind, you wanted it.

“Taking me so fucking well. You were made to take it, weren’t you baby?”

“Yes,” you gasped, nodding rapidly, your nails dragging down his back. “Made to.”

“Yeah you were. I’m making you feel so good, aren’t I?”

Your moan turned into a scream of his name as a sharp smack came down on your ass, Jake nearly bending you in half as he fucked you. “Answer me.”

You knew from knowing him for so long that he hated being ignored, especially in bed, and especially when it was about how good he was making you feel.

“Yes! Fuck!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls. “So good!”

His chuckle and his smirk were both so smug, in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes. But here, in the privacy of your apartment, it sent another wave of arousal through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into him.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that straight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and as smooth as velvet. “Not like you would have been able to deny it, anyway. You’re so fucking soaked, you’re making a mess of the sheets and those pretty thighs of yours. I can only imagine how good it's going to feel when I come inside of you. Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathed.

"You’re so fucking tight, baby. Sucking me in like a damn vice.”

"Please," you whimpered. You were close; so close. But you needed more. “Please, please, please.”

“God I love it when you beg for me.”

He said the words almost to himself, so you didn't answer, caught in a whirlwind of lust and frustration. Jake’s hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, tight circles against it. Your vision blurred at the stimulation.

“You want my cock so bad, don’t you?”

“Jake.”

You felt the edges of your control fraying, the pleasure building to a breaking point. Your whole body shook - sweet release so near that you could almost taste it.

"Yeah, baby," he growled, his hips pounding into you even harder. His thrusts became more urgent as he neared his end, too, demanding and pointed."You want to come for me?”

You couldn’t answer, falling into the haze of what he was making you feel. Your mind was a blank canvas, lost to the sensation of his cock filling you, all that existed was the intense sensation of him thrusting against your nerve-endings, the friction between your clit and his fingers, and the rhythm of his voice, husky and perfect, pulsing through you.

Another smack to your ass, and then his hand found your chin, squeezing just tight enough where it drew you out of your head. He guided your gaze toward him. His eyes, always so mischievous, were dark and calculating. “Do you want to come for me?” he repeated, and you moaned at the authority ringing in your ears.

Your voice was barely a whisper as the words tumbled out of your mouth. “Yes. Please, Jake. Make me come.”

“Then do it. Be a good girl, and come for me. Now.”

Your body responded to his command instantly. You arched into him, your screams echoing in the room as you shattered, your nails digging into his back. He never stopped talking, his voice coaxing as much from you as he could.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up. Come inside this sweet little pussy. And you’re going to take all of it, baby.”

Your body felt like it was on fire. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you and he kept up his relentless rhythm, chasing his own release. You felt him go rigid inside you, and then his hips jerked forward once, twice, and then a third time as he joined you over the edge. He grunted out your name as you clung to him, your arms around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him pulse inside you.

For a few moments, you both laid there, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Jake settled more of his weight on top of you in a way that always made you feel more secure as you came down from the high, and you placed a soft kiss against his neck in appreciation.

“I still hate you,” you mumbled into his skin.

Jake chuckled low in his throat, and then laughed even harder when the sound caused you to clench around his softening cock. He pulled out of you slowly, sliding over your sensitive flesh. You could feel his cum slipping out of you, furthering the mess between your legs. You couldn’t help but shiver as he settled on the mattress beside you, pulling you into his sweaty chest.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, darlin’.”

“No, I mean it.”

But even as you said it, you were cuddling closer to him, draping your leg over his as got comfortable. Post-orgasm was one of the only times he was quiet, or at least not as chatty, and you enjoyed basking in the afterglow that always followed these trysts.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you could feel the smirk that was no doubt a mix of smug and indulgent as he did. “Sure.”

“Shhhh,” you murmured, “don’t ruin it.”

He laughed lightly, but settled down, not saying anything else.

-----------

Notes: I really have no idea what this is or where it came from, but here we are.

Thanks to @roosterforme @mak-32 and @sylviebell for reading it over and all your help! And to Mak for a stunning banner, as per ushe.

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