#crow and mouse writings

[crowandmousewritingco]

We Liked Your Vibe

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader x Din Djarin

Words: 3.4 k

Rating: M (it's mostly smut folks)

Summary: Din promised Dieter to a threesome, and you have caught their attention.

Author: Mod Mouse (I know I'm not dead)

Note: Happy Holidays everyone! This is my gift to @guelyury for the secret santa exchange set up by @dieterbravobrainrotclub! Thank you @sp00kymulderrI for setting this up! I hope you enjoy your gift.

On another note, I hope to start getting back in the grove of writing. With the semester wrapped up and my life in general calming down, I hope to start posting fics again. I don't think it will be as often as I was (I can't believe I somehow put two fics a week out lol) But I'll figure out something that works. Anyways onto the smut!

“Oh what about that one?” Dieter asked excitedly, nodding in the direction of a goth looking person strolling up to the bar. 

Din glanced up from his whiskey, the melting ice giving a small tink against the glass. His gaze took in the figure, but he shook his head. “Not that one. Came in with a partner.” 

Dieter signed dramatically and slumped over the bar counter. Din slid his drink away to keep him from knocking it over. This wasn’t the first time tonight. “Diiiiiiiiin” Dieter whined. “That’s the third one you’ve said no to tonight.” 

“Yes but all you’ve shown me are couples. I said they had to be single,” Din replied raising his highball glass to his lips. 

Dieter stuck his tongue out at him before turning his head to survey the room. His dark eyes roamed the space once again. So many people with others. ‘Was no one single in the tristate area anymore?’ The thought crossed his mind and he sighed. Maybe it was just going to be him and Din tonight. 

That was until you saddled up to the bar, seemingly with the weight on the world on your shoulders. Dieter’s head poked up as you ordered a shot of tequila. You sprinkled some salt on the crook of your thumb as the bartender set the glass in front of you. Quickly you lapped the salt up with one hand and down the shot in the other, the sting of the alcohol barely affecting you. 

Without looking away, Dieter tugged on Din’s sleeve. “What about that one?” 

Din sighed, only getting slightly fed up with his husband. But when his eyes took you in, something stirred in him. You were very attractive to say the least despite not trying too hard. The favorite shirt that you choose, more for comfort than for attraction, stuck to you in all the right places leaving Din with a nice outline to admire. 

Din hummed which was the most approval he had given all night. Dieter smiled a big goofy grin and practically jumped from the barstool. Though he quickly straightened his outfit to make himself just a tad bit more presentable. Din followed soon and Dieter quickly grabbed his hand dragging the older man over. 

You hadn’t noticed them approach, your mind wiring a thousand thoughts a second. It was only when you heard someone say “Ya know we saw you from across the bar and we like your vibe.” You glanced up and blushed as you took in the odd couple. One man dressed in what you would call disaster chic and the other in a very monochromatic but well put together fit. 

You smirked. “You know this is a new one for me.” 

The messy haired one tilted his head. “Oh and how's that?” 

“Well you aren’t a middle aged straight couple who’s only way to save their marriage is to have a threesome,” You quipped. 

That got a laugh from the shorter man. “We’re about as opposite as that.” 

You raked your eyes over both of them smiling. “You can definitely say that.” 

“Oh where are my manners? Let me introduce ourselves. I’m Dieter and this is my tall, dark and very handsome husband Din.” 

Din held his hand to you and you graciously took it. The size difference from his hands against yours sent heat fluttering to your stomach. “It’s a pleasure to me you,” Din said, taking interest in your reaction. 

“Uh yes um ditto,” You stuttered, still taken aback. “Too bad I’m not dressed up.” You mumbled to yourself. 

Dieter chuckled. “It seems our friend here sees something she likes.” 

“Hmmm? Oh um yes” You blushed quickly taking your hand back. 

“So how about it? Want to see where else there's a size difference?” Dieter asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Your eyes darted back and forth between the pair, but you shrugged your shoulders. “I actually would love that.” 

Dieter’s eyes widened and he clapped his eyes excitedly. “Perfect.” He dramatically pointed to the exit. “Let us make haste and love!” He hurried towards the exit. 

You couldn’t help, but giggle at the man’s antics. You hopped off the stool throwing a few ones onto the counter. “Is he always like this?” You asked Din who offered his arm to you which you gladly accepted. 

“Always.” Din replied, and you followed the chaotic Dieter out the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dieter talked the whole way home to their apartment. It wasn’t so bad. You sat in the back with him as Din drove, and Dieter basically went over all of the kinks he had and what they both were comfortable with. It wasn’t what you were expecting considering your past experiences, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. You laid out what you did and didn’t like to do which Dieter was very receptive too. After your check in, it wasn’t long until you were making out with Dieter, his hands roaming all of you and trying to pull you into his lap. You giggle as you carefully straddled his waist, bracing yourself on the door frame. 

A low purr emanated from Dieter as he nuzzled his face into your clothed breasts. You couldn’t help but giggled as he motorboated against the fabric. With your free hand, you tangled your fingers into his curly hair, giving his scalp a gentle scratch. Dieter squeezed your hips making you squeak from the surprise. He smirked and snaked his hands up your stomach, sighing at your soft skin. You watched as he pushed up your shirt, licking his lips at the sight of your bare tits staring him right in his face. 

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “I see you weren’t interested in the support tonight.” 

You chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Nah, the girls needed to be free tonight.” 

With both of his hands, Dieter gently grasped your breasts in his hands rolling his thumb gently over your peaking nipples. You gasped, pushing your chest forward needing more stimulation from his fingers. Dipping his head, Dieter lapped at your nipples, the chill from his drink still evident on his tongue. You shivered as he lapped at your peaks, loving the contrasting warm and cold feelings. Dieter chuckled, pausing his motions and nuzzling his cheek into your chest. Playfully he bounced your tits saying, “Well I can be their support.” 

You giggled at his playfulness. “Unfortunately I can’t have you holding them 24/7.” 

Dieter pouted. “But I wanna.” 

You smooth his curls away from his forehead. “I’ll see what I can figure out.” 

That returned Dieter’s smile. With one hand still on your breasts, he sneaked his other down your stomach once more sliding them into your pants. You gasped softly as his fingers toyed with the lacey straps. Dieter smirked. “And you said you weren’t dressed up.” 

You blushed. “I wouldn’t consider underwear as dressing up.” 

“On the contrary, sweetheart. I am always an advocate of showing off the fanciest of underwear.” He purred his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit. Slow delicate circles send a pulses of pleasure through your body. Soft pants escaped your lips and you pressed your head into his shoulder. 

Dieter chuckled as he continued his motions, dragging his fingers all around your sensitive bits. His dark eyes caught Din’s in the rearview mirror and he smirked. “My love I believe your eyes stay on the road.” 

All Din gave as a response was a grunt, but Dieter could tell how worked up Din was. Dieter chuckled to himself as they pulled into their long driveway, the car gliding over the smooth concrete. Din turned the car off, quickly unbuttoning his seatbelt and opening the driver side door. It only took a second for him to open the backseat and carefully pull you off of Dieters lap holding you in his arms. 

You bit your lip as Din nuzzled his nose into your neck, his noticeable erection pressing into your stomach. “Oh and what was that about not paying attention?” Dieter teased, closing the car doors behind you. Din growled into your lips and Dieter rolled his eyes. “I’ll get the door” 

Din followed Dieter up the driveway, the footsteps of Dieter’s crocs guiding him into the house. You weren’t paying attention. All of your focus was the taste of whiskey against Din’s soft lips. Quick pants escaped your lips as the warm air of the house hit your skin. Din bit your lips sliding his tongue into your mouth. Gasping your fingers tangled in his hair giving them a firm tug. Din moaned, his cock twitching inside his pants. You chuckled and nuzzled your nose into his stubbled cheek. 

“Oh that’s such a nice sound.” Din blushed, dropping his gaze. You kissed his cheek leaning in close before saying, “I like hearing you moan.” That heard another twitch in his pants as he carried you into the bedroom. 

With your attention focused on other things, you could finally take in the space where Din had carried you. A giant bed lay against the wall with the soft silken covers adorning the top. Memorabilia from Dieter’s collection lined the wall while Din’s areas stayed relatively minimalist. You wondered how such an odd couple ended up together. 

But quickly your mind returned to the task at hand. As gently as handling an animal, Din set you in the middle of the bed. It only took a moment for him to crawl over you, encompassing you with his wide body. You bit your lips as your hands slid up his button shirt, feeling his muscles tensing under your touch. 

“Mmmmm what a lovely sight you two are,” Dieter commented as he sauntered to the edge of the bed. He made himself at home by the pillows as he watched the show. 

You blushed under the attention of the actor, but continued your focus on Din. Your fingers danced over the buttons, slowly opening them to reveal the skin underneath. The sight was utterly delicious and all you wanted to do was lick the saltiness as you made your way down. 

With a slow pull of your hands, you touched every inch of Din’s torso earning gasps from the older man. By the time you reached the tops of his jeans, he was panting, his full erection pressing against the material. Slowly you caressed his cock, feeling the magnitude against your hand. “Shit you are big.” You said, licking your lips. 

Just like his shirt, you undo the button, shifting the material down freeing his cock. It stood at attention with beads of precum already pooling on the head. With a finger, you traced the prominent vein up the shaft to the head where you gathered the precum against your finger. Curiously you brought it up to your lips, not breaking eye contact with Din as the saltiness coated itself over your tongue.

 You moaned at the taste and you could hear Dieter chuckling beside you. “He tastes better than any cocktail.” 

Humming in agreement you shifted yourself bringing your head closer to Din’s. But as you go to take his cock into his mouth, Din stops you with a gentle push on your shoulder. You look up, worried you did something wrong. 

“I want to treat you since you were so kind to agree to this,” Din voiced, a soft pink blush on his cheeks. 

You couldn’t help but blush in return. With these sorts of nights, you were lucky if the man ever went near your vagina with anything other than his cock. Din was such a considerate person that it was a shame this was only for one night. You nodded, returning back to your original position. With dexterous fingers Din pulled your pants along with the underwear off in one fluid motion. You shivered as the cool air hit your legs. Din stared at you with his dark brown eyes as he trailed slow kisses from your calf to your thighs until you could feel his breath against your wet lips. 

“I’m gonna devour you, little flower,” Din purred. 

Dieter rolled his eyes. “We all love your chivalrousness babe, but someone is also getting lonely. And I mean, she did want to blow someone.” Dieter commented and you couldn’t help but smirk. 

With a playful roll of your head, you opened your mouth ready for Dieter’s cock. Dieter smiled pulling down the waist of his well loved yet fashionable sweatpants, his own erection popping out. You lifted your hand giving Dieter a few pumps before kissing the head. His own salty taste mixed with Din’s was like a cocktail of lust in your mouth. 

That was when Din took the opportunity to take a long lick up your lips ending on a flick of his tongue on your clit. You gasped from the sudden pleasure, making you open your mouth. Dieter took the chance and slid the full length of his cock into your mouth. You gagged a little though taking no time to adjust to his size. 

Dieter leaned back his head against the headboard. “S-Shit we should have found you faster.” He slowly thrusted into your mouth, your tongue swirling around and up the shaft. “D-Din we gotta keep her.” 

Din hummed in agreement as he lapped at your clit. Sparks of pleasure tingled in your stomach, making you moan against Dieter’s cock. The full balls slapped against your throat as Dieter’s thrusts started becoming faster. Dieter cursed with each movement enjoying himself immensely. His gaze wandered down to watch Din as he continued to pleasure you like you were his last meal.

“Shit babe, leave some of that for me. She’s gonna need it when I cum inside her.” You moaned at the thought of his cock spilling his seed inside you. Dieter smirked his gaze meeting your eyes. “Is that something you want, doll?” He asked, his thumb tracing your cheek. You nodded the best you could, and Dieter slowly pulled out of your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting you two. 

“You heard the cutie. I think it’s time for the ol’ Johnson to shine,” Dieter exclaimed excitedly as Din shifted away from you. It was your time to roll your eyes at the other man’s antics. Dieter maneuvered around getting on his hands and knees in front of you. 

“You’re ridiculous,” You teased hands cupping Dieter’s cheeks and quickling kissing his lips. 

“Uh ya ridiculously horny,” He replied with a cheeky smirk. 

You threw your head back against the pillows, a loud laugh filling the room. “God you’re funny.” 

Dieter glanced over his shoulder at Din who had kneeled behind him. “See, someone thinks I’m funny.” 

“Just give it a few years,” Din teased back as he gently pulled a very fancy buttplug out of his husband. Dieter moaned at the lack of friction and you preoccupied him with your lips. He pushed for dominance against you, but you pushed back with just the same intensity. 

Din set the butt plug aside and squirted a dollop of lube onto his palm. Carefully he applied the generous amount onto his cock and Dieter’s hole. A soft gasp escaped Dieter’s lips as he shuttered against the chilly material. 

With a quick peck of the cheek, you said “Don’t worry. You’ll be warmed up in no time.” Dieter groaned at your words, his own cock twitching at the idea of being deep inside you. With a slow push, Din entered him a deep grumble vibrating his throat as he felt Dieter pulse around him. Dieter moaned, resting his head on your shoulder as he adjusted to his size. 

Gently you twirled his curls around your fingers, your nails massaging his scalp. It only took him a moment for him to be ready. Dieter gently pumped his own cock adjusting his hips to meet yours. He guided his cock up and down your slit, your arousal coating the head. You both moaned at the feeling. 

But Dieter grew impatient. With his hand he guided his cock to your hole, gathering up the wetness glistening between your legs. With an eager but still gentle push, he buried himself fully inside of you. The noise that escaped his lips was down right sinful as his legs shook from so much pleasure. Small pants flowed from your lips as you felt Dieter filling you to the brim with his cock. It twitched inside of you and you squeezed around it in response. 

“Fuck,” He whimpered nuzzling his nose into your neck, his warm breath ebbing against your skin.

Din took this as a sign to begin thrusting. It was slow at first, gauging how you were handling everything. In and out Dieter’s cock rubbed against the sensitive areas inside you, and you moaned. Fingers pulled at Dieter’s curls earning a new set of moans to the symphony of sex. 

Din grunted as he pulled his cock almost out of Dieter before plunging it back inside of him, sending Dieter deeper inside of you. The trio moaned as everyone was feeling on cloud nine. Din sped of up thrusts, the need for gentleness over. He draped his torso over Dieter’s back, leaning in to bite on the actor’s shoulder. 

Dieter twitched inside of you, and you smirked. “S-Shit I should bite you more,” 

Dieter moaned as Din’s thrusts became more erratic. It was clear that Din was close to cuming and by the way Dieter felt inside of you, he was close too. Your hand slid down your torso and your fingers began circling your clit, speeding up your motions as you felt the heat in your stomach began to grow and grow. 

With each circle you squeezed around Dieter, earning a moan each time. Your fingers pressed on a particularly sensitive bit and you moaned, sending your legs shaking. Dieter couldn’t hold on much longer. With a few more thrusts from Din, Dieter leaned his head back and came hard inside you. You could feel each bit of cum drenching your walls. 

You played with your clit as fast as you could, using your entire hand to gain the pleasure you need. Soon you joined Dieter in the realm of orgasm and came with the tensing of your legs. As you came down from your high, a series of grunts filled the room as Din filled Dieter with his own high. 

All three of you were left panting against the bed. Din was the first to pull out, and with a tilt of your head you could see the cum cascading down Dieter’s leg. Din gave Dieter’s ass a few taps before slowly getting off the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. 

Almost reluctantly Dieter pulled out of you, his gaze drifting down to see his own seed dripping from you. “Fuck that’s such a pretty sight, doll.” Dieter moaned as he leaned down. You followed his gaze with curiosity. Dieter glanced up. “What? Think I would miss an opportunity to taste the both of us? Not a chance.” With a quick swipe of his tongue, he gathered you and his own arousal on his tongue savoring the saltiness. You gasped at the overstimulation and latched onto his curls for grounding. This only spurred him on, and soon he was devouring like he hadn’t eaten in days. Another orgasm ripped through you, surprising you with how quickly he made you cum. That made Dieter’s ego skyrocket, and he chuckled as he detached himself from you. 

“S-Shit…how?” You asked, panting, mind fuzzy from the pleasure. 

“I can’t give away all of my secrets,” Dieter winked before he settled beside you. His arms pulled you in for cuddles which you gladly appreciated. The warmth from his chest filled you with ease as you wound down from the activities. 

Din reappeared with the washcloth, and with effortless gentleness he cleaned the both of you. He tossed the material aside, dealing with it at a later time, before settling on the other side of you. You practically purred at the feeling of the two men sandwhiching you. 

Everything was quiet as you laid there. Din gently drew imaginary shapes on your skin, and Dieter twirled your hair in his fingers. “C-Can we do this again?” You asked hesitantly not wanting to break the magic of tonight. 

Dieter chuckled against your hair. “I was hoping you would ask that.” You smiled in return happy that your crappy night had turned into something you had a feeling would last a long time.

Credit: @inklore

All Works Taglist:

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Characters Taglist:

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

[flyingthroughheaven]

Hello everyone!!

I have some exciting news!! My partner and I have started a fanfiction writing blog called @crowandmousewritingco Here we will wrote oh so many Pedro Pascal characters. If you are curious you should check us out 😋😋😋

[sevarchive]

♡ bllk kahoot edition ──

synopsis: in which nine blue lock players are forced into a “team bonding” on kahoot!

starring: isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, barou shouei, gagamaru gin, and kunigami rensuke

a/n: this took me an entire day to write, edit, and recover from emotionally TT i really hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed losing my mind making it. have fun, i hope your brain short-circuits at least once. enjoy the ride 💀🧹

[ isagi started a call. ]

isagi: okay—okay, everyone’s here, let’s just—

barou: if one of you makes a fart noise into the mic i’m blocking you

isagi: i didn’t even say anything yet 💀

shidou: YOOOOO START IT I’M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. MY MOUSE IS READY TO VIOLENCE.

bachira: wait i can’t hear anything is that my mic or shidou screaming again?

reo: your mic’s fine. shidou can we please act like people for two seconds—

shidou: NAHHHHH I’M LOCKED IN CHAT

nagi: …i still haven’t opened it btw

barou: STOP BEING LAZY. OPEN IT. YOU TAP TWO BUTTONS AND YOUR WHOLE LIFE’S NOT THAT HARD.

gagamaru: gu—ys—wai—i—he—lp—

isagi: gagamaru are you STILL lagging???

gagamaru: i’m in a forest

rin: bro what

reo: are you in the middle of a national park right now—

gagamaru: it’s fine, i climbed higher. might have signal now… i think

shidou (laughing way too hard): MY GUY IS PLAYING KAHOOT FROM A BRANCH. A BRANCH.

barou (losing it): IF I LOSE TO SOMEONE USING TWIG SIGNAL I’M FLIPPING MY WHOLE SETUP.

rin: i hope this kahoot crashes

bachira: same but in a fun way

shidou: IM READY LET’S GOOOOO

isagi: okay okay i’m sending the game pin—we're not starting until everyone’s in, alright??

reo: someone tell nagi it’s not a visual novel he actually has to do something.

nagi (deadpan): idc. i’m just here to breathe and get questions wrong.

isagi: code’s 666420. join the kahoot. don’t pick dumb names this time.

chigiri: …that feels illegal.

bachira: OMG that’s my angel number!!!

Nagi: too lazy to type it. someone click for me.

gagamaru (faint, laggy): wai—don’t—start—i can’t—my screen’s—fro—

[ gagamaru left the call. ]

bachira: GAGAMARU NOOOO

reo: bro he’s gonna rejoin and say “wait what question are we on” when we’re on like #19

kunigami: wait what’s the code again i just got here—

shidou: THE CODE IS 666420—YOU’RE WELCOME! LOCK THAT IN YOUR MUSCLE BRAIN

chigiri: someone mute him PLS

[ gagamaru joined the call. ]

bachira: OMG TREE WIFI IS BACK

gagamaru: uhhh so signal’s kinda better now. a crow moved off the branch so that helped ig

reo: bro kicked karasu off the tree just to join kahoot

shidou: LMAO karasu somewhere in the woods like “damn my bad bro, didn’t know you were lagging”

isagi: ok who the hell just joined as @ben.d.over

everyone (talking at once): NAHHHH

kunigami: wait why’s everyone laughing what’s wrong with ben

rin: read it again slowly

kunigami: …oh my god

isagi: i’m ending this game already and we haven’t even started—

rin: i should’ve muted you all when i had the chance

reo: too late we’re in the trenches now

[messi_is_me has joined the game.]

[rin has joined the game.]

[HUGH MUNGUS has joined the game.]

[ben.d.over has joined the game.]

[richdaddyreal has joined the game.]

[leftthumbonly has joined the game.]

[imagine losing has joined the game.]

[EMPEROR_OF_GOALS has joined the game.]

[muscle_reaper7 has joined the game.]

[forestwifi_survivor has joined the game.]

isagi: bro who the hell is HUGH MUNGUS 😭

shidou (already dying): NAHHHHHHHHH whoever typed that needs jail and a hug

bachira: sobbing at ben.d.over omg pls whoever you are never change 💖💖💖

kunigami: this is actually a crime against maturity

reo: bro we’re in 8th grade again and it’s kinda fun ngl

gagamaru (still lagging): wait who’s hugh? did another person join??

barou: TCH. EMPEROR_OF_GOALS has ARRIVED.

everyone: bro. we KNOW it’s you 😭😭😭

isagi: ok BUT why is someone just rin 💀 that’s worse than being cringe

shidou: LMFAOOOO bro typed his name like it’s a school test

chigiri: nah bro said “i’m not like the other girls” and then picked nothing

rin: i am literally just rin. i have dignity. unlike the rest of you parasites.

bachira: ok “rin” 🙄✨

[ host clicks “start game” ]

[ kahoot music starts blaring ]

barou (mic BUSTED): LETS GO EMPEROR OF GOALS! I WILL ASCEND.

shidou (yelling over him): AYYYYYYY GET READY TO LOOOOOOOSEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥

bachira (cackling): MY EARS JUST LEFT THE CHAT 💀💀💀

chigiri: somebody MUTE THEM.

shidou (immediately): EZ. it’s RED. next question.

isagi: BRO DON’T SAY THE ANSWER DIMWIT 😭😭😭

reo: YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY IT OUT LOUD YOU WALKING CONCUSSION

bachira: LMFAOOO not shidou speedrunning self-sabotage

kunigami: this is why we can’t have nice things

nagi: does that mean it’s not red? 🤨

gagamaru (from the trees): wait hold up i just got signal what did he say

barou: TCH. if you don’t know the answer, don’t play the game.

chigiri: bro has the audacity to scream the answer like it’s a flex

rin: first question and the stupidity’s already astronomical

shidou: ok but like. i was RIGHT tho. you’re welcome.

isagi: this isn’t a group project bro SHUT UP 💀

[ leaderboard after Q1: ]

🥇 ben.d.over 🥈 EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 🥉 messi_is_me 4th — leftthumbonly 5th — HUGH MUNGUS

barou: SECOND?! I AM THE EMPEROR. I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS.

isagi: how the hell am i losing to a guy named ben.d.over

shidou: i’m FIFTH??? i SAID the answer out loud 😭

reo: you helped everyone and still fumbled.

nagi: me being 4th is actually a miracle. i clicked by accident

gagamaru (finally loading): wait the leaderboard’s up?? guys. what place am i

chigiri: bro you’re not even on it 😭

rin: one question in and i already want to mute this entire call

bachira: #1 babyyyyy catch me if you cannnn

gagamaru (already overwhelmed): ok wait wait. it SAYS “red” but the box is BLUE! do i click the blue box that says red?? or the RED box??

reo: just click the one that says red 😭 it’s not a trick question

barou (yelling): NO—JUST PICK THE COLOR

gagamaru: WHAT—WHICH COLOR?? THE COLOR OF THE BOX OR THE COLOR OF THE WORD??

bachira: i’m wheezing he’s getting gaslit in 4K

shidou: bro’s fighting kahoot, barou, and his internet all at once 💀

kunigami: nah that was dirty i won’t lie lol i had an existential crisis

nagi: i think he just blacked out and clicked uno

isagi: whoever designed kahoot is actually evil for that one

barou: IF YOU FELL FOR THAT YOU’RE A MORON. WORDS OVER COLORS. THINK WITH YOUR HEAD.

rin (finally losing it): you are all COLORBLIND. you are COLOR. BLIND.

[ leaderboard after Q2: ]

🥇 leftthumbonly 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 4th — messi_is_me 5th — rin

gagamaru (finally catching up): NOOOO i should’ve clicked the blue one that SAID red

reo: bro that was 2 minutes ago 😭 you still processing??

nagi (deadpan): ayo??? how am i first

bachira: YOU??? i was #1 you fraud

barou: THIS IS AN OUTRAGE. EMPEROR OF GOALS WILL NOT STAND FOR THIRD.

isagi: i’m 4th. this is bullying.

bachira: wait bro where’s imagine losing 😭😭😭

reo: nah don’t tell me chigiri’s not even on the board 💀

shidou: bro’s the fastest in real life but couldn’t even click a button in time 😭

isagi: he’s got 40-yard dash speed but lagging in kahoot reflexes 💀

chigiri (furious): I MISCLICKED ONCE

barou: sounds like skill issue to me

chigiri: ok but when i beat all of you in sprints i don’t wanna hear a thing

shidou: not if kahoot beats you first 🫵

isagi: there is ONE correct answer here. and if y’all pick anything else i’m calling the cops

reo: WHAT IS THIS QUESTION??? 😭

bachira: i voted for my imaginary friend. he told me to

shidou: gagamaru’s wifi is NOT the goat that’s the villain 😭

gagamaru (suddenly cutting out): i clicked m– krrch —own wifi an— skshh—wait why— disconnects

[ gagamaru left the call. ]

chigiri: NAHHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭 HIS WIFI TOOK IT PERSONALLY

reo: he clicked “gagamaru’s wifi” and it jumped him on sight 😭💀

shidou: HIS WIFI SAID “WHO’S THE GOAT NOW?” AND YEETED HIM OFF THE CALL 😭😭😭

bachira: self-inflicted lag. beautiful

barou (suddenly SCREAMING): WHY. IS. MY. REFLECTION. ON THIS DAMN LIST. WHO. PUT. THAT.

isagi: you sound mad for someone who looks in the mirror every 4 minutes

barou: I’M MAD IT’S EVEN AN OPTION. THIS BETTER BE THE CORRECT ANSWER OR I’M ENDING THIS GAME.

isagi: calm down emperor palpatine it’s not that deep

barou: SOMEONE CHANGE THE QUIZ NAME TO “WHO WANTS TO DIE TODAY”

shidou: NO LMAO SOMEONE GIVE HIM A POINT JUST FOR SELF-LOVE

[ leaderboard after Q3: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 leftthumbonly 🥉 ben.d.over 4th — richdaddyreal 5th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS

isagi: HUGH MUNGUS???? bro HOW are you first 😭😭😭

shidou (screaming): LET’S GOOOOOOO I AM HIM 😤💥💪

bachira: how did he climb all that from the pits of dumbassery

barou (still fuming): you’re telling me my reflection wasn’t correct?? YOU’RE SAYING RONALDO OVER MY MIRRORED GLORY???

reo: it’s literally a real person vs. your gym selfie 😭

[ gagamaru joined the call. ]

gagamaru (reconnected, confused): wait i got booted mid-question did the wifi option win or what

isagi: nah bro your wifi sabotaged you 😭

gagamaru: my router’s holding a grudge i swear

rin: i hate that HUGH MUNGUS is at the top of the leaderboard. i actually hate this.

bachira: don’t worry rin, you’re top 1...IN SULKING SPEEDRUNS

rin: i hate all of you

reo: WAIT. IS THAT RIN IN A BALLGOWN 😭😭😭

isagi: YO WHO MADE THIS QUIZ. WHO DID THAT TO HIM 💀💀💀

nagi: nah he lowkey serving… but also threatening

shidou: bro looks like he’s about to hit a pirouette and a homicide 💃🔪

rin (furious): WHAT. THE HELL. IS THAT PICTURE.

bachira: you in your disney princess era bestie 😚

barou: ENOUGH. I BETTER NOT BE THE RIGHT ANSWER. I AM FASHION.

kunigami: you wore zebra pants with gold chains last week–

chigiri: don’t forget the crown and the “born to score” crop top

barou: SAY THAT AGAIN AND I’LL SCORE YOUR FUNERAL

gagamaru (still buffering): wait why is rin dressed like elsa

reo: can we circle back to the fact that I’m an option too??

bachira: yeah that’s for all your rich boy yacht outfits 😭

rin: WHO MADE THIS. WHO ACTUALLY MADE THIS.

shidou: these questions got more violent than blue lock itself 💀

isagi: nah fr. this isn’t trivia, this is targeted bullying

bachira: AND I’M ENJOYING EVERY SECOND 😍

[ leaderboard after Q4: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly 4th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 5th — messi_is_me

shidou (wheezing): BAROU WAS THE CORRECT ONE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

bachira: LMAOOOOOOO I’M ACTUALLY CRYINGGGG

barou (screaming from his soul): EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!?!

reo: oh my god he’s gonna suplex the kahoot server

isagi: no bc the zebra pants were a crime and the quiz just confirmed it 💀

kunigami: justice has been served. with glitter and shame.

barou: WHO DECIDED THIS?? WHO HAS THE AUDACITY TO PUT EMPEROR OF GOALS AS A FASHION FAILURE

nagi: you wear gold chains to practice bro

chigiri: and you showed up in crocs once. crocs. with spikes.

rin: Y’ALL ARE LAUGHING AND I’M STILL IN A DAMN GOWN

gagamaru (delayed): rin look like he’s about to sing “let it go”

bachira: BC HE’S LETTING GO OF HIS DIGNITY

barou: THIS. QUIZ. IS. RIGGED.

reo: NAHHHH THIS QUIZ JUST WENT PERSONAL 💀💀💀

bachira: “rin (but he’ll never admit it)” is insane levels of violence 😭

nagi: picked blue. left foot supremacy

shidou: i picked yellow. i want drama 😈

isagi: bro this is less trivia and more emotional exposure therapy

rin (furious): WHY AM I EVEN AN OPTION. WHO ADDED THAT.

bachira: sorry rin ur tsundere lore is out 😚

shidou: “he’ll never admit it” is SO real tho

barou: I THOUGHT THIS WAS A GAME ABOUT SOCCER. WHY ARE WE IN A TELL-ALL CONFESSIONAL

kunigami: lowkey “the idea of being better than everyone else” might actually be the most accurate

gagamaru (late as always): wait did sae join the kahoot??

bachira: no but i wish he did just to see him pick “himself” and log out

rin: this quiz is sick. i’m reporting it.

shidou: what’s wrong rin. you don’t love yourself the way sae maybe does??? 😭😭😭

[ leaderboard after Q5: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly 4th — richdaddyreal 5th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS

bachira: nooooo not “himself” 😭😭😭 SAE YOU SELF-LOVING BASTARD

isagi: bro really looked at love and said “me, myself, and i”

shidou: LMFAOOO RIN GOT LEFT ON READ BY HIS OWN BLOOD 💔💀

reo: can someone hug rin before he explodes

nagi: rin’s emotionally speedrunning all five stages of grief

barou: i don’t care if sae loves a brick, can we move on

gagamaru: wait so sae doesn’t love rin?? 😔

rin (low, dead inside): i’m. not. crying.

bachira: you’re just allergic to emotional damage??

shidou: guys don’t make fun of him. he’s top 1 in having a fictional situationship with his brother

isagi: can someone play sad violin noises over vc

reo: we need to end this before rin disconnects permanently 😭

nagi: yo is this next one the last question??

isagi: yeah yeah ONE MORE. FINAL ROUND. everyone breathe and brace!

isagi: WHAT AM I LOOKING AT

reo: WHY IS HIS APRON SO TIGHT WHO DID THIS

bachira: NOOOO HE LOOKS SO ANGRY YET SO SERVING 😭😭

nagi: this is the scariest and sexiest thing i’ve ever seen

shidou: TRUE. TRUE. TRUE. I CLICKED TRUE BEFORE IT EVEN LOADED

kunigami: what the actual hell is this quiz

barou (deranged screaming): WHO MADE THIS. WHO FOUND THAT PICTURE. I WILL END YOU.

isagi: bro why does he still look like he could bench press all of us in that outfit

gagamaru (in awe): wait fr… why is he kinda…

chigiri: no say it. we’re all thinking it.

gagamaru: …kinda bad

bachira: BADDER THAN YOUR WIFI 😭😭😭

rin: i think i'm gonna be sick..

shidou: maid barou supremacy forever. that apron’s doing heavy lifting

reo: he looks like he’s about to hand me a cupcake and then body slam me

barou (still unhinged): I’M ENDING THIS QUIZ. I’M DELETING KAHOOT. I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU

bachira: too late babe you're trending on maidtok 💅🧹

[ FINAL KAHOOT LEADERBOARD ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly

shidou (screaming): I WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNN LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

bachira: NOOOOOOO WHY DID I GET SECOND 😭😭😭 i wanted the power

nagi: i was just pressing colors. what happened

isagi: i dropped from 3rd to off the podium like my stocks crashed bro

reo: wait. where the hell did I go. am i in NINTH??

kunigami: i’m BELOW gagamaru. and he picked options with lag.

gagamaru (re-entering from the woods): i think i clicked red but it was actually green and the crow started screeching again

chigiri: y'all just imagine me being the fastest in blue lock and the slowest in kahoot like shut the hell up

bachira: chigiri fumbled the click bag 💀

rin: i hate that HUGH MUNGUS is the winner. i genuinely hate it.

isagi: ok rules are rules… winner gets to choose anything, right?

shidou (with the most evil smirk): YES. and i’ve decided 😇

barou (already panicking): no. NO. WHATEVER IT IS, NO.

shidou: you… barou-sama…are going to wear. the maid outfit. AGAIN. 😈 but this time... we’re POSTING IT ON TWITTER 🧍‍♀️✨

barou (screeching): WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

bachira: LIVE YOUR TRUTH MAID KING 😭😭😭😭

reo: we are boosting the tweet. everyone turn on RTs

nagi: wait let me edit the photo. adding sparkles and cat ears rn

gagamaru: can we tag ego

kunigami: you are all going to hell gagamaru. DON'T

barou (frothing): I WILL UNPLUG EVERY ROUTER IN JAPAN. I SWEAR.

shidou (typing on phone already): caption: "maid barou ready to serve AND score 🧹💘"

rin: i’m leaving. i’m logging off. this is brain rot.

bachira: SEE Y’ALL AT THE NEXT KAHOOT 😍🎉

[ vc disconnected ]

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[getouyuri]

like he got a collar on, imma always know where my dog at!

pairing — oyabun!gojo x secretary!reader

summary — your husband, the terrifying oyabun of the gojo-gumi, is as loyal as dog— and as bad as a pent-up border collie that’s been left home alone for too long and turned to destruction as a means of getting attention. after purchasing satoru a collar (that he’s always eager to wear), you put him on a brief sex ban to weed out any and all of his bad behavior. after all, only good puppies deserve treats— right?

content & warnings — MDNI 18+, fem!reader, normal modern au, yakuza au, humor, smut, fluff, pet names, gojo and reader are married, whipped gojo, like absolute wife guy gojo, gojo is actually insane, mentions of murder and violence, submissive top gojo, sub!gojo, implied subspace, dom!reader, femdom, domestic & non-sexual domination, mommy kink, pet play / puppy play, dry humping, the tiniest sliver of foot action but not much cos I’m #not about that life, overstimulation, handjobs

author’s note — had to satiate the demon in me by writing this cos collaring gojo is my weakness 🙇🏽‍♀️ don’t let the summary and tags fool you this is somehow very fluffy and funny for the most part LMAO… until it gets freakay 🙂‍↕️ this is not necessary to read, but if you want a little more background on this au, you can find info here. enjoy 🫶🏽. full masterlist here.

writing © getouyuri. fanart © artofzolaida. dividers © sister-lucifer. wc: 21k.

It starts as a drunken dig.

“You need to be tossed into a cage and locked up like a dog, Satoru.”

You can hear the way Suguru chokes around the tapioca that barrels down his throat. The oyabun of the Sutoraifu-gumi hacks his lungs up into a tissue that was discarded alongside their takeout, eyes watering, while Shoko looks torn between laughing at him and rubbing her temples over the depravity that just came out of her girlfriend’s mouth.

The stripper in question blinks, slow and innocent-like, like a cat that’s wondering why the mouse trapped beneath its paws stopped squirming and putting up a fight. On the other side of her, Suguru’s spouse groans at the direction that this conversation is sure to head in.

Stretching his long legs out on the massive couch with the carefree air of a man who owns the world, Satoru casts his attacker a sardonic smile. “A cage couldn’t contain all this man,” he crows, patting his chest as if he’s hot shit.

“Ew,” Shoko mutters.

Her girlfriend wrinkles her nose, equally as unimpressed. “Better yet, you should be collared. Maybe that’d get you to knock it off and shut you up, Fido.”

“Why on earth are we having this conversation?” Suguru gets out now that he’s not actively dying.

Everyone ignores him.

"If my wife wanted to do that, then sure. Cuffs, a goddamn straightjacket, a collar— I’d wear it all loud and proud for her.” Satoru glances up at you and wiggles his eyebrows. You pinch his cheek, a silent ‘hush,’ but you don’t contribute anything to the rapidly devolving conversation.

The three stooges (Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko) that have been friends since they were wearing light-up Sketchers and trading gachapon toys get together whenever Suguru travels to Tokyo for his monthly arms deals with Satoru, their respective partners typically included, for a weekend of tomfoolery. One time you nearly got arrested. Another time, the group got beyond faded and engaged in a lethal game of dare or dare (no truths were involved). It ended up with Shoko’s girlfriend taking up Satoru on his dare to get her nipples pierced and Satoru in the hospital after you tried to ride Suguru’s spouse’s motorcycle and ran over his foot.

More often than not, Shoko gets sloshed, the biker at Suguru’s side joining in and then calling their sister, Yuki, to drunkenly blubber that they miss her, and them all piling into the Gojo estate for a movie marathon. From there, it’s inevitable that someone gets tried at the stake.

Apparently, Satoru is today’s target— purely because he’s lying on his stomach and so shamelessly nestling his head into the divot of your thighs, pressing his lips there as if considering dragging them higher, arms wound around your middle and hands occasionally groping at your ass in front of all your mutual friends like the dog that he is. He has no qualms with feeling you up despite the eyes on you, getting a kick out of stepping over the line of propriety and showing that you're his and he’s yours all in the same breath.

That, and he just likes smothering you. Even though it’s a little embarrassing, he’s too cute to tell off and send to the pound like Shoko’s girlfriend thinks he (rightfully) deserves.

Long after everyone rags on Satoru— “what the hell, I don’t bark, Suguru. Baby, defend me!” He whined at some point, equal parts petulant and confident that you’d back him up, to which you muttered, “must’ve been the wind,” and turned the TV volume up— you and Satoru retire to your master bedroom. Shoko and her girl flounced off to the nearest guest room to ‘sleep’ (make out), while Suguru let his partner drag him out of the Gojo estate for a few more hours of fun with a cunning grin.

Satoru’s in the bathroom, so you’re indulging in a quiet moment and wiping your makeup off at the vanity, half of your attention on your face and the other half on the tab pulled up on your iPad. You’re quietly browsing through a website, trying to find something that’ll stick.

You can hear the pad of your husband’s socked feet against the carpet right behind you as he saunters over. Before you can slap your hand over your tablet and throw it aside so hard in a fit of panic that it cracks, he’s nosily peeking over your shoulder and reaching out to tap at the screen so that it doesn’t darken. “Oh? What’s this?” Satoru murmurs in your ear, making you shiver despite yourself.

You hope a plane hits the Gojo estate and takes you out for good.

A wide selection of collars and leashes greets both of your gazes. There’s different style of leashes— chained, slip leads that require no collars, bungee-corded leashes— and collars, ranging from classic leather collars to strict posture collars with other bondage elements attached to them (Satoru stares at the one with nipple clamps for far too long). There’s even an option for customizable tags to slide onto the o-rings of the collars. The whole nine yards.

Any and all thoughts of his fly out of the window.

You clear your throat, not so calmly plucking up your iPad and pressing it to your chest. “I’m just looking at these. For science,” you say, like a liar, with a killer poker face keeping your dignity intact.

Satoru doesn’t miss the filled in bookmark on the corner of the page.

“Okay,” he drops it way too easily. Suspiciously so. He points out a diamond-studded leather collar that you definitely weren’t eyeing the most before he swooped in. “That one is pretty. Objectively so.”

“Agreed.”

You’re beyond embarrassed, a shameful heat pooling in your face and leaving you lightheaded. The air is so thick with tension that you begin wondering if there’s a gas leak that’s about to make you start asphyxiating until Satoru abruptly hefts you up and away from the vanity to toss you over his shoulder, making you yelp.

“Let’s fuck,” Satoru says with a little waver to his voice.

“Aht aht, try again.”

“Can we pleaaaase fuck?” He simpers, smacking your ass and earning him a pounded fist against his back.

“Yeah, sure.”

Thank god you didn’t question why he was already harder than a rock when he lowered you to your comfy shared bed, crawling over you to kiss you silly and lazily grind down against you. His cock started filling out in his pants the second he thought of wearing one of those collars, letting you parade him around and show off your pretty puppy before dragging him forward to demand that he buries his face between your thighs.

Neither of you stop to properly talk about The Incident (read: your moment of weakness), but you both sure as hell bring up the subject of collars like your lives depend on it.

When Satoru’s pacing his office at the Gojo-gumi headquarters while you lean against the door, listening to him rave on and on about packing a bunch big enough to put Ryomen, his rival, in the dirt: “Stop barking about him.” “Collar me and I will.”

Other times, he’s bounding off to chase his newest fixation— like his favorite bakery releasing a new line of pumpkin kikufuku to hail in the start of autumn: “Don’t go too far or I’ll have to leash you!” “Ooh, promise?”

It’s safer this way— juggling the idea of it disguised as a joke, pushing and poking at each other with little quips to read the other’s reaction. Just to make sure that there’s no disgust there. No aversion to the topic that shall not be named.

Admittedly, maybe you should’ve had a sit-down with Satoru to negotiate the realms of collars and kinks instead of muttering ‘fuck it,’ impulsively purchasing a collar, and having it delivered to the Gojo-gumi headquarters so that Satoru won’t see it at home and tear into the package before you can get to it, because what’s yours is his and vice versa. You and Satoru aren’t exactly new to freaky shit, having dabbled one too many times in shibari, sex toys like vibrators and strap-ons, food play, spanking (his skin tingles whenever he sees the flogger), the list goes on. You’re always down to try new things with him.

But collars? For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to bite the bullet and flat-out admit to wanting to see him wear one. It’s too embarrassing. Too real. So you stuff the brand spanking new collar, leash, and its matching baggie into your purse, press it tight to your abdomen the entire ride home after work while Satoru chatters at your side, and try to sneak it beneath your bed. To hide it there forever and never look at it again.

Too bad that Satoru catches you.

“Not that I’m complaining, because really, I’m enjoying the view,” he muses behind you, and you’re instantly freezing up, shoulders hiked up to your ears, “but why are you on the floor with your ass in the air?”

“I dropped one of my rings,” you say, popping right back up and brushing your dress down with rigid hands. You side-step in front of the bag pushed halfway under the bed and glance at him. He’s lingering in the doorway, suit jacket slung over one shoulder and his eyebrows slanted upwards in question. Satoru blinks his big blue eyes at you. “I got it, though.”

“That doesn’t really look like a ring, though,” he points out, exaggeratedly leaning to the side to flicker his gaze down to your spoils. “Is that an early birthday present or something? That’s a shitty hiding place. No offense.”

“No, it’s—“ you grumble out a frustrated noise and ruffle your hand through your hair, pursing your lips and weighing the pros and cons of… well, everything. “Can we sit down and talk?”

If he’s thrown off by the serious tone you suddenly take, he doesn’t show it. “Sure thing, sugar.”

Satoru fully slinks into the room as you quickly bend down to snatch the bag back up and perch yourself on the edge of the bed. Before you can even ask, he’s kneeling at your feet, cushioning his chin in the divot between your thighs and soothingly rubbing your calves.

He's close enough that he could push himself further up on his knees and easily feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, your mouth against his, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to close the distance.

Instead, he waits, head pillowed on your lap and his heart pounding in his chest as he stares deep into your brilliant eyes, searching for any sign of what you’re thinking, then at the little gift bag perched further up your lap, pressed lightly to your stomach. He knows you well enough to know that you’ve got something up your sleeve, some clever scheme plan that you’re just dying to put into action despite your apparent apprehension.

Satoru’s always been a sucker for your brand of trouble, and he has a feeling that this time is going to be no less exciting.

"Well?" he prompts, rhythmically tapping the sides of your calves. "Stop staring at me— I know I’m gorgeous, really— and just get to your point.”

“You and your bigass head,” you mutter, but you don’t deny his claim.

Looking for all the world like you’re about to set off a bomb and then dart off, you finally address the elephant in the room. You hold open the bag in his direction. “Just grab it.”

Satoru obliges. He reaches his hand in and startles when his fingers brush against something leathery. He pulls it out and inhales sharply.

It’s a beautiful black collar with six genuine diamonds the color of his eyes that wink in the light when Satoru turns it over in his hands. The diamonds are small enough that it isn’t overly gaudy and flashy, but it’s still more intricate than most run-of-the-mill collars. A similarly blue, frilly bow sits at what he assumes is the front of the collar and there’s a small ring that dangles just underneath it, a matching black leash already clipped to it.

The exact one that he pointed out on the website that you were browsing. He never in a million years thought you would actually go ahead and buy it.

Satoru rubs his thumb along the outside of the collar before tugging at it gently, testing the stretch, then changes his grip so he can feel the inside. It’s soft and almost velvety, clearly tailored to avoid chafing— it’s almost an exact replica of the material of the sheets on yours and his bed, which he’s very particular about.

His mouth and throat suddenly run dry, his body an hourglass full of sand that’s just been tilted. Swallowing does nothing to remedy it.

He feels— he doesn’t know what he feels. He doesn’t think there’s even a word for this.

Satoru thinks he senses a hint of nervousness in the sideways glance you direct at the wall, a far cry from your usual assured intensity. You crumple the bag up and set it to the side and your hands tightly curl in your lap when you finally look at him again. “What do you think?”

By the look in your eyes, you have something to say. Maybe you’re about to take it back, laugh it off and say, ‘late April fools prank, ignore me,’ but he jumps to speak before you can. “You know I’m far from opposed.”

And truly, he isn’t. Collars are something you had discussed before, but with how it kept getting brought up time and time again with nothing to actually come of it, he had considered the idea scrapped. That hadn’t stopped Satoru from thinking about it, though.

There was a certain appeal in his wife’s hands around his throat, a gentle one-hand hold when he’s being a nuisance to tug him down to your level before you kiss away his quips or fix his hair, a bruising two-handed one when you’re bodily pinning him down and riding him, but a collar…

“What do you think?” Satoru asks, eyeing you carefully and trying to gauge what you’re feeling.

“I think it’s lovely,” you offer, finally unclenching your fingers and reaching down to stroke over the shell of his ear. Those same ticklish fingers slide down and skim the side of his neck as if mapping out the placement of the collar. You’re smiling a little. “It’d be even lovelier around your neck, should you want it there.”

It’s the push he needs. Satoru rolls it over in his hands again, tests its weight one more time. He exhales the deep breath he took. “Okay, then what are you waiting for, slowpoke? Are you gonna put it on me or not?”

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes but you gently pull the collar from him. Satoru stretches his neck out, total trust and anticipation making his mind slow to a crawl. His pulse settles comfortably beneath the skin of his jaw.

He stays perfectly still as you fit its front against his neck, centering the bow at his throat. You tug the collar and leash over his shoulders before pulling the collar snug around his nape, where his hair curls damply from the sweat budding on his skin.

The metal buckle clicks closed and something molten instantly loosens at the base of Satoru’s skull, dripping down his spine and pooling warm and intense into his hips. With your hands still on his neck, smoothing down the collar, fussily slipping beneath it and testing its tightness, he expects to get overwhelmed under all the stimulation as he adjusts to the foreign feeling of the thin lining of leather gently digging into his throat while the velvet cradles his trachea, but your warmth helps him relax impossibly further.

Satoru doesn’t realize his head is drooping until you cup his face and guide him upwards, thumbs smoothing crescents into the silk of his cheeks. It’s enough to slowly pull him back to earth, leaving its foggy skies behind.

You look oddly charmed, with your eyes syrupy-sweet and crinkling around the edges. “You alright there?”

“Duh.” Satoru is surprised when his voice comes out a broken rasp and he swallows. He can’t even blame it on the restriction of the collar, considering it’s far from tight around his neck. It’s better than he expected. The weight of it is solid and comforting, a weighted blanket, a physical reminder that he’s, in plain words, safe; at ease at your mercy.

(Yours, his traitorous mind whispers. Yours.)

You brighten. “Good. How does it feel?”

“It’s comfy,” Satoru says slowly, the words sleep-soft as if he’s stirring from a dream. He reaches up and rubs over the studded rhinestones. Nothing else comes out of his mouth.

“I’m glad,” you murmur, sounding pleasantly relieved. You push at the back of his neck, finally helping his head continue its orbit to your knees, which he rubs his cheek against like a needy puppy.

There’s a moment where there’s nothing but the sound of you both breathing as one. Eyes burn into his neck, into the collar. Slender fingers scratch at his scalp. Cool velvet slides against his throat when he swallows again. Satoru soaks it all in and categorizes each feeling to somewhat ground himself. A pleasant warmth threatens to pull him into the cloudy recesses of his mind again but he doesn’t allow the mental strings that tether him to the ground to snap.

He feels calm and centered, grounded in a way that he rarely is. It's a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one. It reminds him of all the times he’s surrendered all control to you.

He can’t let himself idle for too long, though. Desire claws tally marks into Satoru’s rib cage, fiercely scrabbling at the inner layers of his being, trying to escape while he sits prone. He fidgets, drags his cheek against your knee one more time, and blinks up at you with a flutter of his dove-feather lashes. You stare back, admiring the collar hugging his neck.

“I think I could get used to wearing this all the time, sugar. Might have to start a trend in the office,” Satoru chuckles.

“It’s new,” you contribute absentmindedly, oddly spacey.

"Though I'm not sure the others would appreciate seeing their boss prancing around like a puppy on a leash. Might give them the right idea about what goes on behind closed doors,” he continues. A hum is the only acknowledgement he gets from you.

“Fuck,” you whisper abruptly, rubbing your mouth. “This was such a bad idea.”

“What? Why?” He asks, startled.

“I’m so fucking horny.”

(Yet you don’t ask him to do anything about it. That should’ve been the first sign— maybe if he had paid a little more attention, he wouldn’t end up in a future mess.)

“Oh. Ohhh,” Satoru switches tracks so fast that it gives both of you whiplash, the confused lilt of his voice dipping into a rumbly purr. He teeters forward, hands creeping up to curl around your calves. He licks his lips and you intently track the movement with dilated pupils. “Mommy’s got a pretty puppy, doesn’t she?”

For the first time in the years that he’s known you, you go stock still as if you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Interesting.

Keeping a hold on your calves, he gives a deliberate lick to your inner thigh, inching dangerously close to the hem of your skirt and the fine line of the finish line, where the referee blows his whistle and waves his flag. The muscle beneath your skin flinches and he hides a private grin. Poking at the bear a bit just to get a reaction out of you is dangerous, because touching you without express permission is a good way to get his fingers slapped or his cock ignored.

But he can't help himself. He's more than willing to toe the edge of your patience if it means getting even a fraction of your attention, good or bad.

Saliva curls thick and wet on his tongue, his entire being salivating with need as he noses his way further up your thigh. His gums itch, his teeth ache. He wants to bite into the ripe fruit of you, knowing well that you’ll bite back harder.

Then you steel yourself, pressing your palm against his forehead to halt him before he can go any further. “Without a doubt.” The clench of your jaw seals his imminent demise. Your next words crush him. “But I don’t like greedy puppies that think they’re entitled to whatever they want. This isn’t an all you can eat buffet.”

No. No, no, no, no. He was so close.

"Well, I don't like wives that tease," Satoru retorts, his voice low and rough with barely contained desire. Despite his words, there's no real complaint in his tone. If anything, the husky rasp only serves to underscore his arousal.

“This isn’t teasing. This is for your own good,” you say with a graveness that’s almost laughable in this situation. Keyword: almost, because he knows that if he laughed, you’d actually get annoyed. Your lips are pursed into something dangerous as you stare down at him and the collar wrapped snugly around his neck, a tangible symbol of his submission.

“If it was for my own good, you’d let me hit so that I don’t wither away and die. Or let me eat your pussy until you’re creaming on my tongue. I’d take whatever you’d give me.”

“Am I hearing that you’d be alright with receiving nothing?”

“No, that just means you need to get your ears checked,” Satoru grumbles.

“Satoru.” Your eyes cut into him in warning, voice just as sharp.

Satoru’s blue eyes round out in mock innocence, his glossy bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. A theatrical sigh escapes him, sensing the oncoming scolding (which he probably won’t take seriously, considering he’s slowly getting hard at the thought of you chastising him. Honestly, he doesn’t even understand how the fuck this situation spiraled so fast or why you’re acting like this) as he rocks back on his heels. "Aww, c'mon, I was just joking around,” Satoru wheedles, taking on a bratty tone and batting his long white eyelashes.

You ignore him and he blows out a breath, making his bangs flutter. "Lemme eat you out, make you feel better,” Satoru proposes, squishing his mouth into your skin and peeking up at you.

“Why?”

“… so that you can forgive me and stop looking at me like I’m roadkill?” He’s all too proud when he speaks, clearly thinking he’s onto something. His sassy ‘duh’ goes unspoken but heard.

He looks beyond affronted when you openly snort in his face. “Your idea of making it up to me benefits both of us, not just me. That’s a reward for you— and the only way disobedient dogs learn is with punishment. Incentive in order to stop horsing around.”

Satoru’s mouth nearly drops open. ‘Big guns, big guns,’ he thinks frantically, reaching for your hands and pressing placating little kisses to your knuckles in worship.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean any disrespect. I just wanna make you feel good. Can you blame me? Look, I’ll do whatever you want—“

“Bribery won’t work on me,” you grouse.

“Bribery works on everyone, actually,” Satoru sasses back because he can’t help himself. The audacity… “A little cash here, a few flowery promises there… I could make the world spin in the opposite direction in exchange for nothing if I played my cards right.”

“You’re missing the point. More like purposely avoiding it, actually. Behave. Or I’ll make you.”

“Get on with it then.”

Those are fighting words if you’ve ever heard them.

Wrong answer, forehead.

You unclip the leash and place it on the bed, standing and forcing him to rear back a fraction so that your knee doesn’t sock his nose. The illusion of free rein lies in the lack of a lead dragging him along behind you, but curiously, he doesn’t take it. Satoru cranes his neck to watch you walk to the doorway of their room.

“No sex until I say so,” you instruct, slowly stringing out your words like putty to get it through his head.

He feels like a dog that got smacked with a newspaper for pissing on the couch.

“Holy fuck. This was such a bad idea,” he repeats your words from earlier, equally as horrified.

You tut at him, unimpressed, and turn to glance at him over your shoulder. “Yes or no?”

Satoru looks at you stupidly. His eyes are gently fogged over, his lips all wet and cherry red from biting them. “What?”

“Can you be a good boy and wait for my recall? Or do we need to settle this in another way?” Your voice is sweet and stickier than honey, yet loaded with a sharp undertone that makes it clear you’re not to be trifled with.

He huffs under his breath. His plans of getting his dick milked switch tracks so fast that it should give him whiplash, because now? You’re the ringmaster of this circus, and he’s the unlucky sucker that got picked from the crowd and fell into your game of cock and ball torture.

“Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Things are normal despite the abstinence that sits like an elephant in the room.

Since you don’t like relying on a personal chef, you whip up storms in the kitchen. You lightly whack at his wrist with a wooden spoon when he tries to sneak a bite of whatever treat you've made.

You’ve been cooking more than usual ever since you bought him that collar. You can say it’s because the work makes you feel accomplished all you want as you chop away at vegetables with that concentrated furrow of your brows that he rubs away with his thumb, but you both know it’s because you enjoy the sense of control it gives you.

It’s not that you want to own him so completely that he becomes a mindless husk of a man with no will of his own. You have no desire to take away Satoru’s autonomy, no matter how much you enjoy molding him into pliancy as if his blood and bones are clay. You respect him and admire his strong resilience that he’s shown time and time again too much to break him down entirely. And he knows that you know that he would do anything for you, anything at all.

He's used to your dominance, craves it even, but there's something different about it when it’s this domestic. Softer. Warmer. It makes his stomach clench with a burning, heavy affection. He likes it when his brain goes all quiet and you smile at him as you take away all the choices he has in certain matters so that, blissfully, he doesn't have to think.

So Satoru lets you cook for him. He’s a good customer that always clears his plate with gusto and asks for seconds, which you dish out for him with an all too-pleased smile, finding comfort in being the one to feed him balanced meals.

It’s made all the more better when he secures his collar around his neck. You tease him when he enters the kitchen with it on, saying good puppies eat on the floor instead of at the table, and you yelp out a laugh when he gets on the tile and shoves his face in your clothed pussy while you’re standing at the stove. Satoru’ll kneel again for shits and giggles when you set the table with dishes filled to the brim and silverware, rubbing his face against your knee, facetiously pleading with you to feed him until you shut him up with a forkful because you can’t help but indulge this freak and his whims.

You still watch shitty reality shows together, Satoru’s head on your lap or boobs the entire time, and cuss out the people projected onto their massive mounted flatscreen. He jokes and you hit him back with a quip equally as witty that has him falling out. You brush your teeth side by side and wash your faces together before catching a ride to the Gojo-gumi headquarters.

The collar makes appearances for those occasions from time to time— sometimes for bits that are all theatrical play to coax giggles out of you, sometimes because it’s comforting for him. Simple as that. It’s made all the more better when you lavish him with extra attention for it as if he’s your beloved pet.

But whenever you bend that ass over to root through your shared drawers to find your favorite clothes for date nights or suck takoyaki that he buys for you off of the stick (he sooo wishes that that was his dick), Satoru is forcibly reminded that he cannot, in fact, crawl to you on all fours and act like your puppy that’s desperate for attention (and pussy).

You truly don’t mean to make him wait long, but putting the pedal to the metal when messing with him draws out the week that much slower. You’re testing the boundaries of the submission that comes with his collar and this ban with a curious intent, gauging how quickly his timer ticks down for you. It all happens at your leisure even though you’re burning for him as blisteringly as he does you.

The wick of your candle is licking hotly at the wax beneath you, melting you down until you’re weak in the knees for his clever mouth and his cock that fills you so nicely— a glass that’s no longer half empty, but topped to the rim.

Unsurprisingly, he breaks before you do. And on day four of the ban, no less.

You’re both winding down after a long day of business with a side of pleasure. Gambling is highly illegal in Japan, but absolutely no one is gonna contact the authorities and go, “hey, just wanted to let you know that that blue-eyed freak of an oyabun— yeah, the Gojo-gumi one— has been playing back room poker with a handful of politicians for years. Oh, how do I know about all of that? I just heard about it from a friend.”

That’d warrant a death sentence from him.

The politicians gather in one of the side rooms at the Gojo-gumi’s headquarters in Tokyo every few months for the thrill of skirting the edge of illegality over high-quality drinks and to play into his whims— they know that it's in their best interests to keep the backbone of the Gojo-gumi happy. To let Satoru push for bills and policies that benefit him, his men, and the city that he calls home, further shielding his large criminal enterprise from the government.

He enjoys the power play of it all, holding all the cards in the palm of his hand (literally and figuratively) and observing how they scurry about like animals in a maze, desperate to please him. One wrong move, and woops, all that financial incentive he offered them is somehow gone, talks of drugs (that his men planted) in their possession falling into the hands of the media, they oh so suddenly fall into debt and ruin, and Choso is knocking at their doors like the grim reaper to collect the Gojo-gumi’s dues.

Though his nose wrinkles every single time as if he's caught a whiff of something foul— and it’s not the smoke from the pipes the guys puff that makes him want to gag, but the interminable boredom of being surrounded by political dogs— he always quells his frustrations by letting his attention stray to you if you happen to attend alongside him.

This time around, you were perched on his lap like the paragon of victory the entire evening, temptation itself in a satin dress with a tasteful slit up the side that a few men dared to take a peek at before flinching beneath Satoru’s nasty glare. There’s a certain level of amusement he gets out of showing off his wife to jealous onlookers that tend to marvel at the powerful couple, but his threshold for it in all actuality is very, very low. Hence why he kept his left hand either flat on your navel to keep your back pressed to his chest or skimming at the ends of your hair, twirling strands into lazy coils, and his chin on your shoulder the entire time.

(And tried really, really hard to resist the urge to grind against your ass.)

To the room, you always look like a disinterested observer, smiling when need be at frankly awful jokes and staring boredly at the velvet-topped table. But, cloaked by the pleasing ‘fhhwip’ of cards being dealt, chips clattering as they’re gathered up, and the hum of conversation laced with alcohol are your words that you feed into Satoru’s ear.

You keenly observe each and every hand dealt from your lofty throne, playing the game as a false bystander. You suss out each guilty or too-eager bodily cue with a sharpness that could cut through bedrock, aiding Satoru like Nike did Zeus. It’s scary how efficient you are as a team.

"Lucky for me, I've got a beautiful lucky charm with me tonight," Satoru claimed every time he swept up his winnings (much to the dismay of the groaning politicians), mouthing ‘love you’ or ‘my sexy cunning wifey’ whenever you’d glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk, his cerulean eyes swimming with open adoration beneath his polished veneer of arrogant self-importance.

You’re still in your dress when Satoru steps out of the en-suite bathroom back at the Gojo estate. Your back is to him as you sprawl out on your side, the faint glow of a screen spilling over your body. He sidles up to his side of the bed.

With the dramatism of a tragic hero from a beloved shoujo manga, or maybe a child who was just told he can't have candy before dinner (which is fitting considering his maturity level seems to plummet in the face of sexual frustration), Satoru flops back onto the bed behind you and makes you bounce atop the mattress. The only thing missing is the melodramatic rain lashing at his form and soaking him down to the bone, making his clothes cling wetly to every ridge of his lean muscle, drawing attention to his big… heart.

When he peeks over you shoulder at your screen and sees the documents pulled up on your phone, he mentally sighs. You’re such a workaholic.

“Read to me,” he requests with an abrupt softness, his usual vibrancy hushed in the wake of your peacefulness that he doesn’t want to disturb too much. “Please.”

“It’s all boring stuff that you probably don’t wanna hear,” you admit in an attempt to spare him from the horrors of work.

Shaking his head, he burrows his face into its favorite home, your nape, and cuddles up to your back. Satoru boxes you into him with an arm slung over your waist like a puzzle falling into place.

“Don’t care,” he replies, voice muffled. “I just wanna hear your voice.”

On any other day, you’d attribute this request of his to unrelenting boredom. There’s times where your husband buzzes around with a manic energy that you swear makes his white hair crackle and stand on end if touched by static, unable to mentally settle enough to let his guard drop. Watching movies, going on spontaneous outings, or, more recently, busting out the collar are all tried and true methods that work wonders.

In the here and now, though, there’s no boredom that needs to be filled with a quota. Satoru just wants to hear your voice even though he could read it faster than you speak aloud.

You oblige. You end up reaching behind you to scratch at his undercut, the hairs there short and satisfyingly fuzzy from being recently shorn, while you relay the words on your phone screen to him.

Satoru’s lulled into silence for a while. The only signs that he’s awake and listening are his steady breaths against your skin and his fingers that draw swirling patterns against your stomach, his inviting hums whenever you pause for a beat too long. He doesn’t know how long you both lie there as you read, but what he does know is that he never wants to leave this bubble.

Your voice makes Satoru feel… small, in a way. Safe, carefully filed away in a place under lock and key where no one wants to hurt him.

It also makes him stupidly horny.

From where he’s pressed up behind you, Satoru’s hips start to slowly press into your backside with an interest a little too intense to be innocent. You can feel the start of the swell of his third fucking leg that’s begging to make an appearance. It’s impossible to ignore.

Clearly, someone thinks that he’s slick, conveniently ‘forgetting’ about your ‘no sex’ rule in hopes that you already have. As if not bringing it up means that the ban might as well have never been spoken in the first place.

Totally sound logic.

“Can I help you?” You ask, still half-focused on your phone.

“Uh huh,” he hums in a rasp that makes the hair on your arms stand up straight. Satoru’s half-hard cock twitches as he insistently rubs it right up between your asscheeks through the curtain of your dress. His tongue wetly drags over the skin right behind your ear before he pinches your earlobe between his teeth. All of his formerly quiet innocence is flying out of the window.

Your core clenches with the urge to rub back against him until you’re both panting and then bounce on his cock, coaxing delicious whines and moans out of him. You just barely resist. “No, Satoru.”

Your voice has the same effect as a cattle prod, zapping him right in the brain and short-circuiting all delusions of sweet talking his way into your panties, rolling you onto your stomach, and mounting you in prone bone. His grabby hands twitch, plotting, before you cuff him with the pointed look you toss him over your shoulder. “No,” you repeat.

Satoru feebly whines when you squirm out of his grip (only because he lets you— you stand no chance against his strength) to sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. He scrambles to follow your retreating form. “Baby, wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t me—“

He nearly knocks you both over when you abruptly stop in front of him. “Unzip my dress.”

His panic is overridden by spine-tingling desire. Holy shit. He’s free of the ban… isn’t he? This isn’t a delusion. It can’t be.

“Hell yes,” Satoru breathes, turning chipper once more. He mentally rubs his hands together and licks his lips as he grasps your zipper after you brush your hair out of the way, tugging it down to the small of your back and watching either side of your dress unfurl. You slide the straps of it off your shoulders and he groans when it slips like silk down your curves and to the floor, leaving you in a cute bra and panty set that he bought you ages ago.

Not even being a saint in his past life could cancel out the awful misdeeds he’s committed in this one, but he must’ve done at least one good thing right if he’s regained the privilege of being able to stare at his wife’s backside.

You step out of it and continue on your path with him not even a foot behind you, breathing down your neck like a great big husky. “God, I missed showering with you. Missed your sexy body,” he breathes, fumbling to take his shirt off as he goes because he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He’s gotten it over his head and tossed it aside by the time you get to their en-suite bathroom and turn to look at him downright lecherously while smoothing your hand up the doorframe, stripping him down further with just your searing stare. The mental picture he takes of you could be the cover of a magazine— one that he’d print only for himself. “C’mere, puppy,” you coo.

He mentally white-knuckles the base of his cock to avoid blowing his load in his pants at that.

Satoru’s dick is twitching with the barrage of mental images flooding his head. Soapy suds race down your gorgeous glistening body as Satoru plows into you from the back, water and slick splashing between where you’re joined, both of you vulnerable and oh so comfortable with each other.

Your left hand is clinging to his forearm that arcs above you, his own hand plastered against the slippery tile for further leverage, while your right hand yanks at his leash to force him deeper, weepy blush-pink cockhead kissing your cervix with each bruising slap of his pelvis against your ass. A little silly of you to bring his collar along under the spray when the water is perfectly capable of ruining the leather and velvet of it beyond repair, but eh, whatever. This is all in his head anyways.

Since both of your hands are occupied, you have nothing to brace yourself with other than your front. You’re curved in the most insane arch, the side of your face pressed to the tile along with your tits, nipples probably hard and aching against the cool surface. Sacrificing a fraction of your dignity for control. Although… you look very cute with your cheek smushed like that.

He knows he's at your mercy. Knows that with just a word or a tug on his leash, you could have him scrambling to fulfill your every whim. And god, does he want to do just that— to pour all his overwhelming focus into worshipping his wife until you’re trembling, smiling, and boneless with pleasure.

You’re both moaning like crazy and the noises echo off of the soaked tile like gunshots. Satoru buries himself into your warmth over and over again, deliriously watching the slide of his drenched cock each time he drags his hips back, only to punch them forward again. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” you encourage, trying to catch your breath between thrusts. “What a good b—“

The bathroom door slams in his face and the mirage fades.

Satoru nearly howls as if you shut it on his foot and sliced it clean off. “Don’t lock me out!” He whines, obnoxiously jiggling the doorknob and frowning when he finds that you locked it. He feels like a kid who’s been told they’re going to Disneyland after begging for a year straight, only to bounce out of the car once it pulls to a stop and realize that they’re at the dentist instead.

He huffs and puffs as he knocks a few times in hopes you’ll have mercy on him, totally considering breaking it down or picking the lock so that he can throw himself between your thighs and fuck you sloppy on his tongue.

The pipes chug in the walls when you turn the shower on, the spray hitting the tiles audible through the door.

“Do you mind? I’m busy,” you sarcastically call to him. Oh god, you’re probably naked by now, curves bare between those four walls that close you off from him. Satoru’s quivering in place. He thinks his dick might just fall off from the stress.

“Yes, actually, I do,” he complains, brows furrowed. “Showers are our thing. Let me in.”

You’re quiet as if considering it. The sound of the water changes as it meets your body, sluicing over you in rivulets and painting you in a clear sheen that he’d kill to see. He’s never been so jealous. Sleighted. Betrayed. How dare the droplets touch you but he can’t get in the shower and do the same, scrubbing you squeaky clean and maybe dipping a finger into your cunt if he’s lucky.

“Hmm… no,” you finally say.

“No?” Satoru parrots, scandalized and clutching his mental pearls.

“Don’t act like that. You know exactly why I’m not letting you in. What makes you think you deserve to be in here?”

You’ve got no compassion. You’re killing him in an orderly fashion, laurel wreath on your head and bare skin painting you as something godly, all cool indifference and amusement. A beautiful girl with a criminal smile that should be put in a file for the FBI, because this? This is inhumane. You’re surely violating multiple humanitarian laws.

“You literally led me here. You tricked me!”

“Did I?”

“You’re sick. Vile,” he pouts. “You need to be locked up in a maximum security prison where you can’t cause any harm to beautiful, astoundingly gifted men like me,” Satoru accuses through the door without any real anger.

Then, because he’s terrified of actually inviting his wife’s wrath and landing himself on your bad side, he leaps to correct himself. “Not that I’d ever want that for you! You’ve never done any wrong in my eyes and never will. You’re perfect, princess. You deserve to relax in a jacuzzi or on a warm beach in a bikini and be fed off of a charcuterie board.”

“I know that’s right,” comes your muffled voice, sounding all too satisfied.

Grinding his teeth together, he lightly thunks his forehead against the door before leaving it to rest there. His fingers curl into halfhearted, pathetic fists at his sides.

The desire to touch you outside of kisses, cuddles, and hugs festers by the day like a sore wound. Even though Satoru is content with whatever he gets from you, he’ll always want you. Always. How could he not after years upon years of being married to you? His heart is so full of you and the desire to connect with you in a more intimate manner that it’s set to burst at any moment.

The longer he goes without feeling you against him and studying your body as if you’re a special edition book that’s been signed by the author, the more it kills him. It splinters him, ruins him from the inside out. Like a dead animal’s digestive enzymes breaking down their internal cavity and spoiling the tissue. Self-digestion.

Is he being dramatic? Maybe. Maybe not. He just wants you so bad.

“Go put your collar on, okay?” You suddenly speak up again, voice echoing. “I’ll give you what you need eventually. You just need to be patient and wait. Only good boys get treats, remember?”

He knows you mean business and the last thing he wants is to prolong this agonizing drought. Swallowing his pleas, he nods even though you can’t see him. There’s a lesson to be learnt here, he’s slowly realizing— a hard one.

“Fine,” he mumbles.

Satoru reluctantly pushes away from the door, forcing out one more great big sigh to try and make you feel guilty (it doesn’t work) before padding over to the bedside drawer on his side of the bed. He fishes out the collar and loops it around his neck. It takes him a second of blindly searching to click the buckle into place and the tension leaves his body as if that’s all he needs in order to relax.

Dropping his full weight on the bed, he splays out across the center of it on his stomach and bunches up a pillow beneath his head, slinging his arms around it and holding it in place. He sinks into the mattress and waits.

He only realizes that the shower’s been turned off after god knows how long and that his eyes closed at some point when something feathers across his cheek. He peels his glazed blue eyes open and finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, bundled up in a robe with your hair damp around your shoulders, looking infinitely relaxed and loose.

That expression is what he fights to keep on your face every damn day of his life. Satoru didn’t have a protective bone in his body that wasn’t selfishly for himself until you, and now, all he wants to do is tuck you behind his ribs, right next to his heart, and safeguard you there forever. Keep you safe, happy, and satisfied, wanting for nothing.

Your knuckle rubs back and forth over his cheek and he leans into your touch, coaxing you to flip your hand over and cup his face, thumb petting at him.

“You look cozy,” you whisper, fond.

Your voice makes a soft, blissful smile tug at his lips. Satoru’s aimlessly floating in that liminal space between reality and fantasy, his mind fogged over with a mix of anticipation, trust, and a bone-deep sense of comfort that seems to blend together into one fluffy cloud.

As the pride of the Gojo clan, yakuza royalty in the flesh, he alone sits at the top, splayed out on the throne that the heavens carved out for him at birth. Untouchable, unreachable in a world where strength is everything and vulnerability is a death sentence. Yet here you are, worming your way into his crevices and domesticating the wolf. Dulling his fangs and softening him into something more puppy-like.

There’s a sense of freedom in letting go and being vulnerable with you. Always has been.

Satoru blinks slowly up at you, unable to conjure up his buried thoughts. You smile a little before standing, making him tense up— he doesn’t want you to leave. “I’ve got you, just stay there. I’ll be right back,” you gently shush him, consoling him with one more stroke of your finger over his cheek before you quickly depart, coming back just as fast with a familiar glass bottle in hand and a fresh towel tucked beneath your arm.

“Do you think you could rub this into my scalp for me, baby?” You ask, tilting your head at Satoru and crawling onto the bed.

“Yeah.” He finds it in himself to gradually pull himself up into a sitting position and folds his legs beneath himself. You reach out, fixing up the bow attached to his collar, and duck your finger beneath the hem of it to double-check that it’s not too tight around his throat. It’s instinct.

Humming softly under your breath, you unfold one flap of the towel and spread it across his lap, resting your head there. You look up at him and he brushes some of your hair off of your forehead and out of the way, his touch lingering there. You’re an animated painting, all lazily winding curves and warm skin against the cool comforter beneath you.

He unscrews the top of the bottle of hair serum once you hand it to him. Slowly, he tips it and allows a small amount of oil to dribble into the bowl of his palm— a rich, darkly colored serum that smells faintly of coconuts and warm spices.

He starts by working his fingers through your roots, massaging the oil into your scalp with a careful thoroughness that speaks volumes of how often he’s done this, then he makes his way down to the ends of your hair to evenly spread it all out. You let out a faint sigh of contentment and your eyes flutter shut, melting into putty beneath his ministrations.

Once-violent hands that have snapped necks and used serrated blades to cut off the thumbs of his underlings for disobeying him with no sympathy work over you with a tenderness that belies the brutality that lies beneath the fate lines of his palms.

He keeps going until he’s sure that each strand is spun with the serum. Satoru’s always eager to show you just how much he loves and cherishes you. And right now, that means making sure he does exactly as you ask, redirecting all that eager-to-please sexual energy that buzzes at his nerves into pleasing you another way, no matter how small or mundane the task may seem. Properly executing this feels impossibly good for him.

Satoru leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in the scent of the serum intermingling with your shampoo and body wash, then presses your lips together in an upside-down kiss. His nose gently bumps against your chin. You hook your finger into the o-ring of his collar to keep him steady against you.

For once, the weight of his responsibilities aren’t on his shoulders. Nor is there his usual quip at his lips or a playful tease that’ll break up the peace. It’s just you, him and this tiny slot of time.

You both pull back at the same time, your sweetened breaths puffing across his lips. His thumbs draw soothing circles into your temples to watch you further dissolve into his lap and he grins to himself, happy that he's able to bring you some measure of peace, before resuming the steady glide of his fingers through your hair.

“I thought you were done?” You murmur, almost a yawn.

“I am,” he admits, “but I wanna do this for you. You look so relaxed… I want you to always stay this way.”

The collar is comfortably weighty around his throat the entire time that he plays with your hair until you doze off— a physical manifestation of the trust and safety he feels in your presence.

"A week?" Satoru repeats a few days later, voice tight.

He hates the idea of being away from you for that long. You’re rarely apart for more than a night or two when something comes up, and whenever you have to venture outside of Tokyo or Kyoto without him for too long, he gets antsy with worry and a selfish need to keep you cooped up in his arms forever.

But he also knows that you hate the idea of leaving your old man alone when he isn’t doing too well and is actively asking for your presence in your childhood home. Just for a little while.

Satoru remembers all too well the state your father was in at the behest of Satoru’s own father— a mountain of debt that shackled your dad to the Gojo-gumi and threatened to crush the man before you stepped in to help, sacrificing your own ambitions and desires to free your family from the trappings of the yakuza.

It was the catalyst that brought you back into his life as a more permanent fixture, a blessing disguised as a burden. It was also a testament to your incredible character that he was witness to back when you were both in high school, long before Satoru’s old man passed and he was forced to step into the role of oyabun as the heir apparent.

"I suppose I can survive a week without my better half," Satoru finally sighs, drooping with sorrow as he walks by your side through the parking garage across the street from the Gojo-gumi headquarters. "Family comes first. Go spend some time with him while I hold down the fort. I know you’ve been missing your dad, anyways.”

Then, softer, “I just... I'm going to miss you like crazy, you know? A whole week without my beautiful wife by my side? I might just die.” He knows he's being a bit needy, but he can't help it. You bring out a softer side of him that he never shows to anyone else.

You stop next to the car, Satoru clicking the unlock button on the fob, before you finally pull your attention away from your phone. There’s a devotion there that’s packed tight with regret. “I wish I could get someone to drive him here so that he could stay with us, but this city is just… it’s not good for him.”

You suck in a breath. “Maybe I should stay and send one of my cousins to—“

“Gojo,” it slips forth, stirred to perfection with careful heaps of cinnamon and sugar and butter, a skinny spoon tapped against the rim of the bowl upon finishing it to make sure all the excess sweetness drips forth and rejoins the rest. His name, your name, engraved on the twin bands gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. They clink together like toasted glasses when he interlaces your fingers, kisses them all.

You stare at him, all gentle-eyed and pretty as you lean against his sports car and look up at him. Hopelessly besotted by the sound of your surname.

He pauses, swallowing hard. When Satoru speaks again, his voice is low and rough with emotion. "Gojo. Just... be careful out there, okay? I’ll send you off with some of my men, but keep your eyes open since you’ll be close to Ryomen’s hunting grounds. Stick with your dad. And if anyone, and I mean anyone, tries anything funny or looks at you strangely for even a millisecond, you call me. No one else.”

Long after he drives you to their favorite restaurant then back home, he waits until you go to the bathroom to scroll through his contacts. It’s ingrained in him to be overprotective of you. The thought of anything bad happening to you... he doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. Everything would crumble beneath the furious weight of his wrath.

He wouldn’t even burn the world, too weak to even lift his hands because he’s at his weakest when you’re not with him. His caving in chest would suck up the entire planet into his black hole heart, trying futilely to use the big patchy continents on its surface to blot out the agony. Ice cold in its intensity.

His wakagashira, Nanami, and wakagashira-hosa, Choso, have enough going on right now. Yaga, shateigashira of the Gojo-gumi, is too out of the way to get involved in this (and would probably hang up on Satoru if he even tried asking him to tag along with you). Grumbling a little, Satoru caves and calls one of his trusted kyodai. Ino picks up on the second ring with a cheery, “hey, boss!”

“Hey, Ino. Got a job for you,” Satoru says, rubbing his thumb over the back of his phone. “I need you and some of the boys to accompany my wife to her old man’s place. Don't let her out of your sight whenever they decide to go out, but keep your distance and give her space or she’ll bite your head off. Make sure that they’re both safe at all times. Understand?"

His kyodai turns serious at the dangerous ridge of his tone. “Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. Don’t fuck this up or I’ll string you upside down by all ten of your toes and cut your dick off so that I can send it off to the Bratva. And I’ll let Nanami watch me hack away at your dick with a machete. Do you want that?” He poses this scenario a little too cheerfully.

Ino’s choked breath makes the phone line crackle. “No, no I don’t. I won’t let you down.”

Satoru is a clingy mess for the rest of the night, nibbling at your earlobe, snuffling at your neck and arms and chest like a wet-nosed puppy, refusing to let you budge even an inch away from him in search of air. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins with how tightly you’re wrapped up in him.

(“Want a goodbye quickie?” “No, Satoru.”)

He’s just as bad when you pack come morning. Hair mussed from fitful sleep and his sleepy voice cracking with each whine he lets loose, he tails you around with an expression bordering on offense. ‘How dare you try to hurry this up by asking for my help. Are you really so eager to leave me?’ is what his eyes convey the second you ask a sulky Satoru to help you fold your clothes.

His melodramatic wail when you take your toothbrush out of your joint holder while gathering your toiletries, separating yours from his, should make you laugh but it only makes you ache to throw everything down and jump into his arms like a fool to a siren. A very beautiful blue-eyed siren with a boyish grin that's charmed you since day one and elegantly sculpted fingers, his infectious laugh, that addictive warmth that makes it hard to not give into him…

Don’t fall for it, you tell yourself.

"Don't think for a second that I won't be counting down the days until you're back in my arms. Because I will," Satoru pouts at the front door. A sleek black car rumbles at the foot of the steps leading down to the driveway, Ino’s mop of brown hair, slightly covered by his ski-mask that’s been pulled up to his forehead beanie-style, visible through the rolled down window.

He watches the kyodai leap out and trot up the steps to grab your luggage and carry it down before turning to you. There’s no smirk on his face, only a displeased purse of his lips that begs for your attention. You can practically picture the droop of fluffy ears atop his white hair.

So cute. You could eat him right up.

“I know,” you reply, slinging your arms around his neck and nuzzling your noses together. Your hands clasp at his nape and he can feel the chilly line of your wedding band against his skin.

Satoru melts into your embrace and drapes over you like a great big dog. When you wiggle a little, he holds on tighter, practically squeezing you to death. “I’ll text and call you every day. Keep your phone on you at all times just in case something happens. If you don’t answer me after five rings, I’ll throw up,” he continues as if you haven’t heard this spiel a hundred times already.

“Mhm,” you agree with a wheeze from the lack of proper airflow. You duck your head and smush your face between his pecs. You could happily die right here. He has no business having pecs plumper and rounder than a woman’s rack.

He releases you and all your bones pop back into place. His blue eyes are shimmery and sad as they peer into your very soul. “I love you,” you tell him softly.

“What was that?” Satoru cups one ear.

“I love you to the moon and back,” you oblige with a fond roll of your eyes as you stretch upwards.

“And I love you more than infinity times infinity,” he finishes, bending down to meet you halfway for a kiss.

(After kissing and hugging on the doorstep for much too long, you gaze out of the window of the car as Ino cruises through traffic. Thank god for this impromptu trip. You think you would’ve folded and let him hit after another hour of just… him being him.)

Satoru keeps busy with the Gojo-gumi while you’re away, but instead of his workload stifling the achey clench of his heart, it only forces him to confront how awful all of it feels without you. He’s gotten so used to seeing you not just at home, but at headquarters where you both work, too, that his brain bluescreens every time he passes your empty desk and doesn’t see you squinting at your laptop or ruffling Yuuji’s hair after helping the teenager out with something.

Each and every meeting and errand he has to run to ensure that the Gojo-gumi continues merrily rolling around in their gains feels unnatural without your hand in his. It swallows him down dry and spits him right back out. This is his personal hell.

Whenever he gets the chance to talk to you for even a second, he barrels over his responsibilities to do so. You called him during a meeting once and he walked out early with hearts in his eyes and his phone longingly cradled to his ear. Satoru sends you selfies of him holding up mochi with a dimpled smile that’s much too adorable to be found on a man of his reputation’s face, long texted paragraphs about his days, whatever comes to mind. Nonsense.

You charge things to his card instead of your own that connects you to your shared bank account and he giggles to himself. You want him so bad. Even better, you sometimes send solo selfies back in return or ones with your dad roped into them, and he saves them all to his photo album titled ‘wifey 🩵.’

But none of your calls or texts match up to the bliss of having you here with him in person.

Satoru wakes up every morning, the luxurious sheets, pillows, and blankets that he spent more than a couple of bands on doing nothing to chase away the lonely chill in his bones created by your absence. The length of the bed feels too vast for even his long arms and even longer legs. You’re not there to squirm away and laugh as he blows raspberries into your neck to wake you up before hoisting you up from bed, wrapping you up in a robe, and carrying you off to the kitchen so that you can have breakfast together. Nor are you there at night for him to cuddle up with.

During the day, he’s the suave yet feared, ruthless oyabun that all of Japan knows by name. He offers hand and coin to all the businesses that rely on him, only to snatch it back when their dues aren’t paid, leaving him no choice but to forcefully take a cut of their profit ‘for their own protection.’ The thousands upon thousands of his underlings that cower before him, equal parts reverence and fear, are his to keep in line. To provide for.

It’s a cutthroat and downright draining job that calls for no sympathy. No sweet kisses. No soft, encouraging words and a hand to grip tight when the blood he’s spilled clouds his vision.

Yes, okay, he misses having you beneath him, gasps escaping your lips as he pistons into you. Yes, he misses you riding him like a pro, body lazily undulating and your hands shackling his wrists so that he can do nothing but lie there and take it.

But it’s not even the sex he misses when you’re gone. It’s not entirely about that. You mesh with him in a way that has him cursing his teenage self for not getting to know you better in high school and having to wait all those years after graduation for you to sweep into his office like a harbinger of justice.

Call it corny, but he’s convinced that you’re soulmates. There’s nobody else out there for him— nobody else that he wants, because you’re it for him. You’ve given him much more love, happiness, and freedom than anyone else in his life has.

And that’s exactly why he respects why you won’t let him make you feel good, won’t touch him in return. There’s a reason for everything, even if he’s too prideful to admit out loud that this is due to his own shortcomings.

Satoru toys with the collar around his neck and stares up at the ceiling from your shared bed, where he’s tucked in all on his lonesome. He knows that he’s a handful of a pet. Bad puppies like him, they don’t respect other dogs’ spaces. Satoru goes sniffing where he shouldn’t after bounding off without your permission, making Ryomen growl and snap at his heels for his audacity and chase him from his territory.

Sometimes, he does shit that he knows will piss other people off or worry you, the one person who matters the most. That he knows he’ll regret later. But at the moment, it always feels too good not to do it. Like he can’t help himself— too stubborn and always looking for the next excitement, the next thrill.

(But he’ll always be that overbearingly affectionate puppy that’s so big and excited that he knocks you over in his haste to get to you, smothering you in kisses and dirty paw prints. Satoru has a problem with resource guarding, snarling at others that get too close to you even if there’s no threat in sight— he’s just protective, that’s all. It’s all out of love.)

And worse, bad puppies like him don't always respect their owners' boundaries and rules either. He can be greedy; always trying to sneak extra treats off the table when your back is turned. He goes pawing at you even when you’ve told him no, because sometimes he doesn’t take your discipline in the form of rejections seriously. Satoru understanding the gravity of your words until you’ve scolded him, making him droop all sadly.

You’re always gonna find your push and pull with him fun, but sometimes, you just want him to submit without a playful fight. That’s what you’ve wanted the entire time.

He can do that for you.

Satoru gets a call on day thirteen of the ban.

“You okay?” He asks the second he answers.

There’s the slight bustle of chatter on the other line. He pictures you somewhere nice, your dad sitting across from you and you gazing out of the window with a cup of liquid warmth cradled between your palms. Bathed in sunlight and looking oh so serene. Satoru keeps his phone pressed tightly against his ear, afraid that if he lets go, you'll disappear.

“I’m fine. Just calling to check on you. Are you okay?” You flip the question back on him. Your concern never fails to make his heart flutter— as if he’d ever let anyone else come close to beating him, not when he has you to always crawl back to.

After pausing to overanalyze your voice and the background noise just in case you’re trying to hide a smidgen of pain or something, he relaxes. Putting his phone on speaker and setting it on the counter, he grabs his loofah from the shower, wets it under a stream of hot water from the sink, and pumps a spurt of soap onto it. Satoru sets to work on scrubbing the blood out from beneath his nails, bubbles frothing forth in a pinkish white and spilling over his split knuckles.

“You don’t even need to ask, baby. I’m invincible, remember?”

You’re quiet for a beat too long, clearly waiting for something that he doesn’t give. Satoru can feel the look of mild exasperation you’re giving him from miles and miles away. “Right. Is that why I heard you picked on a certain wakagashira?”

Jesus. People tattle on him to you more than Shoko and his other informants spill the beans to Satoru on what the other syndicates are up to.

“What, Suguru’s wakagashira? I’d never hurt a hair on Miguel’s bald, shiny head,” he drawls with a smirk. “Who fed you that bull and why’d you believe it?”

“You’re so annoying,” you laugh. Score. He’s mentally twirling his short white hair between his fingers and kicking his feet at the sound. Chancing a glance into the mirror, he finds himself beaming brighter than the sun. “Nanami told me that my big strong man and Uraume got into it.”

“Ohhhh… is that what Ryomen’s wakagashira’s name is?” Satoru plays dumb.

Your snort makes the line crackle. A dish clinks. “Satoru.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I did,” he relents with a melodrama only seen in really shitty Hallmark movies. Twisting the faucet off after rinsing the loofah free of blood, he deposits it back in the shower then hurries back to his phone to stare almost longingly at your name on the screen. “Let’s talk about that later, though. Compliment me some more instead— call me your big strong man again,” he dreamily sighs, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“My big strong man, my big strong man, my big strong man,” you repeat.

“Did you really have to say it three times? You might summon something into the bathroom,” Satoru clicks his tongue with a searching look around the room.

“I hope whatever it is gives you a noogie,” you deadpan, and this time, he’s the one that laughs. “I have to go in a second, but I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be coming back tomorrow. I’ll meet you at home, give you a nice reward for how patient you’ve been these last two weeks. How’s that?”

The excitement that rushes through him makes his stomach drop as if he’s being tossed around on a rollercoaster. It’s nearly enough to wash away the loneliness that’s dogged his every step while you’ve been away. “Good,” he breathes. “Sounds good. Really good. What’re you thinking exactly?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” you croon, teasing. “So, aside from the Uraume incident, tell me about your day.”

“It’s been straight ass. The Gojo clan elders are on one, Kento’s been exceptionally boring, and my wife isn’t here to kiss my booboos better. God, and later I have to go downtown and squeeze a late payment out of one of the ryoteis I own…”

The rest of the conversation, your shared goodbye’s and love you’s included, go by in a blur. By the time you’ve hung up, his blood pressure is through the roof. There’s no mistaking that you’ll be on him in more ways than one tomorrow. The anticipation weighs heavily on him and refuses to let up, making his cock twitch.

“Get a grip,” he coaches himself, dabbing his hands dry to avoid scraping at his hurt knuckles. “All she did was talk to you and tell you that she’s coming home. It was just her voice. Don’t get turned on.”

Straightening up, Satoru looks himself over in the mirror. His white hair is lazily tousled— the look of someone who just crawled out of bed looking infuriatingly good, his blue eyes like twin stars beneath the fluorescent lights. He winks and cheeses at his reflection, perfect white teeth on display.

But the second his smile slowly fades, you sneak your way back into his head. He can practically envision you standing behind him and peeking around his body to look at the two of you, fingers dragging fire down to his waistband, your voice dipping into that register that drives him batshit insane as you whisper exactly what you’re gonna do to him and chuckling when he groans, pained.

There’s no stopping Satoru as he instinctively palms at his budding erection through his slacks, having to brace himself against the bathroom counter with one hand at the shock of how electric even the barest of friction feels. Through the mirror, he watches himself slowly flush in real time, blooming color spreading over his high cheekbones and arcing across the bridge of his nose before crawling down his neck, brushing him pink. His perfectly glossy lips part around a strangled noise.

You’re not even here and yet you’re making him crazy.

Everything in him wants to dig a pair of your panties out of the laundry, bury his face in it, and fist his cock until he’s spilling all over himself.

More than anything, though, Satoru wants to be a good boy for you, to make you happy. His own hand is nothing compared to the warmth of yours on his body— he wants you to physically unravel him and hear your voice in his ear, soft and commanding, telling him what to do whether that’s how to please you or just relax as you take care of him.

Doing this on his own isn’t the same. You’ve broken him.

Or maybe he’s just very, very well-trained.

Satoru groans, gives his weeping cock one last squeeze, and drops his hand. His chest strains against his shirt with each desperate breath he takes. In the mirror, his cerulean irises gaze back at him, the frustrated hue to them slowly being overshadowed by determination.

He’ll wait for your recall.

On the day of your return, he smells you his first step into the door of the Gojo estate.

You use this specific perfume whenever you’re traveling— jet, ferry, car, it doesn’t matter as long as an engine is purring— and nowhere else. You leave all your ‘goods’ behind in the bathroom and atop the vanity, relying on your dingy little plastic bottle of liquid warmth and sin that you spritz on your skin. Satoru knows that scent better than he knows Newton’s laws.

And he was really fucking good at physics back when he was in school.

It’s a shame that you beat him here, he thinks as he floors it down the long hallway. He could’ve greeted you at the door with the full princess package, helping you out of your coat, taking your purse off of your hands, getting down on his femur to work your high heels off and then carrying you to your room where he can massage any soreness out of your feet.

But alas. He makes a mental note to move quicker next time— not that he’s letting you leave him for an entire week again for another few months.

Upon reaching the bedroom, he throws open the door with gusto. "Oh princesssss, your hubby is home—!”

—And he’s greeted by an empty room.

“Lame,” he sullenly mutters to himself, all that vibrant energy escaping him in one big whoosh. He blows a raspberry to himself and strides inside, stopping by the elegant chaise lounge tucked against the wall. Undoing the knot of his tie, Satoru quickly pulls it off, then tugs his suit jacket down his shoulders and drapes both atop the seat to be dealt with later.

He takes a longer look at your shared master bedroom— the bed is made, the room is clean, and the en-suite bathroom door is ajar but the lights are off. He’s about to turn on his heel and blaze through the estate to find you and smother you to death when he hears shuffling in the walk-in closet. Instantly, he perks up.

“Is that my wife I hear?” Satoru calls, and you respond, a faint ‘mhm’ that makes excited chills bubble up to the top layer of his skin, forming goosebumps.

And then you step out of the closet.

He expected a long coat with a fur-lined collar, maybe a sharp turtleneck or a blouse. Something travel-friendly and effortlessly classy that you wore on the drive home and haven’t yet peeled yourself out of.

This, though? This is so much better. You’re a mouth-watering treat that he wants to sink his teeth into, chew at, tear into with slow rips until his taste buds are graced with the buttery, gooey sweetness that ripens the core of you and seeps over his tongue like melted caramel.

“Hey there, sugar," he croons, flashing you that same charming lopsided grin that cracked your heart open and feasted on it all those years ago. Satoru takes his designer sunglasses off and folds them with a neat click. Tucks them into the breast pocket of his baby blue waistcoat that clings to him as if to tell you, ‘let me get a good, long look at you. Give me a twirl.’

The thing about Gojo Satoru is that he is the city that he rules. He embodies Tokyo, all blinding neon lights and flashy billboards, his very eyes the morning skyline that pops out at everyone and calls them to action, to put on their shoes and hustle out of the door.

His light blue eyes now, though, are just full of love and a crushing longing vaster than the sea, waves crashing and twining together, hiding its boons deep beneath the tumultuous surface. It makes your steps stutter. But you right yourself like always, stalwart in your efforts to take all his affection that bears down on you and hold yourself up.

You’ve already dressed down to curl up in bed for the rest of the evening, wearing a skimpy leopard-print nightgown that slices half-diamond slits up the sides of both of your thighs. The short hem glances off of your thighs like curtains swaying in the breeze when you shift your weight and the iPad clutched to your chest does your tits wonders, making them squish against the screen. The nightgown is so skin tight that you may as well be naked, clinging so sinfully to you and emphasizing every curve and dip of your body. It leaves very little to the imagination. Shit, he wants to dive into the ocean of your hips and drown in them.

But it's the warm look in your eyes behind those reading glasses that really gets to him. You rarely wear them in the first place, so seeing them perched delicately on the bridge of your nose… he’s never felt weaker.

Your whole ensemble is slutty. The pinch of adorably sweet domesticity that makes him wanna bite your cheeks and the refined deadliness of an office siren (which you very much are) wraps it all up nicely. Soft yet sexy. The look he loves the best on you. You absolutely did this on purpose.

The rush of affection that pummels at his chest makes him a little sick.

He doesn’t miss the way your mouth twitches in a futile attempt to beat back a smile. “Stop staring,” you warn.

Mmmm. That voice of yours could’ve single-handedly halted the Trojan War.

“I can’t help it,” Satoru sighs, dismissively waving your comment away and sauntering over to you. It takes everything in him to not sprint. “You’ve got that new mom glow.”

“Excuse me?”

He nods at the iPad you’re still clutching. “You’ve been extra radiant ever since I bought you that thing,” he jests.

“You are so fucking…” you rub your forehead. You exhale a laugh. “God help me. Just come here and welcome me home properly.”

“Already on it, boss,” he purrs with a cheeky grin right as he sidles up to you. His hands sneak into the slits of your nightgown to grab at your hips, fingers sinking into the soft, pliant give of them. They prickle with the urge to slide around, dip beneath the hem, and cop a feel of what you’ve got stacked behind you. “Holy shit, I’m the luckiest man alive. Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now, titties sitting pretty in this nightgown and everything?” Satoru dreamily sighs as he drinks you in.

“Mm, tell me about it,” you murmur, a twinkle lighting your eyes. Your free hand smooths up from his navel to his chest, where his heart pounds entire sonnets in your name.

“Well, you look phenomenal. So fucking phenomenal. I’d fight 3 mountain lions in a McDonalds handicap bathroom stall with my hands tied behind my back, my only weapon a shake weight glued to my forehead, just to get a chance to stare at you for the rest of my life.”

You laugh immediately, that look in your eyes deepening. You look so light with amusement and fondness that it seems to rejuvenate you, making you glow like you’re lounging in the gentlest, warmest of sunbeams with the grace of a feline.

Satoru smiles dopily, his cheeks hurting from the force of his grin. “I missed you, wifey. This place isn't the same without my pretty girl in it." He leans down to kiss your forehead and breathes you in. “Did you miss me just as much, or did you enjoy your time without me buzzing in your ear like a gnat?” He jokes, hating how a hint of pleading slips through.

“Oh, spare me. You were up my ass over the phone,” you tease before turning sincere. A cocktail of emotion spills over your features, relaxing your browbone and softening you around the edges. “But yeah, of course I did, baby. I missed you so, so much.”

It’s silent for only a mere second, a silence that sits heavy and oppressive like the stillness before lightning crashes through the heavens, and suddenly your torsos are colliding as you rush to touch each other.

He seals your mouths together with a needy groan, his grip finally slipping around to your backside to squeeze at your ass and keep you flush against him, and you press one hand to his waist to hold steady as you crane up towards him like a flower unfurling and stretching for the nurturing comfort of the sun.

Despite you both walking the line of desperation, the press of your lips is rife with affection. Devotion. An ‘I’m home,’ and a ‘welcome back.’ It feels like eons have passed rather than a week since the last time he’s been able to indulge in you. Two weeks if he counts the distinct lack of intimacy.

Distance may make the heart grow fonder, but it also makes the soul weaker.

“There’s nothing normal about how much I’ve been thinking about you,” he manages between kisses, voice cracking a fraction. The wet glide of your tongue sends a little shockwave through his system and he breaks before you, letting you slip in where he’s most tender and lick your way over his teeth. “I’m so obsessed with you. I’m stupid for you. Being without you is unbearable.”

The way you sigh into him at that, the soft hitch in your breath as if you can finally relax in his hold, only kindles the flame he holds for you. His hold tightens reflexively, fingers curling into the fabric of your nightgown. Trying to make sure you’re real and not a figment of his cruel imagination.

When they finally part, Satoru’s baby blues flutter open to meet your gaze. He’s sure there’s a vulnerability to his ocean-dark eyes and expression that he only allows you to see, to coax out of him. You blink up at him almost hazily, those pretty lips of yours glistening with saliva.

“Promise?” You seek out.

If he’s needy for you, then you’re just as bad. Hide it behind that coolness as much as you want, but it doesn’t change a damn thing.

You’re the one that approached him to almost dejectedly ask why he stopped sending flowers to your desk every day before you even started dating because he assumed you were rejecting his advances (turns out, you hadn’t been throwing away his bouquets but taking them to your former apartment to cover your countertop in them, pressing the prettiest ones to preserve them forever).

You're the one that seeks him out in the dark of night when you’re startled into the realm of the living, grumbling and whining in a manner that you’d never show in the light of day when he’s too far away and only settling when you’re wrapped up snug in his arms, your head on his chest and ear over his heart.

You’re the one that said ‘I do’ at the altar and teared up at the same exact second that he did, and when you fell into his kiss, you gripped his arms with an amorous ferocity that said ‘I’m never letting go of you. I can’t.’

You want him more than you want most things.

“‘Course. I’ll throw all of that into our vow renewals,” he declares.

“God, I love you,” you say. Satoru echoes you with a just as reverent ‘love you’ and murmurs your name, low and rough with emotion, and you press a chaster kiss to his mouth this time. A peck. “I have such a perfect husband. Have you been good? Everything that I’ve read in reports is correct?” You ask much too slowly, relearning how to function now that you’re not entirely intertwined with your other half.

Satoru can see the finish line. Finally. He inhales sharply, releases it, trembling with anticipation. He can’t resist drawing you in one more time, breathing into you, tongue dragging over the crevices of your mouth before sucking on your tongue with so much sensuality that you shiver before drawing back a hairsbreadth, teeth scraping over his bottom lip.

He can’t get enough of you. But he tries to anyways.

He bobs his head in a nod. “Yup. Good as can be, sugar. Everything’s gone smoothly, no hiccups at all. I handled all that’s necessary and now... now I'm all yours.”

You assess him over the rim of your reading glasses. While you do, he rubs his thumbs into the dips of your back before gliding them over every inch of you available to him as if refamiliarizing himself with you. He knows it’s an unnecessary effort, because really, he could never forget even an inch of your beloved body, but it helps him feel more connected to you.

You seem satisfied with whatever you find. “Perfect. I’m impressed.”

Satoru nearly passes out with how quickly his ego inflates.

Walking backwards, you guide him to hasten forward, stopping only when the backs of your knees hit the edge of your king-sized bed. You pull away from him and plop down heavily on the cushy mattress with a sigh, making Satoru immediately miss the feel of your soft body pressed against him.

You toss your iPad further up the bed. Then you’re smiling, smirking, drawing your leopard-print nightgown up, up, up and parting your legs to give him the most delicious view of the print of your perfectly plump pussy against your flimsy panties. Watching you prop yourself up on your elbows on the silk duvet, back arched slightly and tits pushed up and out, the fabric of your nightgown thin enough that he swears he can see your nipples through it, does him further in.

Fuck.

You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you? This is domestic warfare at its most lethal, more thrillingly terrifying than any shootout he’s been in the center of. A trial of Nike that he absolutely cannot fail. Satoru swallows thickly, tongue feeling too big for his mouth as he stares at his wife with a hungry, almost feral expression.

He takes a step closer, then another, lifting his leg to sink his knee into the mattress between your legs and forcing you to bow yours further apart. Satoru leans down and crawls forward, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of your head, his white hair falling messily over his forehead.

"You're a cruel, cruel woman, you know that?” Satoru whispers, sounding helpless and small even as he looms over you. Pouting down at you, he huffs out a little noise of frustration. “Teasing me like this... I've been thinking about this sexy body of yours for ages, and now you're just... showing it off?"

Tilting your head, you poke your lips out in a teasing mimicry of him. “All I’m doing is lying down, babe.”

But what he hears with his incredibly selective hearing is “all I’m doing is some obedience training. Light work!”

‘Sicko’ Satoru mouths at you and your laugh that follows is borderline evil. The sound turns fond, somehow, sweeter than any treat.

A nail presses into the divot of his chin. Satoru blinks as you drag your pointer down to his throat, running up and over the natural curve of his Adam’s apple. His pale neck is bare and open for you. The slight prick of your nail undoes him the same way the spindle undid Aurora, drawing him into a deep hypnosis-induced trance. His plea for more rumbles low in his throat, the noise vibrating against you.

“Okay, okay, I know. I’ve got you. Scoot back, then I want you to do something for me,” you smoothly coo.

He’s nodding almost solemnly before you even finish speaking. “Anything,” Satoru swears. No clarifications needed. No hesitation. Just pure, blind obedience that’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, leaving him feeling higher than a kite.

You and Satoru learned about mantis shrimp on an aquarium date that you went on a while back (he rented out the entire building for a day so that only your laughter would ring through the halls that were empty aside from security guards, the people feeding the marine life, and janitors. Perks of being oyabun). According to the placard with information sitting in front of the tank, mantis shrimp move so quickly that the water around them briefly skyrockets in temperature until it reaches that of the sun’s.

He swears on everything that the air turns scalding with how swiftly he sidles backwards until he’s sliding off the bed, sinking to his knees between your calves. The action is so natural, so instinctive from doing this so many times that it's almost as if his body moves on its own accord, eager to make his wife happy.

Satoru doesn’t touch you once he gets comfortable on the carpet. Doesn’t slide in some sly comment to try and get his way that much faster.

He just waits.

Since Satoru’s always on a hair-trigger around you and could get hard if you snapped your fingers at him and demanded that he get his dick up so that they can hump, warmth is already starting to pump into his cock, making him fill out impressively fast. He itches to relieve the building ache, but still, he keeps his hands on his thighs and doesn’t try a thing in order to prove to you that he’s good. He’ll actually fucking die if he squanders this chance you’re giving him.

You look him up and down, pleasantly surprised. The silence is slaughtering him.

Then you have mercy on him and break it. “Good boy, baby. Go get your collar. The leash, too.”

Satoru instantly gets up and crosses the bedroom to obey you, because this is what he was put on this earth to do— follow you like Eurydice did Orpheus to the edge of the underworld and beyond, listening to your every word without question. There’s nowhere in the world that Satoru would rather be than at your side. At your beck and call.

He’s quick to return with both objects in hand and kneels before you again. You take the leash from him, clip it onto the collar, and wind it around his neck to buckle it into place. Just like always, he goes all gooey the second it’s on. Head empty, heart full.

He blinks when warmth lands where his knees touch. Satoru, still ramrod-still, looks down at your socked foot sitting innocently on the divot between his knees. How you landed there with such precision without sparing his bottom half a glance, he’ll never know.

You nudge his knees apart even as Satoru pushes back against you a little, squeezing his thighs together just to see what you’ll do for the hell of it, but his playful resistance proves fruitless when the softness of the carpet and your sudden angelic giggle at his behavior work together against him to make him relax and open up. You push aside muscle and bone like he’s made of the lightest of silks, all while watching him from beneath your lashes with the most regal of bearings.

“There’s no need to hide,” You admonish, amused. Your heel digs into the inside of his thigh and Satoru has to resist snapping his hips forward so that you can put your foot where he’s burning the most for you. “I wanna see you as I give you a reward for all your hard work. Indulge me.”

Satoru tips his head back enough to keep his eyes locked on yours, the diamonds on his collar catching the lights high above and sending tiny flickering rays arching across your throat. He pushes his knees out further, spreading his legs without any pretense of modesty, until his ass is practically bowing into the carpet. Why be shy when he has a gorgeous wife who likes checking him out?

“Satisfied?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yup, that’s perfect.” You have to huff out a breath to disguise the laugh that you can’t help. You sound awfully endeared. “You’re such a well behaved puppy, aren’t you, baby?” You jangle his leash in emphasis, reminding him that he looks like— that he is— a mere pet at your feet.

The pull jerks him back and forth. Satoru openly moans at the rough treatment and the petname and the noise levels out into a disjointed hum when you let it go slack again with a coo. “You look so pretty chained to my hand.”

It's hard not to preen under your approval, especially when you use that particular tone. Your praise is a drug stronger than heroin and he's a junkie who's been craving a fix for far too long. “Yeah, well, I'm the best at everything I do. Looking good included," he boasts, smug and sure despite the slight tremble of his words.

“You are, aren’t you?” You muse conversationally. “Mommy’s pretty puppy. Handsome and all mine.”

You love Satoru for all that he is. You love his selflessness that he disguises as selfishness. You love Satoru’s wit that matches yours stride for stride, all your stupid inside jokes that your exclusive club of two have created.

You love his unwavering loyalty. The heart-rending puzzle of a man behind the title of oyabun. How quick he is to protect you, his family, with blue eyes full of cold fury as he repeatedly slams someone’s head in with a car door until the car alarm goes off from the sheer force he exhibits, then later beam at you with a little dollop of cream from the latest treat he’s eaten by the corner of his mouth all in the same day.

And you certainly love Satoru like this, all his jagged edges sanded down by your equally weathered touch.

There’s something more than appealing in having the oyabun at his knees, the cutesy blue bow of the collar stark against the column of his throat, smiling like he can’t help it when he’s in your presence. He was meant to be on a runway with those brilliant eyes that his white lashes hang low over and soft, fluffy angel hair.

Finally dropping your gaze, you ogle the obscene bulge tenting the expensive fabric of his slacks. Your foot pushes forward towards his inner thigh and his stomach clenches.

“There were so many things I could’ve done while I was away that I didn’t do,” you start, eyes gleaming behind your glasses, and just that has Satoru’s heart leaping up his throat to hang onto your every word. “I thought about calling you in the middle of the day with my fingers already buried in me. Make you listen to me moan and touch myself while you could do nothing.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he groans, not a warning nor a plea.

“Like what?”

He opens his mouth and out comes a strangled whimper rather than anything of substance when you abruptly push your socked toes down over his hardening, sensitive tip, just because you can. His hands fly up to grip the edge of the bed on either side of your legs, knuckles turning white with the force of his hold. His hips give a quick twitch that he can’t contain. The pressure is just enough to make Satoru throw his head back, his cock twitching beneath the layers of fabric separating you.

This isn’t the kind of touch he wants, but it’ll do. He’ll scrape up whatever he can get from you.

“Like that, saying all that in that tone,” he chokes out.

“Why can’t I?”

“You’re asking too many questions,” Satoru complains breathlessly, trembling with how hard he’s holding himself back from moving another inch. “They’re all ones that you know the answers to, anyways.”

“Is that right?” You laugh, reveling in the frustrated jut of his bottom lip at yet another question. You roll the ball of your foot over his crotch, teasing, ensnaring him further. “All you have to do is answer ‘why’,” you coax, deceptively light, “or I’ll stop.”

The bold curving lines and spots of your leopard-print nightgown blur slightly as his vision swims with want. Satoru seems to visibly fight himself for a moment before a shameless grin unfurls on his face, appearing more composed than he actually feels. “You’re gonna make me cum if you say stuff like that.”

You lean forward. You calmly unbutton the first button of his shirt and his smile dies faster than it sparked in favor of dropping open in a loose ‘o’ of anticipation. You get the next two open and your hand eases into the cleft of his partially-undone shirt, drifting over one of his nipples. His flush stretches down to his chest.

“Right… so I guess I shouldn’t say that I thought about buying a Bluetooth-controlled plug and having it delivered to the estate.” You emphasize your words with a light pinch, tweaking the bud pinned between your fingers.

Satoru visibly shivers, more so due to your words than your touch, and his eyes grow glassier. You release his nipple and he arches towards you a fraction, borderline mewling when the action pushes him against your foot more firmly.

“I wonder how fast you’d crumble,” you muse. You watch him. Waiting for something. “I would’ve had you wear it all day, throughout your meetings and checking up on your businesses and your deals and all. Our little secret that I could control with a click of a button, forcing you to think of nothing but me as it buzzes away.”

Satoru whines. He’s literally salivating at the thought, drool collecting in his mouth that he forces himself to swallow.

God, you’re one freaky ass woman. You’re a match made in hell.

“Aww, that eager for it? Cute. I can feel you getting harder the more I talk about it,” you coo adoringly. “We’ll save that for a rainy day.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” He croaks. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“No. I’m just trying to get you off,” you murmur. You fully extend your leg, planting your foot into the carpet and shoving your leg right up against his cock.

You then grasp the leash attached to his collar, giving it the most tender of tugs to avoid hurting Satoru, aiding him in sitting up straighter. The sensation of the collar lightly squeezing at his throat before the leather relaxes once more sends sparks flying up his spine to burst behind his eyes. “Since you’re so desperate, go ahead and hump my leg like the dog that you are.”

He doesn’t hesitate now that you’ve tossed him a bone.

With a low groan that comes out almost feral, Satoru starts to move. His hips shift forward in desperate little thrusts, rutting his clothed erection against your leg. Soft grunts escape him, lost in the simple pleasure of the friction.

Your legs twitch in an aborted move to squeeze them together, blocked only by Satoru’s body. You groan, heady and low and approving as you watch him, and Satoru can’t get his hands on you fast enough.

His fingers dig into the give of your hips, the warmth of you seeping through your thin nightgown. He holds onto you tightly because you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

"Fuck, sugar..." Satoru moans, eyes rolling back and pristine white lashes fluttering, changing the angle of his thrusts to grind the thick bulge of his cock along the line of your shinbone. He’s throbbing with a second heartbeat, so wound up that his stomach twists and turns with it.

“Look at you, so quick to obey me. That’s a good puppy,” you coo, his actions earning himself a borderline condescending yet much-needed pat on the head that he nudges into, beatific. “Does it feel good?”

“Y-yeah. Like heaven. Been needing this so bad,” he slurs.

When he starts to slide his hands down to your thighs, you tut at him and he freezes. “No moving your hands.” Your voice is saccharine sweet, forbidden fruit dangling from the branches of a tree. “Just keep them there and take what you need. You’re doing so well.”

He could so easily steamroll over your order, flip you over without breaking a sweat and pry your panties off so that he could find his release in the sweetest, most heaven-sent way possible. But he doesn’t. All that power and dominance that comes with being a rich yakuza boss is gone, wisping up and away to the ceiling.

His throat bobs as his hands rejoin your hips. Satoru's head tips forward, his forehead coming to rest against your stomach for further support as he rocks to and fro. He’s panting now, his breath coming out in sharp gusts that rattle through his seizing chest. He can feel the damp patch on the front of his pants growing, the fabric of his boxers clinging sticky to his hardness as it leaks and leaks, pumping out precum with each eager twitch.

“You don’t really need my leg, though,” you then reflect with an air of sureness. “All I’d have to do is talk in this sweet tone you love so much, wouldn’t I? And you’d cum on the spot just from that, completely untouched… I know you could. Happily— maybe with some tears, too. But I won’t do that today. You’ve been too good for me to be mean. Haven’t you?”

Satoru’s so focused on humping your leg and listening to your gentle stream of filth and praise that he doesn't even realize he's whimpering, needy chorused sounds that catch in the back of his throat. Each rhythmic pull at the leash makes him buck forward that much harder in a display of deference for your lead, desperation mounting into an uncontrollable wildfire that ravages his mind as he seeks the sweet spot of your shinbone over and over again.

“Haven’t you?” You repeat.

It takes way too long for his fucked-out mind to catch on. It feels like it’s fizzling around the edges. “I’ve been good,” he keens, peeking up at you.

You smile. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Mean, mean woman.

Your eyes barely part from the soft shine of Satoru’s darkened slacks as they grow wetter and wetter with each jerky rut, further adding to the equally slick sheen swathed on your leg from how much precum is pooling out of his neglected cock.

The friction is delicious, the pressure and the slight drag of the fabric against his sensitive flesh making his eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. He's already so close to the edge, the psychological ass edging from the past two weeks ensuring his body is wound tighter than a bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He stutters out a silent moan. “Not— not gonna last long. M’close, sososo close,” he whimpers.

“That’s okay. Be good for me and cum. You’ve earned it, puppy.”

You lick your fingers before lowering them to twist at Satoru’s nipple again, and the cool wetness of your saliva coating your pads that squeeze at such a sensitive spot, paired with your order and praise, is enough to do him in.

His bitten lips part around a choked groan while he spills into his boxers like clockwork, making the fabric uncomfortably sticky with cum, and the spurts just keep coming like it’ll never end with how backed up he is. Satoru’s cumming in his pants like a teenager and he isn’t even remotely embarrassed. The haze making his ears ring and his brain fizzle out doesn’t allow him to do anything but feel instead of think.

Two weeks of no relief makes his release all the more sweeter. He barely knows what he’s saying between helpless whines of your name and thanks, every word coming out fragmented and feverish.

He jerks up against you with zero finesse, dragging out the earth-shattering ecstasy as much as he can. His flush further overtakes his features and bleeds wantonly across his skin, painting him as something ethereal. More god than man, with its selfishness and its cold metal weapons.

The entire time, your cunt throbs mercilessly in your panties, desperate for the full brunt of his cock inside of you so deep that he strikes your cervix in one shot, because gravity is a law of attraction that draws you both together and you’re so besotted with this man that it should be illegal.

When he raises his head again to look at you, those angel eyes of his are wet and wide with supplication. Milky skin reddened. He looks like a man possessed, desperate for more but unable to find the means to grab it. He doesn’t remember his name, what day it is and what he even did today, but you’re a beacon of clarity that he latches onto.

Satoru makes a noise that sounds like a distinct mix of a groan and a whine, helplessly frustrated.

“Oh, poor baby,” you soothe, drawing circles into his ruddy cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. “It’s okay. Are you overwhelmed?”

He shakes his head so fast that his pupils shake in his irises like 8-balls. “I just— want you to touch me more,” Satoru desperately heaves as he gathers himself. Desire heavily coats his tongue, and it drips out when he opens his mouth and speaks. “Please, mommy?”

He is not a man that begs for anything— except for you. Satoru’d plead himself hoarse if it would make you happy.

To anyone that doesn’t know you well enough, he’s sure that you would seem as unruffled as ever. But Satoru knows exactly where to look. The muscle in your jaw jumps the tiniest bit, your gaze sharpens, and, more noticeably, you shift your weight atop the bed as arousal courses through you at the form of address.

“Say that again.” Your voice is hoarse but sharp. It’s not a question. You command his obedience in the same way a brilliant lightning bolt cracks like a whip against the ground, demanding the surface’s attention. The hand holding the leash suddenly twists and pulls until he’s leaning forward, his breath fanning across the front of your dress where it folds and creases at your crotch. Tendrils of saliva drip, drip, drip from his mouth, drooling all over the fabric like a puppy that can’t control itself.

The air surrounding you is suddenly so thick that he could choke on it. Satoru feels like he’s shaking apart at the seams as he sucks in a gasp.

“God,” Satoru manages. His pounding heart echoes in his ears. “Please touch me, mommy. Please, please, pleaseeee.”

On any other day, he knows that you’d make him work a little harder for it, make him beg and beg until he’s hot with humiliation and wrecked between the knees, any and all lingering defiance fading into worked-over, stupidly pliant putty.

What Satoru also knows is this; you know exactly what he needs, just as well as he does— to be a mindless, pretty pet for a few hours after being denied for so long. He needs to be coddled. It’s why you drop a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp for a moment, placating, before softly ordering him, “Up. Take your clothes off, nice and slow. I wanna see every inch of my handsome husband.”

He likes it when you boss him around, when you make your needs known so that he can scramble at the opportunity to please you in whatever way you want. It’s obvious in the earnesty plastered on his face.

“Coochie?” He asks a little too excitedly after you release his leash to give him wiggle room, bouncing up with a fresh gust of wind under his sails. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, his body refusing to let him forget how wrecked he is after his orgasm. He has to blink away the spots lingering around the edges of his vision.

“Later, dork,” you laugh, making his pulse quicken.

Fine. That’s fine with him.

Eager to get this show on the road but wanting to give you a little performance, Satoru takes his time unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, revealing inch after inch of his pale, toned torso and the hollow valley of his v-lines that disappear into his pants, followed by the silvery stretch of fine hairs that make up his happy trail.

The muscle beneath his scarred skin ripples like the glistening sea off of the coast as he peels the fabric down his arms and tosses the shirt aside. Your gaze sears into him, branding.

“You like what you see, wifey?" Satoru asks teasingly as he undoes his belt and drops that too with a metallic clink, the sound loud in the charged silence of the room, then hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his slacks and boxers.

“I more than like it, hubby. Now lemme see my cock,” you purr back, crooking a finger at him to continue.

Obedient as ever, Satoru starts to inch his trousers and boxers down, slowly, torturously slow. The two waistbands slide over the prominent tent in his pants, chafing, the cum drenching his boxers making the glide uncomfortably sticky. His cock finally comes free when he tugs them down enough, flaccid and hanging heavy between his thighs. There’s a slight curve to him that you could write sonnets about.

He’s flushed a deep, angry reddish purple and soaked in a mix of his release and pre-cum, the cocktail of sticky fluids wetting his white pubes and making the coarse hair curl. The scent of his seed and sweat thickly permeates the air as he fully steps out of his soiled pants and boxers.

Standing still now that he’s fully bared before you, he watches your eyes roam over his body with obvious hunger, taking in every inch of exposed skin. His collar and dangling leash offer him no modesty, baring him wholly to you.

“God, you’re a stunner. So gorgeous,” you compliment, making his worn-out cock give a feeble twitch like it’s trying to come back to life. “Oh? You like that?”

You stare like you want to devour him whole, eyefucking his dick the most in particular.

“Um, hello?” He circles his face with a finger. “Flirt with me instead of my cock. I know it’s big, I know, but I’m feeling a little neglected.”

You laugh, the sound sweet and genuine and so you. Even that turns him on. “But baaaby—“ he shivers. He’s dying. “You react so cutely to me. It makes me wanna eat you up.”

Satoru quirks his brows. “Then eat the rich, pretty. I know you won’t gag. You never do. My throat goat,” he says cheerily.

“Shush.”

So he does.

He looks back at you with what must be the same expression of lust and affection, because even looking like you’ve just rolled out of bed in your alluring night attire (or, well, about to roll into it), you’re still the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen. Body crazy, curvy, wavy.

When he peeks down at your nightgown that’s still hitched up to your hips, he catches sight of the wet patch blooming at the gusset of your panties and groans low in his throat. You’re just as turned on as he is. Seeing you lounging about like this is a visual that’ll have him stroking himself off in the near future.

“Fuck,” he mutters shakily. His lips purse into a cute pout, wanting. “Are you sure you don’t wanna fuck just yet? Because I have six different positions in mind and I wanna be inside you so bad. Or better yet, strip and lemme just look at you? It’s not fair that I’m standing here naked and afraid and you’re fully clothed.”

It’s rhetorical, pointedly not pushy. He’s no fool— he knows who makes the decisions around here.

You lick your lips and pat the bed next to you. “I’m sure. Again, later, okay? Just get over here.”

Practically vibrating with anticipation, Satoru crawls onto the bed next to you, your warmth searing from this close. He’s pliant, letting you push him to spread out on his side, his leash merrily jingling as he moves. You match his pose, tits nearly spilling out of its flimsy barrier as you roll over.

“Hi,” he whispers as if they’re two kids at a sleepover.

“Hey,” you say, lips quirking up.

He can’t resist nipping at the tip of your nose, just because he can and now that you’re in reach he doesn’t know what to do with himself, making you frown and bat at his squishy chest. “Okay, teeth to yourself or I’ll choke you with your collar, nuisance.”

Satoru moans, so dramatic and loud and lewd that you shake with laughter. “Talk dirty to me some more.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Oh, happily.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly with each shallow, excited breath he takes when you grasp his leash again and you draw him into a kiss, your mouth pillow-soft against his own. You angle him so that your noses don’t squish together. He pours all of his love and need into the press of his lips against yours, lazily licking into the honeyed cove of your mouth.

Mid swapping spit, you drag a singular finger up the underside of his softened shaft with no warning and he gasps into you. It feels like you’re pressing a lit sparkler against his cock with how sensitive it feels from his previous release.

“Too much, mommy. F-fuck,” he whimpers with a quiver of his bottom lip, which you sink your teeth into almost greedily before releasing it with a wet, dragging suck.

Your eyes are dark behind your fogged-up reading glasses. “You’re the one who asked for this. You wanted me to touch you, right? Or do you want me to stop?”

His words launch out of him. “No! Nonono, want your pretty hands on me, don’t stop. You’re so good to me. Don’t stop, mommy, please. Wanna let you use me, touch me 'til you're satisfied because my cock is yours. Wanna be your good boy.”

“You’re always my good boy.” Your warm, soft hand fully wraps around his cum-soaked cock, your fingers barely able to close around its thick girth. Satoru's head lolls and drops down against the mattress when you give his cock a lazy pull.

The muscles in his thighs flinch as if he’s torn between escaping the excruciatingly delicious pain and pleasure coursing through him and falling into it. Every fucking nerve ending screams with sensation.

Your teasing touches, thumb rubbing into his weepy slit, fingers tracing each prominent vein, is almost too much to bear, but he forces himself to endure it, clenching his jaw and gripping tight at his unraveling sanity. He’s too weak to jerk away anyways— and you’d probably haul him back with your grip on his leash regardless.

He’s a toy for you to play with and tease and use for your pleasure. A good puppy that sits still and heeds your every word.

It’s funny, really, getting such unconditional obedience from an oyabun of his caliber and reputation. Larger than life and domineering— that’s how he needs to be at all times to survive in the cutthroat underbelly of the world. You’d think he’d be the same as he is on the streets as he is in the sheets. But he’s not.

Satoru’s docile and malleable for you. He’s this vulnerable, chest cavity peeled open and the muscle of his aching heart that you hold bleeding between the gaps of your fingers, just for you. Always for you.

In the scant space between you, he gazes at you with dreamy, lust-drunk eyes, his plump lips parted in a constant stream of breathy moans and hiccups. The little sobs that crest in his throat whack you with the force of a sledgehammer.

You’re biting your own lips to keep ahold of the self-restraint you’ve been showing in the face of his wantonness. Your sweet husband curled up at your side, lashes damp with tears and skin a pretty pink, is a siren-song that you’re barely resisting. You’re shaking with how much you want to pin him down into your king-sized bed and drop down on his cock or drag him over to the nearest window to let him fuck you hard and fast against it as you control the pace with his leash. But you’re stronger than your own desire.

“There you go,” you coach. Satoru can feel every soft ridge and valley of your hand as you drag it up and down the length of him. “Breathe with me, baby. Feel all that warmth spreading through your body? Let it flow down to your core and breathe it in, then out. Relax into it.”

He shivers at the sound of your molten voice, a full-bodied thing, but matching the tempo of your breathing. Giggling a little, you ease him impossibly closer with a leg that you hook over his hip and another pull of his leash, mouthing at his neck just above the slab of his collar. His skin is flushed and slick with sweat, pulse beating heavy just beneath his jaw. You press forward, both of you keening when his cockhead bumps against your swollen clit through your sopping panties.

Satoru’s head is blissfully empty. It’s just you, you, you. The world around them is rendered null and unimportant, the fog from the recesses of his mind seeming to seep out from his ears and cloak you and him in its nothingness. The collar looped around his neck only adds to the drugging feeling, pulling him deeper into the warm, staticky fuzz of submission.

Coaxed forward by all your overwhelming touches, his cock slowly fills out again the longer you play with him. “See? Feels good, doesn’t it, puppy?” You croon, finally starting to truly jerk him off, squeezing tight on each upstroke and forcing him to feel the cold weight of your wedding band against his sensitive skin.

Your smile is as sweet as it is devilish, promising your victory. It makes your nose scrunch up. You’re taking your time with him, content to let him feel every ounce of pleasure.

In seconds, he’s hard, dripping, excited, all for you, so much so that it’s killing him. Satoru's hips slam forward involuntarily, seeking more delicious friction. He's leaking like a faucet, pre-cum drooling out of his cockhead to coat your fingers and make the glide even smoother. The obscene sound of slick skin being stroked fills the room, accompanied by Satoru's ragged panting and mewls. Beneath him, his propped up elbow quivers with the effort of holding himself up.

"Shit... yeah, feels so fucking good. Spoiling me so good. Your hand is so soft. You have no— hah, no idea how much I've missed your touch. I've been so desperate for you, mommy. I’m all yours," Satoru babbles mindlessly, eyes knocking back in his skull.

He ruts his cock in and out of the sleeve of your grip and you let him, reveling in how his plush cockhead rubs right up against your clothed cunt. He’s undulating to each tug of leather, letting you manhandle him as you wish, because at the end of the day he’s just a puppet wrapped tight around your finger like a red string of fate. "I swear, if you stop now, I'll... I'll die and haunt you forever.”

“Shh, I’m not gonna stop. I said I’d reward my puppy, yeah? You don’t need to worry about a thing. I’m all yours right now,” you murmur silkily. “Touch me and I’ll think about letting you fuck me after this.”

Satoru’s hands are on you instantly, big hands dragging over your chest and grabbing handfuls of your boobs, greedily squeezing and kneading them like a loaf of bread. Or a stress ball. You’re his emotional support, after all. A hiss streams out from between his teeth when you twist your wrist, milking more pearlescent streams from his cock and making him urgently thrust forward into your grip.

He looks utterly debauched, snowy white hair disheveled and sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, drool marching down from his parted lips and dampening the comforter beneath his head. A painting in motion, marble skin and sky-blue eyes.

He’s so strung up that he’s already being pushed towards the edge, balls drawing up tight and eager to spill another release. You could probably let go of him to spit on his cock, breathe on it, and he’d nut from that alone. “Hnnngh... I'm gonna... mmm, I'm gonna cum soon," he warns breathlessly, needily pulsing and twitching in your gentle hand like he needs you to keep rubbing his dick more than he needs to breathe. His pace is fast and sloppy. “Can I?”

You hum your assent, pleased by his manners. “Good boy. One more time, just for me. Cum for mommy, show me how much of a mess you are for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, I love you more than anything,” he yaps, squeezing more enthusiastically at your tits.

You draw the leash over his shoulder so that the ring it’s clipped onto is at his nape instead of the front of his throat, the blue bow tickling the bottom of his undercut. From there, you tug, one long constricting second that clutches at his windpipe. Satoru’s throat bobs automatically and the action is cuffed halfway, the leather bending and noosing tightly around his neck.

The added restriction is enough to do him in. His vision wipes clean, dizzying black waves crashing forth as he shudders in the most delighted way possible. He cums so hard that he swears it fries him stupid. He spills wetly over your fist and up his chest in white streaks, choking out what almost sounds like a wail, the sound simultaneously dry and wet.

He convulses next to you, legs jerking against the sheets, toes curling and head swaying back and forth as noises flow from him like water. His cock pulses through the aftershocks, balls aching with how much cum is pumping out of him.

Trembles travel through wrecked his body and the muscles in his navel quiver like a second heartbeat. Crying out, tears and drool slipping down his face, he still keeps weakly pumping in and out of your slippery fist. Ecstasy keeps humming low in his bones even when he finally shudders to a stop after a few erratic twitches, leaving him spent and boneless.

When he dizzily blinks, more tears escaping his lash line, recentering himself, and everything slowly comes creeping back into the limelight, he catches the swipe of your fingers dragging up his wet abdomen and leaving his overstimulated cock behind. You gather up his cum, lewdly sucking it up with siren eyes and a pink mouth. You even wipe some off of his collar since he sprayed his release all the way up to his chin. More pools on the sliver of comforter between your bodies, staining the expensive fabric.

You jolt a little when Satoru, eyes fogged over and brain no longer on this plane, tugs your nightgown enough to drag your breasts out. Eyes fluttering shut, his lips latch onto your pebbling nipple and he just sucks, going even more boneless as if that’s all he needs to relax.

He’s like a puppy that’s been weaned from its mother too early. Too cute.

You stroke over his damp hair for who knows how long, letting him suckle and play with your other tit to his heart’s content as he comes down. But you eventually get antsy, throbbing for him, so you spin his collar back around to its rightful position, blue bow curling prettily at his Adam’s apple and diamonds winking at you. You grip at his leash where it clips to his collar and you jostle him a little.

Satoru pops back up like a meerkat, peering at you. His lips and chin are wet with tears that tracked all the way down his face and saliva. A pretty ruined angel.

“Feeling okay?” You check on him. He nods a little dumbly, dopey smile lighting up his face. He looks higher than a kite. “Use your words.”

“M’fine,” he mumbles, glueing closer to you and hissing when his spent dick brushes your silky smooth nightgown. He smooches your sternum, then your throat, chin, and lips. “More than fine. Feels good. I needed this. Thank you, princess.”

Your heart goes all soft and gooey. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. You did so good, listened to me super well. I appreciate it.”

Something about that makes a sliver of clarity return to him. Satoru paws at his eyes almost sleepily before squinting at you through half-closed eyes. It makes him look like a golden retriever.

“I feel like my dick got beat up,” he slurs, making you sigh amusedly because his word choice never fails to tickle you, “but I could get it back up. Or I could just put my mouth on you. Wanna make you feel good, too.”

Admittedly, you’re burning with the urge to be fucked into oblivion in every surface and position possible, him at your beck and call and pulled taut by his leash, nonexistent tail wagging behind him as he pleasures you. But you also want to stay up late into the night until even the nightlife quiets down to make room for the two of you, just listening to him and scratching at his scalp the way that he likes, trading words full of affection and baring your hearts to each other all over again.

You’d do anything as long as it’s with him. You’d chase him to the ends of the earth if you could. Not that he’d let you— Satoru’d spin on his heels to let you catch you up, sweep you off your feet bridal style so that your legs don’t get sore, and run with you in his arms as you laugh into his neck.

“Well, let’s see… does my puppy know how to roll over?” You ask, tapping your chin.

Corded arms fling themselves around you, and in a second flat, his world flips around him with you at its center, always the eye of the storm, and he smoothly drags his hands down your chest the second he’s flat on his back with you atop him. Satoru gazes up at you, grinning a little cheekily, a little drunkenly. His head is tilted back proudly to show off the glittering collar around his neck.

You shift a little to straddle him properly, thighs cupping his hips as you sit strong astride him, then you’re dragging your soaked panties against his spent cock, making you both hiss.

“I sure can, sugar. Woof.”

author’s note: CRAZY? I WAS CRAZY ONCE

this literally was meant to be like a 3k-5k drabble idk how I got here 😭😭 couldn’t shut my ass up while writing

this pic is oyabun gojo core

perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @exc3llentshot @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @wormplant @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye

[crowandmousewritingco]

Oooooo I love this!! The idea stew is brewing now 👀👀👀

I hath returned with my new pick 👀👀👀 my first choice is dragon (with wheel #1) and if for some reason that one is all picked then I’ll take either centaur or devil (with wheel #1)

omg, i just love Javi so much, what a freaking cutie 😍

Dragon is still available!!!

Your Pedro boy is: Marcus Moreno 🐉

ooooh, now this is an interesting pairing! I can't wait to see what you come up with!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[jasminumdew]

Sylus (werewolf)

Notes: I loveee primal play, it was so fun writing this. I actually finished this about 10 days ago, but a big typhoon went through my place and cut out all power, water, and Internet for a few days, I decided to wait until there was Wi-Fi connection, didn’t think it would be this long. But everything’s fine now, hope you guys enjoy this ^^

Warnings: MDNI, he says “kitten” 3-4 times, pure smut, primal play, chasing through the wood, squirting x2, oral (fem received), piv, knotting, overstimulated

Wc: 1,7k

Event host: @nanamiscocksleeve

Summary: Being in a relationship with a werewolf comes with indulging in his instinct to hunt, and you’re more than happy to being his prey. With this being your first time in this scene, you and Sylus have planned out everything beforehand, he insisted on making sure you’re comfortable and won’t get hurt. It’s simple. You run and he chases after, then when he catches you, you need to act as if you don’t know him, and just unfortunately bump into a werewolf and fight back when that monster tries to mate with you. Sounds hot and easy enough. Ready? Run!

You’re out of breath. Barely a few minutes in this cat and mouse game and you’re already exhausted. You curse under your breath how you should’ve exercised more often for this. But how common it is to be chased in the wood by a werewolf? Your legs were screaming for a break for 10 minutes now. Or was it more? You don’t have any concept of time now, being alone in the dark cold wood, surrounded by darkness and relying solely on the faint light from the moon.

You can hear hardly hear anything besides the sounds of your heavy breath, your legs thumping on the dry grass, and the occasional howl of the beast chasing after you. You don’t know if he is still watching you in the shadow or that you’ve successfully cut your track. But the chances are thin, werewolf are famous for their extraordinary hearing and smelling ability. There’s no way you’ll be able to escape this wood without his canine mark deep into your flesh. Running away from him seems like a really bad idea now that you’re realizing it. Making yourself a small and easy prey to the mighty predator, who gets off on the high adrenaline of this little chasing game. It’s not like you can go back and make a different choice. So you run fast, completely oblivious to where you’re heading to, playing the dangerous game with no way out.

No matter how carefully you planned things out, it still didn’t prepare you for how intense it actually is, deep in the wood with no flashlight in hand, eyes hardly adjusted when everywhere looks just the same. Sylus knows this place in the back of his hand, you know he won’t let anything bad happen and you can trust him with your life, but your heart still beating like a drum, loud and clear in your ears.

Your whole body was burning, demanding for a rest. You hide yourself low, under the thick bush near an old white oak tree. You press your hands on the chest, forcing yourself to keep your breathing and heartbeat to quiet down. You heard an echo caw of a crow nearby, other than those, it’s all too quiet. Strangely so. You peak your head to watch out for any sign that he’s approach closer. Then you hear it, the sounds of a huge beast searching for its sweet prey, too big to hide his presence. You know for a fact that you can only hear him if he chooses to let you, you’re completely in his control. He doesn’t rush, just slowly goes through the surrounding, playing a little mind game with his prey, making her always on guard and overstimulated by fear.

The sudden grunting from behind your neck sends chill down your spine. Your body’s complete frozen, as if you think if you don’t move and keep your breathing even, you’ll disappear from his vision. But you understand it’s the only chance you get before being his meal tonight. Your legs quickly move but to no avail, you couldn’t even run away a few steps before being pushed to the ground on your back, making you yelp from pain. Under the moonlight, a massive wolf lays itself on top of you, heavy weight knocks the remaining air out of your lungs.

His red eyes staring deep into yours, it reminds you of the fresh color of blood, and you, being the center of those, will soon be swallowed whole by it. What looks like a huge wolf shifts into a more human-like one, returning to a hairless body, still bigger than any man you’ve encountered, with his hair the same shade as the pale moon that’s now shining down on his silhouette. Your cheeks and ears turn bright red, observing his naked body, prominent abs and full muscles. Focus focus focus. You chant in your head like casting some kind of spell. You try your best to fight back, pushing his jaw away from your face, biting his hand, kicking him, only to get laugh at. “Come on, struggle a little more for me, kitten”. His deep voice sends a wave of arousal deep to your core, scratches an itch deep down inside you that you tried to hide. “Shut up” you snap, your legs pull to your chest, kicking his belly with your whole strength. His hands grab your ankles with ease, letting your thighs rest on his broad shoulders. Then before you have the time to react, he pushes up your top to your wrists, tying your poor shirt like a bow to keep you from squirming. “There, all nice and pretty. Wrapped like a present for me huh?”, he smirks, kissing your inner thighs through your leggings.

“Let me go you disgusting pervert!”

He doesn’t faze by your words, but instead, his hands find their way to your waistband, pulling it down to your ankles. He hums in amusement with a clear view of your core soaking wet, your pretty clit clenching as if begging for some friction. “Are you sure I’m the pervert here, sweetheart?” he teases, before kissing his way down from your belly, to your inner thighs, then he dives right in, devouring you without mercy. He’s such a messy eater, slurping and sucking on your bundle of nerves so eagerly like he’s gone for days without anything in his stomach. You cry out the sweetest moans, can’t move away from his tongue abusing your sensitive bud, his hands have your thighs in a dead grip, refusing to let go even when you’re twitching and sniffling. You cum hard in his mouth, squirting like a small fountain and he slurps it all in with a satisfying hum.

You let out a shaky breath when his mouth finally left your pussy, drenching in the mixture of your shared fluids. But the relief doesn’t stay for long when you notice his rock-hard cock in his hand, the tip has an angry red shade and his knot swells uncomfortably, waiting to be buried deep inside your wall. He pushes through your first ring with a throaty grunt. You’re always tighter after your first orgasm. Sucking on your neck right on top of his mating bite mark, his cock touches all sweet spots of yours, making you squeeze down on him unconsciously. His red eyes never leave yours, capturing your every expression, every gasp and moan, how your soul seems to be sucked out of your body every time his tip brushes through her cervix.

Your wetness makes it all too easy for his knot to slip in than usual, but he still feeds his knot to you slowly to let you adjust to his size. Your cunt’s so overstimulated with his knot keeps pushing in and out, brushing through your small beans. “Please...” you cry out, wishing your hands were untied so you can reach down and rub it until you reach your peak.

“Hmm? What’s that?” he asks, not even bothering to mask the smugness in his voice.

“Touch me” you plead, gasping for air when he grinds on it more. He turns his head, looking clueless, “But I am touching you, darling? Be more specific and I might give it to you”

Ughh you want to slap his face so badly. He knows what you want and chooses to be mean about it when you crave him so much. His touch feels so good, the only thing you need now is to cum on his thick, veiny cock and squeezing his knot until he burst inside you.

“I need you to rub my clit, I want to cum so bad, please please please I beg you” you whine, clenching down on him oh so sweetly to make him pleased. “Good girl” he chuckles, massaging your sweet spot with his thumb, you whine in pleasure, arching your back. Taking all of his knot, he bites down on your neck, grinding into your G-spot so hard you can see stars. His grinding turns sloppy, he kisses you when you cum together, and that to you was the most heavenly feeling ever.

When you can catch your breath, his thumb moves again, drawing tight circles around your poor clit. “No, please, I can’t anymore” you cry out. He coos, “Yes you can, give me one more, kitten”. His tongue swirls around your nipple before sucking it in, playing with the other with his free hand. A tight knot unravels too fast, you didn’t get to warn him before squirting again, making a mess on his abdomen and thighs. You can feel him twitching inside, the warm fluid paints your wall white again.

He rolls over, careful not to hurt you with his knot, and lets you lie on top of him. He frees your hands from your now creasy shirt and strokes your cheek. “How was it?”. You rest your head on his shoulder, answer sleepily. “I really enjoyed it. Though my legs probably won’t be able to move tomorrow after all those running…and banging” you giggle, breathing in your mate’s scent. Then, suddenly remember something, your head jerks up. “Did you use Mephisto to cheat, Sy? I heard a crow with a very annoying voice, guess you’re not that good at hunting”.

He pinches your cheek, “Are you underestimating my ability? I don’t need assistance when your sweet scent leads me straight to your hiding place”. You yelp, holding your sore cheek and glaring at him. “That’s not fair. I’ll rub all kinds of smells on me next time so you’ll be distracted and I can win for once”. His answer makes your body tingle. “That won’t work because I can recognize my mate’s scent no matter what. Besides, you love it when I win, don’t you kitten?”

You huff in annoyance, hiding your grin in his chest. It won’t be long until his cock starts twitching again, better rest while you can, you have a long long night ahead.

[eveninglakehomeworld]

hi friends and lovers, I've gathered a small collection of dialogues from Zevran in DA:O regarding Antiva & the Crows.

I got this together mostly for myself, but thought I'd share in case anyone who is maybe looking to flesh out their new Crow OC, write fanfic involving Crow characters, or is looking for a refresher on early Crow lore would like something to reference. I trimmed down dialogues a bit, so mostly just information relevant to the Crows, Antiva in general, and Zevran's own attitudes about being an assassin are present.

this post has dialogues from Zev's recruitment event and a couple of early game camp conversations. because it's only a handful of dialogues, this is, ostensibly, part 1 of several. I plan to post more as I progress through my replay of origins. enjoy! <3

Recruitment

Warden: "What are the Antivan Crows?"

Leliana: I can tell you that. They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done... so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.

Zevran: Quite right. I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we're rather infamous.

Warden: "You came all the way from Antiva?"

Zevran: Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.

[After being asked if he's loyal to Loghain]

Zevran: Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.

Warden: "And now that you've failed that service?"

Zevran: Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.

Warden: "When were you to see him next?"

Zevran: I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.

Warden: "How much were you paid?"

Zevran: I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.

Warden: "Then why are you one?"

Zevran: Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't give much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe. But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy. Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.

Warden: "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

Zevran: Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.

Warden: "I'm listening. Make it quick."

Zevran: Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.

Warden: "And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?"

Zevran: To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on the principle of failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you.

Warden: "Won't they come after you?"

Zevran: Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help. And if not, well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?

Warden: "Why would I want your service?"

Zevran: Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more... sophisticated... now that my attempts have failed.

A few early game camp conversations

Conversation 1 Warden: "What does it take to become an assassin?"

Zevran: Well, the Crows would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But quite frankly the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It's surprising how well one can do in such a field.

Warden: "It doesn't take any special skill?"

Zevran: I don't know about that. It's simply a slightly different skill set from your average killer, as I see it. An assassin simply specializes in striking from stealth... and in maximizing that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe, either by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler.

Warden: "That sounds like it could be useful."

Zevran: See? Getting paid for the act is beside the point. An assassin is more a tactical choice than a lifestyle. Of course, the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So let's just keep this between you and me, shall we, hmm?

Conversation 2 Warden: "Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?"

Zevran: Well, now, I imagine that's a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living, at least as far as such things go. I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?

Warden: "You didn't choose the Crows?"

Zevran: Mm? To be truthful, I didn't even know the Crows existed when I joined them. I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.

Warden: "That sounds awful."

Zevran: "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits. In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women... and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty, but confining. [note: I transcribed the first line of the last section as it was written in the subtitles because it seemed to make more sense in context, but when Zevran speaks it aloud he actually says "That does not mean doing what is expected of you." presumably an editing error, but can't be 100% positive which is the intended message.]

[After being asked what he thinks his future might hold]

Zevran: As for what I'll do in the future... presuming that there is one... I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go.

Warden: "Won't the Crows eventually find you?"

Zevran: [laughs] Eventually can be a very, very long time if one plays one's cards right. Come, now. Enough chit-chat. Talking about the Crows summons them, you know. Any Antivan fishwife could tell you so.

Conversation 3 Warden: "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?"

Zevran: And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at. As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?

Warden: "You've never killed an innocent?"

Zevran: Now there's an interesting word, "innocent." How many men do you know who can claim to truly be innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children and relatives and bystanders and such... never on purpose, but it happens. It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease. Or a fall down the stairs. Or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.

Warden: "I suppose that's true."

Zevran: "Death happens," as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing itself, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands.

Warden: "I know what you mean."

Zevran: There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity, the rules... oh, so many rules! But, simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?

Conversation 4 [note: I trimmed this one down a lot bc it's just one of the ones where he tells you about a job and there's not a lot to be gleaned about Antiva, how the Crows operate, etc] [In response to being asked, "The Crows were willing to anger the Circle of Magi?"]

Zevran: In Antiva, nobody is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They have killed kings and queens. That's simply how it is.

[After elaborating on how he fumbled an assassination attempt and the mark died accidentally, instead of by his hand]

Zevran: Then I found out she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She has planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows. As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around.

Conversation 5 Warden: "Tell me a little about Antiva."

Zevran: Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom... or so the saying goes.

Warden: "Don't you want to go back?"

Zevran: [sighs] It is not really a matter of wanting to go back. I cannot go. At least not yet. I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?

Warden: "I'm not from any glittering gem, no."

Zevran: No? That is too bad. If you were, then surely you would spend as much time boasting about it as I do! Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels... I miss the leather the most.

Warden: "Is that some kind of euphemism?"

Zevran: [laughs] It may as well be! But not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.

Warden: "That's a little bizarre. There's leather everywhere."

Zevran: Ah, but it's not Antivan leather, is it? I do not know what the Antivan tanners do that is different, but ther is no leather more supple nor more fragrant.

Warden: "You sound like you've been away from home forever."

Zevran: Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly. Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship—ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I thought, "Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward from a job well done." More the fool I, no?

Warden: "Your home is still there, Zevran."

Zevran: True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next.

Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal.

Bonus banter snippet because I found it amusing:

Morrigan: You assassin types have a death wish, I see.

Zevran: [laughs] Only the really good ones.

[diorcities]

with you (teaser)

spiderverse chronicles. haechan x reader, mark x reader genre fluff, action, mature content content spiderman au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, selective mutism, sign language, smut (not in the teaser) more tba teaser wc 1.5k full fic est. 20k

an: since i'm making progress on the story (shocking) i'll share a little teaser. the past few days i've consumed a lot of spiderman content, it's not funny anymore. it was a sign of the times. i'm so excited to write this. happy reading ♡

description: after a catastrophic scientific explosion, chaos is unleashed in new york. a deaf girl must face the city that she once knew now submerged in a mayhem, pairing with a daily bugle intern to try to solve the mystery when one of the many affected with extraordinary abilities seems to have a duplicity between good and evil.

he can sense you're there.

just moments ago he had swept the area, now, he looks intently at the boxes loaded into the helicopter.

“planning on stealing the moon tonight?” he's growing bored. “you guys aren't elusive at all, you should practice a little at that.”

the ambiguity of his own reaction puzzles him. there was no hurry in his movements, nor the usual tension. instead, there was a deliberate pause, and this unbearable boredom.

he's quick to deflect a couple of bullets; it comes out spontaneously now. all his senses are enriched. everything vibrates. everything sings. he's sneaky instead of a fighter. and he's also fond to make jokes at inopportune times.

“isn't this labor exploitation?” he inquires. “i hope you get paid overtime,” he says again when in response, a dozen men point their guns at him. he reacts shooting his hands upwards.

“easy, i'm your friendly neighbor.” a man turns to him. the big fish. “oh, my bad, i mistook you for some lookalike with a bunch of small yellow people.” he also doesn't miss the opportunity to make an emphasis on his size.

wilson kingpin snorts, annoyed. “after months, i'd think you'd stop acting like a kid.”

“i am a kid.” he chuckles, removing the mask.

there was no point in hiding his identity when the old crow knew who he was from the very beginning, though it also made him a prospect for his tasteless jokes.

he takes a look at the containers when the man turns his back at him and shout instructions. “nano-technology prototypes...” his voice comes out in an interrogatory tone, sniffing through the large box.

the man in charge sees him snooping around when he speaks. “are you interested?”

“they wouldn't hurt,” he replies, distracted; something stirs inside him when you move closer.

“take a few, see if you put it to good use.” he sneers and he mimics him, nonchalantly.

he's pretty quick and elusive. skills, he guesses, his best traits; but even though, he might need some; he's been doing alchemy lately, so he grabs two and when the man looks away, grabs a few more. he can put good use to that kind of technology. “any other tasks you need me to do?”

he bristles when the man smiles, agreeing; he's been waiting for the moment. doing silly tasks, dirty work. finally he was getting closer to get what he wants. “yes. why don't you take care of that little reporter mouse?”

fisk goes back to his job as if he's bored, and his lips tighten into a grimace that he already knows, making him take care of you.

“was this what you wanted, to steal technology?” you ask to the wind. the men hardly pay attention to you, but he does.

he must acknowledge that you have guts even though fisk is giving you a window because you don't pose a threat. not because of his size, but because of his influence.

“what's in the boxes?”

“as if i were going to tell you.” he mocks, hiding behind the mask. “why don't you cover tonight's weather instead, family of murderers?” he sees you freeze. “why don't you leave these matters to us and you take care of yours? seems like you're in deep shit,” he says, taking one step closer.

when you realize it, he's in front of you and you have nowhere to run. yet your feet recede to the edge. “mmm? don't test your luck and stay out of it.”

he gives you recognition that you don't look even a little intimidated. “who are you?”

his smile almost reach his eyes, “as if i were going to tell you,” he repeats, morbid.

fisk growls behind you, and something dark spreads on his gut, “get done with it, bug.”

he does what he says. first, he steals it from you in one move. and you're not quick to protest when his hands half-push you and your feet stumble. doing silly tasks, dirty work. one more thing and it will end.

nevertheless, getting rid of you is hard for him.

your hands try to hold on but he pulls away, so you fall into nothing.

like a bullet, he watches you fall, waiting. and when a blue boost barely flashes around you, he moves away from the edge. afterward, you just fall into new york.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Animal Adjectives

Accipitrine - of or related to the birds of prey

Anserine - of, relating to, or resembling a goose

Aquiline - of, relating to, or resembling an eagle

Asinine - of, relating to, or resembling an ass

Bovine - of, relating to, or resembling bovines, esp. the ox or cow

Bubaline - pertaining to or resembling the true buffaloes

Cancrine - of or resembling a crab

Canine - of or resembling that of a dog

Caprine - of, relating to, or being a goat

Corvine - of or relating to the crows; resembling a crow

Equine - of, relating to, or resembling a horse

Feline - of, relating to, or affecting cats

Leonine - of, relating to, suggestive of, or resembling a lion

Lupine - of or relating to wolves

Murine - of, relating to, or involving rodents, esp. the house mouse

Pavonine - of, relating to, or resembling the peacock

Piscine - of, relating to, or characteristic of fish

Porcine - of, relating to, or suggesting swine

Ranine - of or relating to frogs

Serpentine - of or resembling a serpent

Ursine - suggesting or characteristic of a bear

Vespine - of, relating to, or resembling wasps

Vulpine - of, relating to, or resembling a fox

Zebroid - related to or resembling a zebra

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[crowandmousewritingco]

Pairing: alpha!Oberyn Martell x omega!reader (implied Ellaria x reader)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: R (18+ MDNI)

Summary: You've disguised yourself as a beta, but when you run out of supresents theres an alpha there to help.

Author: Mod Mouse

Warning: A/B/O dynamics, knotting, praise, male terms for genitalia. There might be more, but it is 18+.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” You panicked as you scrambled to overturn every inch of your small bedroom. You were due to start your shift soon. The Prince of Dorne and his paramore were visiting their favorite brothel and Littlefinger wouldn’t have it anyway but perfect. 

But unfortunately for you, perfect wasn’t accomplishable. Up until this point, for your safety, you had been disguising yourself as a beta with an abundance of scent blocking gel and suppressants hoping no one would find out. You were a low class omega with no prospects of a mate in your future. You couldn't afford to be without this job. 

The effects of your heat were already pricking at the back of your neck. Waves of warmth spread through your veins like a fire down to your cock. You whimpered as your stomach cramped, and you wished more than anything for the touch of an alpha. But you couldn’t do that. 

Frantically you tried searching again. Maybe a suppressant had dropped on the floor. With an ounce of meager hope you crawled on the rugged floor searching every inch of the place. As the minutes passed with no results, you leaned back on your knees and gripped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Everyone was gonna find out your secret. Tears fell down your cheeks as you cried softly. Your distressed scent wafted throughout your room seeping into the hallway. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My sun, this place is as elegant as ever,” Oberyn swooned as he glided through the halls of the brothel, admiring everybody present.

“It is stunning as always,” Ellaria replied, wrapping her arm around her lover's waist. “I can’t wait to see where we’ll be staying.” 

“Your room is right this way,” An attendant bowed and gestured to the room at the end of the hall. “I’ll send your dinner soon.” 

“Thank you,” Ellaria said and the attendant bowed once again before turning down a separate hallway. 

The sounds of sex filled their ears as different scents filled the room, both beta and alpha in nature. Oberyn smirked. “What manner of company do you desire my dove?” He asked, pulling Ellaria close to his body. 

Before she could reply, a scent different from the rest of the pheromones wafted through the air. Both of their heads snapped towards the slightly ajar door. Omega. Their eyes found each other. 

“That’s a…” Ellaria started. 

“An omega.” Oberyn took a deep breath taking in your sweet scent. His alpha instincts wanting…no needing to protect you. With a subtle nod to his lover they carefully inched their way closer to your room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your whole body shook as you cried. The weight of the situation fills you with the utmost dread. Panic began to set in as you subconsciously wafted the worried scent into the air. 

“Oh sweet thing,” You heard someone coo and your head snapped up. The Prince was here with his love in front of you. Their alpha scents filling your nose with their strong citrus scents, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering. How desperately you wanted them to take care of you but they couldn’t know. 

Quickly you scrambled to stand up despite the cramping in your torso. “M-My apologies, Your Highness. I’ll be ready in a second. I’ve seem to have lost my perfume,” You lied giving them a small bow. 

“It’s okay we know,” Ellaria reassured you in a soft spoken tone. You were a scared rabbit and she didn’t want you to run. 

Your eyes darted between the two alphas, searching for a sign that they were dangerous. Oberyn cautiously held out his hand for you to take. “Let us take care of you right now. Our scents will hide yours.” 

“Okay,” You whispered and gently took Oberyn’s hand in yours allowing yourself to be pulled into his chest. As soon as his alpha scent filled your nose, your instincts kicked in. You nuzzled your nose into the gland on his neck and whimpered as another wave of need flowed through your body. 

Oberyn turned to Ellaria. “Stall the attendants a bit longer and I’ll take care of this sweet omega.” He purred and kissed the top of your head. You keened under the attention of an alpha, and released another wave of sweet pheromones. 

Ellaria gently kissed his cheek before kissing your head savoring the softness of your features. “I’ll give you plenty of time,” She said and slipped out of the room. 

Gently Oberyn tipped your chin up with his ringed finger and you easily obeyed. “Listen little one. We’re gonna go to our room and I’ll make sure you get what you need.” 

You purred a response. Whatever he said was the best idea. Taking your hand in his, he gently pulled you along and easily slipped from your room to his. Oberyn sighed in relief. “Wonderful now we can–little one?” He turned and didn’t see where he left you. 

His eyes danced around the room until they landed on your form gathering the excess of pillows that lined the bed. Omegan instincts kicking in on making the nest perfect. Oberyn watched you, letting you take as long as you needed to make yourself feel safe. 

With pillows and blankets manipulated into the perfect circle of safety, you sat down in the middle and glanced up at Oberyn for reassurance. Oberyn purred and sauntered over to the nest. “Such a good omega,” He kissed your head gently cupping your cheek with his hand. “This is a stunning nest.” 

You perk up and purrs nuzzled into his palm sending your sweet scent into the room again. Another wave of cramps filled your stomach with pain and you whimpered. With big puppy dog eyes you looked up at Oberyn. “Please Alpha, I need you.” 

“And how am I to deny such a nice request?” He cooed. Gently he climbed on top of you and you laid back on the soft mattress spreading your legs for him. 

Oberyn smirked and gently glided his hand up your thigh wasting no time slipping his hands underneath your garments and rubbing your cock with his finger tips. Your hips jerked at the motion and you moaned gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“Poor sweet Omega, been so ready for us,” He praised and rubbed circles along your dick. With one quick swipe he gathered some slick on his finger and brought it to his lips sampling your flavor. “Oh Omega you taste better than Dornish wine. One day I will savor your taste as if it’s my last meal.” 

You squirmed under his gaze loving the approval from him. Oberyn cooed and slid his finger inside of you. “Though such a stunning receptacle needs preparation for my cock.” He purred curling his fingers inside of you. 

Soft whimpers and wet sounds mixed in the room as Oberyn fingers you slowly, spreading his fingers inside of you making sure you were prepared. They way you squeezed his fingers as he inserted another digit inside of you. “That’s it, little one. Such a good Omega for me. Almost ready for my cock.” Oberyn grinned, pumping them faster and faster. 

You clenched around him as your high was speeding towards you. The heat flush and the attention of this alpha, sending you to a quick orgasm. But Oberyn had other plans. Slowly he pulled his fingers from you with a wet slick. You whimpered and wiggled your hips needing more attention. 

“Easy omega, I will give you want you want my sweet, but let me care for you.” He purred and wrapped his arms around your torso pulling you to his heated chest. Quickly you kissed him as the touch of his skin grounding your from the mess in your head. Oberyn kissed your with such delicacy it was as if you were a hand crafted vase in the halls of his castle. 

You cooed under his attention as he kissed down your neck, beard tickling your heated skin. “But for now a good omega deserves a nice knot.” He purred, kissing up and down your neck teasing your scent glands with a playful nip. Gently he laid you back against the soft silk blankets. 

“Fuck Alpha please.” You pleaded gripping onto his golden robes. 

Oberyn chuckled softly and gently shushed you. “Easy Omega, I promise you’ll get my knot.” 

You panted as you laid against the pillow as the prince stood up for the briefest of moments. He quickly untied the laces, letting his pants pool by his feet. The embroidered jacket followed soon after leaving his naked form in front of you. You braced yourself on your arms and your eyes hungrily took the cock already hard and wanting your hole. 

“Look what you’ve done to me little one,” Oberyn praised as his fingers grazed his already forming knot. Slowly he sauntered back over to the bedside, carefully kneeling between your already spread legs. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” 

Up and down he swiped the head of this cock through your slit gathering your slick on his dick. He teased your hole earning a whine from you. Oberyn didn’t keep you waiting long. Carefully he pushed deep into the ready hole until his half knot pressed against your entrance. Oberyn moaned, loving the way you squeezed around him. “Good omega, such a needy little thing you are.” 

All you could do was pant and whine. Your instincts subsiding now that it’s gotten what you desired so badly. Your hips bucked trying to receive any more friction. Oberyn chuckled and slowly started moving his hips, teasing you with agonizingly slow thrusts. “Oh does this little omega need more?” He teased. 

“Please please please alpha I want your knot.” You whine as each thrust hits in just the right spots. 

“As much as I would love to spend hours teasing and edging such sweet sounds from those handsome lips, for now I’ll help you with those rolling waves of need.” He snapped his hips forward and his large hand grasping at your hips as Oberyn pounded into you. 

Needy moans escaped your lips as you reached for anything to grab, anything to ground you from the intense pleasure you were feeling. You were so close. The heat of your approaching orgasm mixing with the heat of need to be filled by an alpha. You clenched around him at the thought of him filling you with his seed. 

A cocky smirk graced his lips as he felt how close you were. “That’s it, little one. Cum for your Alpha.” He commanded as he felt his knot catch against your hole with every thrust. That was all you needed to finish. Legs shook as you clenched around his knot, keeping him inside of you as you rode out your high. 

It wasn’t long after Oberyn moaned as he pushed his knot inside of you, spilling his seed in your waiting hole. Spurt after spurt filling your needy hole and you loved every second. Oberyn gathered up in his arms as the last of his seed dribbled out. Together you panted, pressed against his bare chest. 

A sudden tiredness washed over you and you cuddled into his comforting skin. Oberyn nuzzled his nose into your scent glands and carefully turned you so you could rest against him. “Rest sweet omega. Gain the needed strength for many more rounds.” You nodded sleepily and soon you were fast asleep in his arms. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long after when Ellaria slipped back into the room carrying an armful of blankets. Oberyn who had been keeping a very watchful eye over you glanced up at his love. “Thank you for the distraction.” 

“Of course, my sun. You know I like this omega as much as you do,” She smirked clearly seeing the forming devotion in his eyes. 

Oberyn was silent for a moment gently twirling your hair in his fingers. The softness of the strands fueling his forming attachment. “We should take him with us. Omegas are much safer in Dorne than in this godforsaken place.” 

Ellaria set the extra blankets beside the bed gently running a finger down your sleeping cheek. “Yes but that’s their decision to make.” 

“Of course. I hope they say yes. They would love Dorne,” Oberyn purred gently kissing your forehead. 

Ellaria carefully leaned over kissing her lover's cheek. “As much as I agree with you, you need rest too. I’ll keep a watch while you rest my love.” 

Oberyn purred and pulled your sleeping form flush with his body as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

```````

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

[yanderedbdimagines]

Hi ! I love your work and I saw requests were open !! I was wondering if you could write something about Trickster going sentient, like reader is a DBD player and Trickster is their killer main and he's becoming sentient ! He starts acting yandere, getting mad when they buy another killer, talking to them through the game etc ? Pleaaase !!

----------

Thank you so much for appreciating my work!

And of course! Trickster has always been one of my favorite go-to killers as well. He still kind of is! He may not look terrifying at first glance, but what he’s capable of is what truly makes him scary to me. I tried to capture that feeling in this piece as well. Also, I believe his anger would actually be quite subtle, put potent in a way. He's called the Trickster for a reason after all. :P Especially towards his obsession.

PS: If any character in the game somehow became sentient, I’d throw my computer out immediately. Let alone a killer! I would totally freak out! xD

PSS: I don't know any Korean. If I messed it up by using translators wrong, I'm sorry in advance!

-----------

Warning!: NSFW elements present!

The Trickster

Ji-Woon Hak had always been your go-to killer. Maybe it was the thrill of playing him. The way he laughed in insanity, coupled with that crazed giggle as he chased survivors down, and the sheer passion and arrogance laced through his Korean voice lines. His presence in the game simply felt different from the others. All the way down to his disturbingly good chase music, which is an excellent representation to his character.

And as such, he’s indeed a star. Effortlessly charming and dangerously captivating. Before the Entity took him, the crowds adored him for a reason, oblivious to the gleam in his golden eyes when the screams began behind closed doors, embedded into his music like secret, bloody confessions. They never recognized the torture hidden in his music, layered beneath the melody like a secret only he was twisted enough to understand.

Killing wasn’t just second nature to Ji-Woon. It was the purest form of his self-expression.

And to you, that was the real horror. Because unlike many others in the Entity’s grasp, he wasn’t a monster made. He was a monster born. Just another handsome face, smiling for the cameras, waving to his adoring fans. His darkest secrets not buried, but hidden in plain sight. Or more so within earshot. And no one ever dared to hear them until it was too late.

Maybe that was why, after months of playing Dead by Daylight, you never really strayed from him. You bought his skins, experimented with his builds, mastered his mechanics and the precise arc of his blades. He was your constant pick.

So at first, the strange things that eventually started to happen didn’t really bother you.

It began in the character selection screen. His model glitched once. A wide smirk suddenly etching itself onto his features. He turned around more often while you waited in lobby, flashing you that saucy wink of his. There was a slight lag when you hovered over another killer, an occasional stutter in his idle animations, a minor bug where his eyes tracked your cursor just a bit too smoothly.

You decided to ignored it.

Then the loading screens started taking longer. Freezing for a second too long when his face suddenly appeared, as if the game itself hesitated. And once, in the middle of a match, you left the desk for a moment to grab something from your drawer, letting the killer stand idle in a house in Springwood.

That was when you heard it, just as you returned. Faint. Threading between the distant caws of crows and the crackle of the Entity’s realm. A voice, which sounded silky and teasing. Familiar.

"Getting distracted, 자기야1?"

Your hand jerked on the mouse. It had to be a bug. A voice line triggering where it shouldn’t. You brushed it off as a trick of the mind.

Then, after a while, the disconnects started. Not often, but just enough to be annoying. Almost every time you played another killer, you’d be booted mid-match. No error message. Just a sudden return to the desktop. Whenever you played survivor, you almost always found yourself facing the Trickster, with a hint of a stutter as you tried to get your character away from him.

But when you played as Ji-Woon himself? Smooth. No lag. No crashes.

Still, you pushed it aside. Games had bugs. Maybe the servers were acting up. You refused to get paranoid over minor issues, or the fact that barely any other killer ever appeared when you played survivor. Perhaps you just had a weird streak of fate.

Then, one night after watching a video, you tabbed back into the game and noticed that his theme music in the killer selection menu was different. Slower and warped. Like it was played underwater. The Trickster was staring at you. Not in his usual cocky way, but with his head tilted slightly, his smile smaller than usual and his golden eyes literally locked onto yours. As if he were waiting for something.

The screen glitched once, then again, and everything returned to normal. But matches grew even more strange after that. Survivors went down faster, their screams more real and distorted and their models twitching unnaturally. It scared you.

If you played as a different killer, you’d get disconnected mid-match much faster. Yet whenever you switched back to Trickster, the game stabilized.

Then one night, you apparently made a mistake. Out of curiosity, you went up and purchased another killer. the Oni, which you considered to be a change of pace. The moment you returned to the killer selection screen, it flickered; static sprinkling the menu. Trickster’s model was there on the right, but his grin had vanished. His head tilted, his bright pupils narrowed into thin slits of displeasure.

Your hands trembled over the keyboard. “It’s just a game…” you murmured, shaking your head and blinking a few times. Then his voice, unlike any recorded line or in-game effect, but unmistakably real, echoed through your headset. Smooth and cold.

"Not to me, 공주님2."

Deep down, you knew this game was no longer the same. But you played it off as a lack of sleep this time around, shut down the PC, and took a well-earned break.

You naively came back a few hours later. You loaded into the Temple of Purgation, picking the Oni. You’d bought him for a reason, after all. But as the match began, the camera panned over the environment and, for a split second just before it faded to your POV, you saw him.

Not the Oni. The Trickster.

He stood at the very edge of the mists, just beyond the temple’s crumbling stone archways. The fog curled unnaturally around him, clinging to his figure like something alive, shifting and parting just enough to reveal the glow of his golden eyes. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t part of the match. He was just… watching.

The moment you took control, he was gone. Your fingers twitched over the keyboard. That wasn’t normal. Maybe a graphical glitch? Some weird overlap from previous matches? You shook it off and pressed forward.

At first, the game ran fine. You chased down survivors, activated your power, played the match as you normally would. But something felt off. A heaviness in the air, a strange, crawling sensation at the back of your neck. Then the game began to stutter. Not lag and neither was it a bug. The frames dragged deliberately, as if the game itself resisted your input. The Oni’s movements felt sluggish, like wading through thick and invisible muck.

And then came the laughter. Soft and breathy, slithering between the sounds of gameplay.

"Tch. This isn’t like you, 자기야1. You’d rather be that clunky old fossil than me? Where’s your sense of taste?" His accent runs heavy alongside the bite in his tone.

Your blood ran cold. That wasn’t an in-game line. Your eyes flicked to one of the killer’s perk icons. Oni’s nemesis perk, just as you’d chosen. For a brief moment, Ji-Woon’s smirking face in a similar art style replaced it before snapping back. Your stomach twisted as another hitch in the frame rate distorted the screen. Pixels twisting as if a presence bled into the code.

"You're ignoring me," he observed, his voice still smooth but tinged with bitter distaste.

The game audio warped beyond recognition, the chase music slowed to a sickening drag then sped up erratically, like a scratched CD skipping. The survivors’ animations twitched unnaturally. Every time you activated the killer’s skill, the deep, guttural roar sounded way off. Higher, smoother, mocking. Obviously replaced with the voice of a certain Killer. "Not so fun, huh?" You hear him huff in amusement, teasing you as he does.

Frustrated, you slammed the Escape key. Nothing happened. The match wasn’t over, but you couldn’t do this anymore. With shaky hands, you forced your PC off manually, the screen cutting to black. Your reflection stared back at you in the dark monitor with wide eyes reflecting unease. You ripped off your headset and exhaled hard. It was just a game, you told yourself. You even debated uninstalling it. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It’s just a game.

So you didn’t play it for the rest of the night.

The next day, curiosity won out. You had planned to delete the game. To scrub it from your system and be done with whatever hellish events had occurred. But after you booted up your PC, a Steam pop-up appeared.

Your pulse quickened as you skimmed the message.

Dead by Daylight – Security Update

A large leak had been addressed. Some players had reported strange in-game activity. An exploit that allowed hackers to take control of matches, resulting in unusual interactions. The developers apologized for the inconvenience. As compensation, a DLC of your choice would be free upon logging in.

Your fingers hovered over the mouse. This had to be the reason. Just some script kiddies messing with the servers, triggering audio or animation glitches. You exhaled a sigh of relief and launched the game.

The menu loaded smoothly, the music creating a subtle backdrop as you navigated the interface. Your gaze shifted to the killer selection screen. Trickster stood in his usual spot after you’d selected him. His stance casual yet confident, the infamous bat balanced nonchalantly on his shoulder. He executed that distinct head tilt. The one accompanied by an unnecessarily seductive "ah,". At that moment, his animation seemed to hesitate, his eyes lingering on the screen a fraction longer than usual. The light caught his left earring, making it glint momentarily before falling back against his neck due to retaining the previous angle of his head. Then, just as smoothly, the bat returned to his side.

Despite the brief, unsettling pause, his expression remained unchanged. A confident smirk played across his lips when he moved to inspect his bat, his golden eyes glinting with sharp amusement, as if privy to a joke you hadn’t yet figured out. No flickering. No static. Everything appeared perfectly normal.

Your tense shoulders loosened slightly. Maybe you had imagined it all. The breach is fixed, after all. You claimed your free DLC, already planning to test out the desired killer and survivor later. But first… just one more match with the Trickster.

Your cursor hovered over the Play button for a second before you clicked. The match queued instantly. No lobby, no loading delay, no lag. Your gut twisted. As the screen transitioned, unease slithered down your spine. The game had loaded, but something was obviously wrong.

The usual environmental sounds; distant caws of crows, the occasional metallic groan of the Entity’s influence, were gone. You panned the first-person camera over the map. No survivors moved between cover. No crows startled into the air. No gens sparking in the distance. Just you. Alone.

Your eyes darted to the UI. The HUD was intact- your abilities, perks, and power displayed as they should be. And yet, there were no objectives. No unseen timer counting down. No signs of life. Just silence. A cold prickle crawled over your skin.

Then, a soft chuckle. Rich, amused, present. "Finally. Just us." Your breath hitched. The sound came through your headset. Close. Way too close.

The screen flickered. Your blood ran cold.

No…

You tried moving Trickster forward, pressing the left mouse button to swing through the empty air. He responded as normal. Smooth, precise, as if performing a well-rehearsed act. But there was nothing to do. No generators humming to life, no players fleeing, no exit gates. The map lay barren, stripped of its usual chaos. Each time you struck the environment in boredom, a mocking chuckle, sly and knowing, echoed in your ears.

Desperate, you opened the pause menu, but there was no option to leave the game. Your fingers trembled over the keyboard as you muttered, “What the hell is it this time?”

Then a soft laugh, closer and intimate, as though whispered from right beside you. "Aw, don’t look so spooked,공주님2. Isn’t this what you wanted? More time with me?"

Without warning, the camera shifted. Its movement not commanded by you, but as if pulled by an unseen hand. The perspective tilted down ever so slightly, as if the Trickster was studying himself.

No. As if he was studying you.

"You play me so often," his voice purred, smooth as silk and dripping with amusement. "Devoted, aren’t you? You never thought I’d actually notice, did you? Never thought I’d appreciate your little habits?" A chill crawled up your spine.

 “This can’t be it. This isn’t real,” you whispered, almost pleading. “You are not sentient,” you insisted, but your voice wavered- thinning into uncertainty.

"Mmm, that's what you keep telling yourself," he replied, that familiar, teasing lilt threading through his tone. "A cute little parrot, endlessly repeating the same little song. 정말 웃기잖아, 자기야3. If only you repeated my name like that instead. I’m as real as I can get. " Your breathing grew shallow.

Then something shifted in the distance. A subtle, unnatural shadow moving where it shouldn’t be. You spun the camera up and to the side, heart hammering, but the map remained empty. Still, the sensation of being watched crawled over your skin. Your hands grew clammy as you gripped the mouse like a lifeline. You needed to leave. Now.

Alt + F4. Task Manager. Nothing worked. Your pulse pounded in your ears. Your body braced for a potential scenario- the chase, the hunt, the moment his blades would sink into your flesh. You weren’t special. You were just another victim…

Right?

Then the screen flickered. A brief stutter, a pause. For a fraction of a second, the game froze, and when it stabilized, Trickster’s weapon was gone. He wasn’t on it anymore.

Your hands froze over the keyboard for a second, before you abruptly stood up and took a step back, already leaning down to forcibly shut down the computer. A hand suddenly shot towards you after it suddenly angled its way back onto the screen. Distinctively bloody as it reached for you. You gasped audibly as you almost fell backward… But the hand never breached the screen. It halted abruptly at the boundary, suspended between the digital world and your reality. Crimson droplets clung to its outstretched fingers as it quivered against an invisible barrier. For a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse. A flash of yellow fabric and a hint of a naked, muscular chest splattered with blood. But the view was distorted, obscured by the in-game camera’s interference, as if the interface itself rejected his intrusion.

Then came a low murmur. A string of curses in Korean, rough and frustrated. Though you couldn’t make out every word, the anger in his tone was unmistakable, raw even, as he cursed the limits that kept him at bay. Almost immediately, the bitterness dissolved into his familiar, self-assured mockery before he slipped off the screen.

"이건 정말 불공평해요, 공주님4," he drawled, voice dripping with playful disdain. A mind game. It had to be it. "If only this screen wasn’t in the way. 당신은 아직 모르는 재밌는 것들을 놓치고 있습니다5."

The taunting words slithered through your headset. His crazed laughter, edged high with mischief and frustration, filled the silence afterwards.

In that moment, your heart pounded with a mixture of terror and panic. At the end of the day, the screen itself remains unchanged. A game paused on an empty map, the digital world eerily still. Yet Trickster’s presence still lingered at the edge of reality. You could sense it.

With eyes wide, you forcibly shut down the PC, yanking out every cable from the back of your computer screen and desktop afterwards. You vowed to never, ever play Dead by Daylight again. Not after everything you’d just experienced. After all, who knows what might have happened if he had truly breached his way into your room. You believe that he’d most definitely would have tortured you to death, unaware of his true intentions. You could only shiver in fear and disgust at the very thought of it.

----------

1 = 자기야 = jagiya = babe.

2 = 공주님 = gongjunim = princess

3 = 정말 웃기잖아, 자기야. = jeongmal usgijanh-a, jagiya.= It's so funny, babe.

4 = 이건 정말 불공평해요, 공주님 = igeon jeongmal bulgongpyeonghaeyo, gongjunim = This is so unfair, princess.

5 = 당신은 아직 모르는 재밌는 것들을 놓치고 있습니다. = Dangsin-eun ajig moleuneun jaemissneun geosdeul-eul nohchigo issseubnida. = You're missing out on fun things you don't know about yet.

[thevoidscreams]

i come forth to shyly ask if you'd ever consider writing something between Ushotan and a fem reader? much like Valdor, i too want to be a thunderfucker!

Day 14 Year 2: Warnings: Degrading language, rough sex, violent sex fantasies, mentions of death and killing, biting, blood, possessive language and of course breeding.

Word count:1987

You needed a break from the lab and its sterile restrictions. Day in and day out it was work, adjusting this and that, so that the beings you'd been tasked with helping to manufacture would be perfect. It dragged at you. And you needed something else. Something unrefined and coarse, something dirty and gritty. And you knew just where to find it. The trek had been long, taking multiple hours of your time and a chunk of the brief time you'd have away from the labs. You didn't much care though, given your pursuit was anything but the plain walls of the lab and the seeming endless lines of genetic code.

The thunder warriors were a large bunch, earlier creations, an unrefined iteration of what you were creating now.

You stopped in their camp, heart hammering in your chest as you looked around. "Pardon me, sir?" You asked a passing warrior, he barely stopped to give you a second thought. "What?" He grunted, looking you up and down as if trying to decide something. "Where is the primarch Ushotan?" The warrior raised an armored fist, pointing off where a large cluster of tents were staked, their fabric rippling in the morning breeze. "Thank you." You spoke up and the warrior grunted, plodding off once more to go about whatever business he'd originally been focused on.

It wasn't recommended to come down into the camps alone as a woman, those that did were mostly coming to offer services to them behemoths.

In a way you weren't any different, but there was only one individual you'd take to bed. You could hear the moans and cries of others as the towering men took their pleasure from said women, and even a few men.

The tent was open, and you saw him sitting, drinking something with several of his fellow warriors. They were laughing as they went about a game of some sort. Evidently enjoying a day off as well.

Stopping in the entry of the tent you tried to find your voice to speak up, but in the end you didn't have to. "Well Ushotan, looks like your little mouse has returned." The collective group of men turned to look at you. It was like being stared down by wolves.

"Good morning, Primarch Ushotan. May I have some of your time?" The armored warrior raised his hand and motioned you over.

You came over to him eagerly as he pulled you down into his lap. "Once I win this round you're all getting the fuck out." He growled with a feral sort of grin. No one had to ask why. Not around here, you understood that this was all part of it. Coming to Ushotan to fulfill your needs. He'd never turned you away, and you let him do as he pleased with your body.

Sex with him was more like riding out a storm, often you returned to the lab hiding bruises and stiff muscles. But the ride was worth it.

The primarch did as he said he would, beating the other players handily and set them away as he crowed his victory after them. "Another time men, maybe you'll get lucky." They left you and the Iron Lord's commander alone in the tent, the flap falling shut behind them.

Ushotan's hand had been on your thigh since he pulled you into his lap. "I have not seen you in weeks, little mouse. I had thought you might have run off with one of the smaller men in your labs and left me to fend for myself with only my hand and the memory of your tight cunt." He laughed. Lifting your chin, he pressed his mouth to yours in a domineering kiss.

"I could never." You breathed as he lifted you up and set you on your feet, rising to his own to begin pulling off his armor. You joined him, tugging off your clothes as he looked you over hungrily. "Never?" He snorted. "Given how rarely I am able to see you I don't quite believe it."

"Work and my loyalty to the emperor keeps me away, I know. I would see you every day if I could."

Ushotan set aside the last piece of armor and reached for you. "You would not survive if you did. I would just fuck you into oblivion." You let him pull you in and you kissed him first this time. He groaned in deep satisfaction at the gesture. Altered as he was Ushotan was still a human man. He had needs that war could not satisfy and needs he could not express. It was not his place to ask for such things as love or devotion. Not from a woman, but if he could have. His cock twitched, and your hand reached for it. Stroking the length. "I don't know, I believe that is a death I could face happily."

Ushotan breathed a laugh, it was a deep rough sound, but you treasured it. "I am not trying to kill you, woman. Only fuck you." "The please, my lord, fuck me." You returned and he groaned. "Don't call me that. Not when we are alone. Call me by my name." You nodded. "Of course Ushotan." "Mmm, that's better." He lifted you up, holding you by the thighs as he lined up his cock with your entrance. You trembled in anticipation, knowing that you were finally going to get off properly since the last time you saw him.

"You're shaking like a leaf." He observed, rolling his hips to brush the tip of his cock against your entrance. Teasing you with what you wanted so badly.

"I haven't cum since the last time I left your tent." You told him, body burning with need for the thunder warrior.

He grinned and nipped at the soft skin at the side of your throat. "What? Can't your fellow lab rats get you off?" He asked condescendingly, as he began to push into your cunt. "I wouldn't know, I can't even look at them that way." You panted as he pushed in inch by agonizing inch. "I can't even get myself to finish properly anymore. You've ruined me Ush, for any man other than you, and even my own self."

Ushotan pulled you down fully, groaning as he was seated in your burning heat. "Good," he hissed, lifting your weight and letting it drop you back down, spearing you on his cock. "Your body knows who it belongs to, I would kill any other man who touched you," He growled as he followed that pattern getting more forceful each time. "Crush their skulls like eggs and watch their brains ooze out between my fingers. Then fuck you in their blood." He grabbed your thighs harder, kissing you hard and forcing his tongue in your mouth.

You should have been repulsed by the mere thought of him killing someone in such a manner and then fucking you. But you were no saint and it wasn't far off from some of the fantasies you had. Late at night when you desperately fucked your own fingers chasing a high you might not even get as you pictured him storming the lab and taking you, stealing you away out into the world to keep you. He would fuck you every night until you were round and full with his children inside you, growing strong like their father.

How often had you bitten your own pillow and cried out for him as you edged yourself near to passing out desperately trying to cum.

"Fuck, Ushotan." You whined, pressing your face into his shoulder. You'd missed him as well, his dark humor and forthwith attitude. He never lied to you or played mind games. What happened between the two of you was an honest exchange. One that made you want to be near him more. "Come now you can do better than that. Scream my name, let every person in this camp know who's whore you are." He held you closer, jacking his hips up with enough force to bruise. "Ushotan!" You cried body shaking with need as he built you up faster than you'd ever been able to. "Again!" He snarled as he grit his teeth, making an effort to hold back, if he didn't he might crush your bones, rupture something internally. "USHOTAN!" You screamed his name not caring if anyone else heard. It wasn't like it was a secret that you sought him out for sex. "That's a good girl, screaming my name like a bitch in heat." He rutted into you. It was a serious effort not to cause irreversible damage. The thunder warrior had been dreaming of you since he last saw you, despite his often critical or derogatory language he still wanted you around, he wanted to have you again and again for whatever time was allotted to him, he would falter and fail eventually but he would have you as many times as possible before then. He would give you all of the pleasure that he could bestow. "Who's my good bitch? Who's my sweet little whore?" Ushotan growled as he lowered down to the ground, kneeling where he could better hold you. "Me, I am." You moaned wantonly, "I'm your whore Ushotan." "That's right." He locked his teeth around your shoulder and squeezed, feeling hot blood splash his tongue and tasted the sweet iron. You screamed under him, body bowing up into his as he forced an earth shattering orgasm from you. He drew up to admire his handiwork, your blood dripping down his chin.

"What a beautiful sight." He licked up the blood still wetting your shoulder. It wasn't terribly deep, but it would probably scar. He hoped it did.

Your fingers dug into his shoulder as he kept fucking you, he needed to cum. His fist hadn't been sufficient the night before and when he went out to look for a woman all he saw were pale imitations of you. None of them had even made him hard and he'd gone back to his tent completely out of the mood.

"I'm gonna cum." He growled, "Gonna mark up your insides just like your outsides." He leaned forward until his arms touched the ground, even as his orgasm built he made sure his arms were under you, keeping you from the hard ground. He pressed his face into your hair and was bathed in the smell of your sweat and natural scent. It sent him over the edge, filling you so much and so hard his balls ached. He could feel you tighten around him as your body gave one more climax to him and he smiled. "That's it, cumming for me like a good girl." He kissed your forehead and stayed still there until he felt the blood drip onto his arm. He got up, holding you close as he fetched the hemostat powder he kept in case he ever hurt you accidentally. He poured it onto the wound and you groaned. "Hurts." You hissed. "Might have gone a bit deeper than intended." He pecked your lips and began cleaning the wound and wrapping it with the powder in place. "I'm off till the day after tomorrow." You told him, he gave you a look of surprise. "Reward for making a breakthrough." He nodded. "You'll stay then?" "If you are okay with that." You moved to his lap and he held you. "Always, little mouse." He buried his face in your hair and breathed, imagining what his life might have been like if he had been an ordinary man, having you as his wife. He wasn't sure he could even have children as he was now, altered and made into a machine of war. Either way, he had you here with him, cuddled up in his lap and that was more than a man like him could ask for.

[mytheoristavenue]

Hi hi!!! I'm here to pop into your inbox to remind you about the office part 2 thingy :3 (i absolutely adore your writing by the way, nobody else writes for those 3 as well as u do <3)

Thanks for reminding me!

MHA Fumikage Tokoyami 🍋 - Step Into My Office

Summary: As requested, you meet Tokoyami in his office, hoping he wasn't about to fire you.

Warnings: Office sex, mean!Tokoyami, rough sex, slight manipulation, use of his alias, unprotected sex, AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

You waited on the other side of the door, heart hammering in your chest. You'd stood there for nearly ten minutes at this point, trying to gather your courage, staring down a gold nameplate that read 'Tsukuyomi'. With a final, very deep breath, you raised your fist to knock, only to be startled out of the idea by your boss bellowing from the inside. "I haven't got all day."

You quickly scurried in, shutting the door behind you, nervously grooming yourself as you collected your bearings. "M-My apologies, sir." You squeaked, drawing closer. "Y-You wanted to see me?"

"You may not be aware of this, but I am an incredibly busy man." The crow scolded, hands folded neatly under his beak, elbows propped on the desk. "If I offer you my time, I'd advise against wasting it."

"O-Of course, sir," You bowed your head shamefully. "I-It won't happen again."

"I hope not," He nodded to the visitor's chair in front of his desk. sternly. "Sit." You do as he asked, swallowing dryly.

"Have I done something wrong, sir?" You asked, voice trembling as you peered up at him.

"Aside from interrupting me time and time again? No," He answered, beady vermillion eyes narrowing on you as if you were a field mouse. "As a matter of fact, the other heroes in this agency and I have been talking and..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his beak. "As much as it pains me to admit, we agree you deserve a reward for your hard work."

You can't contain the smile that cracks across your face, eyes sparkling with awe at his attempt at praise. "R-Really, what is it?"

For the first time, he smiled- no, smirked at you. His expression was predatory and devious, but you tried to push down how uneasy it made you. You were finally being recognized for your dedication to the agency and you couldn't be happier.

"My, aren't you eager?" He teased, tilting his head back, motioning for you to come over to him. "You may have the others convinced you're an angel sent from above to organize their lives for meager pay," He cooed, rolling his desk chair back and pulling you by the hips in front of him, slowly turning you to face the other way. "But I am not so easily swayed."

You couldn't even find the words to reply, not that he would have allowed you to speak over him anyway. Your face glowed red like a cattle branding iron and felt just as hot as he continued, one palm flat on the small of your back, giving you a gentle forward nudge. You pressed your hands to the desk, leaning over in as modestly as you could.

"That being said, if you were able to convince me that you have this agency's best interest at heart, I might be inclined to give the final vote in favor of your new contract." He hinted, eyes darkening as he surveyed the doughy surface of the backs of your thighs, trailing the seem that ran up the legs of your pantyhose. "Which of course, would include a handsome raise and a very nice benefit package. But the choice is inevitably yours. Your position here is not in jeopardy if you decline."

You finally nodded shyly, just once. "W-What would I need to do to convince you?"

-----

"Just like that, perfect," Tsukuyomi sighed, hand still pressed to the small of your back, easing you up and down. He felt so powerful, sitting in his big leather office chair, watching his secretary do all the work for him. Your knees trembled and the muscles in your thighs burned from the odd angle, but you did as you were told, sitting fully into his lap before dragging yourself into a near stand. You repeated this workout for what felt like millennia, but you couldn't deny that it was worth your while.

The crow marveled at the sight of you, back arched, straining to keep up with his command, pencil skirt pushed up your back. Your dark gray pantyhose now had an obscene hole, only big enough for him to fit through and your panties were unceremoniously pushed to the side, leaving little to catch the fallout. "Good girl, you certainly deserve a raise, don't you?" He cooed, head tilted back in ecstasy as you rode him from the comfort of his chain.

You nodded with a pitiful whine, only to feel a sharp smack to your rump which you were sure left a tight fishnet pattern on your skin thanks to your pantyhose. "Go on then, tell me you deserve that raise. You want it, don't you?" He ordered, his palm lingering on your backside, caressing it, as if to soothe the sting.

"I-I..." you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes as drool dripped down your chin. "I-I deserve a raise..."

"Oh, you don't sound very sure of yourself," He feigns ignorance, sighing. "I don't think I can in good conscience sign off on a reward you don't feel you deserve."

"I-I do...deserve it." You argued weakly, knees buckling a bit from the strain they were under.

"Then convince me," He encouraged, smacking your behind again, but not near as hard as this time. "Say: 'I deserve a damned raise, Tsukoyomi, sir!'" He ordered, taking the initiative to pull you down onto him to penetrate you even deeper.

"I-I can't say that..." You refused meekly, dipping your head against the desk momentarily, only to be straightened again by his harsh actions.

"Need I remind you that this is all for your benefit?" He asked, his breath hitching a bit when he bottomed out entirely, not that you noticed. "It brings me no pleasure to have to spend even more money on your labor. Now, do you want that raise, or not?"

"I-I do-!" You whined, throwing your head back, only to have the hero catch a fistful of your hair.

"Then say it!" He demanded, shifting up to stand, pounding into you hatefully as his chair rolled away behind him. "Say it or the offer is off the table, I won't wait for you to decide what you want!"

You finally snapped, feeling your cervix begin to bruise, melting into the desk, coating his paperwork with drool and smudged makeup. "I-I deserve a damn raise, Tsukuyomi!" You shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I-I deserve so much more than what I make for putting up with you all! I deserve a six-figure salary just for putting up with you alone!"

Tsukuyomi's eyes darkened as he let out a low chuckle, incredibly aroused by your outburst. "That's right, tell me all about it, Feather," He huffed, finally convinced as he watched you work yourself silly on his cock. "You've got a hard job, don't you? Keeping up with three pro heroes all by yourself?" You nodded, moaning a confirmative hum. "And I'm just awful to you, aren't I?"

"T-Terrible..." Admit ina mousy tone, nearly braindead from how he was treating you.

"Let's start over, shall we? I w-want to turn over a new leaf, be a better boss." He chuckled, feeling his high crescendo begin to build. "Why don't we start with twenty-five percent pay raise, along with 401K, vision a-and- a-ahhh..." He trailed off, beginning to lose himself. "M-Medical insurance..."

You gritted your teeth as the knot in your tummy pulled tight and tighter. Suddenly you smirked weakly. "A-And dental?"

Your boss was taken aback to be sure, halting for a moment before gripping your hips tightly, bracing himself. "Let me cum inside?" He proposed with a devious smirk which only widened as you nodded, messed bun bouncing with the motion. "Deal."

-----

"I'll draw up the paperwork this afternoon," Tsukuyomi said sternly, clearing his throat and smoothing his costume out, watching you do the same with your office attire. "I will have to have another meeting with Tentacole and Tail-Man to discuss the negotiation."

You nodded with a serene smile, shifting awkwardly, thighs glued together. "Thank you, Tsukuyomi, sir," You began tidying up his desk as if nothing had ever happened, taking his coffee mug as you turned to leave. "I'll bring you a fresh cup of coffee."

"Thank you." He nodded, an air of professionalism surrounding him.

"Sir?" You asked before you got to the door, still squirming uncomfortably. "May I be granted an extended lunch? I'd like to go home to change." The way he smirked at your request made you incredibly uneasy.

"Permission denied."

[sillygoosealert]

I was so hurt after (https://www.tumblr.com/sillygoosealert/757389587337412608/stuipid-fucking-slut-i-hate-you) 🥹🥹, can you do a part two where reader goes missing after he left her but found unconscious/dead because of a reason (you could come up with one! :D)

AND ALSO, UR WRITING IS SOO GOOD, +1 FOLLOWER >.<

-🍞 anon (I will try giving you good requests >:)

I promise I won't kill myself, death is not my last resort

haiiii :3 so I'm making this part two but honestly, I might end up deleting both of the stories because I was in a bad place when I wrote that 😓 also..besides the other anon's rotting in my inbox until I respond..ur my first anon !! yippy !!

Implied Rape. You die, talks of being unsafe and how it feels to be assaulted

Love is a gentle thing, as is the innocence you once had.

It wasn't a gradual fruition to see that being a woman would change the reality of everything for you. They warned you to steer clear of dark spots and secluded areas and always be aware. The things events that were organized and reenacted are nothing short of gender-based violence.

You understood why you and many others were constantly warned, but experiencing it was so different and vile, something you should never have gone through.

Today almost didn't end with you dead, but you didn't listen to the one thing that was looking out for you- you. That day, your gut instinct felt something was awry.

The morning was fine. You got a quick kiss on Sukuna's cheek before running off to your garden work.

The garden is split into sections. Working in them isn't an issue- except the one furthest from the estate. It's where you are most likely to get harassed by other servants as it is where most people turn a blind eye to.

Your body physically would not go near it today, you just couldn't.

Maybe it's the black crow you saw out of the corner of your eye or the sinking feeling you got whenever you looked over in its direction, but you couldn't shake the uncanny feeling it was giving you.

But as a mouse gets caught in a mouse trap, you are lured into the back part of the garden when something that resembles a doe is staring right at you. Not wanting to pass up the chance to see something so pure so up close, you walk to it.

But as you walk towards the feeble deer, and it walks further and further into the now forest, you question if you really saw anything at all.

When the doe is no longer in sight, you think about how you got here. Is it too late to turn back? I don't want this anymore.

You don't get the chance to turn back, as a pair of hands are roughly groping you from behind.

What happened in the woods wasn't your fault. You were lured to the spot in the first place. Then, when you wanted out, the exit was no longer there.

It wasn't your fault.

When you don't show up to clean the garden, that one thing.

But your body was found before dinner, where the forest meets the garden, disrespected in horrendous ways.

When you mentioned the concern that you were being targeted by other peers, he recognized the validity of your perspective.

He knew you were being harassed, but to accept it was something he couldn't do.

It would mean several things to take action - the most significant being that you had a major influence on how he chose to address the situation.

The other is over half of the people working for him would be slaughtered if he honestly wanted you safe. That type of fear egged him on usually, with him being your savior at the end of the day.

Knowing the nature of these situations, something would have to be addressed sooner or later.

He was scared indigo at the thought of making that type of commitment to someone, but he wanted to for you.

The thought of death didn't scare him. He would tell death himself he wasn't afraid to die. However, the idea of you being beaten nearly to death, only to bleed out and perish, shook him to his core. This was something no amount of strength or intimidation could undo.

He doesn't find out about...your passing until he requests to see you after dinner.

The feeling that washes over him is indifferent, he doesn't know what he wants anymore, but he knows that he wants you back.

He will never know how the world could keep spinning after you were ripped away from his grasp, it should have been the end of the world.

You didn't want to die, you shouldn't have died.

That shouldn't have happened to you, you didn't deserve it.

Death is a pathic escape, I will not kill myself- not for my loved ones, but for me.

Songs referenced: Velvet Ring, The End of The World, N64, My Body's Made of Crushed Little Stars, Crack Baby, Anything.

[cameliawrites]

The kanej ficlet I started writing last night (because the Voices in my Head compelled me to) is the most fun I’ve had writing anything in a long time, so I’m sharing a little snippet (mildly NSFW lol) and asking you to giggle and kick your feet with me for a moment:

That thought brings a smile to the corners of her lips—and it’s as if Kaz has a sixth sense for her amusement, because it’s at this moment that he looks up from the table for the first time and spots her at the corner of the bar, where she migrated after slipping inside the club. He gazes at her with a simmering intensity that pushes the smile from her lips almost as quickly as it appeared, and she can’t help the near-silent oh that escapes from her parted lips as he devours her sight like a man starved.

For a moment, Inej thinks he’s going to sweep his arm against the table and send the deck of cards he’d so neatly shuffled a few seconds ago fluttering over the heads of the clubgoers as wildly as Mister Crimson throwing false coins into a crowd of revelers. For a moment, Inej wants him to. She imagines that rough, dark voice of his demanding that everybody on the floor get out, NOW, sending the patrons scattering. They know that Dirtyhands means business. Of course, Inej wouldn’t leave; she would only float closer, silent as a mouse scurrying up to a housecat poised to pounce, and lift her chin to him in defiance. His answering grin would be sharp as claws. And as soon as the front door swung shut behind the final straggler, in one effortless movement, Kaz would grab his cane by its end and hook the end of the silver crow’s head beak into Inej’s belt loop, tugging her forward, hard, till she’s close enough that he can wrap his forearm around her waist, pulling her into the firm plane of his chest and abdomen—but then he’d be pushing her away, pushing her onto the game table, chips and coins and cards all digging into her back, but no matter, because there’s the heat of him between her thighs as he throws the cane to the floor with a violent clatter, grabs her by the back of the neck, drawing her into a kiss so passionate that it’s almost painful, and—

HOLY FUCKING SAINTS ABOVE, INEJ, GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE BARREL. She forces herself to get a grip over her imagination, because in reality, Kaz is doing none of these things; he’s returned his attention to the game that’s just started at his table. He’s working, instead of going fucking insane.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Hi!! Don't know if feel you confortable with this sort of ask, but if so, could you write about how the whb king's would react to a mc that enjoys cartoons like gravity falls and the amazing world of gumball but at the same time loves more adult shows like mr.pickles and moral orel? ( which is definitely not me describing myself, lol )

Hi anon, thank you for waiting!

So this hits home for me because I am definitely an enjoyer of the shows you mentioned here and even more so, let's see if I can tap into my nostalgic memories and throw out some shows the Kings and this MC would be into.

Satan would definitely watch shows with MC that have action in it along with mindless brain rot gore. So for the day time, we're talkin' the animated batman series, superman, anything with superhero marvel or dc characters and then at night? Super Jail, Mr.Pickles, Robot Chicken 💀 HELL Celebrity Deathmatch? He's literally out here asking MC or his nobles to tape certain episodes in case he misses anything.

Mammon is fine with whatever MC wants to watch. He literally has no preference but funny enough, he likes those old school shows most like The Jetsons, The Flintstones, anything that would show up on Boomerang that has that classic 70's animation style for cartoons. Yes, Scooby Doo would be one of them. As for adult shows...anything that involves a parody on reality, Oblongs, Mission Hill, (that genre of cartoons that aired late at night on MTV)

If MC can even get Beelzebub to sit in front of a TV long enough, he MIGHT be interested in something that has short run times. So The Amazing World of Gumball that has short mini episodes, same with Brandy and Mr.Whiskers, Uncle Grandpa, Fish Hooks. And at night time, the only thing MC can get him to pay attention to are shows with bright colors and brain rot, so again Super Jail, Squidbillies for nonsense shit, Robot Chicken, 12 OZ. Mouse, The Drinky Crow Show, China, IL. But, a show that has a place in his heart? The Buzz on Maggie 🥺

Leviathan is trickyyyyy, as he finds most things regarding watching TV instead of reading unproductive and a waste of time. But if you were to ask him, he's watching more "sophisticated" media. The Addams Family (black and white), The Munsters, and surprise surprise MC got him into Daria. Adult shows? Surprisingly, he may not act like it, but he does have two shows he likes to watch with MC, Space Ghost Coast to Coast, and Harvey Birdman 💀 He won't tell MC why he likes those shows, but he just does and gets upset if anyone interrupts the two of them watching either one.

Lucifer? TV? Why? He very much prefers quiet time because he already has Gamigin begging him to watch old shows. But for MC, he doesn't mind anything that isn't too loud, so no sudden blasts or explosions or yelling. Out of all the shows MC has shown him, he really likes Rocko's Modern Life and Courage the Cowardly Dog where he doesn't mind him yelling because "he has a reason to so this is fine". For any adult shows, he simply can't be bothered to watch them, saying he could "just ask someone to tape what happens in Abyssos" and he'd watch that. lmaooo

Belphegor? Oh buddy let's get cookin'. Not only is he watching Sonic X, Kirby Right Back At Ya!, Sailor Moon, and Yugi-Oh/Digimon....but he's got MC taping Danny Phantom, Fairly Oddparents, Gravity Falls, any show with lore. Adult shows? Remember Toonami? Adult Swim? All kids out of the pool? He coined that phrase. He made sure most of that shit would come on late a night even if he didn't get to see it. Aqua Teen Hunger Force is brain rot he enjoyed the most. He was also into lost media like "Perfect Hair Forever" and "Super Milk Chan". The Venture Bros? MC is now dressed up as Dr.Girlfriend or The Monarch. 💀

Asmodeus had small kiddos before, so he's seen every kind of wholesome show imaginable. He watches them all with MC for those feel good memories. But instead of animated shows he prefers the live action ones, so "Wizards of Waverly Place" would be an example. But...when we get to...uh...the afterdark shows anything with raunchy innuendos and any step below "porn" without it being porn is what he's watching. (Like honestly just think of a show and insert it here lmao) In fact, he purposes to MC that they make their own show and broadcast it all over Abaddon...the TV is turned off...brace yourself MC...TV night has turned into "Home Movies with my Horny Demon King boyfriend".