#I wish I could write but that escapism is gone

[how-serene]

Really wish I could send from my sideblog but could I request Brahms Heelshire with the prompt 'are you here to kill me?' please?

You can take that in any direction you want, I love him so much, he's my dirty wall-lurking ratboy and I love it when he's cute but also unhinged lmao when I saw him in the tags of your requests post my eyes lit up like the 4th of July and I knew I had to give this a shot~

Hold On Tight, Love

Pairing - Brahms Heelshire x Neutral!Reader

Summary - Tired of waiting, Brahms finally makes contact with you.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - no use of y/n, brahms being a creep, non-con touching, he technically holds reader hostage

A/N - AGHH thank you for requesting him dear anon! I've been wanting to write for him for a while but wasn't sure on an idea. It's such a shame the actual actor had such little screentime. I hope I did your idea justice, enjoy <3.

Brahms balled his fists, steeling his nerves as he quietly approached your sleeping form. Even in the dark, he could still make out the faint outline of the comforter hugging your body. The floorboards were cold beneath his bare feet, as he continued to shuffle forwards. Outside, the wind howled, harshly blowing through the towering pine trees that surrounded the house. Their long branches clustered around the bedroom window, shielding a view of the stars splattered against a jet black sky.

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his weight, yet they did not disturb you. Brahms' could feel his heart rattling within his ribcage, as he carefully kneeled beside the bed. Soft snores fell from your plush lips, as a heavy arm was slung over the porcelain doll. His viridescent eyes raked over your dozing form, watching as your chest slowly rose and fell. 

Somehow, over the length of your short stay, this had become a nightly ritual for him. Watching as dreams danced through your head, masked behind your resting eyelids. You were at peace, the day’s tension temporarily falling away for the night

He sighed, leaning his cheek against the edge of the mattress. 

You nuzzled further into the pillow, hand sliding forward to hang over the edge of the mattress. His breath hitched from the movement, wide eyes wandering over your outstretched arm. Your flesh was so tantalizing close to him now, almost as if your body had subconsciously reached out to him. His hand trembled, as his fingers creeped over the covers to hover over your curled fist. The urge to reach out and grasp onto your hand was nauseating. He had painfully waited, stayed hidden and out of sight for so long. Peering at you through cracks in the walls, and keyholes. Watching glimpses of your presence float through the house, unaware of his looming existence. If it weren’t for the echoes of your footfalls walking through the halls, he would have believed you to be a ghost. A fragment of imagination the house (and him) had conjured up out of loneliness. What if touching you revealed your existence to be nothing more than a dream, a phantasm he so desperately wanted to believe in? 

A faint whisper left your lips, ineligible and gone before he could begin to decipher it. The longer he stared at you, he could feel the simmering ache, buried beneath years of solitude, bubble up to the surface. 

‘What if…’ he pondered, hand timidly creeping over the cover. The pad of his index finger grazed over the skin, trailing up the bridge of your pinky. He shuddered, a wistful sigh escaping through his teeth. The edge of his nail dragged over the bumps of your knuckles, memorizing the interwoven lines embedded in the skin. He hummed quietly to himself, warmth pooling in his stomach from the sensation of your soft skin against his. Brahms absentmindedly watched as his fingertips danced and drifted over your hand, tracing faint shapes. His heart threatened to leap out of his throat, and present its pulsing, grotesque body onto the bed for you. 

Brahms palm gently swept up your bare forearm, like a sculptor tracing the curves of its creation. Although, he never could have created you. You were radiance itself, something bright and warm in the otherwise desolate house. The stain of your shadow now forever resided in the halls and corridors. How could you expect him to keep his distance? 

He must have been so caught up in his head, for the next thing he knew his hand was flung back. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You demanded, distancing yourself from him. Brahms slowly rose from his position on the floor, watching your movements behind strands of disheveled brown curls that hung over his eyes. You leapt to the other side of the bed, arming yourself with a lamp that sat on your bedside table. 

“It’s alright.” He assured, cautiously stepping around the bed. His voice cracked, the high pitched tone he dawned nearly slipping. “Please, everything’s alright.” 

You pointed the lamp at him, a pathetic attempt to guard yourself. He cooed, false words of reassurance dripping from his lips like honey. Brahms sounded like a lover, uttering words of comfort to his lover after waking from a nightmare. 

Even through your haze filled head, the adrenaline pumping through your veins was enough to alert you that you were far from safe. 

“Put that down.” He ordered, voice dropping a few octaves. The veil was thinning, and becoming harder to wear the more you shied away from him. 

You swung the lamp, throwing the shade off in the process. “Stay away from me.” 

Brahms frantically shook his head. “Please, don’t ask me to do that.” 

The lamp was hastily thrown at him, as you dodged his arms trying to swing around your frame. You climbed onto the bed, feet coming tangled with the disordered sheets in the dark room. He groaned, kicking the now broken object to the side.

Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You thrashed around in his secured hold, digging your elbow into his ribs. He groaned in discomfort, the pain only encouraging him to hold onto you tighter. 

“Let me go!”

He maneuvered to sit on the bed, bringing you down with him to sit on his lap. His burly arms entrapped you, cradling your struggling figure against his chest. 

“Dammit, who are you?” You asked again, eyes glancing up to meet his gaze. Your eyes swept over the porcelain like mask he wore, now being able to see it more properly up close. All movement ceased from you, as recognition flickered in your pupils. You peeked over at the undisturbed doll, peacefully resting against your pillow. The smooth, pale ceramic face eerily resembled the mask belonging to the strange man. 

He swallowed, the sweet fruity scent of your shampoo blurring his surroundings. The tip of his nose bumped against your cheek, cool porcelain causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He inhaled, letting out a deep guttural groan as the citrusy aroma of oranges wafted into his nose. You grimaced, and pulled back from him. 

“Are you…” You licked your lips, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the answer. “Are you Brahms?” 

He nodded, cheek rubbing against the back of your hair. A beat of silence passed between you two. 

“Are you here to kill me?” You quietly asked, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. He could feel you trembling, despite being pressed up against his warm, sweaty skin. 

“No, no.” He soothed, beginning to rock you in his arms. “I could never do that.” 

His fingertips dug into your skin, trying to comfort you. 

The rest of the night was spent in Brahms iron steel hold, waiting anxiously for dawn to break through the line of branches covering the bedroom window. The doll, quiet and still as ever, watched as the night dragged on and on. 

Endlessly.

[itsagoodluckkiss]

My Firefly

Pairing: Ace x Reader

Warnings: Major character death, hurt no comfort, full of angst, pure depression

Words: 863

Note: As always, english is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes. No beta reading, we die like men in this one *cough*. I write with female reader in mind but this has no mentions of gender, take it as you want. No use of Y/N. This was inspired by Sufjan Stevens' "Fourth Of July". I cried writing it. I'm sorry. You've been warned.

The evil it spread like a fever ahead, it was night when you died, my firefly.

What could I have said to raise you from the dead, oh could I be the sky on the 4th of July?

You’ve come to realize, sometimes, love is just not enough. And you’d have to live the rest of your life with that realization. You stood above your dead lover, his once warm body that held you through the harshest winters, now laid cold on the bed, waiting for the time to go to his final resting place. You had cleaned him, covered his fatal wounds, dressed him in the clothes he wore when you first met him, abroad the Moby Dick. His body and soul had gone through enough disgrace. The least you could offer him now was peace.

That night at Marineford, you died alongside Ace. Your body was just a shadow now, cursed to roam the earth until the day you would see him again. When his weak body was cradled into his brother’s arms, his eyes fell on you across the battlefield. And he smiled. He smiled before he crashed to the ground. The guttural screams of Luffy were slightly louder than your cries as you cursed the world around you.

Everything was a blur after that. You knew you had helped his brother escape, Ace’s will had to live on. After the Red Hair Pirates stopped the war and the marines initially refused to return the bodies of your captain and lover to put them on display, you were ready to snap. You weren’t able to even say goodbye to him! How much more could you bare? ‘Luckily’, the bodies were retrieved and you could bury and grieve them properly.

And now there you stood, caressing the face you’ve come to love more than yourself, knowing it would be the last time you did.

“Such a funny though to wrap you up in cloth… do you find it alright, my firefly?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from welling up, hot tears running down your cheeks. You doubted they would ever stop. You sat beside him. He looked like he was sleeping and you could almost see the slight smile on his lips he wore when he left you. Your head rested on his shoulder, your hand running above the place his heart was supposed to be. Instead of a strong heartbeat, it was dead silent.

“What wouldn’t I do for you to be here now… I’m sorry…”, you sobbed.

It finally hit you for good. He won’t come back to you like he promised. You’d never see those brown eyes again. You won’t get to hug his form or kiss his lips again. Where would you stand now if not next to him?

“I can’t… Ace I can’t… I can’t do this, Ace…” , you screeched, choked out by your sobs.

You know what he would say to you. That you had to survive, to hold on tight, to live a life with no regrets. You didn’t think you could do it. Your mind takes you back to that one night.

“I regret meeting you so late, firefly… Wish I’d known you sooner. I think you would have saved me a lot of nightmares.”, you said with your head on his chest, his hands wrapped around you, in a comforting embrace as you both laid on your shared bed in the room of the ship.

“Don’t think about this now, yes? We have forever ahead of us. It will always be you I come back to”, he smiled down at you, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“You want stay with me? Forever?”

“There’s nothing in this world I want more. I never thought I would find someone that loves me like you do. And I love you with my whole heart as well. I want you to live on with nothing dragging you behind, and I’ll try my hardest to give this life to you.”

“You have no idea how much I love you, Ace…”, you were on the verge of tears at his sweet words, you hand slipping into his, your fingers intertwining. “Forever then?”

“Forever.”

But forever would never come now. And you relied too much on that future. Now you had nothing. Nothing to hold on now, nothing and no one else to live for. And you would live in this cruel world from now on, with the regret that you were too weak to save the love of your life. Until your very last breath.

Your hands cupped his face, caressing his cheeks as you placed your lips on his for the last time. One last goodbye, until the day you would see him again.

Now you sat alone in front of his grave where your home was buried. Your fingers dig in the fresh soil, as if wanting to be buried next to him. His body was carried with care to his last stop. But you didn’t have anywhere to go now. Your head looks at the stars, as if waiting to see your own up there. Your home was Ace. And you’d wait for him.

“Goodbye, my firefly… Until we meet again…”

[mars-wuz-herez]

What once....was...mine....

Suggestion #1

His coat lies outside on the floor. Infinite is dead. Sonic is finally free. 

But he can't celebrate.

Sonic turns to face Shadow who is currently laying on the floor, bleeding.

“Nonononono. Shadow?”

Sonic lifts Shadow's head on his lap. Shadow coughs a few times, before his head turns. Sonic grabs his cheek and turns it towards him.

“Look at me. Look at me. I'm right here, don't go stay with me Shadow please!”

Sonic grabs Shadow's hands and puts them on his quills and starts singing, faster than normal, voice breaking as he sings

“Flowers gleam and glow. L-Let your power shine. Why isn't this working? Please work!”

“Hey” Shadow weakly says but Sonic ignores him and continues singing

“Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine”

“Sonic”

The blue hedgehog looks at Shadow, tears in his eyes.

“You were my new dream….”

Sonic laughs tears now streaming down his cheeks. His hand squeezes Shadows.

“And you were mine”

Shadow smiles, closes his eyes and takes his last breath.

Sonic doesn't move. ‘He died’ he thinks, ‘All because of me’. He cups Shadow's cheeks and continues singing. As he is singing, memories of their adventure play out. Them visiting the Ugly duckling, Sonic singing and Shadow covering his face in embarrassment when really he was hiding his blush and smile. Memory of them barely escaping the guards, memory of them Shadow visibly freaked out when Sonic showed him his powers. (That was a funny one). And then his favorite memory of them all. Both of them on a boat watching the lanterns as they lit up the sky. Sonic remembers taking a glance at Shadow and thinking how beautiful he was. How there was no other place he wanted to be, how he wished that this moment would never end. He was thought about how much he wanted to…

to…

but it was too late now. Shadow is dead. Sonic’s powers are no longer useful. He is no longer useful.

He puts their foreheads together and sings the final verse to the song.

“...what once was mine.”

Then he finally allows himself to cry. He cries and cries while mumbling apologies to the hedgehog on his lap

“I’m so sorry, Shadow. I should've done more to help you. This is….all my fault. I'm so sorry”

As he cries he doesn't notice a tear fall on the others cheek. That tear stays there for a minute before disappearing leaving a glowing flower. 

Sonic almost doesn't notice the bright light coming out of Shadow. The blue light dances in the air and the bright light coming from Shadow gets brighter and brighter. It forms the flower, the 

sundrop flower. Sonic watches as the blood from Shadow's shirt disappears. Then just as the light appears, it all disappears into Shadow. 

Sonic looks at his wound. It's gone! He looks back at Shadow hoping that this could've healed him.

“please…”

For a moment Shadow’s movement remain still. Then he opens one eye. Then another

“S-Sonic?”

Sonic gasps.

“Shadow?”

“Did uh…did I ever tell you I have a thing for blue hedgehogs?”

Sonic laughs and lunges himself into a hug almost falling on the floor. Shadow cathces him and hugs him back, burying his face into the others shoulder. They stay like that for a while. 

Sonic pulls away from the hug and faces Shadow. Before Shadow could speak Sonic closes the gap between them and their lips connect. Shadow returns the kiss. As they are kissing, tears stream down Sonic’s face. 

But these aren't sad tears. 

These are tears of joy.

He's happy because he's able to do the one thing he thought he would never get to do.

He's happy because the love of his life is alive.

The End

Thanks for reading!

If you have any suggestions you would like me to write, feel free to leave a comment here or in my inbox!

Metions

@clarastarpop

[mj-iza-writer]

Hi it's me I replied to your post. In that whumpee doesn't even want to try to escape, they are completely subservient. If you could write somthing where they are initially disaobidient but whumper has special interest in them, breaks them and makes them like this. I'd love to see that.

Hello, your wish is my demand. 😊

The door slammed open.

"Everyone up and at the front of your cell. Whumper wishes to examine all of you", a guard ordered.

Whumpee sighed, but didn't budge. They didn't care for Whumper. In fact, they absolutely despised them.

Whumpee heard footsteps approach their cell.

"Did you not hear the order. Get up and to the front for inspection', a guard slammed on the bars.

"No, not for that trash", Whumpee frowned, "never."

"Hmm, never you say?", Whumper approached, "that one, take them to isolation."

"Yes sir."

Whumpee was stripped and bound in chains. Their arms were pulled taught. Most embarrassing of all they were forced to kneel.

Whumpee glared at the door until it opened.

"You'll learn today", Whumper came in and set their things down.

"Go fuck yourself", Whumpee yelled.

"So disobedient. You will be fun to play with, and when you break, you will be even better."

Whumpee spat at the floor.

"So brave for someone at my mercy", Whumper grabbed Whumpee's face and examined them.

Whumpee groaned as their head was moved roughly.

"You'll do nicely", Whumper chuckled.

"Nicely for what exactly?", Whumpee's eyes followed Whumper until they stood behind them.

"I've been quite bored upstairs lately. I figured since I have a basement full of prisoners, why not turn one of them into a pain slave to play with", Whumper chuckled gleefully, "you will want to get away from me so much, but you will be so far gone that the thought of getting away from me scares you. You will be unwillingly loyal, and you'll both love it and hate it."

"Never", Whumpee muttered through quivering lips.

"We'll see my dear", Whumper chuckled as they punched Whumpee for the first time.

Whumpee gasped and fell forward. Their muscles and joints now screamed at this position.

"I'll be back tomorrow", Whumper whispered threateningly.

"Why did you want me?", Whumpee shook as they tried to sit up and elleviate the pain.

"The others are all dead inside. They are waiting for the inevitable moment of me killing them. You still have a drive to survive. Even when I do break you... you will continue to have that drive to survive. You will do whatever just to live. Your defiance will be your undoing."

Whumpee looked down, "never", they grumbled.

"We'll see", Whumper chuckled as they left.

The week continued.

Whumpee received daily beatings from Whumper or a guard... or both.

They were not given much to any food, and water was scarce.

Whumper came in.

"Please water", Whumpee looked at them with hopeful eyes.

"Beg for it. Let me see how desperate you are for my care. A good pain slave will take as much pain and discomfort their master gives them just in hopes their master will love them. How much do you want me to give you water?", Whumper smiled.

Whumpee turned their head away, "nev..."

Whumper started to leave, shaking their head.

"Wait please", Whumpee lunged forward, "please please water.... I'm so thirsty."

Whumper turned with an evil grin.

Whumpee sighed, this was what Whumper wanted, and they stepped right into it.

"Please may I have water?", Whumpee begged.

"Yes you may", Whumper pulled out a bottle from their belongings, "was that so hard?"

Whumpee chugged the water as Whumper tilted it for them.

Whumpee almost whined when the bottle was pulled away. They tried to follow it and keep their mouth on it. They wanted more.

"Still thirsty?", Whumper sighed.

"Y-yes", Whumpee eyed the bottle.

"You can have more, but first.... beg me to hit you", Whumper squeezed Whumpee's cheeks.

"Do what?", Whumpee whispered in shock.

"A good pain slave wants their master to be happy and relaxed. They should always want to help take their master's anger", Whumper spoke happily, "beg me to hit you."

"Uhm, I don't.... I don't know if I'm ready to do that", Whumpee whispered.

"So you're not saying never?", Whumper questioned.

"No, I'm just not ready to ask to be hit", Whumpee looked at the floor.

"Okay, I'll take that as a win", Whumper turned to leave.

"Wait water... please", Whumpee's voice cracked.

"I suppose you know what to do to get it", Whumper frowned.

Whumpee looked away.

"I'll check back in tomorrow", Whumper left.

"The-they're winning", Whumpee whispered to themself, "will it be as bad as I think it will be. I can't do this much longer."

Whumper came back the next day.

"I brought ice cold water and even a warm meal to sweeten the deal", Whumper smiled at Whumpee.

Whumpee was close to crumbling. They had been in that same position since this all started.

"Please", Whumpee whispered, "do whatever you want with me. Please can I lay down or at least move."

"Hmm, anything?", Whumper grinned.

"Yes anything, hurt me if you must, I can't stay in this position any more... please", Whumpee pleaded.

"Well you drive a hard bargain", Whumper chuckled, "I knew you'd give."

"Please my legs are killing me", Whumpee pleaded again, "my arms....."

"Hush", Whumper slapped Whumpee's face.

Whumpee shook.

"Beg me to hurt you", Whumper grinned.

"Please hurt me, take out all of your anger on me. Show no mercy", Whumpee sobbed, "just please let me move my body", Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut in preparation for impact.

They were startled when a gentle hand cupped their face.

"Now was that so hard", Whumper cooed.

"I won't hurt you, not yet. You won't always be hurt by me, I promise", Whumper reached to unlock Whumpee, "this room will remain your special room, as you please me you may receive rewards. If you do not please me...", Whumper paused.

"More punishment", Whumpee whispered.

"You learn so quickly", Whumper cooed.

Whumpee was left in the room. They were allowed the food and water. They quickly finished.

It was until then that they realized the door to their room was left partially open.

"It's a trap", they whispered, but still inched closer.

They peaked out and looked up and down the hall.

"Should I get them?", a guard looked at Whumper while they watched a screen. A camera had been hidden inside the room.

"Let's see what they do. They won't get far if they do run", Whumper watched as Whumpee knelt down outside of the door, "I'm curious what they are up to."

Whumpee looked back inside of their room, the chains had been left out.

"Just like they said I want to escape, but I'm too scared to try", Whumpee hung their head in defeat and went back into their room.

"They are where I want them", Whumper stated happily, "let my real fun begin."

Notice by MJ: this has nothing to do with pain slaves in the BDSM community. Please do not take this as a guide for that community.

[splynter]

At some point I’m going to bend too far and break

[roughentumble]

There is no justice for Junpei since his gf trapped him in a murder game twice and never apologised for giving him horrendous PTSD and somehow it feels like everyone except for me is just chill with it

[999/zero escape spoilers for anyone who cares]

i am actually also one of those people that thinks its fun and sexy that akane is off the walls and a conspiracy theorist and trapped him in a death game, sorry 😔 but i agree that he literally does Not get enough love or attention from the fandom, i really like junpei's character, and akane literally couldve picked ANYONE to be the pivotal person but it was junpei she knew, junpei she trusted, it was junpei who cared enough to pull through. he kept fighting no matter what!!! he was funny and nice and tenacious. like she was a little tiny baby girl who was going to die and she screamed out to the universe for help, and he heard her and he reached back for her.... even tho he was about to die too........ how could junpei's love for akane not rewrite your brainnnnn it was so GOOD. that's jumpy!!!! my best friend jumpy!!!!

[comics-n-stuff]

I think about hyperjacket Superboy a lot. As in the Superboy with the hypertime-traversing jacket; he died in the beginning of the Hypertension arc of Superboy ‘94.

Like,, he was traveling the entirety of hypertime, combating Black Zero for a long time (at least I think it was a long time, it’s been a sec since l read the comic). And we really don’t know much about him.

That leaves SO much room for interpretation and crossovers; the fanfic potential is unreal.

[steriotypicaloutlaw]

Don't mind me, just avoiding reality by writing smut fics.

[unknownmads]

PRISON TOJII (he’s so addictive🤭) if he’s so bad then why does he look so good? like that’s literally my baby daddy y’all✊🏼😍 i wrote this kinda quick sorry i’ve been so busy y’all

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

the words rang through your eyes having this be the first time you heard his voice, it was deep and rough his ton was teasing you quietly.

Prison Toji who’s eyes track as you reach into your bag grabbing a small notebook and pen. Opening the notebook revealed a page already full of questions you were waiting to ask him. oh how cute you are thinking about him so much just so excited. he’s pulled out of his trance when you finally speak.

“hi toji, i great to finally meet you too” your voice soft at first from your original anxiety about the situation. i mean your just here to meet him for your class nothing more. right? i mean you wouldn’t be here because you love reading his letters telling you how pretty you are. how he wished he could take you out properly. Shamelessly telling you how hard he got to your pictures. but he was just flirting he’s a man in a prison it’s what happens.

Prison toji who finally speaks next the seconds feeling like eternity for him. He doesn’t want to have to sit across a table from you he want you in his lap sitting pretty just how you are now.

“That’s a lot of writing in your lil notebook doll, you been thinkin of me?” this time his tone laced with teasing and smirk displayed on his lips. it draws attention to his scar, you had never asked about it not wanting to push things you shouldn’t.

“where’d you get that scar?” pointing to your own lip as you looked up at him. a small chuckle escapes him surprised at your bluntness.

“well you’re quick to the questions today. you wanna get a closer look at it?” the gawking look one your face giving you away. and with a quick nod you were leaning across the table to get a closer look as he did the same to help you.

Prison Toji who stops you with a noise when your hand reaches up to touch his lip where the scar is

“shit sorry” quietly escapes you as you looked away for a second toji takes this as an opportunity

“you’re okay sweetheart just gonna get us in some trouble if you do that.” his lips next to your ear as his breath brushing against your ear “can’t control myself with a pretty thing like you.”

Prison Toji whose pants grow so much tighter when he sees how flustered you get from such a simple comment. You turn back to face him, his eyes instantly meeting yours challenging you telling you to do it, see how far it goes, see how bad he possibly he, and just like a moth to a flame you do just that. your hand grazing where his scar is going to cup his face, it was all so fast you could barely process it. he forced himself forward slamming his lips to yours. shock took you first then you eased into the kiss and began kissing back. and then you remembered HES A PRISONER AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR SCHOOL.

Prison toji whose ready to snap his cuffs when you pull away. leaning into you as much as he could almost whining when your gone. he sees you shocked and guilt ridden with your finger touching your lips

“whats wrong doll didn’t like it? give me another chance to try again” his body fully leaning to you practically half way over the table.

“im sorry we shouldn’t hav- it wasn’t bad- just we can’t Toji.” your thoughts swirling the world is spinning. Could you get kick out of school? what if someone saw? are there cameras in here? why do i still want to? it’s wrong.

“It’s fine sweetheart no one will know, just you and me i know you want more from the look on your face and the way your sqeezin your thighs. don’t even try to deny it.”

Caught. like the moth to a flame, fly in a trap, he’s got you.

Prison toji whose cock jumps when you slide out of your seat and approach him looking to make sure the guards weren’t watching. unknowing to the fact that tojo already blackmailed both of them to let him have all the privacy he needed with you. the look in your eyes as you approached was pure lust and need for him.

“your sure we’ll be fine right?” you say as you lean down towards him

“im positive doll i made sure of it.”

Prison Toji who finally snaps his cuffs unable to take anymore. grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap his face clashing with your the kiss is sloppy and full of need. a small sound escaping as he deepens the kiss.

“i’ve been dreaming of this.”

TAGS: @altgojo @nanmiik @kouyoumarryme @imaslothandsowhat @dragonmaiden79 @sircatchungus

SOME OF YALL DIDNT SHOW UP WHEN I SEARCHED IM SO SORRY😭

[draconic-desire]

💥 Take My Whiskey Neat 💥

Yandere Boothill x Reader

Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???

You’ve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.

“Aw, darlin’, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proud’a yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,” he concludes with a wink.

Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.

That’s because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. You’re just the unlucky target.

He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he won’t pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.

You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing you’ll relinquish is your pride—you’re not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesn’t help your chances—especially when lately, his only occupation has been you.

“What, no clap back today? No, ‘fudge you, ya son of a nice lady’ or ‘fork you, shirtbaggin’ bootlicker’? I’ve gotten so used to yer colorful language that I’m almost disappointed!” Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.

Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. He’s superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. He’s clinging to you after all that’s been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didn’t rely on that neuro chip of his; then he’d know that what he’s showing you isn’t love, but obsession.

You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when he’d burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, he’d said, and he’d caught wind of a handy ‘machine doctor’—a mechanic, you’d corrected him—in town who could fix him right up.

It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.

That’s when he’d seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.

After he’d shared his story, you’d felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, you’d brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.

He’d sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, you’d quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.

His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. “I—please, don’t stop. That feels…nice.”

You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him again—he was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolf—but to your surprise, his visits didn’t end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes he’d bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and you’d cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.

Then the visits started to increase in their frequency—and intensity. He’d show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or he’d appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.

You’d had to put your foot down—as much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldn’t allow him to interfere with your career. You’d worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what you’d achieved on your own.

His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. “Just watch out, lil cutie, ‘cause I know you’ll be missin’ me soon.”

Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced you’d be coming with him.

“I’ve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlin’.”

“And if I refuse?”

That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.

Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.

It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his family…except the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.

“You just want to hear me curse because you can’t,” you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you can’t help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.

He forgets you’re not the only one armed.

You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. “Go fuck yourself, Boothill.”

The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. “Haha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.” He grins, flashing those shark teeth you’d groan to loathe. You’ve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars they’ve littered across your flesh.

That’s something he can’t seem to get enough of—the feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.

“Lan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.

“Think ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if he’s not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.

His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. “Now, how ‘bout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me pretty…” His voice drops an octave. “…pent up, if ya know what I mean.”

The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.

~*~

Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.

The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and you’d lost count of the number of shots you’d taken.

Boothill’s normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. “Darlin’, I know it’s been a long couple’a days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time being—”

“Shyut up!” you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys he’d given you. “Thiz is your fault.”

He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. “Aren’t we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, you…you mudder…fuuuu…” You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumble—wait, no, that’s him steadying your shoulders.

“(Y/n).” You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. “Put the bottle down. I know the feelin’ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ain’t right.”

“I’m only like this because you took me from my life!”

He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. “That little shack you called a home? Was that really livin’? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!”

“I didn’t ask for you to put me in a moving cage,” you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. “But you never asked what I wanted, did you?”

“Why’s this all so hard for you to accept?” One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. “It could be just us, ridin’ through the galaxy for all time.” His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. “Just be mine.”

In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.

The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.

Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. “That’s what could have been if you hadn’t kidnapped me. If you’d asked me first.” Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. “Too bad that’s all you’ll get. Fork you, Boothill.”

As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So that’s what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.

Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.

Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. He’s nearly positive he’ll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldn’t, can’t be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.

Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.

“I’ll have you someday,” he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. “Whiskey ain’t the only thing that’ll be on your lips, darlin’.”

[rusmii]

𓂃🦄. BSD MEN HITTIN' THAT G-SPOT !

chuuya, dazai, tecchou

tags. x fem!reader, smut, cockwarming, implied/referenced punishments, grinding, controlled sex, (hard) bite marks, almost caught, blowjob under desk, desk/office sex, jealousy, punishments, brats/brat taming, overstim, marking, lewd acts, praising, degrading, cock drunk/pussy drunk, breeding kink, fingering, clit stimulation, squirting, multiple rounds, kinda riding, petnames, multiple uses of profanity, BANNERS/DIVIDERS MADE BY ME.

ps. leave me alone my shit writing is making me depressed.

all credit on this post belongs to @rusmii . don't steal >:(((

rules (for m.list) | taglist: @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani @xxcandlelightxx @iheartpieck @ezelium

" 'Zai," you whisper into his ear, the soft breeze making him shudder for a brief moment. "Yes, 'bella?" He asks, his eyes still on his suicide book that he was reading. An annoyed sigh came out from you. What made his suicide book that he's read over a gazillion times more important than you? You stood there beside him for a minute, thinking about how to get his attention on you next. Dazai on the other hand knew what you were aiming for. Your skimpy nightwear and lounge gaze was enough to tell him everything. And truth be told, he was also feeling the same way. "Osamu~" You say again, straddling his lap as you do so. "Can I cockwarm while you read? Pretty pleeaase?~"

"Why're you moving, darling?"

A lump formed a clog in your throat. The small question he asks you within a few minutes in already has you wishing that you'd never propose this idea to him. He flips a page, humming as he does so. The usual smile he has when he sees you is present on his face.

His cock sits nice and still inside you. The slight curve of his dick being the main culprit of your squirmish movements. " 'M no- 'm sorry." You can feel Dazai eyeing you, the lie you almost gave him making you swallow the lump inside your throat in fear. For a few seconds, Dazai doesn't do anything, his attention long gone from his book as you burrow your head into the crook of his neck.

Clutching his shoulder that you laid your head on, you could feel slight movement in it. Dazai hums lowly, letting you off the hook this time. "Hm~ Fine. Be a good girl, though, and don't let me catch you humping me like a dog. Understood?"

You clench your teeth. Whew, for a moment there you thought you were fucked there. Punishments with Dazai was unpredictable, and you didn't intend on passing dangerous territory just yet. "Yes sir." — "Good girl," he praises, his warm words making your pussy ache.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, the silent lewdness of the situation made it wetter as time went on. You close your eyes, attempting to focus on Dazai's humming. His melodious tune being able to calm even the scorchest of hot headed men. You sigh, subtly rocking your hips against his. The unreactive Dazai giving you more courage to keep grinding on his cock.

Eventually, you heard the book close. The sound makes you halt and pull away. "You done readin'?" You question him when you see your lover setting the book aside onto the lamp table. Dazai hums, his soft expression calming your beating heart. Just for a moment there, you thought he caught you — "About 56 times." He cuts you off.

What? What was he talking about? You look at him, making eye contact almost immediately. Though he does not say anything, his sly smile and slanted eyes do. Your eyes start darting to anywhere but him, moving to the wall behind him. "My eyes are here," he points to his face, his voice rephrasing what he said earlier, "About 56 times did you disobey my orders."

"I -.." Excuses start piling up inside your throat. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He caught you, and there was nothing you could do about it. " 'I' What?" He mocks, the sinful smile he gives you was enough to have you breaking down. "I - I don't know! I -"

Endless blabber escapes from you. Dazai sits there and watches. Letting you cry out your frustration. He rubs the back of your head, a mocking coo leaving him. "Aw~ There, there darlin'. Don't cry, I promise I'm not that disappointed in you. You did your best, and I acknowledge that. Unfortunately, we both know that you could've done better." Bitter words come from him.

You were at a loss for words. No amount of crying and pleading was going to get you of your punishment now. Dazai doesn't wait for a response from you, though, pushing your chin up using his fingers. He was now eye to eye with you as he leaned forward, his head tilted to the side to line up with your lips. " 'M not gonna punish you too harshly. Despite you disobeying me, your grinding almost made me toss the book," Dazai admits, which makes your mouth drop open in surprise for just a split second.

"And for that - " He thrusts up hard. A loud moan escapes from your lips before you can muster any form of blockage. " - Ride for as long as you want." His smooth sailing words pur into your mouth. His own capturing yours into a soft, passionate kiss that matched the rhythm of your crotches grinding together. " 'Samu! - S- Osamu!" You moan his name, the tip of his dick rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

His eyes never leave yours. Every breathless grunt he lets out only spurs you on to bounce on his dick. The act makes him groan before he stops you from doing anymore. "Osamu..!" You whine, wondering why he stopped you. "No, I said for as long as you want. Not whatever you want."

You nod your head repeatedly, wanting to cum and get this over with. Dazai seems to agree so as well — using his hands to guide your hips. The slow grind making you cry tears of frustration. "Please! Please! - Osamu- Please! Please! - " — " Sh sh, I got you." Dazai reassures you, fastening the pace.

"Mmhm!~ Osamu! Osa - Osamu!!~" You squeal, his dick rutting inside your gushy cunt as he marks your neck made you see white. The tight clench of your walls made Dazai bite down a little too hard, tasting bits of iron in his mouth.

Dazai continues to grind his hips through your orgasm, feeling his own high building up. "Shit - Fuck! - cummincummin - Ghnn~" He groans into your neck. The pressure that had accumulated by your grinding earlier toppled down on his orgasm.

The white ribbon laced your walls deep inside you, the pressure of his dick pressing hard on your g-spot, giving you another orgasm. Hearing your second wave of squeals, Dazai uses a hand to rub your lower back, thrusting up slightly to help you ride out your second orgasm.

"Good - " He pants heavily, his flushed face with swollen lips, " - Good fucking girl, holy shit."

"And for -!" Chuuya hiced. His brain being thrown for a loop as he grips the new paperwork that was given to him by Akutagawa. Said man seems to notice his red face and questions him. "Sir, are you alright?" Chuuya waves him off, "Yeah - just.. - feeling a little hot in this room right now - how high did I set the temp again?" He laughs awkwardly and orders Akutagawa to go check. While Akutagawa is distracted, Chuuya looks down to find his pants unzipped and you sucking the tip of his dick. "Stop. Akutagawa is here. Let's do this when he's gone," he orders you, attempting to swat you hand away from his balls. But before he could do that, Akutagawa returned. "Sir, seems like the temperature is just below average - are you sure you're okay? — "YES! You - You may leave." Chuuya stutters on his words when he feels you engulf his entire dick into your mouth.

"You - " A slam of his hips has you spiraling into moans. " - Fucking - " Thrust " - Brat," he snarls above you. The nasaled expression on his face matching the rhythm of his hips.

"Chu-uuyaa!!~" You squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist as his dick plunges straight into your core — his dick hitting that spot every time he thrusts in. He groans, the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock perfectly could make him cum right then and there. "Yeah? That feel good? Fuck - bet that shit does." He slaps your thigh. "Brats like you shouldn't even be getting dicked down so good," he continues. His hips never faltering its rhythm.

"Good! Feels so good! Please Chu - Chu fuck me!" Affirming his accusations only made Chuuya more bricked than the hardest damn rock. All papers, pens, and other random shit had been thrown off his desk in a haste. He'd care about it when he was done with you. "Mhm..~ Ha! 'Dunno. Should brats like you get fucked like good girls? Hm?" He puncuates every word with a slow, sharp thrust. " 'Cause the whore 'm fuckin' is on Santa's naughty list right now."

You arch your back, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. You roll your head up as more nonsense came from you. His dick rubbed your spot intensely while grinding your crotches together. The sharp, angled, shallow thrusts almost, causing you to nearly shut one eye from losing control of most of your senses.

"Ahnn!~ - Yesss! Pleaaaasse - " You slur on your words, your tongue falling loose in your mouth. Chuuya tugs your arms to him and grips your wrists, sliding your body back and forth across the desk. "Chuuya! Chuuyachuuyachuuya!!!~" — "Fuck - keep moanin' my name like that and I might cum right now," he groans above you. His head was thrown back, face full of bliss.

Chuuya angles his dick again, making sure the tip and side of his length run against your g-spot. He hears another squeal, making a mental note to come back to this angle when he's fucked you silly.

Actually, scratch that — with how you're clinging your vices onto him so tightly, he can only assume that you were cumming right now. "Shiiit." A curse falls upon him when he finally notices the tight clench of your pussy. Chuuya didn't even realize you were having an orgasam until he saw your fucked out, lewd face. "Fuck - Oh fuck.." He grunts, slowing his thrusts as to hold out longer.

"Geez ‐ Shit - [Name], did anyone ever tell ya' how hot you look when you get all fucked out like that?" He asks, a grin spread from ear to ear. As soon as you catch your breath, you hum. "Yeah - you," you release a breathy laugh. "Me? Just me?" He asks again leaning down to give you a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Who else would I be letting raw dog me? Not Michi."

The casual mention of your coworkers nickname caught Chuuya's attention. "Michi? Tachihara? Since when the fuck did you and and that fucker get on friendly terms?" A shallow upturn thrust surprises you. "Huh - Gh~ - What? Me and him have always been on friendly terms - Ogh!~"

"That's such fucking bullshit 'n you and I both know it." Chuuya interrupts you, thrusting into your cunt again. "W-wait!~ Chu-uya!" You moan. "You wanted me to fuck you like the dirty street slut you are — I'm gonna fuck you like a damn bitch in heat waitin' for a new batch of litter."

Never one to go back on his word, Chuuya picks up his pace, not caring about his rhythm. He aims for the same spot that has you crushing boulders when poked there. "Chuuya!~ Please! Please! T'much! So - " — " - Cut that shit out, overstim is your favorite pass time activity." His balls slap your ass from how deep he's inside you. "Don't wanna hear you give me that 'too much' crap. Yer' perfectly capable of handling 'nother few orgasms."

He was right. Fuck — Chuuya was so right. The mini act you put on was nothing but a facade of how you were feeling internally.

Lewd images racked your brain. The visual thought of Chuuya breeding you straight up was enough to get your pussy pulsing in a matter of seconds. "Fuckfuck! Chuuya! Please, 'm gonna cum!! Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cummm!!~" Chuuya grunts above you, sweat dripping down him. "Fuck - you feel so fuc-kin' good! Sweetheart ya' feel so fuck - ughhn!~"

At the very last moment, Chuuya angles his dick exactly like how it got you to cum right away. Your jaw drops open, your eyes roll back, and your back arches into Chuuya's chest as he leans down to burrow his head into your neck. "Mhm~ mmm - 'm cummin - shit - 'm cummin' doll." Was your only warning before you felt his cum sticking to your walls. The creamy goop being fucked deeper as he rides out both of your orgasms with slowing thrusts.

A few more shallow thrusts, and you two are whining in overstimulation, Chuuya quieter than you. He pulls away when he feels your legs unwrap from his waist, watching them dangle to the side in exhaustion.

He pants heavily. His face is bright red and messy hair is a perfect image to burn into your memory.

"Chuuya," you call out to him, way out of breath to even talk. "Yeah?"

"You do remember that you were the one who forced me and Tachihara on friendly terms, right?"

"..... Oh yeah." He scratches the back of his head before pulling out to slap his dick on your cunt. "Givin' you a break before we continue," he winks — readjusting the position of your body.

"You wanna what?" Tecchou answers your question with another question. "Wanna get fingered so hard until I black the fuck out," you shrug your shoulders. The request wasn't expected, just a suggestion to spicen up your guys sex life — that was a lie, it was because you saw him flexing his fingers the other day and couldn't get the image of him being past knuckle deep inside your cunt out of your head!

"Hnn!!~" You squeal, the fingers prodding gently against your g-spot pulling the second orgasm out of your for the night.

Tecchou doesn't say anything, pulling his fingers out to stare at it. You glance at him, wondering what he had in plan. "Tecchou?" You get up on your elbows, eyes full of concern. Did you cross a line? Was this too much? Before you could ask any of the questions that popped up in your head, Tecchou slips his fingers into his mouth — fingers coated in your slick.

He sucks on his fingers, his tongue webbing around each one that was inside of you. "Tecchou.. What the fuck..?" You said, shock filling your brain as you watched him finger fuck his own mouth with your arousal.

He hums, his fingers coming out with a pop as he pushes you back down on the bed. "Tecchou, what the fuck was that? Why did you just - " — "Why is this a problem but not my face between your thighs?"

Speechless, you turn your head away. The thundering pump of your heart is not helping with thinking of anything to retort back. When Tecchou receives no answer from you, he drops his hand down to your clit — the gentle press bringing you back to earth. "third round?" He asks as he circles around your clit.

"Y-yeah -" Your breath hitched when he slipped three fingers inside your sopping cunt. The stretch of thick, veiny fingers stuffed up your pussy was almost enough to push in two mini didlos in there. You moan, a loud one that encouraged Tecchou to continue with what he was doing. " 'Gonna slip a fourth one. Can you do it?" A question for consent before he makes room for another finger.

"Mhm," you nod, already feeling the finger joining the others. Hissing, you bit your lip. The pain was mild, but the slight burn of the stretch made your eyes water a bit. "Hm," He hums again. "Relax, you're going to make me hurt you." His fingers still inside, not once moving until he feels you unclench around them. "Mm - I'm trying."

Tecchou doesn't seem to be happy with that response. "Don't force yourself." Was all he said before you felt him shift his fingers around. What came next was a gasp being ripped from you and another curl to the same spot. "T-Tecchou!~" You moan, feeling your spot being prodded at. The soft pressure he applies every time he presses down makes you squirm a bit. "I can feel you getting tighter. Does it feel good?" He asks, voice soft and gentle.

"Yes! Please!" You bring a hand down to your clit, rubbing it in a way that gives you the most pleasure. Tecchou's speed increases, the fingers curling inside all hitting the same spot. Your hips start to shake, the pressure of your approaching orgasm building up in your abdomen. "Te-Tec-hou!~" Hiccups escape through your sobs. Tears streaming down your cheeks due to the pleasure.

" 'M - cummin' - 'M cummin' !" Your body squirms. Tecchou pins you to the bed, fingering as fast as he can. "You can do it." The first praise of the night being whispered so lightly. His usual blank expression is now a mix of proudness and adoration. "C-can't! T'much! Too much!" You sniffle, pulling your arm back for better support. Tecchou takes it upon himself to do the job for you, using both of his hands, he plunges straight into you — simultaneously adding a fifth finger when he sees the puddle you made. His other hand doing the same gentle circles around your clit.

And finally, after a few minutes — the blockage in your abdomen snapped. The floodgates of your cum squirting out clear fluid as Tecchou re-angled his hand. "Ghhhh~ Ohhggg...!" You whine, your legs threatening to kick as you slightly lift your body off the bed.

Tecchou watches mesmerized by your shot, aiming at his chest directly. The clear fluid dripping down his pecks and into his abs below. "Woah.... That was so hot."

hi was gonna originally write nikolai + fukuzawa but didn't have motivation for them :(... I did start out nikolais but don't even get me started on fukuzawa.... here's a snippet of nikolais

do you guys want me to write a pt2 with fuku+niko??

[foxy-eva]

Rite of Passage

Summary: Spencer is home alone with his daughter when she gets her period for the first time

Request: Spencer and Reader are married. They have a teenage daughter who gets her period for the first time (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins)

Pairing: Technically Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader but it’s mostly about Spencer and his daughter!

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: mentions blood, menstruation, period hygiene, cramps, female anatomy and biology, crying, food

Author's Note: I wrote this for @/imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Writing Challenge! 

Masterlist

Sunday mornings always brought a certain calmness with them. Spencer was still half asleep when you kissed him goodbye, leaving for a little day trip with your friends when the sun was barely up. 

Spencer mumbled something that should have sounded like I love you before he closed his eyes once more, looking forward to some father-daughter quality time with your wonderful kid Marie. 

That was until he was awoken by shrill screams coming from her room. 

You were long gone when Spencer jumped out of bed, all of his years working with the FBI having him expect the worst. He rushed into his daughter’s room, finding her sitting in her bed, a look of horror spread across her face. 

“Are you okay!?” Spencer almost yelled when he reached her bedside. 

His daughter slowly shook her head while pulling back the blanket, revealing small blood stains on her pajama pants and the sheets. It only took Spencer a split second to realize what was happening. His facial features softened instantly. 

He thought he still had a few more months, maybe even another year, until this would happen. He had also hoped that you would be home for this occasion, certainly handling this a lot better than he ever could. 

“Oh sweetie,” he cooed while sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I think you got your period.”

Instead of saying anything, Marie just buried her face in her hands and started wailing. Spencer wasn’t sure if she was still in shock or if the general discomfort made her cry. 

“It’s okay. It just means you’re becoming a woman.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could have taken them back. He hated the thought that his little girl was actually growing up more than anything. And it certainly didn't help in this moment. 

Without thinking about it, he did what he was most comfortable with and started rambling, “We talked about this, do you remember? It means that your uterine lining is shedding which results in the discharge of blood through your–”

“Dad!” She cried. “Please stop talking about my… you know! It’s weird!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

His little girl wiped away some tears from her cheeks before muttering, “Where’s mom? I wanna talk to her.”

Spencer sighed. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to let you take over right then. “She already left for her day trip. She won’t be home until six.” 

This explanation only led to more crying. Spencer reached out his hand to offer comfort with a gentle touch on her arm but Marie shied away from him.

“I feel gross,” she whined. 

“Why don’t you hop in the shower to get clean and then change into fresh clothes?” 

It seemed like he finally said something helpful. Her sobs simmered down as she got up from her bed to walk over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Spencer quickly changed the sheets and put out some clean clothes for his daughter before disappearing in his bedroom.

He let out a loud breath as he reached for his phone to call you. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “She got her period and won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh my poor girl! Is she with you right now?” You wanted to know. 

“She’s in the shower. Can you please come home?” 

You knew that he wasn’t being serious. A quiet laugh escaped our mouth before you said, “Don't be so dramatic, Spencer. I’m sure you're very capable of handling this.”

“I told her that her uterine lining was shedding. It was not helpful,” he sighed. 

“Yeah, maybe hold off on the biology lesson for now. You know where my pads are, right?”

“Oh yeah, right. She's gonna need them.” Spencer paused for a second. “Oh god, what if she wants to use a tampon? I can’t explain that to her. That conversation will make the both of us cry.” 

“Give her a pad for now, those are self-explanatory. I can talk to her about tampons later if she wants.”

“Okay, okay, yeah. She just turned off the shower, I gotta go!” 

“Good luck! And stop panicking!” 

That was easier said than done. Spencer almost jumped when he heard Marie knocking on the bedroom door. 

“You can come in!” 

His daughter, tightly wrapped in a bathrobe, stepped into the room. She had stopped crying but still seemed upset. Spencer’s heart always broke a little when he saw his little girl in discomfort.

“I’m still uhm…bleeding,” she whispered. 

“Yes, that's gonna last a couple of days,” Spencer replied with a soft voice. He disappeared in the master bathroom for a second to get a pack of pads. “Here. Do you know how to use them?”

“I’m not an idiot, dad,” she snubbed.

The tone of her voice gave away how irritated she was. Usually Spencer would remind her to be more respectful but decided to let it slide this time. 

“I know, Mimi. I just wanted to make sure,” he said instead. 

The use of this nickname for his daughter was yet another reminder of a time that seemed so long gone right then. Marie had trouble pronouncing her own name as a toddler so she’d say Mimi instead. Spencer loved it so much that he stuck with it ever since. 

Without saying another word, she disappeared in her room. Spencer rubbed his temples for a moment before getting ready for the day himself. He decided to give his daughter some space and prepare breakfast in the meantime. 

He was focussed on not burning the chocolate chip pancakes he was making when Marie stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she mumbled. 

Spencer turned his head to smile at his daughter. “It's okay, sweetie. I know you aren’t feeling well.”

She placed her hands on her lower stomach and muttered, “It hurts.”

“Here,” Spencer said as he reached for the hot water bottle he had already prepared. “Heat has a proven effect on relieving period cramps.”

“Thank you.” 

A timid smile appeared on her face when she realized her father was preparing her favorite breakfast. She stepped closer to catch a glimpse of the pan while chirping, “Chocolate chip pancakes?” 

“You know I’d do anything to make you feel better, Mimi,” Spencer spoke in a soft voice while offering his daughter a hug. 

This time she accepted, tightly wrapping her arms around him. Spencer was relieved that he didn’t mess up yet another thing. Marie was very bright and realized something Spencer had thought about earlier, too. 

“Wait,” she said as she stepped back. “You always make mom her favorite meal when she’s in a bad mood.”

“You have a lot in common with your mother, “ he explained. “I figured I should try what works for her.” 

“Now you’ll have to deal with two cranky girls in the house,” Marie laughed while taking out two plates. 

“I really don't mind,” he sincerely replied. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have all kinds of uncomfortable side effects during your period. Taking care of your mom – and now you – is the least I could do.”

After a moment of silence she said, “Earlier you said that I’m becoming a woman now. I thought about that when I was in the shower… What if I don't wanna grow up yet?” 

“I don’t know if that helps, but… You’ll always be my little girl,” Spencer responded while filling both plates with pancakes. 

“So you’ll still watch Disney movies with me?” 

A wide smile spread over Spencer’s face as he took the plates to walk over to the couch. “I was hoping you'd ask!”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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[slonechnik]

.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

I saw someone did an Ask about Damien and Danny knowing each other and just keeping in touch just not letting the Batfam know (was it Angel and Demon Brat or something?not sure).

What if we break some hearts,

We have big brother Danny who is dead (the big brother who told him it was okay to call others brother and that blood wasn't everything no matter what grandfather said), Tucker (or Sam or Jazz) just barely escaped Amity's destruction (maybe the GIW went nuclear on the city, maybe a ghost or demon finally got the better of Danny, maybe the portal need to be closed and Danny's life was the price, or maybe the city was already gone and Danny barely got Tucker and Dani out dealers choice) and tearful introduces Damien to his niece (Last last piece of the man he's spent countless lives thinking about, dreaming about and loving since his first life (I love Pharaoh/magically powerful Tucker)).

That got way more detail the more I was writing, haha... Oops 😳😬.

What do you think? Or just whatever pops into your mind. You do you, whatever you put out will be amazing!

There is loud, awful banging coming from the front door.

Or, to be more specific, there is someone banging on the door as hard as they can. At first, Alfred is wondering if he is imagining things. It was a rather quiet night for the bats to be out and about.

There was a storm that had blown through Gotham, driving everyone to take shelter. The howling winds and ran had left even the worst of scum chilled to their bones.

The bats were on their way home. Having called it a night after the third time, the wind had nearly caused two of them to fall while grappling across the city.

When he heard the noise, Alfred had just finished prepping the cave for post-patrol and went up to get everyone some warm clothes. He immediately went for one of the hidden guns around the manor.

Master Bruce was unaware of them, but Alfred had been able to hide the weapons since the lad was five years old.

Crouching low to the ground, he slowly approached one of the windows that overlooked the front door. Whoever had come knocking had somehow gotten past the first three levels of security.

Alfred leaned up only so one of his eyes could look over the window shill, keeping his back to the wall for easy push-off and the shotgun at the ready.

None of their motion detectors, video cameras, or heat vision cameras had detected the two standing figures on his porch. He couldn't see them clearly due to the water splashing against the glass, but it seemed like a man and a child.

Narrowing his eyes, Alfred leaned back down. He quickly pressed the side of his watch in three rapid clicks. At once, the signal that the manor may be compromised went out, alerting his returning family.

Alfred did not wait for a response from them. Instead, he threw himself on the ground, using the crawling technique taught to him by his years in Her Majesty's service to get closer to the door.

He trains the barrels at the wood, ignoring the desperate banging. Usually, he would have opened the door to question who they were, but it was nearly four in the morning, and he could have sworn that the man had been wearing a purple jacket and pantsuit.

In Gotham, that could only mean one thing. If the Joker was here, he would not live to see another sunrise. Alfred was done with that fool harming his family. Master Bruce's wishes be damned.

The only reason he didn't take the shot, for surely the bullets would pass through the aged wood, was that he had seen a more petite figure, too—a child.

He isn't sure who the child is—or if it is even a child—but he can't risk ending the Joker until he is sure the small;ler one is safe. Alfred had seen war many times in his military days; he did not want to force a child to live with them, too.

A few minutes pass when the banging sound starts to slow down, and there is nothing but silence. The wind contuines to howl. The rain continues to spray across the roof, and the lightning and thunder continue to roar.

Alfred feels his fingers strain with the urge to shoot but he keeps still ignoring everything until his watch beeps softly three times. Master Bruce and the children had arrived.

They must not have come through the cave, for he does not hear or sense an approach from anywhere inside the manor. A shadow overpasses him, causing Alfred to snap his gun in that direction until he registers it in the shape of a bat and quickly reaims towards the door.

He keeps himself perfectly still on the ground, even as he starts to hear faint curses, thumps, and a chilling little girl's scream. There is a moment of stillness before two figures fly through the wood—the child and the made-in-purple.

Alfred has a moment of surprise. It seemed the child was a meta before he pulled the trigger, aiming for the man's knees. His aim has not dulled with age, and the bullet sails true. Sadly, the little girl had faster reflections, making the faint glow surrounding her travel down her arm and to the man's body.

Their bodies become intangible as the bullet passes the man easily. Alfred frowns, reloading as he rolls over and swings himself to his feet.

The front door slams open as Master Bruce rushes in, followed by Master Damian. The two crime fighters slam into the strangers, somehow able to touch them when, seconds ago, metal couldn't.

Master Bruce flings the man to the wall, slamming him against one of the tables, while Master Damian has the girl in a painful hold. She thrashes and fails, but she can't get out, and Alfred wonders if her powers are limited.

Alfred trains the gun on the scene, keeping an eye on both Master Bruce and Master Damian at all times in case he needs to cover them.

"Who are you?" Master Bruce hisses, holding the purple suit man up by his collar. At this point, Alfred can see it is not Joker, for the stranger is far too young and has the wrong ethnicity.

"How did you find us?" the man gasps instead of answering, his eyes filled with tears. "The government wasn't supposed to find us here! Wayne was supposed to be safe!"

Alfred doesn't allow his brow to raise, but it's a darn thing. It didn't sound like they were here to do any harm, but one could never be too careful.

"Why are you after Wayne?"

"Don't tell him anything!" The little girl screeches, rainwater mixing with the blood dripping down her face. Master Damian had not been gentle when he slammed her against the ground. He was likely worried about Alfred. "We aren't afraid of you, GIW scum!"

"GIW?" Master Damian repeats. "Who or what are they?"

Both strangers freeze. "You're not with them?"

Master Bruce remains silent, and for one tense moment, Alfred wonders if the other man has passed out from the way he slumps in his old ward's hold.

"You're not with them. Thank the Ancients." The man gasps. He suddenly reaches out, grabbing Master Bruce in a craze of desperation. "My daughter. She's in danger. Please get her to Damian Wayne. Danny said he could protect her. Please... please help us."

His strength fades, and the man finally does fall unconscious, his hold on Master Bruce's slipping as he faints. The little girl screams- it doesn't sound human at all, and the noise likely started Master Damian's reflection, for the boy is quickly slamming onto her back, knocking her out, too.

Alfred finally lowers his weapon as the lightning flashes again, followed by loud thunder. He waits a few minutes before creeping towards Master Bruce.

The other is checking the stranger, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line once they spot that underneath the purple outfit, there are multiple wounds. Burns, cuts, and bruises decorate the dark skin of the stranger.

It's easy to see he escaped from somewhere abusive.

A gutted gasp from Master Damian has them swinging around, Alfred with his gun raised and Master Bruce with one of his batarangs at the ready. Instead of seeing the youngest being attacked, they find Damian staring in horror at the amulet he is holding.

The chain is still around the girl's neck as she was flipped onto her back- likely the lad was also checking her for wounds. Alfred can't see much but he can tell she may be just as wounded as the man.

"What is it, Robin" Master Bruce growls.

There is silence from the Katana user until one single tear rolls down from underneath the boy's mask over his cheek. He looks up at them with the most devastated expression Alfred has ever seen as he whispers.

"She bares my older brother's mark. Father, I think she's family."

"What, brother?" Master Bruce asks. "You never mentioned a brother before."

"He died.....years ago, but if Todd returned, then my brother...I left my kind-hearted brother in my Grandfather's grasp. I left him..."

The lighting flashes behind Master Damian's form, highlighting the devastation on his expression, and Alfred is filled with confusion, horror, and worry faster than the thunder can catch up.

Master Bruce's face loses all emotion- the coping mechanism Alfred had seen him use since the day he was found in that alley by the cold bodies- and growls. "To the cave. I want answers."

[delirious-donna]

I Will Possess Your Heart [Nanami Kento]

an: I started thinking about Curse User!Higuruma and naturally that led to me writing... Curse User!Nanami (why am I like this?). I haven't explored this AU for him before so please be kind <3

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: dub-con (reader is willing but the warning is there so take it how you wish), Curse User AU, slight yandere behaviours, toxic traits, spanking (with open palm), unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, breeding kink

Masterlist

For weeks you had been on edge. Conscious of the impossible presence that seemed to lurk in every shadowy recess, the malicious whisper of laughter on every breath of wind and the scent of someone who was long gone. Were you afraid? You should be, but you weren’t. 

In the back of your mind, if the faint traces of Cursed Energy that you sensed before disappearing as quickly as they emerged were real, it meant that he wasn’t dead, that he hadn’t been captured and executed as you had been informed.

Satoru swore he was dead, that you should put him out of your mind and move on. Especially after his betrayal, after his bloody rampage that took out more sorcerers from the three big families than any Curse User in the past twenty years. Yet, you loved him. Grew up standing right beside him until… 

Kento snapped.

You shook off the feeling of unease that had followed you around all day like a personal spectre, finally kindling the sense of security that came with approaching your apartment. It was new to you, decked out in the highest-grade security equipment that money—specifically Jujutsu High’s money—could buy.

Whilst it didn’t quite feel like home, at least you were protected. You waved at the guard posted in the entrance hall, smiling when they blushed and turned their eyes from you, a scowl creasing their brow. Shaking your head in humorous exasperation, you travelled the remaining distance to your front door with the tension of the day melting from your shoulders.

Little did you realise that the precious bubble of safety you believed yourself to be protected by was about to pop like a thorn piercing an overinflated balloon. 

Kento observed from the shadows, watching, seething. They’d moved you. Lied to you. Kept his name from caressing your tongue, and he had more than had enough. He hated the games played by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world, hated the politics and strategic alliances of the big three families which were no more than thinly veiled facades to cover the knife in the back that was around every corner. Power play far worse than the corporate drudgery he had tried to escape to, though he was ashamed to admit how long it took for him to finally open his eyes to it all.

They deserved what had transpired. He would ensure that the pain he inflicted would only be the first taste of his retribution. Hate was too emotional a word to use for those he considered to be less than human, and it was his mission to be the one to eliminate them all. Perhaps, Suguru had been right all along.

You were the exception, the one and only person he wanted to protect from the white-hot fury that poured through his veins like magma spewing from an erupting volcano, its path steady and devastating. He was still furious, and rightly so. The second you turned your face from his, he felt the last shreds of his bruised heart wither in his chest. You turned to Satoru and Shoko instead of moving towards him. You chose to remain in a world that cast him out, that actively tried to hunt and bring him down. 

He refused to believe that you had picked them over him. No. You were bewitched by the six eyes, hoodwinked by a false narrative that they were the good ones, and he was the monster. Kento couldn’t blame you, he had believed the lies for just as long and it was only now that he stood on the outside, peering in, that he could recognise the lies for what they were. 

It would be okay. He would enlighten you. After he punished you.

The front door unlocked with a quiet snick; the interior bathed in cool darkness that held no hint of the impending situation. Your fingers instinctively found the light switch, flicking it once and then twice when the bulb didn’t flare to life as it should. Click click click. Had there been a power outage? No, the neighbouring apartments were as well-lit as normal. 

Something crunched underfoot when you stepped deeper into your apartment, and that was when you realised the trap you had fallen into. Only then did your nose inhale the warm scent which had plagued you for all these long weeks, the rich aroma of expensive coffee mixed with leather and spices you couldn’t name. Only now did it intertwine with coppery, bitter notes of blood and the unforgettable reek of death. An impossibly hard body slammed into your back, sending you tumbling forward and only just catching yourself before your knees slammed into what you now knew was the broken glass of the bulb above.

The bodily contact lasted all of one second before he disappeared again. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the pure darkness that no longer felt comforting, and fear kept you from bathing yourself in the brilliance of your Cursed Energy, certain it would only help him target you all the quicker. Instead, you slapped a hand over your mouth to silence the sound of your breathing, crouching into a defensive position and fumbling forward. You weren’t as intimately familiar with the layout of this apartment as you were with the one you had lived in prior. All you could do was control the pulse of fear thrumming through your body and ignore the competing reaction that spoke of hungry anticipation. 

Kento smirked, head canting sideways whilst he watched you flail pathetically. If you wanted him dead, then he would already be a corpse on the floor, but that would never be the case, would it? His eyes had long adjusted to the absence of light, gaze following you around the room as you bumped into furniture and flinched at every touch. He could smell the terror escaping your pores. He could almost taste the frantic beat of your pulse on his tongue. Patience wasn’t a new concept to him, but right now... he found his fingers flexed deep into his thighs.

He waited until the kitchen island was at your back, stepping with silent footsteps around you and leaning back against the granite. You moved in a slow, perfect circle with your arm outstretched. Your fingertips came within an inch of grazing his abdomen, but alas, his calculations were as perfect as ever. When your back was to him once more, both arms shot out to tug you with one forceful effort into his chest. You struggled; arms pinned by your sides, but his hold was impenetrable as it always had been.

“Kento?” 

Kento laughed and even to his ear it sounded cold and devoid of emotion. “A silly question,” he answered. His voice was rough, unused for many days and the effect resulted in a ripple of something unspeakable down your spine, dripping—dripping—until you swallowed harshly and tried to twist your head around to see him.

“I think not... that luxury will be earned. I didn’t take you for such a silly girl,” Kento mocked, tightening his hold on your biceps until you squirmed in painful discomfort. “But then again, I didn’t take you for someone who would abandon me, and I was proven wrong there.”

You felt the temperature of his body skyrocket. His essence crept into you in every imaginable way, tendrils of his fiery anger licked against your bones and whilst you wanted to sob at this unexpected reunion, the rational part of your brain roared to life. He left you! He abandoned his friends and colleagues. He broke the hearts of the students who looked up to him, and yours... your heart hadn’t even begun to mend. The relief you should have felt for knowing what that poor shell of a heart had done all along, that he wasn’t dead, was a secondary reaction.

“I didn’t abandon you. How dare you say that... I thought you were dead!” 

“Did you now? I guess I should add stupid to your list of transgressions, or perhaps gullible would be more fitting. Since when did you take everything the six eyes tells you as gospel?” Kento gripped your chin with finger and thumb, the scent of his skin so close to your nose that the salty tang invaded effortlessly. With one fluid movement, he wrenched your head around and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

The action was so unexpected that you gasped into the depths of his mouth, lips parted in surprise and Kento refused to miss the opportunity to let his tongue curl past your teeth and stroke along the pink muscle he had long admired and desired above all else. He tasted like coffee, nothing to be surprised by, given his penchant for the most expensive French roast. What did blindside you, aside from the kiss itself, was the sweet caramel that chased those bitter notes. Even now, the mellow caramel burst upon your tastebuds and brought an abundance of saliva to your mouth. The kiss was heady, all teeth and tongues, until it ended abruptly, and you were shoved forward.

It was a well-aimed push to propel you over the seat of the kitchen stool, and he smiled when he heard the air knock loose from your lungs. Before you could brace your arms onto the plush leather padding and try to stand, he moved up and let his heavy palm rest at the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. “Hold onto the legs of the stool, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

Did you wish to redeem yourself? Did you even believe you had anything to atone for? Shockingly, your hands trailed lower until your fingers curled around the cool brushed metal. Your heart was in your throat. Tears threatened to sting your eyes but only the desire to grit your teeth and prove that you were still the woman he had once trusted above all others outweighed your loyalty to the people trying to protect you. Keeping you in the dark was no protection, it was no life to lead when the man at your back no longer looked upon you with that crinkle of warm hazel eyes that you loved.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking with the right incentive,” he cooed whilst leaning over the curve of your spine and planting one wet kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. With his lips so close to your ear, a rumble of laughter was followed by words you never dreamed of hearing from him. “Imagine how receptive you’ll be when I fit my cock in your pretty little cunt.” 

Happy with your position, and certain you weren’t going to go crashing to the floor, he let his hand loosen from your neck and traversed the path of your spine. His fingertips grazed over every bump and ridge beneath the thin material of your blouse until his palm found your backside. He pawed at you once, filling his broad hand with the meat of you and imagining himself doing this to you on both sides without the barrier of clothing in his way whilst his heavy cock sawed between the cleft of your cheeks. There would be time for that, all the time in the world if he had his way.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes of your apartment now visible and yet you chose to squeeze your eyes shut to it all. It heightened your remaining senses, the even breathing of your captor injected with muffled little noises of satisfaction when you complied without question. His hand rounded your hip, kneading you before searching for the button and zipper of your trousers. At that, your eyes flew open, and a startled squeak escaped your tight throat. It didn’t deter him—oh no—if anything he delighted in your reaction, slowing the descent of your zipper so that every scrape of metal against metal as the teeth released tore at your nerves until they were frayed.

“Lift,” he commanded, crouched low at your feet and tapping your ankle until you did as requested and your trousers were divested of you completely. The air-conditioning was conveniently not on, leaving your bare legs to feel prickly and clammy with the warm air permeating the room and worsened by the heat of Kento’s hands as they slid from heel to backside. 

He hummed when they reached the waistband of the black thong which did so very little to cover your modesty. You wriggled, experiencing the weight of his hungry stare and clenching your thighs together in the hopes of hiding the small yet very obvious damp spot on the cotton. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you were expecting my visit… you wouldn’t let anyone else see these, would you?”

Rough calluses scraped your soft derriere, toying with the fabric that disappeared between your cheeks and cupped your beautiful sex. You mewled out a ‘no’, readjusting your hold on the legs given how sweaty your palms had become and basked in the answering grunt of appreciation when your backside swayed in nothing but pure temptation. Kento wanted to rip apart the threads holding him back from you, to take out his cock that had been pulsing for release since before you even entered the apartment and force your walls to accommodate him. Fuck… he would envelop you in him—only him. 

Rub his scent right into your untainted soul until it was soiled just like he wanted. 

Paint your womb with his seed with the chance of it taking. His eyes rolled over at the thought alone.

Later.

He would see you ruined beneath him soon enough, he merely needed to get your punishment over. Kento needed to hear your apology—heartfelt and sobbed through a veil of tears. Without warning his palm reared back and with the sound of a whipcrack he brought it down against your right cheek. You struggled, bucked at the impact that forced your eyes to bulge and your throat to convulse. Only his palm at the middle of your back kept you in position.

The pain was not as immediate as you assumed it would be. It was more the startle of having it happen so unexpectedly that kicked you into action, on the heels was the warm tingle of your backside. Pulses of pain moved outwardly from the impact site like a stone causing ripples on a calm lake. “Ken—"

“Uh uh. This is not time for speaking,” he chided with a click of tongue against perfectly white teeth and a tone that silenced you instantly. “This is the least you could endure after you ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it beneath your heel. Ten. That will suffice, and then we can converse like proper adults. Until then, the only words out of those pretty lips are going to be the number we are on.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, knowing that you would take whatever he chose to gift you like a champ. You were strong, always had been, and this was nowhere near enough to break your spirit. Kento didn’t want that, he wanted the real you that he had fallen for all those years ago as an emotionally stunted young man. You would come to understand his point of view when presented enough evidence and he had stacks of that to show you. Not now. Later, he thought again. So much had to wait but patience was his forte. 

Standing to his impressive height, he skimmed his palm over your tender backside and let out a bark of laughter when you tensed, waiting for what was to come. He waited until you relaxed, listening to your breathing mellow before delivering a short, hard smack to your left side. “Good girl,” he murmured thickly when you hissed out a ‘two’ from between clenched teeth. 

Kento was painfully hard; the length of his cock pressed stubbornly down the leg of his trousers to lay trapped against his thigh. His every inhale was like a knife to his groin, every squeeze of the muscles in your backside was a torture that he was inflicting upon himself. He twitched, precum dribbling down his thigh and turning the golden hairs of his legs sticky and wet. He would see this through. It was for the greater good, of that, he was convinced.

The repetition was agony. A vicious cycle that felt like it would never end though you had a target so close yet so far. A wealth of salty tears sprung from your eyes, falling to the floor to gather as a pitiful little puddle given the gravity of your head and body. Blood rushed through your ears; the pounding of your pulse nearly loud enough to drown out the weight of the smacks levelled against your arse. The plump tissue ached endlessly, throbbing to its own beat and it left you trapped inside your head. 

This was Kento—your Kento—delivering a punishment he deemed necessary, and you poked at his earlier words. If you were honest with yourself, you had suspected that the attraction between you was a mutual one and that the feelings ran deeper than either of you was willing to admit. You pondered how you would have felt if he had been the one to turn from you, taking the morality of who was wrong and right out of the equation, you would have been devastated.

Noiselessly, you wept for the connection you had lost all those months ago. You should be repulsed by the blood that stained his hands, but you couldn’t find it in you when all you wished to do was pull those bloodied hands to your mouth and suck the fingers between your lips. How badly you wanted to hear him groan in pleasure, to cup your face and drag his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip until it bounced back into place. 

“Ten…” 

Kento’s harsh breathing became apparent, the sound building in your ears whilst you dared not move an inch. Sweat caked your skin—hot and uncomfortable—it slid over the natural dips and curves of your frame, and you knew your face was warm enough to cook eggs. Your fingers slid against the metal legs resulting in a loud squeak and you winced… waiting, suspended in a moment that couldn’t last forever, the spell would be broken but by whom?

The rustle of clothing popped the bubble you were both suspended in, the telltale jangle of a metal belt buckle and stammered curses brought your focus behind you, your head turning to find Kento with an expression you had never seen before and undressed from the waist down. He looked like he was ready to explode. A thick vein popped from his temple, throbbing against the etched scowl and snarled mouth. You moaned and his eyes snapped to you, lips curling back from teeth to show you the ferocity firing through his veins.

Without a word, Kento moved you, so you were bent over the kitchen island, and you sighed from the reprieve of the awkward position you had been forced to hold. The buttons of your blouse skittered across the kitchen tiles when two powerful hands fisted either side of them and ripped it open. His mouth and hands were everywhere and all at once.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted. Wet kisses decorated the side of your neck, lips moulding over your pulse and humming happily at the frantic rhythm that mirrored his own. The brush of his bare thighs against yours elicited a guttural groan, taking the opportunity to reach back and scratch at the rough undercut at his nape, fingers delving into his hair and pressing him deeper into the crook of your neck whilst he marked you as his.

“…’m sorry, Kento. Please forgive me,” you sobbed brokenly, completely torn between burning joy and icy regret. An urgent hand pressed between your legs, thick fingers prodding and feeling the sopping fabric slick with arousal and sculpted to the molten heat of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Save your apologies. I’ll hear them later, preferably whilst you’re gagging around my cock.”

Your backside rippled from the impact of his pelvis slamming into you, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. Kento chuckled darkly, the heat of your abused flesh warming that part of his soul that refused comfort until this very moment. He had no time to spare to remove your underwear, having used up all his patience in the measured delivery of his hand against your perfect behind. Ignoring the sharp prickling sensation radiating in his palm, he simply shoved them aside until he could push his heavy cock through. He wanted to ask if you were this wet because of the spanking or if you were merely pleased to see him, but the beastly part of his brain was firmly in the driver’s seat.

He was merciless; kicking your feet apart to widen your stance, tapping the fat head of his cock against your swollen clit and roaring in triumph when you pushed back against him. One second, he was teasing you, the next he was notched at your cunt and shunting himself forward. Kento gripped your hip, pulling you back whilst he worked inside, and the stretch was exactly what you expected. Every inch tickled your insides, thick veins stark and massaged by gummy walls made to take him.

“That’s it… there we go. God, look at you. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in… mm, more? All yours, sweetheart.” He crooned his lust-roughened rhetoric, and all you could do was hold onto the counter so your knees wouldn’t give out entirely. They shook with the force of his thrusts whilst he held you so tightly as if he worried you would slip through his fingers again. Not a fucking chance. You were his, and he wanted you to know that.

“Mine,” he growled, spittle flecking your shoulder as he bent over your body and bit into your tender skin. You howled, a mixture of pleasure and pain lighting up your insides. Stars winked in and out of your vision and you danced on your tippy toes as an orgasm near forced him out of you. If not for his determination to remain in the heart of your body, abusing the soft tissue near your belly, you would have expelled him with the force of your release.

Kento crowed like a maniacal king. Fucking you right through your high without a care for the overstimulation that left you whimpering and drooling onto the granite countertop. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, eyes flickering between open and shut as you fought the desire to pass out. The pressure of your pulsing walls, the suction of your cunt drawing him back inside each time he pulled back was his undoing, and although he had planned to cum down your throat so he could see your tear-stained face, he couldn’t pull out. His balls drew close to his body, the familiar drip of impending release stirring at the small of his back but so much more intense than ever before. His head was thrown back at the first spurt of seed exploding outward to knock up against your fertile womb with only thoughts of what it might be like to have your soft stomach grow with his child on his mind.

Never had he produced so much, and he wondered if he had been saving it up for you. A ridiculous thought had he been in his right mind, but you both knew that wasn’t the case. His hands gentled, bruises forming the pattern of his fingertips marked your hips and waist. He smiled, the first true smile in what felt like forever. Soon he was laughing, and the jostle made you moan out, his softening cock twitching in your cunt and tickling you.

“I think I am more than ready to hear your apology, little dove.”

And you were more than ready to give it to him, after all… Kento possessed your heart.

[sinofwriting]

Wine - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,121 Summary: Charles wakes up to an empty bed. Note(s): Slight NSFW, Angst, I was trying to write something else and then this popped into my brain. So everyone say thank you Sin’s brain, now please write what you actually were supposed to write.

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

He wakes to an empty bed and the good mood that the restful sleep had put him in is gone, replaced with confusion. Charles always woke up first. He could count on one hand in the three years they had been dating when she had woken up before him. This was the fourth time.

Getting up, he lets out a groan as he stretches. A yawn that nearly makes his jaw pop escapes him as he moves out of the bedroom, journeying to find where his girlfriend is.

“Baby,” he whines and she jumps at the sound of his voice. “You aren’t in bed.” She doesn’t say anything and he frowns, coming closer and his heart stops as his eyes adjust and focus on her, her face stained with tears, lip trembling. “Oh, baby. What happened?” He breathes, kneeling on the carpet in front of her. “I,” She starts, only for the tears to start falling again. His stomach twists. “It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “Cha,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “I’m pregnant.”

He stares at her with wide eyes, the joy he is supposed to hear at those words unable to form at the sight of her tears and downtrodden expression. Instead, it’s pain, heartbreaking pain. It comes and hits him so fast that tears sprang to his eyes.

Those words were supposed to be said with happy disbelief. Maybe after he watched her pee on a stick or as they sat in a doctor's office, or him coming home to her and she’s unable to not stop herself from saying it before anything else. They aren’t supposed to be said like this.

And god, he wanted kids, she wanted kids, they wanted kids, didn’t they? When they got together, when they got serious, they talked about it. About wanting kids. About him wanting three, about her not wanting more than that because Monaco was just too small to raise more than that in. Had that changed for her? Had it changed her and she just never said? Had he not noticed? Had he mistaken the longing look in her eyes when they met Chiara? Had it actually been disgust? Had they not come home and she demanded him to try and fuck a baby into her, despite her birth control? Had they not in the afterglow talked about babies, the names they liked, the crib she saw and wanted?

“Are we,” He clears his throat, taking a deep breath. “Are you upset about it?” She nods quickly and a few tears slip from his eyes. “Charles.” Her voice breaks around his name. “We had wine last night, I drank wine last night. What if,” she’s sobbing now. “What if it hurt the baby?” Horrible relief fills him and he’s gathering in his arms, tears spilling down his face as he presses kisses to her head. “No.” He breathes. “No, it will be okay, mon amour. I’ll get you an appointment with the doctor today, yeah? Make sure that they are okay?” She nods, sniffling. “Okay.”

He doesn’t know how long he holds her for before he can finally let her go a little bit.

“Hi, baby.” He whispers, wiping away the tear tracks on her face with his fingers. “Hi Cha.” He smiles at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Can you tell me again?” He asks, voice still a whisper. “Can you, please?” She looks at him, a smile on her face for the first time this morning. “Cha, I’m pregnant.” His eyes close at the words, lips forming a grin. The joy that he hadn’t been able to feel early, coursing through him.

“I’m so happy.” He breathes hours later when they are in bed, back from the doctors that had told them the baby was okay, nothing to worry about as she was only ten weeks along. She beams at him, fingers dancing over his pecs as she straddles his lower stomach. “It is good news.” “The best.”

He privately wishes she had his ring on her finger and his last name, but that could happen next week. He had the ring already anyway, his plans for next month somewhat ruined, but that was fine, this was better than that anyway.

“How did you know?” He asks. The doctor hadn’t asked, probably because of how panicked he had been on the phone when demanding an appointment and explaining why. Her fingers stop moving and she’s not looking him in the eye anymore. “Mon amour,” “My phone.” He looks at her confused and she must be able to feel it since she’s looking at his chest, not his face because she continues. “I woke up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, my phone, it had a notification asking me if I had gotten my period yet. I hadn’t even realized I was late. So, I went to the kitchen, drank two glasses of water and took a test.” His eyebrows furrow. “You left to go buy a test?” He couldn’t imagine sleeping through the sound of her leaving the apartment to get a test. Her fingers dig a little into his chest, but he doesn’t even flinch and she looks at him, nervous. “I already had one in the bathroom.” Charles’ jaw drops. “What?” She shifts back on him, “it’s just since Chiara, we’ve been so much more active! I wanted to be prepared in case.”

His hands that have been resting on the bed, occasionally before he asked how she knew, running up and down her calves, land on her hips, gripping them tight as he moves her until she’s properly straddling him. “We were trying to make a baby.” He reminds of her. “Practicing.” She corrects. “We were practicing making a baby.” One of his eyebrows raises and he tightens his grip on her hips, forcing her to grind on his hardening cock. “Really? Because I remember a lot of you begging me to cum inside of you, to give you a baby, my baby.” “Cha.” She whines. “What baby?” He murmurs, sitting up to press their lips together. “I did it, didn’t I? Give you my baby.” “You are impossible.” She whispers before returning his kiss with a kiss of her own. “But yes. You did give me a baby.” He groans, thrusting up as best as he can. “Promise me,” he begins as he presses kisses to her jaw. “That next time you’ll tell me. You’ll tell me that you bought a test. I,” he groans again. “I want to know.” She nods, frantic. “Yes, yes. I promise. I promise I’ll tell you.” “Good. Now take off your clothes. I want to start practicing for baby number two.”

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