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꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ knight!bruce wayne x princess!reader, fluff, this has nothing to do with dark knights of steel, just loosely inspired bcuz he’s so pretty as a knight
knight!bruce wayne collection
The castle halls are polished and hushed. Sunlight trickles in from the enormous windows, breaking across the mosaic tiles, making it rain color.
Bruce deepens the kiss, his hand cupping your jaw, the other sliding down to your hip slowly as if he’s trying to hold back. Your hands rest against his chest, feeling the muscle that was usually hidden under all the armor he wore. Only you could see him like this.
Well, you and anyone who walks through this hall.
He pulls back, breath coming out in uneven pants. His eyes trace you. Your lips are parted, your eyes wide and eager for more. His thumb brushes your cheek.
"We shouldn't be doing this out here," he mumbles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
"We can do whatever we want," you reply with a grin. After all, he's your personal guard.
He steels his face, but you see his lips curling up. "You're the most troublesome princess I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," he says, then, without letting you get another word in, he kisses you again.
"Your highness—
A maid stumbles when she sees you pressed up against the wall. For a moment, she simply stares. Her eyes widen, though, when Bruce's body tenses like he's ready for battle.
"My apologies, my lady," she squeaks, gathering her skirts and fleeing as if her life depended on it.
Bruce's forehead falls against yours.
"She must be new," you offer.
He grunts.
"Still, you didn't have to scare the poor thing," you add, your arms wrapping around his neck.
He tilts his head until his eyes meet yours. To your surprise, there's amusement lingering in them. "I didn't—
Distant voices cut him off. A long-suffering sigh leaves him.
"I heard the king granted the princess a plaything," one of the guards began, his voice carrying through the quiet hall.
Silence.
"It's him, isn't it? Wayne?"
Bruce—already knowing you well enough—puts his hand over your mouth to muffle your incessant giggling.
The other guard speaks up, his voice deeper and older. "Yeah, the bastard probably pissed in the king's goblet."
The other one snorts as their footsteps get louder and louder. Your body shakes, and Bruce tries his very best to keep you quiet, but the guards spot you anyway.
Their steps slow. The older one reaches for his sword as he takes in Bruce's hand over your mouth.
"Sir Wayne," he says carefully. "I think it would be wise for you to remove your hand from her highness."
Bruce closes his eyes.
"Her highness prefers it this way." Is all he gives in return before his hand leaves your mouth, and suddenly you're being lifted into his arms, heat blooming across your cheeks at the improper way he carries you away.
"Next, we shall try the gardens," you tell him, cheek pressed against his chest.
꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ knight!bruce wayne x princess!reader, fluff, this has nothing to do with dark knights of steel, just loosely inspired bcuz he’s so pretty as a knight
knight!bruce wayne collection
The castle halls are polished and hushed. Sunlight trickles in from the enormous windows, breaking across the mosaic tiles, making it rain color.
Bruce deepens the kiss, his hand cupping your jaw, the other sliding down to your hip slowly as if he’s trying to hold back. Your hands rest against his chest, feeling the muscle that was usually hidden under all the armor he wore. Only you could see him like this.
Well, you and anyone who walks through this hall.
He pulls back, breath coming out in uneven pants. His eyes trace you. Your lips are parted, your eyes wide and eager for more. His thumb brushes your cheek.
"We shouldn't be doing this out here," he mumbles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
"We can do whatever we want," you reply with a grin. After all, he's your personal guard.
He steels his face, but you see his lips curling up. "You're the most troublesome princess I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," he says, then, without letting you get another word in, he kisses you again.
"Your highness—
A maid stumbles when she sees you pressed up against the wall. For a moment, she simply stares. Her eyes widen, though, when Bruce's body tenses like he's ready for battle.
"My apologies, my lady," she squeaks, gathering her skirts and fleeing as if her life depended on it.
Bruce's forehead falls against yours.
"She must be new," you offer.
He grunts.
"Still, you didn't have to scare the poor thing," you add, your arms wrapping around his neck.
He tilts his head until his eyes meet yours. To your surprise, there's amusement lingering in them. "I didn't—
Distant voices cut him off. A long-suffering sigh leaves him.
"I heard the king granted the princess a plaything," one of the guards began, his voice carrying through the quiet hall.
Silence.
"It's him, isn't it? Wayne?"
Bruce—already knowing you well enough—puts his hand over your mouth to muffle your incessant giggling.
The other guard speaks up, his voice deeper and older. "Yeah, the bastard probably pissed in the king's goblet."
The other one snorts as their footsteps get louder and louder. Your body shakes, and Bruce tries his very best to keep you quiet, but the guards spot you anyway.
Their steps slow. The older one reaches for his sword as he takes in Bruce's hand over your mouth.
"Sir Wayne," he says carefully. "I think it would be wise for you to remove your hand from her highness."
Bruce closes his eyes.
"Her highness prefers it this way." Is all he gives in return before his hand leaves your mouth, and suddenly you're being lifted into his arms, heat blooming across your cheeks at the improper way he carries you away.
"Next, we shall try the gardens," you tell him, cheek pressed against his chest.
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ ・ texts w/ boyfriend! bruce wayne・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ
‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ︵‿︵‿︵‿ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ featuring: Bruce Wayne x reader!!
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ cw: nsfw 18+, mdni, fluff, crack, slice of life, urrrrr i think thats it
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ a/n: bruce version!! hehe
check out my other smaus! requests & rules
The couch dips under Jason's weight, and he's already reaching for you before he's even fully settled. It's unconscious and routine at this point—the way his arm finds the back of the couch behind your shoulders, the way his thick, muscular thigh presses against yours like he's making sure you're still there.
You are. You've been here for an hour, pretending to read, mostly just watching him doze. As if you’d miss out on a chance to dote on him when he’s like this.
His head tips back against the cushion. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open. The line of his jaw is soft like this, unguarded in a way he'd hate if he caught you looking. His henley has ridden up just enough to expose a strip of skin above his waistline. Not muscle there—well, not all of its muscle at least. There’s something softer. Something that shifts when he breathes.
You close your book. You’ve been on the same line for maybe ten or fifteen minutes now and you don’t even remember to put a bookmark in. Too entranced by how hot your boyfriend looks all comfortable like this.
"Jay."
Nothing.
You poke his side. His eyes crack open, bleary and suspicious as he groggily eyes you.
"Mm… what."
"You're comfortable," you say.
"That's not a crime."
"No." You turn onto your side, facing him fully. Your hand lands on his stomach before you think about it. Palm flat and fingers spread. The fabric is warm from his body heat, and underneath it, there's the sexiest pudge you’ve ever seen on a man. A soft layer that yields to your touch before meeting the solid wall of what he used to be beneath.
Jason looks down at your hand. Then up at you. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing."
"The thing where you look at me like I'm a stray dog you found in an alley."
"A very handsome stray dog."
He snorts. It's not an attractive sound. You love it.
"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, but he doesn't move your hand. Doesn't even pull away. If anything, his stomach rises a little more against your palm as he takes in a a deeper breath, deliberate or not. It’s a soft sigh. One that tells you what his words won’t. He loves being here.
"You have a belly," you tell him.
Jason blinks. "I have—okay. Sure. Thank you for that." He rolls his eyes, throwing a beefy arm over his eyes.
"It's not an insult." You trace a slow circle around his navel through the shirt before reaching out to pull his arm off his eyes. It’s heavy. Big. Just like everything else about him. His abdominal muscles twitch underneath, instinctive, but the softness stays. That's what gets you. The way he's still undeniably him—broad, strong, capable of breaking things without so much as trying—but there's this now. This evidence of rest. Of takeout eaten on weeknights. Of sleeping through alarms. Of a normal life where he’s not running himself into the damn ground every single hour of every single day.
"I like it," you say with that cheeky smile of yours.
"You like—" He stops. Rubs a hand over his face. "It's just weight. I've been eating like garbage and I haven't been running as much. It's not—that's not a thing you like. It's just a thing that is."
You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. He freezes. You kiss his cheek, the hinge of his jaw, the spot just below his ear that makes him shiver every time. Every damn time. A weak spot, if you will.
"Liking it," you murmur against his skin.
Jason exhales. Slow. A little shaky at the end because—sure, he’s used to this—but it still gets him hot. His hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck, not pushing you away, not pulling you closer. He just holds you there, fingers gently brushing the nape. Like he's trying to steady himself.
"You're weird," he says quietly.
"You've mentioned."
"Yeah, well." His thumb continues to brush the baby hairs at your nape. "It bears repeating."
You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is flushed—not from embarrassment, exactly. Something closer to disbelief. Like he's waiting for you to reveal the punchline.
You don't have one. He should know this already.
You push his henley up, just a few inches. His stomach tenses on instinct, but you shush him like you're calming a spooked animal, and he lets you, because fuck it, right? He secretly loves the attention anyway. The skin underneath is pale, a roadmap of old scars, and softer than anywhere else on him. You press your lips to the spot just above his waistband.
Jason makes a sound. Not a word. Just a breath punched out of him. A little bit of a groan maybe. Why must you torture him so?
"You're so warm," you say.
"That's—" He clears his throat because if he doesn’t, his voice will definitely crack in a way he would rather it not. "That's generally how bodies work."
"Yours is special."
"It's really not."
You kiss his stomach again. Then again, an inch to the left. Then right where the softest part gives way to muscle underneath. Jason’s not fat—never has been, never really could be with the way he moves, the way he fights, the way his body remembers things yours doesn't. Like years of brutal training and patrol and other shit he had to do, being Red Hood and all. But there's padding now. A layer of proof that he gets to sit down. That he stays. That he isn't running himself ragged every single night.
Jason's hand tightens on your neck. Just a little bit. He’s careful not to crush it—and he definitely could.
"You're gonna give me a complex," he sighs, peeking at you from the corner of his eyes.
"Good. It'll match the others."
That earns a laugh. It's rough, startled out of him, and his stomach jumps under your lips. You smile against his skin and chuckle.
"I'm serious," you say, propping your chin on his belly so you can look up at him. You’re lying in between his legs and even though the position’s pretty compromising when you’re pressed up against him like that. His eyes are soft. His mouth is doing something unreadable, somewhere between a smirk and something a little more fragile. "I love this. I love you. Every part."
Jason stares at you for a long moment. Then he hauls you up by your armpits like you weigh nothing—because to him, you basically do—and places you against his side, sandwiched between him and the back of the couch, with his arm around your shoulders.
"You're annoying," he says, lips pressing against the top of your head. He breathes in your shampoo like he’s trying to commit it to memory. Old habits from when he wasn’t sure if he’d be coming home. But he’s got you forever now.
"You love it anyway." You give his side a squeeze and he groans, grabbing your hand, then your wrist and forces your arm around his waist instead.
"I guess," he agrees quietly.
His hand then drops yours and finds your hip. His thumb rubs back and forth over the bone. His stomach rises and falls against your ribs, soft and warm and alive, and you press your face into his shoulder so he doesn't see you smile too wide.
He knows. He pretends not to notice anyway.
You stay there until the light shifts and the room goes dark, and neither of you moves to turn on a lamp. Too lazy. Too comfortable. And probably asleep by now.
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The couch dips under Jason's weight, and he's already reaching for you before he's even fully settled. It's unconscious and routine at this point—the way his arm finds the back of the couch behind your shoulders, the way his thick, muscular thigh presses against yours like he's making sure you're still there.
You are. You've been here for an hour, pretending to read, mostly just watching him doze. As if you’d miss out on a chance to dote on him when he’s like this.
His head tips back against the cushion. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open. The line of his jaw is soft like this, unguarded in a way he'd hate if he caught you looking. His henley has ridden up just enough to expose a strip of skin above his waistline. Not muscle there—well, not all of its muscle at least. There’s something softer. Something that shifts when he breathes.
You close your book. You’ve been on the same line for maybe ten or fifteen minutes now and you don’t even remember to put a bookmark in. Too entranced by how hot your boyfriend looks all comfortable like this.
"Jay."
Nothing.
You poke his side. His eyes crack open, bleary and suspicious as he groggily eyes you.
"Mm… what."
"You're comfortable," you say.
"That's not a crime."
"No." You turn onto your side, facing him fully. Your hand lands on his stomach before you think about it. Palm flat and fingers spread. The fabric is warm from his body heat, and underneath it, there's the sexiest pudge you’ve ever seen on a man. A soft layer that yields to your touch before meeting the solid wall of what he used to be beneath.
Jason looks down at your hand. Then up at you. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing."
"The thing where you look at me like I'm a stray dog you found in an alley."
"A very handsome stray dog."
He snorts. It's not an attractive sound. You love it.
"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, but he doesn't move your hand. Doesn't even pull away. If anything, his stomach rises a little more against your palm as he takes in a a deeper breath, deliberate or not. It’s a soft sigh. One that tells you what his words won’t. He loves being here.
"You have a belly," you tell him.
Jason blinks. "I have—okay. Sure. Thank you for that." He rolls his eyes, throwing a beefy arm over his eyes.
"It's not an insult." You trace a slow circle around his navel through the shirt before reaching out to pull his arm off his eyes. It’s heavy. Big. Just like everything else about him. His abdominal muscles twitch underneath, instinctive, but the softness stays. That's what gets you. The way he's still undeniably him—broad, strong, capable of breaking things without so much as trying—but there's this now. This evidence of rest. Of takeout eaten on weeknights. Of sleeping through alarms. Of a normal life where he’s not running himself into the damn ground every single hour of every single day.
"I like it," you say with that cheeky smile of yours.
"You like—" He stops. Rubs a hand over his face. "It's just weight. I've been eating like garbage and I haven't been running as much. It's not—that's not a thing you like. It's just a thing that is."
You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. He freezes. You kiss his cheek, the hinge of his jaw, the spot just below his ear that makes him shiver every time. Every damn time. A weak spot, if you will.
"Liking it," you murmur against his skin.
Jason exhales. Slow. A little shaky at the end because—sure, he’s used to this—but it still gets him hot. His hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck, not pushing you away, not pulling you closer. He just holds you there, fingers gently brushing the nape. Like he's trying to steady himself.
"You're weird," he says quietly.
"You've mentioned."
"Yeah, well." His thumb continues to brush the baby hairs at your nape. "It bears repeating."
You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is flushed—not from embarrassment, exactly. Something closer to disbelief. Like he's waiting for you to reveal the punchline.
You don't have one. He should know this already.
You push his henley up, just a few inches. His stomach tenses on instinct, but you shush him like you're calming a spooked animal, and he lets you, because fuck it, right? He secretly loves the attention anyway. The skin underneath is pale, a roadmap of old scars, and softer than anywhere else on him. You press your lips to the spot just above his waistband.
Jason makes a sound. Not a word. Just a breath punched out of him. A little bit of a groan maybe. Why must you torture him so?
"You're so warm," you say.
"That's—" He clears his throat because if he doesn’t, his voice will definitely crack in a way he would rather it not. "That's generally how bodies work."
"Yours is special."
"It's really not."
You kiss his stomach again. Then again, an inch to the left. Then right where the softest part gives way to muscle underneath. Jason’s not fat—never has been, never really could be with the way he moves, the way he fights, the way his body remembers things yours doesn't. Like years of brutal training and patrol and other shit he had to do, being Red Hood and all. But there's padding now. A layer of proof that he gets to sit down. That he stays. That he isn't running himself ragged every single night.
Jason's hand tightens on your neck. Just a little bit. He’s careful not to crush it—and he definitely could.
"You're gonna give me a complex," he sighs, peeking at you from the corner of his eyes.
"Good. It'll match the others."
That earns a laugh. It's rough, startled out of him, and his stomach jumps under your lips. You smile against his skin and chuckle.
"I'm serious," you say, propping your chin on his belly so you can look up at him. You’re lying in between his legs and even though the position’s pretty compromising when you’re pressed up against him like that. His eyes are soft. His mouth is doing something unreadable, somewhere between a smirk and something a little more fragile. "I love this. I love you. Every part."
Jason stares at you for a long moment. Then he hauls you up by your armpits like you weigh nothing—because to him, you basically do—and places you against his side, sandwiched between him and the back of the couch, with his arm around your shoulders.
"You're annoying," he says, lips pressing against the top of your head. He breathes in your shampoo like he’s trying to commit it to memory. Old habits from when he wasn’t sure if he’d be coming home. But he’s got you forever now.
"You love it anyway." You give his side a squeeze and he groans, grabbing your hand, then your wrist and forces your arm around his waist instead.
"I guess," he agrees quietly.
His hand then drops yours and finds your hip. His thumb rubs back and forth over the bone. His stomach rises and falls against your ribs, soft and warm and alive, and you press your face into his shoulder so he doesn't see you smile too wide.
He knows. He pretends not to notice anyway.
You stay there until the light shifts and the room goes dark, and neither of you moves to turn on a lamp. Too lazy. Too comfortable. And probably asleep by now.
"Bruce!" you squeal, giggling and weakly batting at his chest with your fists, no real intention behind the action. Usually, on late nights like these after his patrolling, he would murmur something sweet about missing you, litter your face with small, fleeting kisses, and take his time making you feel good. Tonight, however, Bruce Wayne is just too impatient. He's been thinking about you all day, just waiting to see you all needy and pliant for him.
He sets you down from where he picked you up just to shove his face into your neck and inhale your scent, the sweet aroma of the expensive perfume he so happens to have bought for you filling his senses. That alone makes his dick twitch in his pants insistently; the fact that you let him take care of you gets him harder than he knows what to do with.
"Baby" you huff a small, amused laugh at his unusually clingy behavior, "what's wrong?" You tilt your head, carding your fingers through his hair. He shakes his head, "Need you," he mumbles into your skin. You can already feel his restless hands running all over your body, groping your ass through your sleep shorts. That earns a startled gasp from you. "Bruce..." you say sheepishly, but he's too caught up in how soft your skin is under his calloused palms, and in how easily he could bend and break you right now, if he wanted to.
He lifts you once again, hands hooked under your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed. He drops you onto the mattress with a heavy thud, but before you can even catch your breath, his body is hovering over yours, pinning you down. you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He’s already pulling your shorts down, and your panties go with them. He immediately notices just how slick your cunt is, glistening in the low light as proof of your arousal. "Shit..." He shakes his head, as if he knew you would already be this wet for him. "Needy girl," he smiles condescendingly, "you were waitin' all day for me, huh?"
His hands travel from your hip to your heat, running a finger through the warm, messy slickness, earning a breathy moan from you. "S'okay baby, i'll take care of you," he coos, already fumbling with his belt buckle.
When his cock is finally freed, you can't help but stare. You can never help it not when it's slapping against his abs, not when the pretty pink tip is dribbling with pre cum just because he gets to see you like this. His hand snakes down between the two of you to grab his flushed cock, running the head through your folds. The lewd, wet sound of it makes you whimper. "Bruce please..." you whine, wondering why he can't just stop teasing you put it in already. He was the one kissing you all over not even five minutes ago!
"Patience, sweet girl," he tuts, giving the side of your ass a light smack. You arch your back at the sting, a tiny, needy squeak escaping your throat as you press your hips up, practically begging for the friction. He chuckles, looking amused, like he wants you to beg even more. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice dropping into a soothing tone. "Be still, angel." he knows that you don't know what you're asking for, he knows that the stretch is always too much for you, which is why he never skips prep.
"Bruce! just-" You groan, irritated by him treating you like a stubborn child. "You're being so unfair!" You throw your head back dramatically, pouting at him. He decides he's finally tired of your mewling and complaining about him being "mean".
In one swift motion, he flips you over onto your stomach. Before you can even register the change in position, he pushes in. You cry out loudly at the sudden, burning stretch of him filling you. you literally feel him in your throat, pushing all the words right out. it takes you so off guard because usually, he works you open at a snails pace, too wary of hurting you somehow. but he's had a long night already.
"What's wrong? You asked for this, no?" he asks. You can practically hear that smug, fucking grin on his face. He's enjoying this, throwing your own words back at you. He doesn't give you time to recover from the shock of him. Instead of slowing down to let you adjust, he starts moving deep, heavy thrusts that force a broken, high pitched sob from your lungs. Every time his tip hits that spongy spot inside you, your vision swims. his heavy balls slap against your puffy clit, the pleasure mixed with the pain of how big he is is almost overwhelming. you can't tell if he's punishing you or rewarding you.
"Bruce... please..." you gasp, your face pressed into the pillow, your voice muffled and trembling. you're not even sure what you're asking him for, too fucked out to think about anything else but him. "it feels good, huh? god- you're so fuckin-" he grunts, his voice sounding wrecked and low in your ear. "so tight..." he breathes out, leaning down so his chest pressing against your back, his weight pinning you so firmly you can feel the frantic thud of his heart against your spine, beating just for you. "You wanted me, didn't you? so impatient" he coos. He’s right, and the realization makes you want to whine, but a particularly deep, punishing thrust steals the air right out of your lungs.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand reaching around to catch your chin, forcing your head back so he can see your flushed, tear streaked face. His eyes are more blown out than you've ever seen them. He takes advantage of your head being turned back to kiss you deeply, your neck straining.
"So loud for me... s'a lot, i know..." his voice right in your ear almost makes you cum on the spot. he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, shorter, and much more frantic as his balls tighten and draw up. he feels your gummy walls fluttering around him, and he knows that's going to push him over the edge.
His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your shoulder, "there we go," he purrs, "you gonna cum, sweet girl?". you give a needy whimper in response, "fuck! bruce!" you cry, finally letting go, pleasure coming over you in hot waves. he can't believe just how tight your pussy is clamping around his cock. his eyes roll back at that sensation alone, and his orgasm follows yours quickly as he fucks into you a few last times with a low groan, warmth spilling into you. his cum, so warm, filling you up is a sensation you'll never get over.
"shit," he practically pants, pulling out and bringing you to lay comfortably in his lap, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you close your eyes in exhaustion. "all taken care of" he pats your red ass, so fucking proud of himself.
hiromi is just like your dead husband nanami (っ◞‸◟ c)
it's in ways that make your chest ache.
it’s the way he loosens his tie when he walks through the door—two tugs, then a slow pull, the same exact rhythm your kento used every evening.
you’re standing in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove you already can’t taste, and for a second you forget. you turn, expecting to see that tired, gentle smile, the one that always made you feel like coming home was worth it. but it’s higuruma. his tie is draped over his shoulder now, and he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what just happened in your head.
"long day?" he asks, his voice low and careful. you nod. he doesn’t push it, he just steps behind you and rests his hand on your lower back, the same spot your kento always touched when he wanted you to know he was there without crowding you. your eyes burn. you keep stirring.
"you’re doing it again," he murmurs after a moment.
"doing what?"
"stirring the same spot. you used to tell him it helped you think."
you stop. the wooden spoon hovers above the pot. "i didn’t realize i was doing that."
"i know." his thumb traces a small circle against your spine. "it’s alright."
he reads the newspaper at the table the way your kento did—pages folded neatly, one hand resting on his chin, his brow furrowed in that particular way that made him look older than he was. you watch him from the doorway sometimes, your arms crossed, your heart doing something complicated in your chest.
your kento used to mutter under his breath when he disagreed with an article. higuruma does the same thing. same cadence. same quiet disdain. you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. you wonder if you’re slowly erasing nanami by noticing these things, or if you’re keeping him alive by seeing him in someone else.
"this writer’s an idiot," higuruma mutters, flipping the page.
"what’d he say?"
"that overtime is a sign of dedication."
you smile despite yourself. "how stupid."
when higuruma makes tea, he always pours yours first. he always lets it steep exactly three minutes, the way you once mentioned liking it. your kento had done that too—quietly, without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world to remember how you took your tea.
you sit across from higuruma at the kitchen table, steam rising between you, and you don’t know whether to thank him or cry. so you just sip, and he watches you over the rim of his own cup, his eyes dark and knowing and unbearably kind.
"you’re quiet tonight," he says.
"just thinking."
"about him?"
you hesitate. "sometimes i kiss your mole and forget whose face i’m looking at."
higuruma touches the small dark spot on his left cheek without thinking. "it’s still mine. even when you forget."
even at night, when he touches you, it’s almost too much.
he undresses you the way your kento did—slow and methodical, like he’s got all the time in the world and nowhere else he’d rather be. his fingers work each button, each clasp, with the same careful precision. when your dress pools at your feet, he steps back to look at you, his gaze traveling over your body like he’s memorizing it. your kento used to do that too. like you were something worth studying.
"you’re beautiful," higuruma says, the same words nanami always used. not a compliment. a fact.
"you sound like him."
"i know, baby." he reaches out, tracing your collarbone with one finger. "does it hurt?"
"yes."
"do you want me to stop?"
"no."
higuruma kisses you the same way—deep, unhurried, his hand cradling the back of your head like you might break if he’s not careful. you’re on the bed now, your back against the pillows, and he’s hovering over you, his weight familiar and foreign all at once.
when he pushes inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours. you close your eyes. and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself pretend. the weight of him, the rhythm of his hips, the way he breathes your name against your neck like it’s a prayer.
it could be your kento. it could be. your hands find higuruma’s back, your nails digging in, and you bite your lip to keep from saying the wrong name.
he notices. of course he does. he always does.
"stay with me," he whispers, his voice rough, his thrusts never faltering. "i know where you go. but i need you here. with me." you open your eyes and he’s looking at you, his face inches from yours, his expression open and raw and so painfully understanding it makes you want to sob.
"i’m sorry," you breathe.
he shakes his head, his lips brushing yours. "don’t be. just—stay."
you do. you stay. you let him fuck you gently, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining above your head. he doesn’t rush, he know how to give you what you need, what you’re willing to take, and when you cum, it’s with his name on your lips—his name, not your kento's, though the ghost of it lingers in the back of your throat like something you can’t quite swallow.
after, he holds you the way he did—your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. you stare at the wall, your eyes dry now, your heart a complicated tangle of grief and guilt and something that might be love, if you let it.
"i’m not him," higuruma says quietly, his voice already thick with sleep. "i know that. but i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere."
you reach up and press your lips to the mole on his cheek, the same one you used to kiss on nanami. it’s warm beneath your mouth. real and present.
"i know," you whisper against his skin. "i’m trying to remember that."
he kisses your temple, his arm tightening around you. "take your time. i’ll still be here when you do."
having wally wests’s hips slapping against your ass, cock drilling into you hard, but at a regular, human pace, not the harsh pace he’s got you so used to. he’s not going slow, he’s not even being gentle about it, but he’s not going as fast as he can, not wally fast. for any other guy this would’ve been okay, but you know your boyfriend can do better than that right now.
your back arches in hopes of getting a better angle, but it’s not enough, you need more friction. that’s when your hips start moving against his. you start fucking yourself back into him, until it’s finally you who’s taking control of the situation, his movements synchronised with your own, falling into a nice rhythm together. wally loves it. he loves seeing you use him for your own pleasure like that and the jiggle of your ass with every snap of his hips.
still, it’s not enough for you. once a "faster" finally escapes your lips, he really goes faster. you try to keep moving your hips along with his, but it’s impossible to keep up with him once he starts picking up the pace, a pace only the fastest man alive can achieve. you’re only left to give in to the pleasure your speedster boyfriend provides.
you’re barely aware of what was going on inside your cunt anymore. the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls is not only mindnumbing, but also too fast for your brain to catch up on. the obscene sounds coming out only help heighten the sensation, the slaps of skin that should never come this rapidly, the wet sounds your combined juices make each time his cock slips in and out of you, and the small grunts of your boyfriend behind you. all of it plus the occasional slap of his balls against your clit—that also comes a lot more often at his speed—has you seeing stars already, but what finally drives you over the edge is when he starts vibrating his dick against your walls too.
you hear a “hm” out of wally once you’re coming on his cock, an amused hum by a clearly-too-pleased-with-himself boyfriend.
Synopsis-It’s time for bed and Toji can’t help but indulge in his possessive soothing mechanism that makes you up. Instead of telling him , you turn it into a game of how hard you can push his patience.
His warm, rough hand trails your belly as it creeps up your shirt. Toji pulls you closer to his feverish chest, hugging you tightly. Your back against his chiseled chest. He’s caressing your skin to soothe himself to sleep. The feeling of his throbbing cock poking your lower back as he grips your breast wakes you up.
He does this every night just to end up getting himself riled up. The touch of you does things to this man that even he can’t explain. You just love his lack of control when it comes to you. A man like him, losing his mind all because of you. Having this much power over an otherwise unstoppable man feels riveting.
You buck your hips against his bulging tip, pretending to shuffle in your sleep. You hear him take a deep, growled breath, fingers digging into your skin.
That was your warning.
The sound of Toji yanking your shirt aggressively, tearing it halfway, hits your ear before he immediately gets on top of you. Staring at his "sleeping” beauty. You look so sexy to him, no matter what you do. You can’t see it, but he’s losing his shit trying to contain himself. You can feel him heating up. You love every second of it.
He starts mapping your body with his hands. Cupping your breasts and nibbling your nipples gently. You want to moan so badly, but you don't want to end this thrill. Your heart is beating so fast. The room is so quiet you feel like you can hear every single beat.
His breathing is so slow and heavy. Like a predator creeping up on its prey. You shift your body just to tease him. He instantly pauses, hovering his head over your chest.
“Your heart is beating way too fast for someone that's supposed to be sleeping.”
He want to see you fold so badly. He's getting impatient.
Without a word, he rips open what's left of your shirt. Completely throwing away any fragment of restraint he had left. He finally knows your game, but you don’t let up. You want to see how far you can push him without doing a thing. Without lifting a finger. His hands grip your thighs, dragging you closer to him. He arches over, head next to your ear as he takes in your smell.
“Get the fuck up…”
He’s so used to you letting him mold your every action. He forgot how dirty you like to play.
He scoffs, but you know he's pissed the fuck off.
Poor thing’s not getting his way.
Suddenly, you feel his tongue swirling around your nipple. He slips his hands in your panties, running his finger through your sweet folds. He’s staring up at you to see if you react. You bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself hushed. You want to give in so terribly, but you love how worked up he can get. How he puts you in your place.
He traces his fingers over your wet hole before inserting and curling them upwards. You inhale harshly. In a split second, he grabs your neck and drills his fingers into you. The sound of your wet pussy slurping him in and out in a room this silent feels deafening.
“You think you’re cute? Stop the bullshit, or I will make you regret it.”
His thick, rigid fingers ramming into your saturated pussy as his palm grazes your clit with every stroke.
You can’t repress the feeling any longer. Finally, a moan breaks out of you as you crumble under him. You smirk weakly. Your eyes flutter as they open.
“Toji.. That’s exactly what I want.”
He grins, peering into you and gripping your throat tighter. Biting his lip as he drinks you with his eyes. He slides his fingers out of your begging pussy and lets go of your throat. He reaches into his sweatpants and strokes his cock a few times, gazing at you before whipping it out.
Toji rubs his leaking tip down the slit of your pussy. Gliding his other hand up and down his veiny shaft. Gripping it so tight that his knuckles turn white. Rough, silk-edged groans leave his lips, hitting your ears in the best way. “Shit.. You have no clue what the fuck you do to me..”
Oh, but you do, and this is exactly why you do it.
He plunges his cock so deep into you that you swear you feel your body short-circuit for a second. Your back arches off the mattress, and he sweeps his arm under you. Keeping your back angled as he’s pressing down on your lower belly with his other hand. “Nngh…Fuck—“ You let out a shrieked moan.
His curved, tense cock is hitting your G-spot perfectly. Your body feels like it's being attacked with a pure sense of blazing pleasure. He’s pounding his cock into you faster and harder. Like his body is begging you for more.
Your pussy is clenching tighter and tighter the closer you get to full euphoria. He hovers down, moving his hand from under your back and making his way back to your neck. Kissing and biting you, leaving trails of soft bruises and bite marks on your neck and chest.
Every time he fucks you, he has to leave his mark. After all, how will everyone know you’re his?
What a greedy man.
“If you wanted me to fuck you to sleep, you should’ve said so.”
Each word is driven by a sharp thrust from his hips. “That would’ve ruined the fun…” You exhale in his ear, grinning as you snatch his hair and press his face into your neck.
You grind your hips along his pulsing cock. Inching your way towards that lovely sensation of ruin. He pounds into you harder with thrusts that have your body shaking. Your toes feel like they’re going to cramp up from the strain of curling them.
“Haa– Tojii…”
“Let me hear you, baby…”
The way he’s gripping your throat feels like that statement was rhetorical. You let out hitched breaths as he chuckles and smiles on your neck.
A malicious man in love is exactly what he is.
His tip twitches as it hits your slick walls. He’s clutching your throat harder as he’s about to cum. You grab his hand, pinning it tighter against you. An inaudible gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes roll back as your hips buck sporadically, your nails digging into his tensing arm. A surge of overwhelming pleasure floods into you. Running through your body like a wildfire.
His clutch on your neck loosens as he fills you up. “Fuck…Look at you, taking it like the good girl you are.” Thrashing into you carelessly. You’re squirming against the bed and crying out his name. You know exactly what he likes to hear. A drop of his sweat drips onto your chest as he looks down at you, his masterpiece.
His strokes get slower as he rides this moment out. He slowly pulls his cock and rubs it on your puffy and sensitive clit. You jerk and snatch the bedsheets. He scoffs as he slumps over next to you. Panting and still fixed on you. A shaking, zoned-out mess.
“Tuh– I swear you do this shit to yourself.”
Your body finally relaxes as your breathing slows down. You roll your eyes coyly, “Shush.. Don’t act like you don’t love it?” Still a bit out of breath. He gets up and walks towards his bathroom. Your eyes wander his room while he walks away. He comes back and throws you a pack of wipes and one of his shirts.
“Don’t get cocky.” He says as he changes his pants. “Sooo, can we finally get some sleep?” You finish freshening up and throw his shirt back at him. He looks down at your chest and smirks.
“No promises.”
@iluvvsatoru (My tag list short asf yall ntm!!(ㅠ﹏ㅠ))
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i just knoooooow bruce wayne’s thighs are so meaty
especially when your head was buried in between them, hands gripping them and throat filled with his large hard cock, tears prickling from the corner of your eyes from how he was barely leaving space for you to even breathe. your nails would lightly claw on his thighs, muffled whines heard from you
another thing is that his thighs would for sure have marks of those weapon straps he has on whenever he’s patrolling, red imprints of the belt and batarangs visible when he took it off due to how tight he always had it on
a groan left bruce’s lips, his hand gripping a fistfull of your hair and guiding your mouth on his length. “doin’ so good for me, sweetheart—!” he knocked his head back with a choked moan left his lips when he felt your tongue swirl around his length, brushing on his prominent veins. “fuuuck”
you were deepthroating him so good that his trail was tickling the tip of your nose and his balls were making contact with your chin, a muffled hum from you sending shivers to bruce’s body with a grunt.
as if that wasn’t enough, your fingertips trailed down to the strap marks on his thighs, feeling the imprint on his skin and tracing a batarang mark that was on his inner thighs. it made bruce’s breathing hitch from his gape lips and his cock in your mouth twitch. his hand in your hair pushed more of his length in— like the entirety wasn’t in already
“breathe from your nose, baby” his other hand came to tilt your chin and meet with your eyes. "thaaaats it, good girl" his hips started to move, noises from him leaving his lips and muffled ones from you. god, bruce was so big there was hardly any room for air to enter through
“just like that, baby. you just kneel down and —fuck— look pretty while i fill up those gorgeous lips of yours, yeah?”
yum, meaty
—————————————————————————
masterlist!
(a/n: THAT FANART I #NEEEEEEEEED THAT also help im writing this while watching the knicks and spurs game)
The coffee table was littered with bottles and empty cans. Gojo had declared it “proper drinking hours,” and the group had settled into their usual chaos. You stayed curled up on the couch beside Toji, knees tucked under you, trying not to feel too out of place.
Toji noticed immediately when you hesitated at the offer of straight whiskey.
He stood up without a word, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a tall glass filled with ice, something pink-orange, and a straw. He pressed it into your hand, voice low near your ear.
“Made it sweet. They drink like animals. Figured you’d want fruity.”
Your fingers brushed his as you took the glass. The simple gesture made heat bloom across your cheeks again. “Thank you, Toji…”
He just grunted and sat back down, closer this time, his thigh warm against yours.
The questions started innocently enough.
“So, roommate life with Toji,” Geto drawled, smiling lazily. “How bad is it? Does he leave his dirty socks everywhere? Brood in silence like a gargoyle?”
You laughed softly, sipping your drink. It was dangerously good — mango, peach, a hint of something stronger underneath. “It’s… actually pretty nice. He’s clean. Pays rent on time. Doesn’t throw parties or anything.” You glanced sideways at Toji. “He’s quiet, but… he made me breakfast this morning.”
Gojo nearly choked on his beer. “He what?”
Sukuna smirked, eyes glinting. “Domestic as fuck.”
Nanami raised an eyebrow. “And you’re what, twenty? Living with this brute?”
You nodded, cheeks warming under the attention. “Yeah, I’m twenty. Turned twenty a couple months ago.”
“Baby,” Sukuna muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Toji to shoot him a sharp glare.
Toji’s arm dropped from the back of the couch to rest along the cushion right behind your shoulders. Not touching, but close enough that you felt the heat.
They kept going.
“What do you study?” Geto asked.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Gojo added with a teasing grin.
“How the hell did you end up rooming with him?” Sukuna jerked his thumb at Toji.
You answered as best you could, growing more flustered with every question. Toji stayed mostly silent, but he kept refilling your glass whenever it got low — always sweet, always fruity, perfectly mixed. Every time his fingers grazed yours while handing it over, your stomach flipped.
Living with Toji was… complicated, you told them. He was intense. Sometimes cold. But lately he’d been… different.
Toji’s jaw flexed when you said that. His hand finally settled on the back of your neck, thumb brushing lightly under your ponytail. The casual touch sent electricity down your spine.
“Alright, enough interrogation,” Toji growled after your fourth drink. His voice was low, but everyone heard the warning edge. “She’s not on trial.”
You’d been with the 141 long enough that the team felt like home—Price’s cigars, Soap’s endless jokes, Gaz’s easy laugh, and Ghost… well, Ghost was Ghost. Silent, broad-shouldered, always layered in black long sleeves and that damn mask. You’d never seen an inch of skin. Not once.
Well, until today.
You’d caught him in the gym, sleeves pushed up while he wiped down equipment. And oh God—Ink. A full sleeve on his left arm—dark, intricate, covered from wrist to bicep—maybe even higher— in sharp lines and shadows. Skulls, barbed wire, something that looked like a grim reaper. It suited him perfectly, and the sight hit you low in the gut.
You couldn’t stop staring. When he noticed, he tilted his head, that masked stare pinning you.
“Something wrong, love?”
You swallowed. “Your arm. I didn’t know you had any tattoos. They’re… really fucking cool.”
Ghost paused. “You want a closer look?” His voice dropped, low and rough, a warning but.. you didn’t catch it. “Might not be able to unsee it.”
You nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I want to see.”
You not catching that warning was more blessing than curse— now you’re in his quarters, door locked, the only light a sad lamp casting shadows across the room. Your back is pressed to his chest, legs spread over his thighs as he fucks up into you from behind—slow, deep, relentless. The thick, tattooed arm hooked around you, and he’s got three fingers shoved deep in your mouth, stretching your lips, pressing down on your tongue, keeping you quiet.
You can see every inch of the ink.
The sleeve is even more detailed up close—black and gray, textured, the designs shifting with every flex of his forearm as he works his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with his cock. Saliva slicks his fingers, dripping down your chin, but you don’t care. You moan around them, eyes locked on the tattoos, on the way his muscles move, on how hot the contrast is between the deadly ink and the way he’s using that hand to keep you quiet and full.
“Fuckin’ asked if you were sure..” he growls against your ear, accent thick, breath hot through the mask he won’t remove. “Now look at you. Mouth stuffed with my fingers, cunt clenching every time you see somethin’ new. Dirty girl.”
He thrusts harder, hips snapping up, the wet sounds were obscene. His tattooed arm stays exactly where you can see it—fingers hooked in your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip as he makes you take them deeper. You gag softly and he chuckles, low and dark, never slowing.
“That’s it. Keep your eyes on it while I ruin you.”
Your hands grip his forearm, fingers tracing the lines of the tattoos as your orgasm builds fast and sharp. Ghost doesn’t let up—he fucks you through it, fingers muffling your cries, the full sleeve on display just for you like he promised.
When he finally pulls his fingers free, strings of spit connecting them to your lips, he drags the wet digits down your throat, over your chest, and presses the tattooed palm flat against your stomach so you can feel every inch of him still buried inside.
“Next time..” he murmurs, voice wrecked, “you’ll trace every line while I’m balls deep. Yeah?”
୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧
A/N: ….I’ve been going feral since the sleeve reveal guys..
Thinking bout Simon's truck being so big he has to lift you up by the waist to get you inside every time. The thing is, you can't even reach the fucking handle, so you don't bother trying to get in anymore after failing miserably a couple of times. His Ford's just impossible to get into gracefully.
So, you simply wait by the door, standing there pretty and patient until he's towering behind you, and you feel the warmth of his tattooed arms effortlessly scooping you up to sit your ass on the seat.
It's actually funny because you're perfectly capable of getting in yourself, but over time you started doing it on purpose. He'd never tell you that, but he knows it too. The way your face lights up every damn time you wait for him gives you away immediately. Still, he'd never dare ruin your little game.
"Si, come pick me up, please?"
You stood in front of the monster he drove until you heard the door to your house click shut and his heavy boots against the driveway.
You didn't even bother to turn around. The low, amused huff that left Simon told you everything you needed to know.
The car unlocked with a click.
"Y'know," he drawled, coming to a stop behind you, "for someone who runs their mouth as much as you do, you're awful helpless, love."
A grin tugged at your lips as you felt his hands settle on your hips, giving them a light squeeze.
"Mhm."
He snorted.
"Such a fuckin' brat."
One second your feet were planted firmly on the ground; the next, they were kicking in the air as he hauled you up against his warm chest. A squeal escaped you before you could stop it.
"Simon!" You grabbed onto his forearms.
"What?" His voice was full of that stupid satisfaction he got whenever he managed to get a reaction out of you. "Thought you wanted me to help." He murmured close to your ear, sending shivers through your body.
You loved how easy he made it look and hated how your stomach flipped every time.
But fuck, what you loved most was being manhandled by him.
By the time he set you down on the passenger seat, your face was all warm.
His hand lingered on your thigh for a second longer before he stepped back.
You narrowed your eyes. Simon looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Creep."
"Got in the truck, didn't ya?"
You pouted.
"Buckle your seatbelt!" Simon barked out a laugh and shut the door.
"You fuckin' buckle my ass," you huffed under your breath.
/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ⠀.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⌖ ₊ minors do not interact, u will be blocked.
cw: gunz, sb teaching u and not keeping his hands off you, some explicit content. not proofread ahhh. wc: 2.4k~
— ᨳଓ⋆˚࿔.
he’d driven you out to a private forest clearing, with a lake nearby. a little spot he knew. the two of you sat with the roof of his vintage black classic down, the breeze brushing through the trees and against your hair.
beside you in the driver’s seat, ben licked the edge of a small, cherry-flavored rolling paper. he focused on securing the joint he was fashioning for the two of you. he was nearly finished, already packed the weed in snug. you couldn’t help but smirk at his posture: his back hunched over as he zeroed in on his task. his aviator sunglasses rested atop his head, pushing his hair back and out of the way, nearly a headband. the lenses reflected the sun. a meteor could strike and he wouldn’t notice until he was done.
feeling bored, you tapped your nails against the door armrest. you looked around at the trees. you sat up to see the lake in the near distance, the sun glistening off the ripples. you poked the fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. you rummaged through his glove compartment…
… and your brows shot up upon seeing a black pistol buried under documents and condoms.
you glanced over to see if he’d caught you snooping. his brows were still furrowed as he rolled the joint over the steering wheel. utterly enraptured by his weed. you smirked, feeling suddenly mischievous. with great care, you gently retrieved the firearm.
“put it down.” his voice rang beside you.
you tensed, suddenly feeling like a scolded child, then smiled faintly. you didn’t put it down. you treated it delicately, of course, purposely avoiding the trigger as you examined it. the metal was cool and heavy in your hand. “why is it in here?”
“needs to be,” he said simply. then, he took the gun from you, grabbing it by the barrel. he set it muzzle down in the empty cup holder between you before focusing his attention back to the blunt.
you tilted your head, unsatisfied, and stated matter-of-factly, “you’re indestructible.”
“you’re not.”
you raised a brow again, intrigued. “so it’s for me.”
“for assholes.”
“my hero.”
ben looked over at you then, sizing you up, half impressed, half perpetually annoyed.
“have you ever even been this close to a roscoe?”
you looked through your lashes. “… once or twice.”
that got his attention. he lowered the unfinished joint in his lap, looking you over again, his keen green eyes following a steady path down your figure. ben paused for a long moment, as if he was assessing you.
“when?”
“fourth of july.”
“what’d you shoot?” he sounded nearly fascinated. never in a million years would ben have guessed you did something like that. you were always such a sissy.
“the ground,” you confessed timidly.
the sharp sound of his laughter broke the peacefulness of nature surrounding you. his shoulders bounced, he tipped his head back against the headrest, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. he licked his lips and muttered something like jesus christ as he settled down, shaking his head and bringing the joint back up to work on again.
“you’re a card.” he stated. he gave the joint a final lick, pressing the paper down flush with the pads of his thumbs. he inspected it carefully before tucking it in his shirt pocket. he pushed his aviators back down, wearing them properly, hiding his eyes. “get out.”
you blinked, watching him open his door, grab the pistol, and step out of the car all in one motion. after a moment of hesitation, you followed.
he beckoned you over with a finger, his gun in his back pocket. ben’s hand snaked around your waist when you were close enough and he leaned against the hood of his car. he thumbed your hip and raised his hand, moving it to follow the horizon.
your eyes followed. the lake’s shore lapped at the dirt a few respectable paces away, the water slightly murky. surrounding you, conifers and hardwood cast sparse shadows. their leaves occasionally swayed with the soft breeze, and the unmistakable smell of sap comforted you in a strange way.
his voice recaptured your attention. “pick a tree.”
you looked over at him, a surge of disbelief passing through you. he really trusted you enough to do this?
you shook your head. “i don’t wanna shoot a tree.”
ben rolled his eyes. “hippie,” he muttered, reaching into another pocket of his. he pulled out his cherry rolling papers and ripped two out- then crumpled them into little balls. you blinked in surprise at the sacrifice of two perfectly good rolling papers.
“put these in your ears,” he commanded. and so you did. the sounds of the lake’s waves, the chirping of the birds, the swish of tree branches brushing against each other muffled.
without warning, he grabbed your waist in both hands, and yanked you in front of him. with his chest flush against your back, he wrapped an arm around your middle and fished his pistol out of his pocket. he brought it out to show off.
you knew not to reach for it. he turned it in his hands. his chin brushing against the back of your head. “this bitch’s no joke, you hear me, doll?”
you nodded. he grunted in approval, then flipped the gun back, left side up. he flicked the safety off, keeping the nose pointed to the ground.
gently, ben’s hand smoothed across your stomach, to your hip, and up your side. he trailed his palm over your forearm and down to your hand. being this close to him, you could hear each little inhale and exhale of his. you could feel his breath brush against your ear. you fought the urge to shiver, especially when his hand found yours. he lifted it and guided it to hold the grip of the gun, adjusting your fingers to stay clear of the trigger.
his hand wrapped firmly around yours, keeping your fingers temporarily disabled, the gun still pointed to the dirt. he squeezed your hand, and you felt something click beneath your palm. your heart raced.
“that was the grip safety,” he said, his voice calm. you nodded once, relaxing.
his other hand gestured in front of you, to a dead tree stump about sixty feet away, maybe four feet tall. it sat unimposing at the opposite shore of the lake, gray and peeling bark, surrounded by its living kin.
“see that stump?”
you nodded.
“aim for that.”
“… okay.”
his grip around your hand on the gun remained. you felt the grainy surface of the grip on your skin. his other hand moved, guiding your left hand to the gun in the same fashion he did the other. ben hummed in approval as he fixed your hands over the grip.
wordlessly, he guided your arms up, the gun still snug inside your fingers. he straightened your arms outright, then maneuvered your right index finger to rest gently on the trigger guard.
“don’t move your finger yet,” he said, his voice in your ear. you swallowed.
his hands left yours, leaving the breeze to brush over them, the coldness emphasizing the loss. he ran his hands slowly up your wrists, to the sensitive skin of the inside of your elbows, and he stopped to hold your biceps. he kept his feet planted firmly outside yours, his broad chest flush against your back.
you pressed your thighs together, his touch molding, and you avoided exhaling too shakily. though, you were almost certain he could hear your pounding heart. just the thought of his awareness made your cheeks flush.
“now…” he let go of one of your arms, his chin by your ear. he gently tapped the small, triangular-shaped bump on top of the pistol once, the one closest to your eye; then the bump further away, on the very tip of the barrel.
“sights. front and rear. as you can see, front is a post, rear is a notch. you line ‘em up both horizontally and vertically, at the center of that stump… and you’ve got your aim.”
you squeezed one eye shut to line the sights up, doing your best to center them as he instructed on the awaiting stump. he shifted, leaning over to look at your face, assessing briefly. he smiled faintly.
“now, i know that might feel right, sweets, but it’s better to keep both those pretty eyes open.”
his voice was cogent. you quickly reopened your eye, exhaling. you could hear the faintest of chuckles leave him.
he licked his lips and slid his hands up back to yours on the gun. one held both of yours in place securely, and the other reached to grab his gun by the barrel, between the sights. he slid the slide back, exposing the metal barrel underneath, and it made a clicking noise that made your brows furrow. he let it go, covering the barrel once again.
“she’s cocked. don’t you move a muscle till i tell you to.”
he found his place behind you again, his chest against you. he squeezed your shoulders gently before he smoothed his rough hands down your upper back, over the ridge of your bra, down to the dip of your waist. you blinked slowly, your eyes darting momentarily to the ground, then back up. you knew you needed to focus, not let his carnal touch divert your attention.
he ran his thumbs back and forth over your waist. his hands were warm and unmoving, and you couldn’t help but notice he kept your ass pressed firm against his hips, the print of his dick faint but felt. it made your breath hitch, but you remained planted against him. and when you heard a rough, faint groan leave his lips right in your ear? you wanted to ditch this whole shooting lesson.
when he spoke again, his voice was considerably softened. but it still made your heart skip. it pulled you back into what this was supposed to be. “you can put your finger on the trigger now, but do not put pressure on it.”
you swallowed again, nodding, regrouping, and you moved your finger carefully off the guard and onto the cool trigger. it was a strange sense of power. one pull and a killing stone would come out at 800 feet per second.
“atta girl. don’t pull yet. take your time, give yourself at least half a minute to aim. then you fire.”
you held the gun pointed where you wanted, taking slow, shuddering breaths, heeding his words. he trusted your judgment, the good head on your shoulders. you’re not so reckless to fire when you’re not confident. and you’re listening so well to each of his instructions.
you lined up the sights, acquiring yourself a good shot, but damn if his closeness didn’t make you blush. as if sensing your temperament at the moment, ben nuzzled his half hard cock against your ass with a slow exhale, causing you to gasp faintly.
your chest sank, about to lower the gun. but he spoke again, this time whispering gravelly. “now… shoot when you want. it’s gonna recoil, and it’s gonna recoil pretty fuckin hard, so be prepared for that.”
he lowered his hands from your waist to grip your hips. the feeling made you breathe uneven, just one short breath that didn’t escape his notice. he smiled, but for once didn’t point it out. not now. he held you tight, not letting you move even an inch away. having your precious self this close was too good to not take advantage of. just feeling your body heat seep into his sent blood straight down. he breathed heavy through his nose, right in your ear, and he gave your hips a gentle squeeze.
you pulled, and a loud bang- one you didn’t anticipate to be so booming because of the rolling papers- rang out when you applied pressure to the trigger. and not even half a second later, the sound of the bullet hitting the stump met your ears. just as he said, the recoil shoved you back. right into him.
tree branches shook as birds fled from them, and you gasped loud. his arm came around you immediately, and ben snatched the gun from your hands harshly by the barrel, quickly flicking something on it down with a click. you heard his laughter in your ear, your heart pounding.
“ha-ha! fuck, baby, you hear that? you hit that shit dead fuckin’ center. that’s my girl.”
he tucked the gun away, adjusting you forcefully to face him. his grin was unmoving, plastered on his face shamelessly. he gave you a shake as he laughed, and after getting your bearings, you finally sighed in relief. you smiled coyly, your hand bracing against his chest. and when you saw your stunned reflection in his sunglasses lenses, you finally laughed alongside him.
“i hit it?”
“did you hit it? yeah, you fuckin’ hit it,” he rubbed your arm, ruffling your clothes. he pointed to the stump. “see for yourself.”
you looked over, narrowing your eyes to see better. sure enough, near the center of the trunk, a hole from the bullet was marked. you picked the balled up rolling papers out of your ears. you let out a disbelieving laugh, grinning, feeling a twinge of pride for yourself. you just shot a gun and hit your target.
you were pulled out of your thoughts by a large hand smacking your ass, the slap causing you to freeze. his laugh deepened by your ear, his arm around you caging. he adjusted you in front of him, practically manhandling you, your hair catching in the wind.
your face fell at the proximity. your chest pressed flush against his made eye contact difficult. but ben hooked his finger under your chin, his other hand sliding down to grip your ass and pull you even closer. that’s when you registered it. him, the hard bulge of his cock straining against his jeans, pressing into your hip. your eyes widened.
“my little sharpshooter,” he said fondly. he leaned in to kiss you roughly, his teeth knocking against yours. it was as brief as it was aggressive, and it left you breathless and squirming.
he grinned, plucking the joint he rolled out of his shirt pocket, taking it between his lips. his other hand found your ass again, and with half lidded eyes, ben rutted his cock against you, just once. enough to make you gasp.
“now, why don’t you be a good girl and bend over this hood for me?”
a/n: can u tell i’ve missed the shooting range. if sb was my instructor id never miss a lesson. ugh this is soooooo dialogue heavy i don’t usually write like this i hope it lands well. as i said in a previous post, fighting through my feeling of un-motivation. this was fun to write tho. more content to come, ily guys~~~
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Reiner Braun loves hitting it from the back so he can see your curls bounce
Fingernails digging into your hips, Reiner slammed back into you from behind, watching your ass bounce against his hips– and, more importantly, your curls bounce against your upper back.
Reiner absolutely adored your curls. Whenever you would cuddle, he would twist your curls around his fingers, watching them spring back to normal once he let go.
Despite your protests and complaints about how he would cause frizz, Reiner didn’t stop. Your hair mesmerized him.
But above all, his favorite thing is getting to watch your curls bounce and splay around your shoulders whenever he fucks you from behind. In fact, it’s grown to be his favorite position purely because of your hair.
“Reinerrr…” you groaned, arms sore and tired from holding your lower half up in the air for him for so long.
He kept his brutal pace, fat tip hitting deep inside you with every thrust. Reiner had to hold himself back from reaching out to play with your curls mid-act. Watching them just wasn’t enough.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, breathing growing ragged and thrusts becoming slower, “so fucking beautiful.”
Reiner slid one hand down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in gentle circles to make up for his slowed pace. He would drag his cock back out slow, and then slam back into without warning just to watch your hair bounce.
“O-oh god, Rei- nghhh I’m gonna cum!” Whimpers becoming pathetically loud, the coil in your tummy snapped, sending your orgasm crashing over you.
Reiner hissed, pulling out, giving his dick a few strokes before shooting a hot load of cum onto your lower back.
“I hope that didn’t get in my hair,” you mumbled, relaxing from your bent position, asleep arms finally coming back to life.
“I would never. Don’t you trust me not to mess with those perfect curls?” Reiner wiped your back off with a tissue off the nightstand, tossing it. He pulled you to his side, strong arms holding you close.
“I guess,” you murmured, voice muffled from your face in his chest. Reiner chuckled, already starting to play with your curls again, not stopping until you both fell asleep.
Finally wrote something specifically applicable to myself… I definitely enjoyed it.
cw: college au, unprotected pıv sẹx, he talks you through it overstımulation, lowkey manhandeling teehee, fıngering, praise, mıssionary, mating press, breeding kınk, squırting, clıt stimulation, yes it's pierced, after care, soft law
lesson one | lesson two (here)
After the first 'lesson' you had with your boyfriend, Law was beyond proud to find out you passed your musculoskeletal exam a week after taking the test.
"That's my girl," He said with a smile, giving you a kiss on the lips. In your hand, was your phone with a "99%" on the screen.
"The professor said I got the highest mark in the class and asked how I did it." You smiled, watching him whip up dinner.
"What did you tell her?" Law looked at you with a knowing and perverted look in your eyes. You blushed and looked away.
"I-I just told her that I went to the tutoring sessions at the lab" You stammered embarrassingly.
"Did you also tell her that your boyfriend with a medical degree fingered you until you ans－" "Shut up!!" You hushed your boyfriend before he could say anything else.
"I'm just teasing. Go relax, I'll have dinner ready soon. I also restocked on your favorite snacks." Law told you with a natural smile. You grabbed the cookies and smoothie he had in the fridge for you. "Oh, I can't wait to marry you." You whispered to yourself and the word reached Law's ears.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!"
Law chuckled and continued to cook. You cracked open your laptop and finished your work for the digestive system. "Baby?" You called out from the living room and he peeked his head out. "Something wrong?"
"No, I'm just doing some labeling for the digestive system. What's the longest portion of your small intestine?" You awaited his answer, twirling a pen in your hand.
"The ileum, it's the final section and it extends from the jejunum to your ileocecal valve." Law spoke casually, like the complexities of the human body were as simple as the tattoos on the back of his hand. In fairness, studying medicine for a decade, it probably was simple for him.
"The ileum...absorbs bile salts...okay." You whispered to yourself, working through your notes and finishing it up. "Might as well get a head start on the reproductive system..." You hummed, flipping to the next page when Law placed a bowl of teriyaki chicken, vegetables on a bed of steaming rice.
He flopped next to you on the couch and looked down at your notes. "Reproductive system huh..." Law eyed you, like he already had a lesson in mind for you. "Uh-huh! It's the last set of chapters for the semester and I'll finally be free. A few friends who took this course before me told me how the reproductive system killed them so I'm a bit nervous."
Law saw you fidgeting with your pen and he took your hand into his. "It'll be fine. Let's eat first and I'll teach you all you need to know about it, alright?" You nodded, taking your bowl and eating with him. He put on a random show while the two of you talked about mundane things.
He cleaned up while you opened your slides about the system. Law settled back next to you, a gentle hand on your hip while you took notes from your slides.
"You remember from the endocrine system that's involved with your sex hormones right?" He looked down at you nodding eagerly.
"Could never forget it when you drilled it into my head." He chuckled at your statement, kissing your temple. "It's for the best. Remember your FSH stimulates the maturation and growth of eggs in females, and sperm for males. LSH..." Your phone pings as he explains, lighting up with a notification that read "Fertile window! Your ovulation is coming up!" He read the notification and chuckled.
"Look at that perfect timing. The LSH stimulates ovulation while in men, triggers testosterone production." Watching Law's hand trace the diagrams and his deep voice made it hard to focus. You could blame it on ovulation, or just admit that this man made you unbelievably horny with ease.
"Are you listening?" Law turned his face to you and you nodded. "Yes! Of course, I got it." Law read the lie through your teeth and smirked. "Alright then. Let's focus on the anatomy of the sex organs, shall we? We'll begin with the male anatomy...
He walked you through the structures of the penis. From the testicles to the bulbous head.
"Could you tell me which part of the penis is responsible for maintaining erection?" Law looked down at your flustered face, chuckling. "The...the uh, corpus cavernosum?" He pressed his lips to your temple.
"That's right...and right now...mine's doing its job just seeing you." He whispered gravelling into your ear. He teased you, bringing your hand to his crotch and feeling his erection. You let out a soft gasp, shocked but also equally as turned on as he was.
"We'll get to that later. But remember that sexual arousal is caused by a number of factors, including hormones, physical and mental stimulation. But for me? All I need is you." He bit your ear, earning a whimper.
"Let's continue on, shall we?" His voice and casualness of basically saying you make him horny made studying impossible.
Law continued to ask questions and you answered to the best of your ability. With every answer, his hand slowly stimulated you; like the ocean's shore slowly pulling back before a big tsunami. His hand was slowly massaging underneath your breasts.
"Moving onto the female anatomy...one fact you're definitely aware of is how sensitive your breasts are during ovulation, right?" His warm hands massaged sensually, slowly easing the ache but also making your cunt throb.
"Yeah, always super sensitive and warm" You quietly admitted. Law let out a soft chuckle before explaining, "Because of the surge of estrogen levels, it stimulates your breast tissue, making it heavier and tender." He kissed your shoulder.
"Is that why you always want to suck on them when I'm ovulating?" You smirked up at him and he chuckled again, "Guilty as charged, baby." He replied, honey-voiced.
"We've already gone over the muscles of the vagina so we'll focus on the phases women go through. But first, can you answer what the purpose of the reproductive system is?" He looked expectantly at you, hand pausing.
"Well..." you began, "...It's to create new life?" You looked at him for confirmation and he nodded. "You're almost there. Yes, specifically for women, it's to create new life, but also for gamete formation, lactation, fertilization. In men...meiosis and all that fun stuff that eventually leads to life like you and I." You were in awe of how graceful he was with his words despite his shameless hands.
Law's soothing voice and dangerous hands felt like heaven and hell at the same time. You tried focusing but your hips had a different plan in mind. You raised your hips, trying to chase his hand and he spanked you lightly on the thigh.
"Uh-uh. Until you can thoroughly understand the reproductive system, you can't just get what you want." He kissed your shoulder
"C'mon, Law! It's...it's just so hard to focus when you're purposely making me horny!!" You whined, earning a laugh from him. Your face was flushed warm with embarrassment. "I can't believe you just admitted that out loud." He shut your laptop and turned you around. "I'll have to teach you another way." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before manhandling you so your back met the couch, shocking you.
"La-Law!" "Shh, tutoring session is going on. Can't have my student slacking right, baby?" He kissed your lips, capturing your moans. Law's tongue prodded your lips, as if he were wordlessly asking for permission to which you complied. Your tongue and his swirled around like a lewd dance in your oral cavities. His hands effortlessly removed your shirt, pulling away for a moment then continuing his ministrations. He kicked his sweats off, leaving you two in just your underwear.
He pulled away, not too far, whispering, "You're so beautiful, love" He spoke between kissing. Law's words made you throb so much you swore you could orgasm on the spot.
Law pulled away again, the string of saliva the last connection between you two before breaking. "I love how fucked out you look without even me doing anything" He teased, hand tracing. "Shut up, you're doing this on purpose.." Your words got caught up in a whine when his thumb caught your clitoris. "Tsk, I don't remember saying you could talk back. Last time I remembered, you still have a lesson. Now where were we..." Law's hand traced your dripping pussy through your soaked panties.
"Can you tell me what allows you to be this soaked?" Even with you being a mess, Law spoke clinically, like he was assessing a patient. A shameless moan escaped your lips, making Law's head shake. "C'mon. You're a smart girl. Answer me." He leaned down, your eyebrows knit tight, eyes glazing over.
"It's..it's high levels of estrogen and sexual arousal. The stimulation al-allows for blood vessels to dilate and the vagina is sensitive." He smiled down at you as he ripped off your panties, fingers tracing around.
"Could you tell me what my finger's tracing?" Your breathing hitched with the bare stimulation without your panties in the way.
"M-my labia majora" You squeaked out.
"Correct. What about now?" "The vul-vulva."
He nodded, "Last one. What about..."
You let out a cry when his fingers flicked your sensitive bundle of nerves.
"M-my clit!" He shook his head. "Not the right term, baby. What is it?" You whimpered into the back of your hand. "M-my clitoris...!"
"That's it. Good girl." He smiled and his long fingers finally penetrated you. The obscene sounds filled the air along with your shameless moans.
"Y-yes! Feels good－fuck!ーRight there!" You arched into his touch. Law took his other thumb and flicked your clit, throwing you over the edge. His fingers were diligently, the heel of his palm slapping against your clit every time, tips of his digits curling up to press onto your g-spot.
"I'm-I'm coming!" You cried out, hands scrambling to hold onto something. Law's hands didn't let up. It slowed for a moment, giving you a false sense that he was riding out your orgasm before continuing his brutal pace.
"W-wait! Law!" Your wide eyes and desperate cries made him smile sadistically. "You're good, baby. You can take it, right?" Law's gaze on you was dangerous, like he was analyzing his prey.
"Feels weird. Law, wait! I'm gonnaーfeels like 'm gonna pee!" He shushed you, continuing his ministrations. "Just let go for me. You deserve to feel good.
Your legs were twitching uncontrollably as you came, cunt squeezing his fingers tightly. A warm liquid gushing out of your pussy, staining Law's hand, the couch, and his abdomen.
"Fuck...I need to feel you do that again but on my cock this time." Law slowly retracted his hand, tasting your sweet release and admiring the rise and fall of your chest with every deep ventilation.
You sat up on your elbows with what little strength you had, watching him take off his boxers, cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen. The shine of his piercings in the light along the underside of his cock made you shiver.
"Ovulation is often the best time for conception." He leaned in, cockhead pressing against your entrance. "Tell me to stop, I fear once I'm in you, I won't be able to stop." He looked down at you, eyes glazing and full of lust.
"Don't pull out. Need to feel all of you, baby." You whimpered and he kissed your lips. "Wasn't planning to." With that, he slowly pushed into your cunt, the two of you both moaning in ecstasy. The initial coolness of his piercings made you shiver with a moan. Law bottomed out and didn't give you time to adjust, full sending it and setting a brutal pace sure to bruise your cervix.
"Ah-! Law－hngg, feels so good!" His pelvis slapped against your clit, stimulating you even more with every thrust. "Rig-right there!" You cried out, arms wrapping around his neck to anchor yourself as Law fucked you into another plane.
"God, you're so fucking wet for me. So fucking good, creaming all over my cock." Law spoke dirty praises to your ear. With every drag of his cock, you could feel the balls of his piercing heightening your stimulation along with the veins of his cock.
You've completely forgotten about your study session that your laptop's screen was timed out, the darkness reflecting the obscenity. Law was just as vocal as you, deep grunts and groans escaping his lips with every thrust back into your core. "Can you feel how much you'reーfuckーpulsing around me? It feels so fucking divine, my love." His words shot straight to your cunt, making it pulse.
"Seems my, ah- words have an effect on you too." He groaned into your ear. Law's hands found the back of your thighs and pushed your legs to your chest.
"F-fuck! So deep, Law! Ngh－too much, too much!" You could barely move in the filthy position he had you in. Law's thrust was heavy now. His cockhead assaulted your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.
"That's it. It feels so warm and good." He looked at your face which was stained with tears of pleasure, making his hips stutter. Law's mind was dizzy as yours was, if not worse. Stars and planets were filling your vision as the pleasure was out of this world.
"Fuck, I'm close, baby. Gonan cum in you...watch my seed drip out of you." Obscene words that were not characteristics of your boyfriend spilled out.
"Wanna cum together, baby. Please!" He buried his face into your neck and made his thrust heavier. "Cum..cum with me." He whispered against the crook of your neck.
With one last thrust, Law came deep into your pussy, warm seed spilling. You gushed all over him again, a strangled cry escaping your mouth.
"My baby, so nasty and pathetic, yet so fucking good for me." He quietly babbled, cock softening in your pussy before pulling out. His seed spilled, making his mouth go dry for a moment.
"Let's get cleaned up, yeah?" He kissed your temple and you nodded. Law lifted you to the bath, running warm water and sitting in the tub before slowly lowering you.
"Anything sore, baby?" Law pampered you with gentle kisses as he massaged your inner thighs.
"No, just between my legs." You giggled, making him smile. He washed your hair with your favorite scented shampoo, working in the suds. Law meticulously cleaned your cunt with medical precision, making sure no potential infection would arise.
After cleaning himself up, Law dried the two of you, dressing you in one of his shirts and a clean pair of underwear. You curled up by his side, full of bliss and content. Law watched you with a loving gaze.
"You remember everything I taught you, love?" Law chuckled, watching you nod knowing you probably don't. The aftersex feeling riddled your mind. "Of course I'll remember. I've got the best tutor around." You mumbled softly, eyes threatening to shut.
"I know you will. You're my smart girl after all. I'm sure you'll get full marks on this next exam." Law kissed the top of your head and hugged you close as he felt your body slump over when you fell asleep. He watched you sleep, a blissful look on your face made him feel at ease.
"I can't wait to marry you." He whispered sweetly against your temple before falling asleep himself.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
a/n- guess who's learning about the reproductive system😝 i'm lowkey proud of this fic, i'm so happy w/ how it turned out hehehe
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