#Boundlessness in Love and Mercy

[maglife17]

Limitless God!

“For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people,” Titus 2:11 When God’s grace meticulously orchestrates your steps, it might lead others to perceive you as arrogant. It is essential to remember that their misunderstanding stems from an inability to comprehend the divine guidance cradling your journey. As you walk in alignment with God’s will, your path may appear seamless…

[hellsslibrary]

can i request fucking the sass/brattiness out of bllk boys like chigiri, rin and sae? istg brats make me go feral i just want to put them in their place

"To silence the impudent by force does not mean to remove from oneself the insults uttered by the impudent lips."

#a.n. : Personally, I don't think Rin would be his usual self in bed, but who cares? It turned out delicious because it's almost a gathering of my favorite boys.🧎🏻

MASTERLIST is here.

!!Warnings: top!dom!m!reader, brat taming obvi, hair pulling (Chigiri), use of degrading words, they are kinda in the sub-space in the end(?), spanking, there are a things like praise but it is very imperceptible, fingering, anal sex, blowjob (I tried to diversify the parts, yes), a little dacryphilia, bites and hickeys, pet names, shower sex(Sae), kind of semi-public sex(Sae), deep throat(Rin), kind of soft Rinnie (a wolf in love is no longer a predator lol, but he's still a bitch yeah).

Chigiri Hyoma.

You felt your anger leaving your body with each passing second, leaving room for some other feeling. It could be described as something that was absolutely tearing your soul in two from the completely opposite emotions inside you. As if you were ready to tear someone apart just because of the mixture of feelings of satisfaction and dissatisfaction. You felt yourself calming down, but at the same time, you were starting to get even angrier.

Ah, yes, lust. Pure and undisguised lust. Especially for the one who is lying under you right now. Even now, some words manage to fly out of his plump and slightly bitten lips, the meaning of which you do not really understand, but by the shine in his pink ones, like a spinel necklace... You almost wanted to blindfold these eyes, so as not to see this bold shine... But of course, the key word is 'almost'.

"Is that all you can do? After you held me so tightly and whispered so many threats..."

Your ears catch this phrase and you almost unconsciously smirk. And really. Why are you still showing him mercy if he behaved like a complete slut today, thirsting for only two things - you and your boundless attention? Well...

"Should I be firmer with you? Your nature will show itself again anyway," you state the fact, licking your already wet lips, peering onto Chigiri's strong torso, watching how his sculpted muscles tense from your sharp thrusts.

"But th-then what's, fuck, the point of all-all this? You're a-acting like a child, pre-pretending to be smart when they're just repeating the same phrase..."

Your hand on his thigh tightened so much that he even whimpered slightly, and you immediately released your grip. There was no need to give him more sensations than you planned, especially not the unpleasant ones.

A soft "sorry" escapes your lips as your thumb rubs the red mark of your palm on his soft skin, which will most likely turn into a bruise. You lean in and your lips collide, both of you hissing slightly as your teeth click together, and then his arms wrap around your shoulders as your tongues finally intertwine.

But of course, he thought you were apologizing for the earlier action. How stupid, right? His eyes widen as he feels you slip out of him...

And a surprised gasp escapes his lips as you suddenly break the kiss and roll him over onto his stomach. His eyes narrow a bit as you thrust into him again, much more roughly than you had originally. All the air is expelled from his lungs in one thrust, causing him to whimper, almost inaudibly, and grab the sheets beneath him, making them squeak pitifully.

"I don't think you'll show up for practice tomorrow, Hyo."

His eyes widen and he's about to turn around to ask what you're even talking about. But he bites his tongue as he feels your thrusts resume. Your hands on his sides and the way your thumbs press into the small of his back, causing him to arch even further, more than his back would allow for.

"You... A-ah, what do y-you mean?" an almost pathetic cry escapes his lips, his face resting on the pillows, hiding his probably very adorable face from you.

"I don't know... Maybe I'll fuck you so hard that you won't be able to get out of bed... Or maybe you'll be in such a state that you won't be able to show yourself to others out of shame... Who knows?"

Your voice is almost dripping with sarcasm, even though you were being serious to some extent. Your hand slides higher, tangling in Chigiri's hair, and immediately pulling his head back, causing him to throw his head back with an almost squeak.

"If only you could see yourself... You look even more beautiful than usual, my mistress," you smirk lightly, biting the thin skin behind his ear, causing him to openly groan.

Drool runs down the corner of his lips and down his chin as his ass trembles slightly from your thrusts, as does his entire body. His hips try to move in time with your thrusts, but even he has a hard time doing so.

"I have to keep going, right?" the question escapes your lips, and he nods desperately, trying to get out at least a word, but any word that wasn't a moan or even a cry was stuck in his throat.

Sae Itoshi.

Your eyes almost glisten at the sight before you. The self-proclaimed linebacker's body was barely able to stand, although he held up surprisingly well for his situation. He leaned against the shower wall, trying to muffle his moans as much as possible so that no one would hear his moans or any other sounds from the locker room.

He was just teasing you a little, touching you in a way that was too obvious a couple of times during training, and you were very lucky that no one noticed. Otherwise, you would hardly be able to explain why his fingers slid under your jersey or the elastic of your shorts.

And he? He wouldn't even bother explaining.

"Will you keep quiet? It's no use, dear, it's too late for all this... Do you have any idea how hard it is to train with a boner, and with a view of your figure from behind?" your voice was almost honey-sweet as your fingers disappeared inside him with a slick sound, accompanied only by Sae's quiet, almost inaudible sounds.

Your free hand moved one of his ass cheeks to the side, watching as he squirmed at the sensation and your hand almost automatically slapped his ass cheek. You immediately felt a kick to your leg, obviously because someone might hear the slap.

Although they all saw that you went to the shower together. It wasn't surprising, but Sae usually didn't allow you to do that. So no one was thinking anything too explicit... But they could of course.

"Stop it! We'll get spotted, idiot," Sae whispers, biting his lips hard, trying to muffle any sounds that were trying to escape him, which wasn't too hard since he wasn't particularly loud, but...

It's hard to hold back when you're being fingered like they're trying to punch you in the gut or something. It was hard for him to do that either.

He was barely able to stand, and the slippery floor and his rapid breathing from not only the situation but also the hot shower weren't helping. He wanted to grab onto anything to make sure he wouldn't fall.

And you, being the good boyfriend that you are, were going to make sure of that!

His turquoise eyes widen in surprise as you turn his torso to face you, forcing his legs to wrap around your waist while you hold him up, then sit down on the tiled floor, still holding his fingers in place. You had to adjust the position of your fingers in obvious discomfort, but the look on his face was worth it.

"What the hell are you doing?" the question falls from his bitten lips as Sae almost chokes on the words, grabbing your shoulders, grateful that you are both now sitting up.

You tilt your head to the side slightly as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And he jumps when he feels another slap, knowing he won't last like this for much longer.

"I'm not done, Sae... Don't hide your face, I can't hear you, so I don't want to not be able to see you either," you whisper right into his ear, causing his back to arch from your hot breath.

You feel his nails literally digging into your skin, but you'll take care of that later. Right now, you need to see his face up close, while his insides are being rearranged by just three of your fingers.

He reluctantly pulls away, sitting over your lap and resting his kneecaps on the tiled floor. The older Itoshi looked divine... Arched like that just from you and such poor stimulation. Almost on the verge of tears. But he's not so fucked that he's ready to lose his pride.

"This hasn't even started and you're already like this... What will you be like later, baby?"

He just exhales loudly in response, and immediately twitches when he feels a slap on his inner thigh, too dangerously close to his cock. His knees shook and he felt an all too familiar sensation, he clenched around you unconsciously, but then whined pathetically when you deprived him of stimulation.

"No, you won't cum... Let's finish taking a shower and continue in a comfortable place. This is not a good place to fuck your brains out, handsome," Sae didn’t know if he wanted to kill you, he could sit back on your fingers, considering that you pulled them out but didn’t push them away, or he could even take your dick and sit on it...

But he will obey, realizing that much more awaits him ahead, for now.

Rin Itoshi.

Your lips stretch into a smirk, slightly trembling due to your growing pleasure. Your hand didn't even need to hold the brunette's head anymore, kneeling in front of you. He was doing just fine on his own.

Although his burning gaze should have been intimidating or at least stressful, it only served to fuel your arousal. His lips wrapped around your cock, his cheeks hollowed out, adding extra stimulation to your cock, and to be honest, you could definitely cum just from the sight of tears on his eyelashes.

His hands were clinging to your thighs, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers, slightly choking with every deep throat he took, but the younger Itoshi was clearly doing a lot better than he had been doing a few minutes ago.

"So? You don't want to tell me anything?"

He shook his head at your question, as much as he could with your cock in his throat, of course. Of course, he's not ready to give in and surrender to you completely just yet.

But that's easy to fix. Your fingers slide through his hair, squeezing it and pulling his head lower down your shaft, causing his nose to collide with your pubic bone, causing him to pull away and clear his throat.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" you repeat the question, looking at him thoughtfully, wondering if his ego will crumble now or if you'll have to make the crack deeper.

"... I'm sorry," he whispers almost inaudibly and inaudibly, and you wouldn't understand what he said if you weren't waiting for it.

"What should I forgive you for, Rin?"

He looks up at you, still displeased, leaning closer and licking a stripe along your shaft from the base to the head, licking your slit, causing you to moan slightly.

"I'm sorry for being a bad boy... But I'll do it again sooner or later anyway," he shrugs, barely visible, taking a part of your cock into his palm and beginning to suck on your head.

"Oh, I'm sure. I need you to learn your lesson now... And then later."

His turquoise eyes flick up to you, and he deliberately runs his tongue along your slit a couple more times before he starts to swallow your cock again, taking in more and more each time.

He doesn't break eye contact at all, his eyes just squinting slightly as his throat tries to adjust to the intrusion again, but he manages just fine.

Though, once you feel him using his tongue again, you raise an eyebrow, watching as Rin pulls away from you.

"And here I thought you were capable of more than teaching me to behave just for a while," he utters smugly as he licks your cock, as if he knows it gives you indescribable pleasure, especially when he looks at you with those eyes that glitter with anything but submission.

"Naughty boy," he squeezes your thighs completely as you grab the back of his head, starting to impale his mouth on your cock yourself.

His eyes squeeze tightly as he tries to relax his throat as much as possible for you. Itoshii clearly enjoyed this, otherwise he would have given you the signal to stop a long time ago, but he only continued to make moans mixed with the sound of choking.

"You will understand where your place is, don't worry, precious boy."

A tear rolls down his cheek, but he makes some kind of agreeing sound, which also sounds like he is pleased, considering how the corner of his lips twitches into a semblance of a smile. Oh, you will be convinced that he will be good, unbearably good.

[thecatholicbozo]

-Pray for the outcast & persecuted - that they are welcomed & embraced in God's Kingdom -Pray for victims of injustice - that Jesus restores what they have lost -Pray for those in danger - that the Good Shepard brings them to safety -Pray for the betrayed - that they know God's faithfulness & devotion -Pray for the misled & manipulated - that Jesus guides them to Truth -Pray for the desperate - that they rely confidently on God's providence -Pray for those who have failed in worldly endeavors - that they find true treasure in Heaven -Pray for those suffering in body, mind, & spirit - that the Divine Physician cures all of their ails -Pray for the grieving & mourning - that they find consolation & hope in the Resurrection -Pray for the absent - that they gain an active & attentive life with God & their neighbor -Pray for the misunderstood - that they feel the loving gaze of Christ who knows their hearts & minds perfectly -Pray for the friendless & lonely - that they experience the friendship of God, his angels, & his saints -Pray for the forgotten & abandoned - that they know that Christ is with them always -Pray for those who have no one to pray for them - that they never be without our spiritual support -Pray for the sorrowful & crestfallen - that they receive unfailing joy in Heaven -Pray for the despairing - that they find hope in the Gospel -Pray for those battling vice - that through the Holy Cross they overcome every temptation -Pray for those pursuing virtue - that they imitate Christ in all they do -Pray for the confused & uncertain - that they discern God's will & have the courage to do it -Pray for the remorseful - that they will come to know the boundless mercy of Christ crucified -Pray for the doubtful - that the Good Teacher brings them the Truth -Pray for those struggling with self esteem - that by looking into the mirror of Christ they may realize their goodness -Pray for those who feel unworthy - that they know they are always the Father's beloved son or daughter no matter what -Pray for those who feel useless - that they know God did not make them to be useful, but to be loved -Pray for those who feel purposeless - that they find happiness in the calling which God has made them for -Pray for the apathetic, nihilistic, & depressed - that they find meaning in this world & the next -Pray for the self-hating - that they soon love themselves as Christ loves them -Pray for the suicidal - that they know how precious they are in the eyes of God and will embrace the precious gift of live -Pray for the dying - that the grace & comfort of God be with them in their final moments -Pray for the souls of the faithful departed - that they rest in peace -Pray for all of us sinners - that we receive the prayers which we need so much

[d-z20]

Venus in Bloom (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: A reckless mistake with a love potion leaves you at the mercy of two insatiable succubi, their supernatural hunger driving them to claim every inch of you without restraint. Between the claws, the fangs, and the teasing magic that coils around their skin, you quickly learn what it truly means to be devoured by a succubus.

-OR-

As it turns out magical creatures of lust and love potions do not mix which results in you getting fucked by Agatha and Rio, like a lot, but it's your fault really

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Agatha and Rio are succubi so monster fucking, reader is a potions witch, top agathario, bottom reader, magic cock (A has, Reader recv), oral (Reader recv), thigh grinding (R does), porn with little to no plot, overstimulation, squirting, breeding/creampie, threesome, face-sitting

Words: 4.7k

A/N: Everyone is doing valentines fics and I'm not but this includes a love potion so I'm going to pretend it was on purpose 😂 Requested fic :)

AO3 | Masterlist

The scent of crushed herbs and simmering elixirs curled through the air, thick with magic and lingering heat from the flickering candlelight. You moved swiftly through your workshop, the sleeves of your robe pushed up to your elbows, hands busy grinding a handful of dried hibiscus petals into a fine powder. The pestle moved in slow, rhythmic circles, a familiar motion that should have been meditative but your mind wandered.

The cauldron in the centre of the room bubbled gently, its contents shimmering with an iridescent sheen. A single drop of the wrong ingredient could shift its purpose entirely, and yet, despite knowing this, you barely spared it a glance as you reached for a vial of honey-thick nectar resting beside you. You were distracted.

It wasn’t your fault, not really.

Not when two succubi shared your home, moving like sin incarnate through your space, leaving temptation in their wake as effortlessly as breathing. Agatha and Rio were creatures of hunger��lust woven into the very fabric of their existence—and while they spared you from their predatory nature, they did nothing to temper the pull of their presence.

And, as if conjured by your thoughts alone, Rio’s laughter drifted in from the other room.

It was a warm, low sound, filled with mischief, the kind of laugh that always meant trouble. You exhaled through your nose, setting the vial down with careful precision. Whatever she was up to, it was best not to get involved. Not when you were this close to finishing your work.

The love potion had been an afterthought—a test, an experiment, something to keep stored away for research rather than practical use. You had no intention of actually using it. Succubi had no need for artificial desire; their own abilities surpassed anything that could be brewed in a bottle. Still, curiosity had led you to concoct it, blending rare aphrodisiacs with dreamroot essence, a few drops of moon-kissed wine, and a dash of honeyed rose oil.

It was potent. Dangerously so.

And you should have tucked it away the moment you were done, sealed it within a warded chest where it could do no harm. But you hadn’t.

Instead, the vial sat unguarded amidst your collection of more harmless elixirs, the deep crimson liquid glistening under the candlelight. A temptation disguised as an innocent draught.

And, as fate would have it, Rio’s curiosity was as boundless as her appetite.

You didn’t notice when she entered, didn’t see the gleam of intrigue in her sharp golden eyes as she plucked the vial from its resting place. The moment your back was turned, she lifted it to inspect the contents, swirling the liquid idly.

It smelt… expensive. Rich. Decadent, like spiced fruit and something dangerously sweet. Her forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and her pupils dilated with interest.

This was new.

She liked new things.

Without a second thought, she slipped out of the workshop, the vial tucked between her fingers, her mind already racing with the possibilities.

—

Agatha was lounging in the sitting room when Rio found her, half-draped across the velvet couch, one arm resting lazily over the back. She looked every inch the predator she was, dark eyes hooded with a perpetual, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She was dressed down, her usual structured coat abandoned in favour of her half-unbuttoned shirt and loose slacks. Her feet were bare, her hair still mussed from sleep, yet she exuded control.

Rio slid up beside her, draping herself over the armrest with casual ease. "Brought you something," she purred, twirling the bottle between her fingers before offering it up with a smug grin.

Agatha arched a brow, reaching for it without hesitation. "What’s this?"

"Something Y/N made," Rio hummed, watching as Agatha uncorked the vial. "Figured it’s one of their fancy elixirs. Thought you might like it."

Agatha inhaled slowly, rolling the scent over her tongue. There was something odd about it, but it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it smelt delicious. A rush of warmth tingled at the back of her throat, her body responding instinctively before she had even taken a sip.

Rio should have stopped her.

She could have stopped her.

But she didn’t.

She just watched as Agatha tipped the bottle back and swallowed it whole.

It hit her like wildfire.

One moment, Agatha was lounging with an air of effortless control, and the next, she was bolting upright, her spine going rigid, her pupils blown wide.

Heat. Unrelenting, all-consuming heat.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth, her claws digging into the upholstery as she gripped the edge of the cushion, bracing herself. The burn was instantaneous, roaring through her veins, pooling deep in her core.

What the fuck—

Her mind reeled, but her body knew exactly what it wanted.

She was starving.

It was wrong, unnatural. Succubi didn’t need help feeling desire—they were desire—and yet, whatever had been in that vial had amplified her hunger tenfold. Her tail flicked behind her restlessly, her breath coming short and sharp, and her fangs throbbed with the urge to sink into something soft, something pliant.

Rio blinked at her, watching as her typically controlled partner came undone in real-time. "Uh… Ags?"

Agatha snapped her gaze toward her, and Rio visibly stiffened.

Agatha was never desperate. She was the calm one, the controlled one, the one who always kept her hunger in check. But not now.

Now, her pupils were nothing but thin golden rings swallowed by black, her lips parted just enough to reveal the sharp gleam of her canines, her chest rising and falling far too quickly.

Rio’s fingers twitched involuntarily, her own body reacting to the shift in the air. Power, heat, and lust. The room was suddenly thick with it, suffocating, heavy enough to drown in.

And then, as if realising exactly what had happened, Agatha turned her head toward the workshop—toward you.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I need them," she growled, voice lower, rougher, her control already slipping.

Rio exhaled sharply, eyes widening. "Oh. Oh."

For the first time in centuries, she might have actually fucked up.

And you were about to find out just how badly.

—

You felt the air in the cottage thicken, charged with something potent—something unnatural. It slithered through the dimly lit space like invisible smoke, curling around you, settling into your lungs with every breath you took.

Something was wrong.

The magic in the walls whispered warnings, the candles flickering wildly in their holders despite the absence of a breeze. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, an instinctual prickle at the back of your neck telling you that something powerful had been unleashed.

And then you felt two ravenous, predatory forces—one sharp and crackling like lightning, the other slow-burning and consuming like an ever-hungry fire. The tether between you thrummed, an invisible thread of magic stretched taut, vibrating with a heat that wasn’t entirely your own.

You turned just as Agatha stepped into the doorway.

Her composure—her usual air of effortless, knowing control—was shattered. What stood before you wasn’t the measured, cunning succubus who prided herself on restraint. No, this was something else entirely.

Her pupils were nothing but dark pools, golden irises reduced to thin, molten rings. Her breathing was slow and deliberate, like a creature struggling to leash itself, though every inhale seemed to make it worse. Her normally neat attire was in disarray, her shirt rumpled, collar askew as though she’d clawed at her own skin in a desperate attempt to cool herself down.

She looked starved.

A soft thud behind her signalled Rio’s arrival, and when your gaze flickered past Agatha, you found her in a similar state—if not worse.

Unlike Agatha, who was still barely clinging to her composure, Rio was already half-feral. Her lips were parted, sharper fangs glinting in the candlelight. Her tail lashed behind her, the spade-shaped tip curling, uncurling, betraying the sheer magnitude of her agitation.

And when she exhaled—you felt it.

A heat coiled low in your gut, winding itself around your ribs, pressing. It wasn’t meant to be for you, not directly—you were not prey, you were not a target—but their hunger had grown too wild, too untethered, and their instincts didn’t care for the technicalities.

Agatha’s fingers flexed at her sides, her knuckles nearly white with restraint. Barely leashed, barely holding on.

“Y/N.”

Your name came out low, more exhale than word, more prayer than plea.

And by the Divine Mother, that was dangerous because succubi didn’t beg. Succubi took.

Your pulse quickened, but not from fear. This wasn’t the carefully measured seduction you were used to. It wasn’t playful temptation—the slow game they so often relished—this was raw.

Primal.

Uncontrolled.

You swallowed hard, taking a slow, deliberate step toward them, and the reaction was instantaneous.

Rio’s breath hitched; she crossed and uncrossed her arms, as though trying to shield herself from the unbearable ache thrumming through her body. Agatha’s jaw clenched, her fingers twitching like she wanted to reach for you but knew she shouldn’t.

"Tell me what happened," you said, voice steady despite the way the energy licked at your skin, despite the way your own magic—so much weaker than theirs, so mortal—shuddered under the pressure of it.

Rio let out a breathless, shaky laugh, but it held none of her usual mirth. "Funny story," she muttered. "I may have… kind of… accidentally… given Agatha a potion."

You frowned, tilting your head. "What potion?"

Agatha’s nails dug into the doorframe, her chest rising and falling, every breath seeming to cost her something. "The one you left on your desk."

And just like that, realisation slammed into you.

The love potion.

The highly concentrated, dangerously potent love potion.

The one not meant for actual consumption—especially not by creatures who already thrived on desire.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your stomach dropped, your breath hitching, not in fear but in sheer, undeniable understanding.

Succubi were designed to handle lust. It was their nature, their essence. But they were also designed to control it. To wield it rather than succumb to it.

This potion?

It had burnt through their natural restraints like kindling on an open flame.

And now they were left unsated, unable to quench the inferno no matter how hard they tried.

Agatha let out a harsh breath, her fingers twitching. "Y/N," she said again, and this time it was a warning.

Because she was so close to losing what little control she had left.

Because she was starving for something only you could give her.

You felt the pull, the same one that had always existed between you, the one that was usually tempered by their restraint but now burnt, raw and untethered. They needed you.

Not as prey.

Not as a conquest.

But as something else entirely.

And maybe, just maybe, you were more than willing to oblige.

Agatha’s breath hitched as her last thread of restraint snapped. In a blink, she was on you, pressing you down into the bed with a force that sent a shiver straight through your core. Her claws curled into the fabric around your wrists, pinning you in place as the heat of her radiated into your skin.

Her pupils were nothing but thin rings of gold, swallowed by the black hunger of her gaze. Her body shifted against you, the air rippling with raw, unfiltered magic as her succubus nature surfaced in full. Claws elongated, her fangs peeking past parted lips, the scent of heady desire thick between you.

Behind you, Rio slinked in with practiced ease, her body curving around yours as she caged you between them. You barely had time to gasp before she hooked her legs around yours, spreading them open effortlessly. Her voice was a molten whisper against your ear, her lips brushing over your skin as she chuckled.

“Fuck, I’ve never seen her like this before,” she murmured, her tail curling teasingly around your thigh. “You really should’ve kept that potion locked away, huh?”

Your pulse pounded against your ribs. There was no escape, no space to think or breathe, but you didn’t want to escape. Not when they were both so desperate, their need vibrating through every fibre of your being.

Agatha growled low, the sound vibrating through your bones as she leaned down, her lips ghosting over your throat. “I need you,” she rasped, a confession that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

Her magic surged, the air around her shimmering as she shape-shifted, the scent of pure, unfiltered want thickening. Your breath hitched as she ground against you—a new, unmistakable bulge in her slacks pressed firmly against your core. Even through the layers, the heat of it was overwhelming.

Rio let out an appreciative hum, her fingers trailing down your arms, tracing the shape of your body as she pressed teasing kisses along your shoulder. “Oh, she’s really gone,” she purred, voice thick with amusement. “You’ve made our dear Agatha completely lose control. I wonder what she’ll do to you.”

There was no teasing, no slow buildup. Agatha was too far gone for that. With a snarl, she made quick work of your clothing, her claws slicing through the fabric at your crotch, tearing it open without care. A strangled moan escaped you as the cool air met with your heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Agatha pressing flush against you, her hips rolling, grinding against your exposed core.

She exhaled shakily, her composure unravelling as she reached between you, unbuttoning her slacks, just enough to free herself, just enough to wrap a clawed hand around the thick, twitching cock she had conjured, her breath catching as she stroked herself once and then twice, a needy, desperate sound spilling from her lips at the sensation. Her lips parted, panting, utterly wrecked with hunger.

Rio’s fingers danced along your stomach, teasing, but she wasn’t cruel enough to delay things. She tilted your chin, brushing her lips over your ear. “She’s going to ruin you, love,” she whispered. “And you’re going to love every second of it.”

Then Rio groaned, pressing her forehead to the back of your neck, her fingers gripping your thighs as she rutted against you, the heat of her own need searing through layers of clothing.

“Fuck,” Agatha muttered, almost pained. “I can’t—I need—”

She cut herself off, lining herself up, swiping her tip through your arousal, groaning deep at the wet heat of you. The sensation sent a shiver through her entire frame, her claws digging into the mattress as she forced herself to savour it, to hold back even a fraction of her need.

Her body trembled with restraint she barely had. And then she gave in.

The first thrust was deep, a sharp stretch that had your back arching, a cry spilling from your lips as she filled you. Agatha moaned, a guttural, broken sound as she bottomed out, her forehead pressing against yours.

She started with slow, deep strokes, but it wasn’t long before the potion’s effects overrode any semblance of patience she had left. Her pace turned frenzied, hips pistoning into you with a force that had the bed rocking beneath you.

Rio held you steady, her tail coiling around your waist, her breath hot against your ear as she murmured sweet, filthy praises about how good you looked taking Agatha like this, how wrecked you sounded. She kept you grounded, kept you from unravelling too quickly—but even she couldn’t hold back forever.

The moment Agatha came, a strangled moan spilling from her lips as she shuddered against you, Rio let out a frustrated whine, her fingers tightening around your thighs.

“My turn,” she huffed.

Before you could catch your breath, they were moving you with supernatural ease, handling your body like you were made of nothing but air. You barely had time to register the shift before you found yourself straddling Rio’s face, her forked tongue flicking out in anticipation, her golden eyes blown wide with lust as she watched you hover mere inches away.

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around her horns, gripping them for balance—and the moment you did, Rio gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, a whimper escaping her lips as pleasure visibly shot through her. Her tail curled, body arching, her sensitivity betrayed in that single moment of weakness.

Agatha, ever the dominant one, took advantage of your distraction. She positioned herself behind you, pressing her front against your back, her lips ghosting over your shoulder as she reached around, her hands skimming your body. A slow, satisfied hum vibrated through her chest as she traced idle patterns over your sweat-damp skin, her touch both possessive and reverent.

“No one else gets to experience us in this way,” she whispered, her voice dark and edged with something dangerously close to obsession. “You don’t understand how rare this is, do you?” Her sharp teeth grazed the shell of your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Creatures like us... we don’t get to be unrestrained without consequence. We take. We consume. We drain. We ruin.” Her fingers tightened against your hips. “But you? You survive us. You endure. You take everything we give, and you still breathe.”

She exhaled slowly, pressing a lingering kiss to your pulse, savouring the rapid flutter beneath her lips. “That makes you ours.”

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, and as if sensing it, Rio let out a pleased hum. Then, without warning, she pulled you down onto her mouth, her tongue immediately lapping at you.

A strangled moan escaped you, your grip on Rio’s horns tightening involuntarily. She let out a shuddering breath against you, her entire body tensing before melting into the mattress again. Her fingers dug into your thighs, firm but reverent, keeping you open for her as she dragged her forked tongue in slow, languid strokes, savouring every reaction she pulled from you.

“Fuck,” Rio groaned, voice muffled against your skin. “You—ngh, you really know how to handle me, huh? Holding my horns like that—” She cut herself off with a needy whimper, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through you. “Fuck, I could keep you here forever.”

The pleasure was dizzying, an intoxicating blend of firm pressure and teasing flicks that left your nerves singing. Your thighs trembled as you rocked against her, seeking more, losing yourself in the sensation. Every brush of her tongue sent another spark shooting up your spine, winding the coil in your stomach impossibly tight.

Another broken moan spilled from your lips as Rio groaned beneath you, her grip on your hips flexing as she pulled you down harder, determined to make you fall apart completely. Your body trembled, your mind lost in the haze of their touch, of the way they surrounded you, overwhelmed you, worshipped you with a greedy mouth and hands that refused to let you go.

“More,” Rio demanded against you, her voice husky, pleading. “I need more.”

That coil in your stomach twisted impossibly tight, and then—it snapped. Your orgasm tore through you in a dizzying rush, your whole body tensing, back arching as a strangled cry escaped you. The pleasure surged like a storm, white-hot and overwhelming, leaving you shaking in its wake. But Rio didn't stop.

She moaned into you, the vibrations sending aftershocks coursing through your oversensitive nerves. Her tongue lapped at you, relentless, as if she had no intention of letting you come down from the high she'd just wrenched from you. Your thighs trembled, your grip on her horns tightening, half to ground yourself, half in a desperate attempt to push away from the unbearable pleasure.

"Rio—" Your voice came out broken, breathless, but she only growled in response, her fingers digging into your hips to keep you where she wanted. "N-No, I—"

"Yes," Rio murmured, her voice dripping with hunger. "You're not done. I can feel it." She dragged her forked tongue over you again slowly, letting you feel every agonising flick. "You can take it."

Your body jolted at the sensation, torn between oversensitivity and the maddening need she kept feeding. There was no escape—just the sensation of her mouth, the overwhelming heat, the slick slide of her tongue as she worked you open again, coaxing another wave of arousal from you before you even had the chance to recover.

For a while, Agatha seemed content to watch, her hands roaming your body, her claws teasing the sensitive spots she had memorised. But her restraint was never meant to last.

"You’re cruel, Rio," she mused, her voice sultry but laced with impatience. "Making them beg without even using words."

Her fingers slid up your torso, tracing every shiver, every twitch, until they wrapped around your throat in a firm, possessive hold. She didn’t squeeze—just held you there, reminded you of who had you, who was unravelling you so thoroughly.

"But if you’re going to ruin them," Agatha purred, her other hand sliding lower, "then I might as well help."

Soon enough, she was lining herself up once more, her magic cock pressing against your entrance once more, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she whispered, her voice strained. “I need to be inside you again.”

She thrust in, and the sensation of both of them at once shattered the last of your composure. A desperate, keening cry tore from your throat, your body quivering, helpless between them. Every nerve burnt, every inch of you claimed, stretched, overwhelmed in the most intoxicating way.

Agatha’s pace was relentless, deep, and hungry, the force of her movements driving you further into Rio’s mouth, into the wet heat that refused to let up. Each thrust rocked you forward, pressing your clit against Rio’s eager tongue, her forked tip lapping at you with an unholy precision.

The room was filled with the sounds of slick heat, muffled cries, and the guttural groans of the two succubi chasing their pleasure. Agatha cursed breathlessly, the magic in her voice thick with desperation as she ground into you, hips snapping with a bruising force.

"So perfect," she murmured, her breath ragged against your ear. "Taking us both like you were made for it."

Rio moaned in agreement beneath you, the vibrations sparking another wave of pleasure that made your muscles seize. Your fingers tangled tighter in her horns, a lifeline against the dizzying sensations, and the sharp gasp that left her lips told you just how much she felt it.

"Fuck," Rio whimpered, the sound muffled, desperate. Her nails dug into your thighs as she rocked her hips against Agatha’s thigh, chasing her own pleasure even as she focused on yours.

Agatha smirked, her control fracturing as she felt the desperate rutting against her leg. "I see you’re just as needy," she taunted, pressing her thigh harder between Rio’s legs, feeling the heat there.

Rio’s whine was high-pitched and desperate, her tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot as she sought her own high. Her thighs trembled, grinding shamelessly, her pleasure tipping over the edge as you tugged on her horns again, sending another sharp jolt of sensation through her. She tensed beneath you, crying out, her body shuddering as she climaxed.

The sensation of her moaning against you, the slick drag of Agatha pounding into you, the heat, the sounds—it was too much. Your own release crashed over you, a blinding, shattering thing that left you breathless, your body shaking violently between them.

Agatha wasn’t far behind. A strangled groan escaped her lips, her hands gripping your waist with bruising force as she buried herself deep, her body shuddering through the force of her release. She pressed you down harder against Rio, grinding through the final aftershocks, her breath hot against your skin.

For a moment, there was only heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air, the three of you tangled together in a mess of limbs, pleasure, and exhaustion. But their nature and the potion’s hold were unrelenting. No matter how many times they came, the hunger didn’t abate.

They kept going, over and over, their bodies moving in sync, driven by a primal need that refused to fade. You were lost between them, overstimulated, and overwhelmed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

—

Agatha was relentless, her thrusts growing erratic as she chased another orgasm, every snap of her hips sending shockwaves through your exhausted body. Rio, still buried between your thighs, never faltered, her tongue working you open, dragging pleasure from you even as your body trembled violently from the sheer force of it all.

You sobbed out their names, hands weakly clutching at Rio’s horns, thighs trembling against her cheeks. Agatha groaned above you, her grip bruising as she forced you down onto Rio’s mouth, her climax barreling through her with a raw, unfiltered intensity. She cursed, hips stuttering, her body shuddering against yours, as she came inside you yet again.

The sensation of Agatha’s cum dripping out of your overfilled cunt onto her chin sent Rio over the edge, her moan vibrating through you, her hips jerking as she rutted against Agatha’s thigh one last time. But it was the final stroke against your already wrecked bundle of nerves, the last push, that shattered you entirely.

A scream tore from your throat as pleasure consumed you—so intense, so overwhelming that your body seized, every muscle locking up before your climax hit like a tidal wave. The evidence of your orgasm drenched Rio’s face, spilling down her chin and onto the collar of her still-clothed chest.

Rio let out a shuddering sigh, her tongue sweeping over her lips as if she refused to let a single drop go to waste. Agatha, still draped over you, exhaled deeply, her grip on your hips finally loosening as the last tremors of pleasure faded into a slow, throbbing aftershock. The heat that had consumed all three of you had finally begun to ebb, leaving behind nothing but the weight of exhaustion and the sticky, intoxicating remnants of what had transpired.

The only sounds that remained were the slow, laboured breaths of the three tangled bodies lying amidst the wreckage of their lust. The fire that had burnt so violently through Agatha and Rio had finally dimmed, leaving behind the languid, syrupy pleasure of satisfaction.

Agatha, ever the controlled one, had collapsed first. She lay half-draped over you, her bare skin fever-warm, her breath ghosting over your throat as she pressed against you with a weight that was possessive, grounding. Even in her exhaustion, her arms caged you in, a silent claim, as if making sure you wouldn’t slip away.

She exhaled a slow, satisfied breath, but the moment was short-lived.

“You,” she rasped, tilting her head just enough to glare at Rio through heavy-lidded eyes, “are a menace.”

Rio, sprawled beside you, utterly wrecked but still smug as sin, let out a breathless chuckle. “C’mon, Ags,” she purred, voice raw from use, her tail flicking lazily against your leg. “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

Agatha huffed, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “That is not the point.”

You, still trembling, mind fogged from overwhelming pleasure, groaned softly. “I am never leaving a love potion unattended again.”

Rio, ever the troublemaker, grinned. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, propping herself up on one elbow to trace lazy fingers down your sweat-slicked skin. “I don’t know... You took both of us so well. Maybe we should make this a regular thing.”

You managed a weak glare, but it lacked any real venom. “Absolutely not.”

But Agatha and Rio exchanged a glance above you, something conspiratorial in the flick of their golden eyes, the curl of their lips.

Oh, they were definitely going to make sure this happened again.

-----

yeah that's right, I made their horns sensitive (I came very close to having Rio be able to cum just from Reader holding on to them but I added thigh grinding because it's hot :P)

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6stolenangel9 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

[mistyorchid]

General Store

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, fluff, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, some suggestive actions/comments, pet names (doll, baby). wc: 739

an: I really appreciate all of the <3 Meet-Cute (and my blog in general) has been receiving lately. Since your comments have been so sweet, I thought I'd write a fluffy drabble for y'all. My asks & DMs are open. Thank you all for the support.

When you run out of your favorite ice cream, you know it's time to make a shopping trip to the closest general store. You smile, fondly remembering lazy Sundays with Logan. He'd never admit it, but the sweet taste of chocolate ice cream helped ease his nerves; Twilight Zone reruns were no joke.

Logan turns on the radio, switching through static until he hears the baritone crooning of Johnny Cash. Every time the truck hitches over a bump, Logan steadies you with a firm hand on your thigh. At least that's how he justified it inching closer to the hem of your skirt. His cocky smirk earns a playful slap on his arm, but you secretly love the way he makes you blush, even after you'd been dating for months.

He pulls into the neglected parking lot and kills the ignition, lovingly staring at your profile as you move to unbuckle your seat belt. The universe had shown him mercy when you spontaneously came into his life. Your boundless grace and empathy made his house a home. You once gifted him handmade framed embroidery that read, "God bless our smelting plant."

Logan's thoughts are interrupted by the faint click of the unlocked passenger door. "Not on my watch, doll," he exhales, rushing out of the driver seat and jogging to retrieve you. You reach for his hand, cautiously stepping down from the truck. Logan knows you can open the door yourself, but he always upholds the dying art of chivalry.

"Thank you," you smile, stabilizing your descent by placing your left hand on his white beater. "Sure thing," Logan responds, knowing you just want to feel his broad chest.

A quaint bell rings as you enter the store that alerts the cashier. "Howdy, welcome in! Milk's half off today," he chimes. Logan doesn't miss the way the young man's eyes widen as you saunter ahead of him to the frozen aisle. Hell, he doesn't blame him. You never wear a bra when it's this hot, instead opting for a lightweight tank top. The cool air blasting from the open freezer door makes the hard outline of your nipples difficult to ignore.

"You want our usual or this new flavor?" You ask, prompting Logan to ignore the cashier's gaze. He lengthens his stride and stands over you, peering into the freezer. The carton you point out has an adorable illustration of a bunny as its mascot.

"Hmm . . ." Logan ponders, leaning into the frigid air to grab the carton. "It's cute, reminds me of you. I say strawberry."

You trace your bottom lip, pretending to be indecisive. "If you say so." A sweet blush creeps onto your face, subtle enough to be missed by anyone but Logan.

The cashier's eyes linger on your tank top as you both return to the front counter. You're too busy checking out other items in the store to notice.

"Good choice, we just got that flavor last week. Cash or card?" The young man redirects his attention to Logan, who he assumes is paying based on the fact that he's holding the ice cream and already has his wallet out.

"Do people out here really use card?" Logan asks, puzzled by his question. He remembered a time when he'd have to write a check to pay if he didn't have enough cash.

"My dad's the same way," the cashier chuckles, trying to establish some common ground with you. Logan's eyes narrow at his lame attempt to relate to his girl.

My dad. This prick thinks you're his daughter.

He throws more than enough cash onto the counter before muttering, "Keep the change." Logan tries his best to finish the transaction without leaving three scratch marks over the young man's uneven stubble.

You notice that Logan is brooding as you link your arm through his, more than usual. The cashier's words stun him into an icy silence, clearly bothered by their implication.

Before you cross the threshold of the door, you pull the collar of Logan's beater and kiss him hard. He gasps into your mouth, fingers moving to glide through your hair. Your tongue darts along his upper lip, deepening the kiss.

A thin string of spit connects your lips as you slowly pull away. "Mmm, almost as sweet as this ice cream, baby," You tease, savoring the cashier's shocked expression as you both hear the doorbell ring.

[lauramakabresku]

This is a tale of God’s tender and mighty care — the One who upholds our very being, binds our wounds, and kindles love within us. Behold the soul — secure and luminous in its joy — having accepted, with humility, its own frailty and nothingness, and now remaining in surrender to the Divine who acts within it. Each Person of the Holy Trinity surrounds this soul with love and undivided attention, healing its wounds — those born of its own sin, and those inflicted by others.

*

Divine Tenderness

The Father holds being through His boundless strength

The Son heals every wound with gentleness and compassion

The Holy Spirit breathes life and ignites the flame of love

(inspired by the Parable of the Merciful Samaritan)

[satosugusandwich]

His Angel and His Brat

Part 1!!! Part 2

Hard!Dom!Geto x Brat!Gojo x obedient!afab!reader

(I also try to write my fics to be racially ambiguous! No mention of skin tone or hair type!)

Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo.

CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, vibrators, cuffs, finger sucking, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, anal play, cum licking (off the floor and gojos pp) praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((

There will be additional tags in future parts. This is how I cope with ch 236.

Suguru runs his thumb along your bottom lip, licking his own lips while you whimper. Your pretty eyes fixated on his blushing face and half-lidded eyes. He looks at you with so much lust and is so gentle with you, just so in love with how much you please him and how willing you are to do what he wants. You eagerly await him and his orders, always ready to obey.

But.

“Suguru!”

Satoru’s cry makes his face go from pure admiration to utterly sadistic. “Satoru.” He says, looking at the man to the right of you, the same man that’s panting and whining as the vibrator in his tight hole runs relentlessly. “Jealously doesn’t look very good on you.” He grins and hits a button on the small remote he holds in his hand that isn’t occupied with your mouth.

“Fuck—FUCK!” Satoru’s eyes clench shut, the whirring sound coming from his bottom getting faster and bit more high pitched. You’re grateful you aren’t in his position, you don’t know if you could handle Suguru having full control of how much pleasure you get to feel. Especially if that pleasure is ongoing… and nonstop.

Satoru looked unusually pathetic and… weak. It’s insane to think that the so called strongest sorcerer, the cocky, the arrogant, the man on top, bends to the will of his pretty best friend. Suguru’s change in character comes as a shock too. The sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic sorcerer is now grinning down at his partner, showing no mercy, no kindness, and is only sending Satoru into deeper throes of overwhelming pleasure. You almost didn’t want to look at Satoru, what if Suguru surmised you wanted the same treatment. Would he show you mercy?

“Now, now,” Suguru muses, “if you can beg me properly, I’ll stop your torment. And of course you’ll need to apologize to Y/n and I for being such an impatient little shit.” He chuckles softly and withdraws his thumb from your mouth. “She’s being so well-behaved while you whine and whine and cry and cry about how much it is.” He mocks him, furrowing his eyebrows together in a false pity. “I suppose I should expect it, after all, you’ve cum how many times? That pressure against—“ Suguru crouches as he speaks “—your prostate—“ he runs the tip of his fingers up Satoru’s base “—it’s been nonstop for 30 minutes now.”

You can’t help but watch as Suguru’s hand starts to stroke Satoru now, giving expert attention to his neglected yet tortured cock. Suguru notices how you eyeball his actions and can’t help but smile wider.

“Ah, do you feel left out?” His false pity changes back to his gentle expression. “It’s alright, princess, why don’t you show Satoru how impressed you are with his stamina. Give him a little reward?”

Suguru is evil.

“I don’t think he could take it, Sugu.” You answer honestly.

He looks a bit disappointed but he relents his ministrations. “I suppose you’re right. But he still owes us an apology before his punishment ends.”

You nod and meet Satoru’s eyes. He can barely speak as his next orgasm approaches. “I-I’m so—“ his body is shaking. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so—Suguru—so impatient! Please, I’m so so soo!!! So sorry!” He’s almost in tears now, you can tell Suguru is even beginning to feel pity for his best friend and his brat.

“Ahh… cum one more time and I’ll take it out. Show me you deserve mercy by pleading. Plead for mercy.” Suguru’s fingers tug at your nipples now, clearly losing interest in Satoru’s torment. You know that you aren’t being punished, but seeing Suguru like this… makes you a little weary.

“Please please!” Satoru repeats the word over and over. “I’m so sorry! Please, mercy!” He keeps prattling on, thrusting into the air as he struggles to keep together.

“Y/n.” Suguru looks to you. “Clean up his next mess for me. Lick his cock clean and then it’ll be your turn.”

Satoru starts to mumble and moan out different variations of thank yous and Suguru’s name as he reaches his final high. And when he cums, It’s a mess. Semen spills from his cock and your immediately there to catch it. Suguru’s eyes widen, absolutely loving your eagerness to take his cum down your throat.

“Good boy, good girl.” He pets your head and clicks the toy off, causing Satoru’s to collapse completely, his body weight bearing into the now standing legs of Suguru. He catches his breath, still whimpering as Suguru pets his head. Satoru looks you in the eyes, his beauty keeping your gaze fixated on his body. His six eyes are a little red, probably from the tears that he held back, and his body is flushed beautifully, his pretty cock slowly going soft as he does his best to calm down.

Satoru relaxes back on his knees while Suguru goes behind him to remove the toy from his ass and undo Satoru’s hand cuffs. You breathe a sigh of relief for him, always impressed by Satoru’s unwavering stamina and attitude. You wondered how Satoru enjoyed pissing Geto off so much, does he really enjoy these punishments that much? Suguru seemingly loves the after effects of a good punishment, his adoration of Satoru is evident in the way he kisses his head and gently rubs his back while Satoru regains his strength.

As much as you love watching, you are wondering why Suguru invited you to observe Satoru’s punishment. You’re not really complaining and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve seen it, but, all you’ve had is a thumb in your mouth and a little bit of cocksucking. After all, Suguru can’t ever stay entirely focused on Satoru, he needs some pleasure himself.

Satoru seems to be wondering the same thing. “So, baby, why did you bring her in to watch?” He asks, rising from his knees to give them a break.

Suguru looks down at you. “Just on a whim.” He strokes your face before looking back toward his brat. “And I’ve noticed you get more worked up with an arousing audience.”

“Well, wouldn’t you if she was licking your cum from the floor?” Satoru grumbled, sitting on the bed.

Suguru turns his attention back toward you. “She does love cum in her mouth.” He strokes himself slowly, catching your attention.

“I want yours next.” You tell him, shifting your weight and sending him a smile.

Satoru watches as you lean forward to lick Suguru’s cock, taking his precum on your tongue. He doubt he could handle anymore cumming, but he certainly loves to see you take cock down your throat. If he had more energy, he’d love to stuff his down as well. “Like it that much, y/n?” He chuckles.

Suguru’s eyes shoot to Satoru. “Jealous again, Satoru?? Well, the question is are you jealous cuz my cock is down her throat or are you jealous cuz it’s not down your throat?”

Satoru sucks his teeth. “I want to watch her take me balls deep.”

Uh oh.

Suguru removes his cock from your mouth. “Satoru,” you start, “I don’t think you have enough energy to keep that attitude up.” Indeed, his stamina is incredible.

Suguru waits to see his reaction.

And of course, the other man grins and only adds fuel to the fire. “Think she’d look better with my cock in her mouth. She’s been paying more attention to me than you anyways.”

“Satoru…” you sigh and in seconds Suguru has him pressed back into the bed and is beckoning for you to get on with him.

Satoru laughs. “Aw, did I bruise your ego, baby? What are you gonna do about it?”

Suguru points to his mouth. “Sit on him to shut him up and I’ll give him a nice view of my cock in your mouth.”

Fuck, that sounds hot. Satoru just grins and motions for you to ride his face, pointing at his eager tongue that’s already out and waiting.

“Y/n, make sure he stays quiet I don’t want to hear him make a single peep. And since he likes being punished so much, I’ll punish you instead if he speaks.”

What?

You blink. Undeniably aroused but a bit scared of his now very evident sadism. “You know he’s going to try to speak now on purpose?” Mercy isn’t exactly his thing right now but you’ll pry at it for sure.

Suguru gives you an evil grin as you lower your weeping pussy onto Satoru’s face. “Then keep his mouth shut.”

[auren-zagarra]

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day!

English is not my first language so forgive me if I make any mistakes.

Can I request Malleus with a female lover who is quite greedy and hungry? Not hungry for food, or greedy for jewels and lands, but for his love and undying attention, for him. She doesn't just want to be close, she wants to consume his essence along with everything he can offer her, as if fusion were the only way to quench her aching stomach.

I’m sorry if this is weird or confusing 😭

draco et reginae

Content Warning: Mallues x f!Reader, sexual content, greedy sex, MDNI

Characters Count: 5990

In the old tales - those whispered myths of princes, fairies, and kingdoms ruled by thyrans - dragons were always cast as greedy beasts. They hoarded coins that no longer held meaning, conquered kingdoms they could never rule and stole away princesses not for love, but for possession. But perhaps the stories were never quite honest. Perhaps the dragon’s hunger was not for gold or dominion, but for the forbidden. For that which shimmered with defiance, pulsed with life, and whispered, “you were never meant to touch this”. Oh, how exquisite it is - to hold what fate had never intended for your hands. And maybe, just maybe, the dragon never desired to own the princess… but to be destroyed by her.

You were Malleus’ princess, yes… but in truth, you also played the role of a dragon. It was not he who hoarded treasures or casted flames across kingdoms - it was you, with your greedy hands pulling him closer, your lips devouring his like fire hungrily kissing the edge of a temple. Your body moved against his with a need that transcended flesh, seeking friction not just for pleasure, but for something deeper… raw love. You did not fear him, as so many others did. You did not tremble before his blood or his otherworldly power. No - your soul sang for it: you craved not safety, but to give yourself wholly to the fae prince, to become the object of his longing, the creature of his most sacred desires. You longed to be undone beneath his touch - not as a victim, but as a willing offering, like a sacrifice for a mortal god. You did not wish to be saved, you wished to burn with him - your soul linked to his in a dance more precious than any crown, any throne, any fairy tale.

To say he wasn’t intrigued by this side of you would be a cruel and graceless lie. No, Malleus was enchanted. And you could see it in his eyes, those ancient emerald flames flickering with something dangerously close to amusement… and devotion. In your hunger, in the way you reached for him with reckless desire, there was no fear. And how could he not be drawn to that? How could a being so accustomed to the noble life not be captivated by the one soul who sought not his throne, nor his power, but his touch? You wanted more - more of his kisses, more of his presence, more of that strange, inhuman love he offered. It was not the love of a human prince, full of poetry and fragile promises. It was boundless as the night sky and deep as the roots of the earth. And still, he could never deny you.

Yes, Malleus Draconia, the fae prince feared across generations, held power vast enough to bend reality itself - yet in your presence, he was willing to kneel. You, who could command him with a whisper, not through magic but through the sacred weight of your longing. He would do anything you asked - not because of weakness, but because you were the one asking. And for all the histories carved in his name, all the might thrumming in his veins… he had never known a force more absolute than the spell you cast with nothing more than your gaze. He was a creature feared by many, and yet, before you, he was entirely, exquisitely at mercy.

You were straddling his lap, hands tangled at the nape of his neck as you pulled him down, as if you could tether a star to your gravity. The kiss you shared was no gentle caress - it was war, worship and surrender all at once. Tongues moved in a desperate rhythm, a dance choreographed not by grace, but by the hunger that smoldered between you. There was no time to think, no breath untouched by fire. You tried, for a moment, to keep your composure - to wear the mask of control, to remain dignified in the presence of a prince. But how could you? How could you when the man before you kissed you like he wanted to burn away every trace of that restraint? Malleus didn’t want you composed. He didn’t want your practiced elegance or polite restraint. He wanted your chaos and craving. And as he felt your body press closer, felt your fingers clutching at him with a desperation as primal as it was sacred, something within his chest stirred - a rare, fierce flutter. His heartbeat - usually slow and steady - stumbled for you… for the mortal who dared to kiss a king like she owned him. And at that moment, he welcomed it. The frenzy. The fall. The way your need fed his own… Because if this was madness, it was the kind he would gladly drown in.

Perhaps the moment you truly descended from your divine grace was the instant he entered you - slowly, yet with a hunger he could no longer restrain. There was a trembling care in his touch, as if he feared the sheer intimacy might unmake you both. And still, beneath that gentleness, a fire burned - quiet, intense. You remained astride him, your body trembling as his hips rose to meet yours, setting a rhythm that felt more like ritual than mere desire. It was a dance unbecoming of saints and angels, a liturgy of flesh that would never be sung in cathedrals - yet it was no less holy. Each thrust, each gasp, was a delicate desecration - and oh, what a beautiful sin it was. You clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his form, seeking refuge in the one place where time and titles held no meaning. Your moans, soft and breathless at first, gave way to something more raw, more urgent - your voice lifting his name like a sacred chant.

“Malleus…”

And how sweetly you spoke it, not with fear, but with need - with love. Your voice trembled like candlelight in a darkened hall, every syllable gilded in longing. He was power incarnate, a being respected and feared - but in this moment, he was yours entirely. Yours to guide, yours to take, yours to call. And he answered not as a prince or dragon, but as a man helpless in your greedy arms. This act, wrapped in velvet darkness and moonlit grace, though born from desire, meant something deeper… something divine in its defiance. And so, if this was sin - if you had indeed fallen - it was into something far more exquisite than heaven could ever offer.

[aurorasgate]

hii!! i hope you're having a good day!

moonlight + tracing scars with wriothesley please? thank you 🥰

wriothesley x reader

falling for you event (request closed)

i hope you're having a wonderful day! thank you for requesting something for my event<3

your heart beats in time with your steps, slow and steady, a comfortable pace that allows you to bask in the cooling night air that fills your lungs, kisses your cheeks, and lets you soak in the boundless feeling the night often brings. the same feeling that has you wondering when the last time wriothesley was able to enjoy such a clear starry sky or if perhaps he had ever looked up at the moon and hoped you were underneath it too.

the streets of fontaine are extra quiet tonight. there’s no rain. no wind. no clouds in the sky to cover the moon and stars. not another soul to be seen, to hear the click of your shoes against the stone path or the abrupt stop of them that kicks up dust when you turn a corner and spot the man in your thoughts standing in the distance.

your breath catches, like a bunny who has just stumbled into the same patch of grass as a lounging wolf, not wanting to make a sound lest you grab the wolfs attention. but it’s not worry that holds your lungs hostage or that makes your heart feel like it has burst into a million tiny butterflies, set to a uncontrollable drumming beat. it’s not fear of being caught that keeps your feet glued in place and your eyes unable to look away from your wolf admiring the moon.

you aren’t sure you have a word for it. the way wriothesley makes you feel or how unbelievable he looks bathed in moonlight is heart stopping. warm. safe. full of love. all in overwhelming amounts that leave you at the gently mercy of marred skin, bruised knuckles, a wolf who had never felt a touch as soft and tender as a bunny’s, and an ungodly amount of tea.

when you finally move closer, your first few steps echoing in the quite around you drawing his attention to you quickly, you see the moonlight has transformed the depths of his eyes into an ethereal mix of silver and hues of ice blue. it paints his scars in a soft glow that makes your fingers and lips ache to caress them too.

the smile he gives you does nothing to help the myriad of emotions swirling within you in a dizzying flurry that sends you straight into his arms, has you burying your face into his chest and your nose tickling with a hint of the osmanthus tea he must have had earlier.

before he can say anything, tease you, say something that would surely make your heart jump straight from your chest, with more evidence of your needy, wanting, state rather than the playfulness you tried to muster, you ask, “isn’t it late for you to still be in the city, your grace?”

wrapping his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth, wriothesley chuckles and the deep melody of it heats your cheeks and rumbles against you. “maybe,” he replies. “but i still have something i need to attend to before i return to the fortress.”

“oh?” keeping yourself flush against him, one of your hands comes from around his middle to his chest, slipping underneath the black fabric covering his neck to trace the scarred, discolored, skin underneath, feeling his heart beating under your finger tips. “what could be so special as to need your attention this late?”

“not what but who,” his voice is low in your ear, reserved only for you, as tuffs of dark hair tickle your cheek followed by the weight of his head pressing on yours and the tightening of his arms around you. “and it looks like i’ve arrived right on time.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[esouliie]

AN ANGEL FLUNG OUT OF SPACE

(natasha romanoff x fem! reader)

– synopsis | falling in love with your childhood bestfriend might have been one of the best yet scariest things to happen to you. but what happened in the summer of ‘97? what happened to your darling natalia?

– warnings | little fluff & a lot of angst, kind of au (no avengers), child abuse, mentions of: attempted suicide, self harm, body mutilation, burn marks, severe malnourishment (18+)

– notes | this was supposed to be a oneshot but, as usual, i spiralled out of control and now it has two chapters… potentially three? merci, mon alice, for the header @wandasgf ♡

[ word count: 4.4k ] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

JULY 1992

The sun had begun to set and yet the warmth of the day still lingered. The glow of the street lamps cast an amber hue on the pavement, outlining the familiar houses that lined the quiet street. The air was filled with the scent of summer, a blend of fresh grass and the distant fragrance of blooming flowers. In one of the houses on the street, a family gathered in their backyard for a summer evening barbecue. The smell of sizzling burgers and sweet barbecue sauce wafted through the air, and the faint laughter of children chasing each other echoed, while the adults lounged and swapped stories.

Meanwhile, across the field, two girls were beneath the sprawling branches of a willow tree. A patchwork quilt, covering a section of flattened grass, held a tea set long forgotten as they had rounded the thick trunk, the littlest one already perched on the wooden swing.

“Push me higher, Natty!” You exclaimed, voice full of glee. You were only a small girl with wild hair and a toothy grin, but your spirit was boundless.

Natalia smiled brightly, her own eyes sparkling with joy at her friend's excitement. “You’re already so high you could see the Empire State Building.” She teased, her laughter blending with the sound of chirping crickets amongst the long grass in the distance.

“I know!” The wind whipped against your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh.

Inseparable since Natalia moved in next door, your friendship blossomed under the protective branches of the willow tree across the street, where a swing hung proudly in the breeze. Its gentle leaves whispered secrets that only the two of you could hear, dreams of the future etched upon its bark, as unadulterated laughter rang true with its sway.

She whistled as your head swung back, the carefree spirit of the summer evening enveloping her in its warm embrace. And as she gazed up at the tree’s opening, she found twinkling stars above and the imaginary distant silhouette of the Empire State Building visible on the horizon. She couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the vastness of the world she had yet to see.

"Whoa, this is amazing." You shouted, feeling your stomach drop with each swoop. "Let’s swing all the way to the moon!"

“Maybe not the moon,” She pushed harder, her hands gripping the thick plank of wood beneath you, “But let’s try for the stars."

You shouted with as much euphemism as your little body could handle as the swing reached its peak. Weightless under its motion, you were suspended between the sky and the ground.

 An angel flung out of space.

 "I can almost touch the stars!"

She smiled. Despite her hands being rubbed red raw from rope burn, she was happy. She was always happy to be with you. While she had her younger sister, Yelena, whom she cared for deeply, it wasn't the same as having you. A friendship of her own creation. She yearned for the summer days when she could run around like a child with you.

“That’s good, that means you’re almost home, little star.” She shouted, her accent slipping out ever so subtly.

Carefully, your hand stretched toward the night sky – a poor attempt to touch the boiling balls of gas above.

You both were happy.

It’s sad what became of you both.

All too soon, reality intruded once more. The distant sound of a heavy door opening cut through the air, a gentle reminder that all good things must come to an end. With a final push, Nat stepped back and held onto the plank, commanding it to a halt. She knew what was coming.

At first, you didn’t notice her disappear around the wide trunk. But the gentle clink of pottery against one another told you enough as you followed in her footsteps.

“Natalia,” You whined, hands on your waist at the sight of the older girl cleaning up. “No, it’s your turn to swing.”

A whistle pierced the air, its familiar shrill sound gaining both of your attention. The sound of home time. “Natalia, come. Time to go.” Her mother’s voice carried just as loud, urging the redhead to leave playtime behind.

She turned to you, her expression softening as she looked down at your smaller frame. With a mixture of reluctance and understanding, she pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of her arms wrapped around you, the gentle press of her lips against your forehead lingered for a moment before she released you and ran off into the gathering dusk.

Alone now, you watched as the field fell silent, the only sound being of the insects hidden in the dark. The swing on the other side croaked gently in response to the light breeze and the redhead’s swift departure. For a moment, you considered sitting on it, perhaps pushing yourself back and forth on the points of your feet. Instead, you find yourself standing there: the absence of your best friend ever so palpable, a void that sunk deep into your bones.

Without Natalia by your side, the swing held little allure, and you decided to make your way back home. With your large basket in hand, you reached your own doorstep and paused, casting one last glance towards the girl’s house. The lights were on inside, casting a warm glow against the darkness outside.

You almost missed it, but a glimpse of red hair appeared out the window, followed by a hand waving at you. As soon as you waved back, she was gone. Window shut. Curtains drawn.

You went to bed with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.

You’ll see her again tomorrow.

--

AUGUST 1997

“Natalia, stop fighting me on this. You look like a popsicle.” You laughed and shoved the girl playfully from where you were sitting against the willow tree.

“It's cool.” She defended, as her hand tugged at her blue-dyed ends.

The years had rolled by, but the memories of that swing under the willow tree lingered on in your heart. As the seasons changed, so did your life. You made new friends, explored different interests, and navigated the tumultuous journey of adolescence. Being older than you, Natalia was already in high school, but she didn’t go to any in the district, as she was home-schooled and sometimes had to leave for a while. She never really told you why.

Even so, your bond deepened and an unspoken connection developed between you both. Under the tree's comforting shade, you discovered a warmth in your heart that went beyond friendship. Those lazy summer afternoons spent laughing, dreaming, and sharing secrets created a bond that you wanted to explore further.

You’d never felt like this before for anyone.

Only Natalia.

Life as a pre-teen was so confusing.

You snorted, “Yeah, okay, you leave for a month and come back with half of your hair a different colour.”

But it wasn't just the hair colour that captivated you. It was the way she carried herself - a wisdom wise beyond her years. She was the same goofy redhead of course - her eyes sparkled with mischief when she laughed at you, her hand held the same warmth in yours as you walked together. But there was something else lurking beneath, a sadness more notable than her usual melancholy. You noticed the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers tapped nervously against each other.

Something was weighing on her mind, something significant. So, you asked, “What’s wrong?”

She let out such a soft sigh that you almost missed it.

“I’m leaving.”

Dread washed over you, and a knot formed in your stomach. "Again?"

She had just returned the other day. Your mind raced with questions and uncertainty and the tears already clustered your lash line. You, a child with no need to mask her emotions, no need to hide her soul, unlike Natalia, who always seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, her laughter always accompanied by a subtle sadness, as if she were trying to conceal her true feelings behind a façade of cheerfulness. But today, as she sat you down with a gentle tug, her eyes betraying a mixture of resolve and sorrow, you sensed that she could no longer hide what she'd been keeping inside.

"It's for good this time," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground as if unable to meet your eyes. "My parents want to go back to Russia. They don’t like it here.”

Though unspoken, you sensed the weight of what she meant. They don't like you. It stung, a silent acknowledgement of the barriers you've fallen blind to. The odd glances from her mother, the subtle disapproval from her younger sister—all pieces of a puzzle you've tried to ignore.

Her admission hung heavy in the air, the reality of separation sinking in with each passing moment. She drew closer, her delicate fingers brushing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks. You lifted your gaze to meet hers, noticing the weariness etched into her features, the telltale signs of tears already shed hours before.

“I’ll miss you.” She whispered, forehead flushed against yours, before leaning down to kiss the corner of your lips. An almost kiss. One of many shared underneath the cover of the willow tree.

You tasted saltiness and noticed the fresh tears that had now sprung from her eyes.

“I'll miss you too. Forever.”

The next morning, you stood outside her house, as the sun cast long shadows over their lawn. It was your last full day together so you arrived bright and early, not wanting to waste any time. You reached out to knock on the door, but your hand hovered, hesitant. The house remained still, as if holding its breath, waiting for something that would never come. You glanced around, searching for any sign of life, but the windows stared back at you blankly, revealing nothing but darkness within.

“Natty?”

 Nothing.

A sinking feeling gnawed at your stomach as you realized they must've left in the night, slipping away like shadows fleeing from the dawn. The same way they joined this neighbourhood.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the empty house, feeling as if a piece of your soul had been torn away with their departure. The world already seemed colder, lonelier, devoid of her warmth and laughter that once filled it.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to the tree – yours and Natalia’s safe haven. You sat there, surrounded by memories, as the rope swayed in the wind - empty and forlorn. Though still magical, the willow tree could no longer shield you from the loneliness that settled in your heart, as the summer months stretched on endlessly, a blur of empty hours filled with longing and regret.

That night, you slept with a permanent frown, a puddle of tears staining your pillow.

You won’t see her again tomorrow.

--

APRIL 2001

From afar, she looked different. Almost unrecognisable.

Eighteen years old and she was here: barely an adult yet taller and slimmer, with a cascade of auburn curls framing her face that replaced the short blue hair you remembered. The years had engraved themselves onto her, carving the once-round face into a pointed visage that spoke of both experience and loss.

Just as beautiful as you remembered.

You sat on the swing under the tree with a book in hand, lost in its pages until light danced between the branches and a flicker of movement caught your attention. Glancing up, you froze as you saw her across the street.

Natalia?

Your heart quickened its pace, memories flooding back in a torrent. But this woman was different. She’d changed. She’d grown.

She noticed you too, her gaze locking onto yours for a moment. There's a flicker of recognition, a spark of something in those eyes. For a heartbeat, it feels like time hasn't passed, like you're still the same two little girls taking on the world together. But then, just as quickly as the connection formed, she averted her gaze, choosing instead to continue on her journey. She walked with purpose, footsteps marching in a steady rhythm that both connected and distanced her from you. She couldn’t get caught up with you. She had a job to do.

Realising she was going to walk away, you pushed yourself off the swing, a mix of hope and nerves swirling inside you as you discarded the book somewhere in the grass.

None of that mattered. Natalia was here. She was back.

“Hey, wait!” You shouted, practically running after her. You reached out to grab her wrist, but she jerked away, shoving you back a few steps with surprising force.

Up close, the difference was unquestionable.

The once soft and kind Natalia had evolved into a hardened version of herself, sharpened by strong fists. Her eyes once filled with innocence, now harbour shadows of pain and resilience. She exuded an aura of toughness, and a guarded silence had replaced the laughter that used to be a melody in her voice.

“Natalia? What are you doing here?” You inquired, tentatively closing the gap between you both. You watched as she winced at her name falling from your lips.

And yet, this time, she didn’t evade your touch. Her hand trembled slightly as it met yours, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. In that fleeting silence, you took in the toll life has taken on her. Her arms bear the marks of countless scars, remnants of battles fought in shadows, and bruises of varying hues.

“What happened to your arms?” Your voice is gentle, a soft inquiry borne out of concern.

But, the sudden confrontation had her retreating into herself, defences rising once more like impenetrable walls. You mustn’t know. She could never do that to you. “Let go.” She demanded sharply, her tone cutting through the air like a knife.

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but that’s long enough for her to decide to rip her hand out of yours, sharp and abrupt.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched her practically flee, disappearing around the corner of the street.

 You don’t follow her.

--

OCTOBER 2012

Funny how throughout life, fate seemed to play a game with you, pulling Natalia in and out of your orbit like a cosmic dance.

At twenty-seven, you found yourself entrenched in the fast-paced world of trauma nursing. After the arduous journey through medical school, you packed your bags and set your sights on the East Coast. New York City welcomed you with open arms, its vibrant chaos becoming the backdrop to your new life. From your boss’s office window, the silhouette of the Empire State Building stood tall, a symbol of strength amidst the chaos below.

You thrived in this environment, relishing in the opportunity to connect with and assist people in their most vulnerable moments. The adrenaline rush of the emergency room, the delicate balance between life and death—it fuelled you in ways nothing else could. Not since that summer night. Not since you tried to touch the stars.

Today, however, the hospital was enveloped in an air of secrecy and quiet urgency. Paramedics had rushed in with a new patient a few hours ago, shrouded in mystery as they were rushed straight into surgery. Usually, you're first on-site with incoming patients but you had been busy working your rounds to be able to assist, and there were enough on the trauma team – with the security clearance - to handle such a situation.

Stopping by the bedside of your oldest patient, Mrs. Dinton, you smiled sweetly. “Hey, Mrs Dinton. How are we today?”

"Ah, there you are, dearie," she said, her voice crackling with age. "I was just telling Nurse Molly here about the delightful hospital pudding they serve on Wednesdays. It's simply divine, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, waving a hello to your colleague. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a fan, Mrs. Dinton. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it."

She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "Oh, well, means more for me then."

Before you could continue the conversation – could reprimand the elderly woman about how she needs to watch her sugar intake - Dr. Cho appeared at your side, her expression serious. "Excuse me, ladies. But, Nurse Y/N, is needed elsewhere." She says kindly but with a hint of urgency, no room for questioning. You and Dr. Cho were great friends, having graduated med school together and now working at the same hospital.

“What is it, Helen?” You asked, following her footsteps out the ward, navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the hospital.

“I’ve been assigned postoperative care for the Jane Doe and I want you with me...” Your heart dropped at the mention of the mystery woman.

All day, the hushed tones and covert glances exchanged among your colleagues hinted at the gravity of the situation. Their whispers that followed you through the hospital corridors spoke of a failed suicide attempt. While the hospital had sadly seen its share of such cases, this one was different – a Jane Doe, requiring an unusual degree of privacy.

“…while I don’t know any more than you about what happened, I trust you the most to help me with her. So I got you clearance. Go grab us a pair of gloves, I’ll meet you inside.” Helen finished with a nod before entering the private wing.

You donned your own pair of latex and made your way back to the private wing, the click of your shoes echoing down the corridor. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and concern. The weight of the unknown pressed upon you as you approached the room where the troubled soul awaited treatment. Few years being a trauma nurse, you had seen it all… but not a Jane Doe. Never a Jane Doe.

Upon entering, you found Helen already studying the patient's chart. The subdued lighting in the room cast a sombre mood, and the machines hummed softly in the background. The Jane Doe was laid on the hospital bed, head secured in a neck brace and a tube down her throat, a silent testament to the ordeal she had endured.

“Thanks,” Helen whispered, making her way over to retrieve her gloves. "I've gone through everything in the notes. The attempt was pretty severe."

You nodded, taking in the gravity of the situation. The silence was broken only by the soft beeping of the monitors as you both began your work. Each movement was deliberate, and each procedure executed with precision and empathy. You adjusted the IV drip, checked the vital signs, and made sure everything was in order.

Sometime later, Helen had left, her pager going off as her presence was needed with another incoming patient.  The room seemed to hold its breath, but it was only you. The machine to your right, making sure the woman was still breathing.

You read over her notes once more.

“Female, 5’7…” You ramble aimlessly to no one as you find yourself unable to voice the rest.

The laceration on her neck caught your attention. The wound stretched across her delicate skin, a jagged seam where the surgeons' skilled hands had meticulously stitched the deep gash closed. The edges of the cut were puckered slightly, evidence of the trauma dealt with by the knife paramedics found next to her unconscious body. Judging by the shape, it seemed like she plunged rather than sliced, the offending weapon, then, pulled out instead of left inside. She was quite malnourished, her cheeks hollowed out, collarbone visible as the gown drowned her thin figure. She lacked a sufficient amount of muscle. You wondered how someone could go unnoticed without eating for several days. It was as if she had become a ghost, fading away in plain sight.

The woman looked ill - eyes sunken with abnormally pale skin. Drifting down her body, you noticed her legs. A horrified gasp threatened to leave your lips.  Raised red lines covered the expanse of her legs, some scabbed up, some clear burn marks that had turned into blisters. Her arms were just as bad, marred with a history of wounds that ran from her wrists to her shoulders.

Behind all the equipment, her face was almost unrecognisable. Her hair was what stood out the most, the auburn curls matted with blood. A sense of familiarity washed over you, the red striking your curiosity.

You couldn't tear your gaze away as you watched her stir. Unsure if she was waking or simply moving unconsciously, you remained still, not wanting to startle her. But then her face contorted with pain, and her lashes began to flutter open.

The sheets rustled as she tried to turn, her discomfort evident from the way she struggled against the tubes and wires tethering her to the medical machinery. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her, lying there in such a vulnerable state. No identity. No family to be there for her.

"Stay still, please.” You whispered softly, stepping closer to her bedside. “You're in the hospital. You’re safe."

Her eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, met yours for a fleeting moment before flickering away. She seemed to be trying to process where she was and what had happened.

“Paramedics found you unconscious and rushed you in.” You explained gently, hoping to offer some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “You had a wound to the neck. We’ve managed to close it, so don’t move around too much. Otherwise, you might open the stitches.”

Her gaze drifted back to you, and for a moment there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. It was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You saw as she went to speak, only to find pain and a heavy weight against her tongue. “Careful. You shouldn’t try to speak yet. We’re not sure how much damage has been done to your vocal cords.”

As if she didn’t hear you, she continued fidgeting, fighting against the intrusion in her mouth, panic overriding.

“Hey, listen to me,” you coaxed, voice soft but firm, your hand reaching out to settle over hers, the glove long forgotten. “I need you to calm down, please. You’re going to be okay. You just need to rest your voice.”

Her eyes darted to you, wide with fear and frustration, and you squeezed her hand gently, offering what little comfort you could.

“It’s going to be alright, just take slow breaths. Focus on that.” You started to breathe deeply, deliberately, hoping she'd follow your lead. Inhale... exhale... in a steady rhythm, like waves lapping against the shore

As you continued to focus on stabilising her breathing, your eyes inadvertently met hers, and in that moment, you were drawn into the depths of those vibrant green orbs. They held a world of pain, swirling like a tempestuous storm beneath the surface. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there's a glimmer of familiarity that tugged at the corners of your memory.

There’s something about her you can’t make sense of.

 Why does she look so familiar? Who is she?

“Do I know you?” You almost asked, but then suddenly, the door to the waiting room clicked open, and Helen strode in, her expression wavering as she noticed the woman awake. “She’s awake already?!” Shock and bewilderment visible on her face.

She advanced, quickly spewing off questions in your direction, as her eyes narrowed in on the woman, assessing her condition with a quick, practised glance.

"She's awake, a little panicked about being in a hospital, but also a bit disoriented," you explained, voice calm despite the urgency of the situation. "Vitals are stable for now.”

With that, you stepped away, dropping her hand you had forgotten you were still holding, as Helen went to introduce herself. Your lunch break was coming up and before you could turn to leave the room, Helen stopped you. "Thank you for staying with her," she said softly, "There was a car accident. Two little girls rushed in for surgery. They needed me."

You nodded in understanding. You couldn’t fault her. Every day seemed to bring a new challenge, a new story, and today was no different. This Jane Doe was no different.

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, she interrupted, “Anyways, I’m here now and pager is off,” she drew your attention to the device in her pocket, “Boss’s order...  now go take your lunch break.”

With a small smile, you left the room, the door softly closing behind you. Walking down the hallways, your mind buzzed with curiosity about the woman. Her face – those eyes - nagged at the edges of your memory, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Where do I know you from, Jane Doe?

[nomsfaultau]

Dark SBI where Philza is a nice normal human man whose family slowly gets replaced by super natural creatures. The youngest is the first to go, replaced by 'Tommy', a shape shifting imp who decided he liked the skin of the kid and decided to keep it. He lives for chaos, but his motives falter when he experiences genuine love for the first time. Then 'Wilbur' replaces another son in classic changeling fashion, the boy taken to fulfill the whims of the fae and leaving in his place a bitter boy who knows he's an inferior version. Finally, the last son becomes plagued by dark voices that grow worse and worse, leading him succumbing to possession by 'Technoblade', who thinks he'll make the perfect new vessel after the last one was destroyed. 'Technoblade' doesn't want to lose his new vessel so soon after the last one, 'Wilbur' was trained from birth to mimic the human he would replace, and 'Tommy' wants an identity he can fall back on to play innocent if he gets in trouble. It takes awhile before the others realize all three kids are imposters. There's friction, of course, but they eventually make a pact to continue pretending to be a sweet and unsuspecting family.

The thing is...Philza isn't dumb. There's this awful feeling in his gut, and he has a sharp eye for details that don't add up. He's increasingly certain these things aren't his children. He quietly gathers evidence, and the moment he's sure...he does nothing. Philza carries on in a careful pantomime of a perfectly loving family, terrified of what they'll do to him if they realize he knows their true natures. He smothers his fear and offers them warm smiles and boundless mercy and tender affection the likes of which the imposter children have never known before. Slowly, it becomes a easier for everyone to pretend.

Maybe, if Philza's kind enough, they won't kill him, or worse. Maybe if he's good enough, their evil natures will soften. Maybe, if he's patient enough, they'll give him his real kids back.

And the moment they do, he'll slaughter every last one of the monsters who destroyed his family.

[pistatsia]

OKAY so the only thing I want to say about yesterday's spoilers (Ness backstory) is that borderliner* Ness is canon now lol

✅ explosive anger

✅ feeling neglected, alone, misunderstood most of the time

✅ low self-esteem and the resulting self-hatred

✅ strong, overwhelming emotions

(feelings that can't be explained == too high (for average person) bursts of them. Inability to handle them)

✅ black and white thinking

(Isagi's either good (tosses to Kaiser) or bad (doesn't toss to Kaiser) lol)

✅ fear of abandonment + self-harm

✅ very intense, frequent, extreme emotional swings

(difference of one second)

(difference of one second pt.2)

✅ maladaptive daydreaming

✅ determining one's value through relationships with others

✅ unstable relationships

I'm really disappointed that chapter haven't shown Ness' attempts to gain his parents and siblings love but, eh, okay. I can work with that

*

A little background on who people with borderline personality disorder are and where do they come from. (Of course, each case is unique. I'm talking about the average manifestation of the disorder here.)

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a type of personality disorder in which a person is unstable, hypersensitive, highly anxious, and has no sense of self (no feeling of identity). One in ten patients end up committing suicide.

In fact, borderliners are people with no emotional skin. What for a stable person is a small domestic nuisance - for a borderliner is boundless terror, fear, a complete sense of helplessness and overwhelming self-loathing. Are you sick? It's your fault, you're worthless. You forgot your pass and had to buy an underground ticket? You're disgusting, step under a train right now. You forgot the food in the fridge and it spoilt? Don't you dare eat for another three days, punish yourself, cut yourself because you're nothing. That's not an exaggeration, it's true. And then you see an advert with a doggy and you laugh until you cry and all is fine.

It's like that dozens of times in one day.

Why do borderliners work this way? Heredity plays a role (which in Ness's case can be seen, for example, by the fact that he reacted acutely to some things even as a child), but to a greater extent, of course, the family, because when BPD is treated in the early stages, it is more easily reduced to remission (but does not disappear completely - it is like the core of the personality). Speaking of family types, typically borderliners come out of families with a narcissistic parent or the same borderline. Why exactly is that the case?

Because life with a narcissist/borderliner parent is an endless battlefield in which the child is forced to survive. Any emotion you have, if it doesn't fall under the parent's incomprehensible ideas, is repulsive. Any request you make and attempt to speak your mind is a violation of all laws and the worst offence. Today you're the golden child, tomorrow you're trash. Today your mom says she loves you, and tomorrow she blames you for divorcing your dad. Today dad likes the tea you made him, tomorrow he'll throw it in your face. It's a constant violation of personal space, an inability to have privacy, an impossibility to defend your interests - and yet a staggering neglect, a removal of the child from your life. Parents in such families usually divide their children into "golden" and "outcast" children, emphasising in every possible way how terrible the lousy sheep of the family (the outcast child) is, and encouraging bullying by their siblings.

Sounds similar to Ness's story, doesn't it?

In such families, the child by the age of 6 or 7 already knows that he is disgusting, horrible, and must do anything to avoid being abandoned - because the parents emphasise in every possible way that he is horrible, but they (for now) keep him out of mercy. A child learns by the slightest movement of the eyebrows and corner of the mouth to know when mom loves you and when she hates you, when dad is good and when he's bad.

The childhood of such children is a battlefield, and they come out of it emotionally disabled. For example, a very common consequence of living in such a family, in addition to BPD, is PTSD. Yeah, like war veterans.

(and by the way, borderliners VERY often end up paired with… Narcissists. Because it's a familiar love-hate game. And on top of that, also a beautiful (non-existent) personality to take a bite out of for your non-existent self))

[ninibeingdelulu]

"Ah, my beloved wife"

plot- you love your husband’s caresses CLICK ME

Your eyes drifted open and closed lazily in that deliciously hazy space between wakefulness and slumber.

The quiet crackling of the fireplace filled the cozy bedroom with a soothing ambiance of gentle warmth and hushed tranquility.

Kento's solid, reassuring presence radiated all around you as you burrowed deeper into the plush haven of his lap - his sturdy frame reclined against the ornate oak headboard.

The soothing scent of sandalwood and inky parchment from the ancient tome cradled in his large, calloused palms enveloped you like a tender embrace.

To the tranquil lullaby of the fire's languid popping and the occasional crinkle of paper when he turned a page, you felt your overworked body surrendering inch by glorious inch into total relaxation.

Particularly when Kento's free hand found its way into your tousled tresses, calloused fingertips kneading away the lingering tension behind your temples with firm, circular sweeps.

A low, wordless hum of pure bliss rumbled up unbidden from the back of your throat.

You practically melted into a boneless puddle against his inner thigh - any remaining traces of the week's tedious demands dissolving beneath the gentle, reverent worship of your husband's touch.

Kento's chest vibrated with a quiet chuckle at your unguarded response, momentarily distracting your blissed-out daze. You frowned faintly, brow furrowing as his clever digits reluctantly receded from carding through those silky strands so he could turn the page properly.

The brief reprieve in his ministrations had you shifting with a petulant little whine escaping before you could catch it.

Thankfully, Kento swiftly capped the moment of protest by smoothing that roughened palm along the curve of your cheek with a tender murmur.

"So demanding this evening, my darling..."

His rich timbre cascaded over your senses in warm, velvety waves as he leaned in to dust a fond kiss across your forehead.

"Almost makes me wonder if I married a puppy rather than my beloved wife."

You cracked open one eye in a belabored show of indignation, peering up at him through a smoky fan of lashes with the full force of your most pitiful pout.

But Kento simply laughed again in good-natured exasperation before settling back against the cushioned oak - effectively cradling you firmly against his chest as he resumed those heavenly strokes along your scalp.

"Easy now, easy..." he chided playfully, scratching blunt nails in soothing circles that instantly unwound the tension knotting your furrowed brow.

"I wouldn't dream of neglecting the pampering someone as precious as you deserves for even a second."

A dazed, contented hum slipped past your lips as you nuzzled further into that welcome cocoon of sturdy, masculine warmth.

Eyes fluttering shut once more as your consciousness grew cottony and distant beyond the encompassing refuge of his fervent embrace.

So close you could've sworn your erratic heartbeats gradually melded into a singular, languid pulse bound up in the sacred ritual of giving and receiving wholehearted devotion with the most extraordinary man you'd ever known.

Even after all these years, nothing would ever make you feel as fiercely loved, protected, and alive as the simple privilege of basking in Kento's reverent adoration.

Body, mind, heart and soul so thoroughly saturated in his boundless care that no lingering burdens or doubts could help but disperse into ash on the wings of your shared sanctuary.

Where not even the cruel outside world could encroach - only the rhythm of midnight promises shared between souls ascendant in blissful rapture under the merciful spell of reciprocal love.

[voiceforjesus]

Today's Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I come before You in humility and faith, calling upon Your beloved Son, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. In Your boundless love and grace, cleanse my heart of all that separates me from You. Through Your sacrifice on the cross, You redeemed the lost and broken. Look upon me with compassion, and renew my spirit with Your light. In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

[hallowedhaunting]

The first thing Daniel was aware of were the nails against his scalp. 

Hard, cold, like glass or metal, yet flexible and organic– and always just the edge, the maddening edge. Daniel would recognize those nails anywhere. His subconscious was straining toward that touch before the world began to imprint on the backs of his eyelids, and his desperation drew it into rapid focus. Those nails stroked, stroked, until his skin hummed with pleasure. 

The room revealed itself. Nightstand, lamp. Snowflakes drifting past the high-rise window. Digital clock flashing red numbers into the dark. And then the white figure above him, blotting out the haze of the ceiling, burnished by the distant city lights. 

“Good evening, Daniel.” 

Armand. 

He was wearing wool today— white silk shirt, dark wool pants, hair like a halo around his angelic face. He gazed down at Daniel with utmost tenderness, and as Daniel blinked blearily Armand’s fingertips slid to trace his ear instead. There was joy swelling up within Daniel– bright, boundless, ineffable joy– but Daniel wouldn’t show it. He squinted at the clock instead. 

“How long have you been here for?”

“An hour and a half.”

The numbers finally made sense– seven in the evening. Far into the dense darkness of New York’s winter nights. Daniel let his head fall, eyes drifting closed again, and Armand tucked his hair behind his ears. 

“So you just sat here and watched me sleep?” 

“Does that disturb you?”

“If that was enough to disturb me,” Daniel muttered, “I would have run off a long time ago.”

There was a breath above him— laughter. Yet warmth kindled within Daniel at the idea of Armand’s company, at being helpless at his mercy, and he hated it, for he knew Armand could feel it in his mind along with him. He glanced up nonetheless. 

The fond smile. The warm, loving eyes. Those heavy lashes low, fingers curling around the shell of Daniel’s ear.

Awake for five minutes and Daniel was already feeling like this. 

“You look beautiful when you sleep,” Armand murmured. “So innocent when you’re unguarded.”

That warmth sparked to blazing life. Daniel was aware of his pulse now, dull in his chest. The fingertips left his ear, trailing lightly over his throat instead. Submandibular, jugular. Could Armand feel his heart pounding just beneath his skin?

He wouldn’t think of this. He stared at his desk, ignoring the way those nails traced his veins in small, langurous circles. His desk, which was covered in crumpled notes, ashtray overflowing, empty beer bottles casting jewel-toned shadows where the light caught them. What had he been doing before he’d fallen asleep? Trying to write. Some fraction of some interview with someone he’d already forgotten. In his notepad, because his typewriter needed a ribbon.

It had needed a ribbon for a few months now. And the notepad was empty on his desk, and his pen had fallen somewhere beneath it long ago.

Yes.

He’d merely been waiting for this.

[AO3]

[ambrosialdesire]

bounded

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 eren x fem!reader word count: 2.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, one-sided pining, childhood friends, p*rn w/ plot, non-con, manipulation, guilt-tripping, loss of virginity, forced fingering, forced f oral sex, vaginal sex, bounded hands (kinda), panty-gag, praise & degradation, slight edging, spitting, hair-pulling, forced cheating, all characters are 18+ synopsis: ignoring the romantic feelings of the man you thought was your beloved childhood best friend was never your intention, but you should have given eren a shot. maybe then you wouldn't be begging for forgiveness underneath the star-filled sky. a/n: continuation of boundless, as requested by many anons hehe so this is just straight up smut, mostly cause i'm still practicing how to write it. no i will not write a third part of this little series but i will accept asks about it just like any other fic i've written. i also reached over 500 likes since the start of this blog and i wanna thank y'all sm for the support!! i really didn't expect this much love towards my silly writing and i'm really grateful to be able to share a small piece of what i like to do. have fun with the read! i would love some feedback on the smut and how to improve it cause i feel like it's not up to par lol note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

A good god would never hurt their creations.

A good god would never bestow pain, sickness, or selfishness within their creations.

A good god would be morally just.

If there was a god here, they wouldn't have created this hellhole called Paradis. If there was one, what a cruel and merciless creator they'd be for letting thousands upon thousands of cannibalistic monsters live across the land.

No amount of written literature or street-wide sermons could convince you that any sort of higher being would create this generational agony out of the kindness of their heart. What was the lesson that humanity needed to learn? Why create this animosity towards the beings that you supposedly love?

You believed in no god. No merciful god was able to exist on this forsaken island.

Yet as Eren pressed the pads of his fingertips against the nub of your clit, the pleading incantations for something or someone — anyone — could not cease from spilling out from behind the cloth.

He sighed in annoyance but still rubbed it in slow circles. "I'd love to hear your voice but you know the rules up here. You don't want to get in trouble do you?"

The amount of pressure around your wrists tightened to the point that you thought he was going to break them, hot tears spilling out of your cheeks. To the best of your ability, you tried relaxing but your legs tensed and squeezed around Eren's waist as he began to pick up the pacing. You wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt you, the dearest boy that you've loved ever since the two of you were little.

"Good girl." He quietly praised under his breath and you couldn't help but feel your heart ignorantly skip from those simple words, parts of his now-long brown hair falling over his eyes as he focused on your lower half.

His eyes had always reminded you of a clear morning sky, bright and confidently focused on the future ahead of him. You've adored those turquoise-blue eyes of his for years, admiration running through your veins whenever you shared a look with him. Now as you were able to catch a glance of them as he played with your now-throbbing clit, only dread crawled up your spine.

He was unrecognizable, a build-up of years of pain and resentment rippling off in a dark stormy sky. This was someone who simply existed to get revenge, tearing through everything to get what he wanted in the end.

This man wasn't your best friend. This man was not your Eren. This was no longer the boy that you playfully chased after over hills and through alleys. Whoever this was on top of you is a stranger.

A monster.

A demon.

He began to dip two of his fingers into your hole, a small shudder of breath escaping you as he slowly pushed one of his digits in. "Fuck, you're tight. That asshole doesn't know what the hell he's doing with you."

It hurt, the stretch from only two of his lithe fingers was foreign to your body. The sound of them going in and out with the slightest sounds of squelching made you cringe internally.

Your boyfriend never touched you once, both you and him promised to save each other until marriage. The idea gave you comfort at the time that no matter what, this fight will be worth it in the end. Since the Titans started to slowly thin out, the chance of finally starting a family with him became even more likely. It seemed that the world thought otherwise, digging its claws deep within your flesh. You shook your head towards Eren, who raised a confused eyebrow before grinning ear-to-ear.

"Don't tell me he never touched you?" He let go of your wrists and the warmth of his hand left from between your thighs. You thought he was letting you go scot-free. The two of you would just forget this night ever happened and go back to pretending that you were the best of friends. Unfortunately, you thought wrong.

Once Eren got an idea in his head, it was difficult to convince him otherwise.

He suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling your lower body close to his face, your legs dangling on-top of his shoulders. His arms tightly wrapped around your stomach and held you upside down, blood rushing to your head. You struggled around for a little bit, confusion and terror melding into your expression before he pressed his mouth against your hardened clit and sucked.

"He's missing out then." He groaned and the vibrations shot through your body, hands gripping at the blanket underneath you. Like a starved man, he lapped up your fluids like it was going to be his last meal. You felt dizzy, from the position you were in and how feverishly focused he was as he continued to lick your folds. A muffled whine came out of your mouth as his tongue started to tease around your slick opening, your head shaking back and forth as you stared at him with scared eyes.

Eren ignored you, squeezing your body even closer to his, tongue now slipping in. He started to hold you with one arm and reached over to play with your clit as he prodded the muscle in you, your legs squeezing around his head. You tried to ignore the pulse in your core when you felt him press against your back, the tears coming back in full force. Never in years have you felt this powerless, especially when it was coming from the very person that you've always looked highly upon.

You felt disgusted as his saliva intertwined with your slick began to drip down your pussy, the flesh becoming glistened in the moonlight. Feeling his fingers soon dip in along with his tongue had you loudly exhale into the gag, your legs shaking as the tips of his fingers brushed against a particular spot with you. He kept poking and prodding till you could feel a heavy pressure build up in the pit of your stomach, an exploding desire to finally release something in your body had your eyes tightly closed shut.

You tried imagining the man that was enjoying you was your boyfriend, that this was your honeymoon and that he was the one that was pleasing you. Yet your body and mind refused to think picture him. The hands and fingers that touched you was far too calloused to be his. The hair that brushed against your inner thighs was too long. The body against yours was more muscular than his.

No matter what you tried to deny, this was Eren. Completely and wholly Eren.

A throaty groan made your whole body tense up and your eyes shoot back open. Eren finally pulled away from your lower half, his eyes half-lidded and dazed with lust. You were in a haze, confused and partially irritated that the pleasure was suddenly stopped, leaving you horridly unsatisfied. His mouth was covered with your fluids and you watched him run a tongue over his lips, a grin forming as he knew what you were thinking.

"I wanna feel you cum on my mouth another time. If I waited any longer, I would've came in my pants." He teased, letting you finally rest flat back on the blanket. You heard the click of his belt and the shuffle of his pants being pulled down, his lower half settling back in-between you.

"Watch me put it in." You shook your head in refusal and closed your eyes once more, but he didn't take that response well from the way he grabbed the top of your head and pulled at the hair roughly for you to look down.

"I said watch." He bore his teeth at you as tears formed in the corners of your eyes, the pain making you open them back up. You wished that you kept them closed, your breaths beginning to quicken as you realized his cockhead was getting close to your entrance.

It was a pretty cock, not too girthy nor was it too short. The tip was flushed a soft pink from what you could see in the moonlight, already dripping and glossy with precum. Tufts of dark brown hair trailed down towards the base of it and there was a shadow of a protruding vein that you were able to see on the side of his shaft.

Eren used his other hand to align himself to your hole, and you begrudgingly watched and felt him slowly sheath himself into your pussy. Agony was the first sensation that shot through your body, hands twisting the filthy sheet underneath you. The stretch burned your core and you painfully whined against the gag.

"Fuck — fuckkk — you're so warm and tight." He moaned as he released his hand from your hair. You felt grateful that he hadn't made any sudden movements, letting you at least adjust to the insertion. Perhaps there was still some form of compassion in the man you knew.

His hands went to your hips, gripping and kneading around the fat. You could feel him shaking, his cock twitching against your walls. Eren was never good at restraining himself and it showed, a muffled cry slipping out of you as he began to thrust without warning. You watched as his dick rhythmically slid in and out of you, splitting you in two.

"You're fucking mine, you hear me?" He hissed as he continued to rapidly plunge into your slopping cunt. You let out a muted cry as the palm of his hand made contact against the side of your ass, a stinging pain forming. "From the moment we were kids to now, you were and have always been mine."

He was relentless as he pounded into your pussy, every thrust caused sharp but muffled moans into the gag. You wanted to fight back but when you looked back into his eyes, your heart sank down to the pit of your stomach.

Desperation.

The most recognizable expression you've witnessed on others on numerous occasions. He fucked you like it was the last thing he'd ever get to do, as if this was a necessity. The tormented expression in his face, the way he bit down on his lip and dug his nails into your hips. No doubt he felt guilty for taking you like this, it was like he had no other option left.

His fingers reached over in between your lips and ripped out your spit-soaked panty, tossing it to the side. You took in heavy gulps of fresh air before he pressed his lips against yours, sloppily rubbing his tongue against yours. It was like he was trying to devour you whole, almost taking the air away from your lungs.

Eren pulled away with a pant, letting you moan out to the world without any more obstruction. "You're a cruel bitch, ignoring my feelings for years like this. Running to some bastard that'll never understand you."

His hips started to slam angrily against yours and reflectively, you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly. You could feel the tip of his cock nudging and poking against your cervix, whines slipping out of your lips as he continued to push his dick against it.

"E-eren, I'm s-sorry." You begged, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, hoping that he'd ease up on your poor hole. You heard him breathily scoff at your weak apology.

"Yeah? You're sorry?" He half-heartedly laughed and put one of his hands under your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together. "If you're really sorry, open your mouth for me then slut."

You hesitantly obeyed, confused with his request but at least he stopped thrusting so violently. He grinned cockily and spat on your tongue, your face contorting to a grimace as you felt the warm and thick liquid rest on the surface. You wanted to spit it out, almost gagging as it was nearly sliding down your throat but Eren stopped you from turning your head to eject it out.

"Swallow it." He absolutely lost his mind if he thought you were going to do that. You glared at him but he simply smiled smugly, running his fingers through your hair, lightly tugging at the strands.

"Swallow it and I won't cum in you." The second he said that, your blood ran cold, eyes widening in fear. He can't be serious, can he? This was Eren you were talking about, of course he'd be serious.

You hated this, you hated how it felt like you knew him but at the same time, knew nothing about him at all.

With one swift motion, you swallowed and started coughing, trying not to throw up the dinner you had nearly an hour ago. He pried open your mouth with his fingers, checking as if you really did do it and kissed you once more after he finished his inspection.

"Good, you're doing so good." He whispered into your ear as he rolled his hips, plunging you once more with his cock. You unintentionally squeezed him as he angled himself more to hit a spongy spot within your cunt, a dragged out moan coming out as the tip rubbed it.

"You like that, you whore?" You nodded wordlessly as you rolled your head back, pleasure swimming in your muddled brain. You could feel his fingers slip in-between your drenched pussy, curling against your throbbing clit.

"Ha— What would your boyfriend think? His so-called innocent girlfriend being a filthy cock-slut for her best friend." He teased as he rolled his fingertips around the nub, your core clenching around him. You wanted to tell him off — to stop mentioning your boyfriend — but you were so close to that release from earlier that you couldn't focus on what he was saying about him.

You could feel Eren start to speed up, his thrusts becoming more deeper and erratic, his fingers moving faster and faster against your clit until you couldn't hold it in anymore. You could barely hear him tell you that you can do it, that he was almost there too. Your walls gripped around his moving cock and your vision went white, every single muscle in your body became pulled taut as you finally came.

He didn't stop throughout your orgasm, letting out a broken cry as he finally stopped moving. You felt nothing until he sat up and pulled away from your body, whining quietly as he slipped his now-soft cock out of your still-sensitive pussy. With that, you could feel a warm liquid spill out of your hole.

"You p-promised." You sobbed out in a whisper and he silently stroked the side of your face.

"I didn't promise you anything, but I meant what I said earlier. I love you, I won't let anyone or anything take you away from me. Not even fate will tear us apart." Eren laid next to you, your bodies sweaty and sticky. You couldn't stop crying, letting the tears fall down your face as you stared up at the night sky with him.

"I'll take care of you, okay? You won't need anyone else but me from now on." His calloused hand took in yours, interlocking his fingers with yours and holding it firmly.

"Me, you, and our baby. That's all that matters in the world." You couldn't help but cry aloud at that.

If there was a god, good or bad, may they never let this child live through this hell.