#asks and requests are always appreciated and needed

[spaceyaemonds]

paring: dr. jack abbot x robby’s daughter!reader

sum.: what’s a girl to do but fuck her dads sort of best friend?

warnings: smut. like literally 99% smut, idk what came over me, don���t look at me. age gap (reader is mid 20s (robby had her young, she did not meet jack until she was in her 20s, and he never even heard about her until he met her for the first time. robbt kept that part of his life private idk just needed to clarify), jack is canon age), fingering and oral (f!receiving), spit as lube, just the tip for a few seconds, creampie, BRIEF BICEP CHOKING IN PRONE BONE, teasing, idk i’m sure theres more idk idk. minors DNI.

notes: requested!!! literally do not look at me. i wrote this one handed idk idk. no clue what came over me. I’m embarrassed. also just trying to work on my smut writing in general soooo. unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1.4k

Your dad would absolutely kill you if he knew what, no who, you were doing right now.

Not that it was really any of his business who you slept with or dated, but you don’t want to think too hard about his reaction to his former rival/current somewhat best friend, if they even considered each other that, being the one who has you walking like a newborn deer in the mornings.

But it’s not just a secret from your dad. No one knows.

It’s beyond inappropriate, and maybe it shouldn’t be, but unfortunately it is. Despite the fact that you’re a grown woman, met him as a grown woman, you know someone will have some sort of comment that you are being taken advantage of.

So the two of you keep it to yourselves. In quiet moments in his living room or your kitchen, stolen kisses in the early mornings in the grocery store that’s open 24/7 just down the block from your apartment.

Or moments like this, in your bedroom.

He’s been in between your thighs, licking and sucking at your for what feels like hours.

Every so often, he’ll add two fingers into the mix, quickly bringing you to the edge when he finds that spot inside of you and repeatedly applies just the right amount of pressure.

He’s digging his nails into your thighs hard enough to leave marks as his tongue dives in and out of you, your hips moving ever so slightly to follow it every moment it leaves your dripping hole.

His eyes bore into yours as he drags his mouth up your slit to latch back onto your clit, sucking on it like his life depends on it.

“Fuck,” It comes out a breathy gasp, and his eyes are locked on your swollen lips.

“Yeah?” He pulls his face away from your center, “You like that baby?”

“Mhm,” You nod, tears glittering your eyes as you pout at him, “I’d like your cock more, though.”

Jack stops for a brief moment, eyes narrowing at you.

“I thought we decided you were done being a brat?”

His tone is rough, and it makes you throb.

“‘M not being a brat. I’m just a girl who knows exactly what she wants, is all.”

His face is right next to yours now, with narrowed eyes that hold a gleam you’ve come to know all too well.

“Is that so?”

Before you can respond, his mouth is pressed against yours.

Your hands tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, gasping when he bites your lip so he can force his tongue into your mouth.

He groans into your mouth when your hand moves to palm at his throbbing cock through his black briefs.

His mouth moves to your neck, sucking and biting sharply, taking in all the little noises that leave your mouth.

“You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?” He mumbles hotly in your ear, biting the lobe as his clothed cock grinds against your bare, throbbing cunt.

“Yes, yes. Oh-“

He has you flipped over before your mind can process the movement.

Jack pulls his briefs down just enough to free his cock from them.

You whine out when you feel the tip prod at your sopping hole twice, kicking your legs in frustration when he pulls his cock away from you.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl, baby.” He sits back slightly, his weight holding your lower body still as his calloused hands spread your ass cheeks apart before landing a harsh slap on your left cheek.

“Oh!” You moan out sharply.

“Naughty pictures left in my wallet,” Another slap on your right cheek.

“lacy panties in my scrub pants,” The next slap on your left cheek is harder than the last two, and it causes you to cry out.

His hand quickly soothes the sting.

“and who can forget the texts you sent me when I was out drinking with my coworkers, with your dad,”

His right hand is tangled in your hair as he yanks your head back, casung a gasp to leave your mouth.

His cups his left hand under your mouth, “Spit.” It’s harsh, demanding.

Pursing your lips, you let a glob of spit fall from your mouth and fall into his palm.

He releases his grip on your hair, letting your head fall into your pillow.

His left hand quickly grips his cock, rubbing your spit in, “Fuuuck,”

Your hips wiggle back, desperate to help guide him inside you.

His right hand swats your ass, eyes rolling back at the moan that leaves your mouth, left hand moving faster up and down his cock

“You’ve been bad-” He cuts himself off with a deep breath out, “bad girls don’t get cock.”

You could cry, fuck, you start tearing up at the thought.

“No, no, no. Please, please give it to me.”

“Give it to you?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please,” His free thumb traces your slit, rubbing your clit in two hard circles, causing you to moan out loudly, “I promise I’ll be good.”

He barks out a laugh, voice dropping, “Yeah, bet you will.”

He places just the tip of his cock inside you, but doesn’t move further.

At least he doesn’t move his cock further into you.

You can hear him moving his hand, jerking off his cock, can feel the way his tip throbs, barely inside you.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

It’s borderline sadistic, the way the pathetic noises that leave your mouth are making him feel. The way you’re begging and begging for more.

“Oh?” His tone is condescending, and though you can’t see it, but his head is tilted to the side.

“You need more? Is that right?”

Finally, he takes his left hand away from his cock, placing both hands back on your ass cheeks, to once again pull them apart.

His eyes close as he watches the way your soaking cunt stretches around his cock, “That’s it, isn’t it, baby?”

You clench down at his tone, because if nothing else will show it, his voice will always show the true effect that you have on him.

His hips finally meet your ass, and your eyes are rolled into the back of your head.

“Oh god,”

He leans down to press his chest against your back, skin sticking to your as he breathes heavily in your ear as his hips repeatedly meet your ass and his cock hits that one spot in you over and over and over.

“Fuck, maybe you can be a good girl. Huh?” He grunts into your ear, biting at the cartlidge before he wraps his arm around your neck, squeezing lightly.

“You’re my good girl, aren’tcha? Huh, my good baby?”

You nod frantically, gasping as he tightens his hold around your neck slightly.

“I-I-‘m so good, s-so good,” Drool and tears are falling down your face as your core tightens around him, signalling your impending orgasm.

“Oh?” He beings trusting harder, “Are you going to cum for me? Huh? Cum on my cock?”

You don’t have an opportunity to respond, the only thing leaving your mouth is a broken moan as you cum around him.

He fucks you through it before going just a little harder, just a little deeper, for one, two, three, four more thrusts before his thick cum is filling you in heavy spurts, painting your insides a creamy white.

He rests his weight on you, forehead pressed against the back of your head as he mumbles sweet nothings to you, rubbing your shaking body up and down.

When he finally lifts himself off of you and pulls his cock from your sensitive pussy, he lays next to you, pulling you to his chest as he catches his breath.

“Do you want me to cook you dinner?”

His question is quite, and you groan and shake your head, “Let’s just order chinese.”

He laughs, “If that’s what you want.”

You pull away to look at him, sleepy smile on your pretty face. His hand quickly finds your jaw, gently tracing your features from your brow to your nose to your lips.

Jack pinches you lightly when you bite him, but then leans up to give your lips a small kiss before reaching for his phone to place a takeout order at your favorite chinese restaurant.

Both of you go deathly still when you hear the door to you apartment open, knowing only one other person has a key.

“Honey? You here?” You and Jack are both wide eyed at the muffled sound of your dad’s voice.

[goooofy-goooober1121]

JJK Men - Love or Be Loved?

In which we explore whether the JJK men prefer loving or being loved!

Ask box is open! Please feel free to request!

Feat. Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Kamo Choso, Fushiguro Toji, and Ryomen Sukuna!

Nanami Kento

Mr. Nanami "Husband Material" Kento

Take one look at this man and tell me he wouldn't move heaven and earth for his S/O!

I think he has seen so much pain in the world through his work as a sorcerer and as an office worker at a suspicious company

He always puts others ahead of himself, we can see it a lot through his interactions with Yuji where he simply does not let Yuji handle things himself because Yuji is literally just a kid

(Nanami is the only one with common sense btw. Like WHYYYY ARE WE SENDING TEENAGERS TO FIGHT LITERAL NIGHTMARE MONSTERS.)

I think that his sense of responsibility plays a big part in him preferring to be on the giving end of all the loving

"I'm responsible for you now" is his love language if that makes sense.

He expresses his care for others by looking after them!

Gojo Satoru

Both

Are you kidding?

Gojo "Loverboy" Satoru

Gojo grew up obviously very neglected and objectified.

Even in modern Jujutsu society, people saw him as nothing more than a weapon!!!

I think that he would love to love on his S/O relentlessly

It gets kinda embarrassing sometimes

Would unironically do that one scene from Descendants where the prince confesses his undying love for Mal in the most public, musical, fantastical, sparkly way

But he means it in the best possible way <3

HOWEVER

it does things to him to be loved genuinely and wholly for him, not for his titles or powers

It would definitely be a healing experience for him

Because then suddenly he feels like a part of him that was missing is returned

So yeah Gojo would go either way. Mutually assured loving all around

Geto Suguru

Being Loved

Wow you're telling me the mass murderer cult leader wants adoration? No shit

But I digress

Apart from the glaringly obvious reasons, he, like Nanami, has seen the harsh realities of the world through the eyes of a sorcerer

However as we have most certainly observed this man has a power trip problem

If I hear him say "monkeys" one more time I'm reporting him for a hate crime

I think at his core Geto craves recognition and appreciation for all the sacrifices he and his loved ones have made for others

So he most certainly enjoys being loved on by his S/O more than anything else

Can we put him in therapy? Maybe enroll him in a DEI course? Please?

Kamo Choso

Ooooooooh this is hard

Because on one hand:

It is quite literally in Choso's nature to love

We see it with his brothers and how deeply he cares

Therefore it would make sense that he would show lots of love to his S/O!!!

BUT

I think that once Choso gets a taste of being loved on, he'll start following his S/O with big sad eyes until he gets a kiss or a hug or a touch on the shoulder

Choso is still learning the intricacies of being human and the concept of being cared for in such a way might really impact him

So I come to the conclusion that Choso prefers loving his S/O because it's what comes most naturally (and he's a big sweetheart) (ignore all the destruction he caused in Shibuya he's a changed man) but also loved to be loved on

He's similar to Gojo in this way but what sets them apart is that while Gojo is much more upfront about wanting affection, Choso will silently follow his S/O around like a shadow with big sad eyes until they notice what he needs

Fushiguro Toji

Ironically? I think he likes to do the loving

Like don't get me wrong

He's broke

He's an assassin

He has a gambling problem

(isn't he dreamy?)

But he comes off to me as someone who prefers to be the one showing love

Partially because he's not quite sure how to act when he's being loved on

But I think he loves from a distance. He doesn't want his loved ones to be hurt or subjected to the more intense bits of his work

Even if that distant loving ultimately drives them away from him

He would prefer it like that than putting anyone he loves in harm's way

Ryomen Sukuna

"I understand love, and I say to you love is worthless." -Sukuna Ryomen

Okay pack it up post is over please like comment and reblog

Okay well hypothetically...

He would very much prefer to be the one receiving all the love

Bro terrorized Heian Era Japan and demanded sacrifices as if he were a god

No way he expects anything less than unshakeable devotion and admiration from his S/O

Bro is a walking Red Flag and he likes his lovers colorblind

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Lydia

Request: I have a fun one this time, some creative freedom given as usual. Two doms one sub, (idc if they are humans, monsters, robots, etc). The sub is strapped down to a table and the doms are “experimenting” how many toys the sub can take at one time. One dom is really sweet and praise oriented and the other is harsher. I had a flash of what the scene might look like so I’ll just put that in too. Dom 1: “Shhh I know it hurts sweetheart, just take one more for me” Dom 2: “Oh they will, you’re going to take this fucking toy and beg for more aren’t you slut?” Sub: *Gagged, Sobbing, Nodding enthusiastically* Lol thank you!

You can take it, sweet slut

Naga x werewolf x fem!reader || double penetration, double peen (mentioned), sex toys, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, bondage, degradation, forced orgasms

You were struggling against the restraints on your hands and legs when your naga boyfriend started caressing your hair once more. You already had a dildo in your pussy, pushing a bullet vibrator against your cervix, and you were gagged with one of the smaller dildos that allowed you to breathe but still made it impossible for you to do anything but moan around it.

You were a bit beyond overwhelmed with what they were doing to you. You came so many times you lost count, your cheeks were stained with tears and your pussy kept convulsing around the thin dildo every time one of your boyfriends pressed the tiny remote of the vibrator that sent your brain into static.

“Shhh, sweetheart, we know you can take it.” He was referring to the big knotted dildo your werewolf boyfriend was holding in his hand, pointing to your already stuffed pussy. “For me, okay? Open up for me and let me see how pretty you look when you’re stretched to the max…”

Your naga boyfriend’s sweet voice was sending sparks of arousal and desire down your spine, but you didn’t know if you could hold it together enough for him to prove his point. You didn’t know if you could take it, maybe another thinner dildo, but the whole knotted one? You already struggled with your werewolf’s knot.

Your werewolf boyfriend laughed cruelly, pressing the vibrating wand against your clit and turning it to the max and you cry out around the gag, making a mess of drool all over your chin and chest. That only made him laugh harder, pinching one of your nipples almost to the point of pain.

“Of course she’s going to take it, she’s such a good toy for us, such a good slut always asking for more, aren’t you?” You moaned around the toy in your mouth again, tears running down your cheeks as your naga caressed your hair once more, his eyes tenderly looking down at your pitiful display. “Stop being so nice to the slut, you see a couple tears and you’re already bending to her will,” your werewolf complained.

Your naga disappeared from your side, slithering to the werewolf and pushing his chest until you couldn’t feel the vibrations anymore, giving you a much needed break. “Stop being so dramatic, you’re just jealous I can coach her into taking both of my dicks but she can barely take your knot.” His words only make you clench around the dildo in your pussy, sending sparks of pleasure to your brain.

“She can take my knot just fine,” he argued, breathing heavily and getting worked up in a second. Such a short temper on that one...

The naga wasn’t having it, teasing him further: “Sure thing,” he said with a chuckle that made the werewolf clench his fist to the side around the wand still in his hand.

You were too far away in your own pleasure to appreciate how beautiful they were when they bickered, their breath mixing as they spoke profanities to each other. If you weren’t gagged at the moment, you’d be asking them to kiss it out. It always made them feel better when they were angrily kissing each other instead of arguing about who was a better dom, who could make you feel more special or who could make you come more.

Luckily for you, this time they had another focus instead of each other. You whined around the dildo-gag in your mouth and they both turned to you again. You didn’t know who had the remote control, but the second they laid their eyes on you, they pressed it until you were almost snapping the ropes around your extremities. They smirked at the same time, one predatory and the other smug, sending all kinds of fuzzy feelings down your spine.

“Where were we?” Your naga boyfriend asks rhetorically, slowly caressing your leg, gaze fixated on your quivering pussy.

Your werewolf boyfriend wasn’t one to understand rhetorics, so he answered either way. “I was about to push the knotted dildo into her sweet cunt, see how much she can stretch before she starts crying again.”

“Mmmhmm… And what if we push another dildo in her ass at the same time? I bet she looks gorgeous all stuffed.” You whined, both loving and hating that idea.

The werewolf snickered. “I like how you think, boyfriend.”

They kissed like they were in a porno, and you helplessly watched, your pussy clenching around the thin dildo already fully seated inside your cunt. You did the only thing you could in that situation, you moaned as loud as possible, asking for attention.

“Awww, someone’s needy,” your naga’s voice was condescending and tooth-rootingly sweet, making your jaw twitch. The asshole, he played the good guy but he was as bad as your werewolf boyfriend. “Should we take the gag out of her pretty mouth? I miss her sweet screams.” You nodded eagerly, needing to tell them a couple things.

“Nah, leave that in, she likes sucking dicks too much to take that pleasure away from her,” the werewolf said in the most annoyingly patronizing voice ever. They both laughed as you glowered at him. Fuck them.

You struggled against your restraints again, which only caused the dildo inside of you to move and your eyes to roll back into your head as you gagged. Fuck, that felt amazing. They pressed the vibrator’s button again and you screamed around the gag. Their grins were cruel and their eyes were filled with desire as they started pushing both dildos inside of you at the same time.

The dildo they were pushing in your ass wasn’t big, probably not any thicker than one of their fingers, but the combination of that along with the thin dildo in your pussy, plus the knotted one your werewolf boyfriend was coaching inside of you were all too much.

The stretch was almost too much, you weren’t sure you could take them. There’s no way all of that was really going to fit inside of you, was there? You weren’t that big. Fuck, you couldn’t think properly. You didn’t even remember how your own anatomy worked when they were playing with your holes so eagerly.

Too fucking much.

They kept going, and you kept taking it, because above anything else you were a good girl wanting to please them. A good little sub for their depraved fantasies. A good little toy for them to fuck until they got bored of overstimulating you… And you knew you fucking loved it even when it felt like you were being torn apart.

They kept going and going, slowly but surely until you couldn’t think, you couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the incredible stretch between your legs as they filled your holes to the brim. You could sense every inch, every ridge and every textured part of the three dildos inside of you, and it was driving you fucking insane.

And when it felt like an eternity passed, your naga boyfriend spoke: “Look at that! You took them! I knew you could do it, sweetheart, always so good for us.” Your naga’s compliments made you feel almost high with pleasure.

But your werewolf boyfriend was always there to take you down a notch: “Don’t compliment the slut that much, she’s just doing what she was made for: to be a toy for us to play with and fuck as we want.” The joke was on him though, because his words turned you on more than compliments.

You moaned, and they laughed, slowly moving the dildos in a tandem pace of craziness that ignited every cell in your body and attuned them to blinding pleasure. You thought they were talking, but you couldn’t process words at that moment. There was an earthquake building inside your body and with a single movement it could be released…

Then one of them pressed the remote control, and you lost it. You lost control of your body, the sight of your eyes and every coherent thought you had left. You thought you screamed, but maybe you didn’t. You thought you were squirting, but maybe you didn’t do that either. You could only feel a numbing pleasure that turned all other sensations, feelings and thoughts off.

It was like reality itself disappeared, and you were floating in a white cloud of earth shattering orgasms.

You didn’t know how long it lasted. You didn’t know if you passed out or if you screamed your way through the most insane orgasm of your life. When you returned to your senses, you were cleaned up and your holes felt tender and abused. You were sandwiched between your monster boyfriends as they mumbled sweet nothings to you and coached some water into your dry mouth. You blinked slowly as you drank it and sleep soon claimed you before you could even thank them for such an experience.

[missjomarch]

The Distance Between - N. Hischier

Summary: Tomorrow is the most important day of your adult life, but Nico Hischier is 4000 miles away in Denmark. And you've never needed him more than you do right now.

Warnings: a little bit of sadness and tears? Kissing. That's it folks.

Word count: 3,000

A/N: Well hi :) I do still exist and apparently know how to write things? @ladylooch has been hounding me since like...March to write something. When I finally finished school last week she sent in a request to get my thoughts going.

B, I don't think I ever would've returned to writing with your support, encouragement, and a bit of delusion. Not only do you support me in writing, but in life as well. You are constantly listening to my melt downs and complaints about adult life and you give wise advice with grace every time. The best big sis. This is for you. 💜

The apartment greets me with its usual silence, but today it feels like it's holding its breath. Like it's waiting for the dam to finally break. It is almost suffocating, and I can’t stop the sigh that escapes as I abandon my work bag and slump into the nearest chair. The flashcards on the coffee table mock me, looking sturdier than I currently feel. My eyes close involuntarily. 

Tomorrow, I think, tomorrow it will all be over.

After four years of grueling work, tomorrow is the day I defend my dissertation for my PhD. The day before your defense is supposed to be peaceful. The hard part is over, and the reward is on the horizon. But this doesn’t feel like peace. My nerves choke me, sitting thick at the base of my throat, and a heavy feeling of dread weighs on my chest.

I drag my eyes open before I can continue down the path of anxiety and despair that I have spent so many hours on these past few weeks. My work bag taunts me from the corner, holding both my laptop and my phone. 

Both demand my attention.

Neither will get it. 

My advisor basically forbade me from doing any sort of PhD related work today, and insisted I rest and reflect. Solid advice, if I’m being honest. Even if I wasn’t exhausted, I wouldn’t have been able to focus today anyway. My mind is elsewhere. Particularly 4,000 miles away in Denmark. 

In the 8 months I’ve been dating Nico Hischier, this has always been the plan. I would defend in May and he would either be with New Jersey in the playoffs, or with Team Switzerland at Worlds. It hadn’t bothered me at first, but as the date approached a harsh realization struck. I would be doing this alone. My parents were already taking off work for graduation in 2 weeks, so they couldn’t make this trip. My roommate had gone home for the week. And Nico was at Worlds. 

It’s not that I was angry. This was the plan, the expectation. Nico and I haven’t even been together for a year, so I would never expect him to change his annual plans for me. But still, a small kernel of hurt was steadily growing inside of me. One that couldn’t be ignored, and carried a quiet, devastating truth. 

I needed Nico. His strong and steady presence. His gooey eyes and proud smile. Even his corny captain pep-talks would be appreciated right now. 

Nico and I met at a bar last October, after I’d wandered a bit too far from the Rutgers campus. My friends had insisted that we head deeper into the city to avoid the Halloween parties filled with undergrads, and we finally ended up in a dim cocktail bar in Newark. 

Naturally, I ran into him and spilled his drink on my way to the bathroom. After I’d offered him one of my thirteen test tube jello-shots as a replacement and spent fifteen minutes explaining that I was supposed to be a sexy scientist and not a nurse, he asked for my number. 

I’d like to say it was smooth sailing from there, but making time for each other between a grad school schedule and a hockey career proved to be a challenge. It never seemed to weigh on Nico, though. He’d pick me up from classes, let me practice presentations in the car, or take pregame naps at my apartment just to get a few more hours together before a long roadie. 

In the chaos of the past eight months, Nico has been a steady presence. The unmovable rock in the storm of job applications, exams, and defense prep. That’s what makes this so difficult. He should be here helping me through this.

The ringing of my phone breaks me from my thoughts. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but the hope that it's Nico has me dragging myself from my chair to where my bag sits on the floor. When I see his name flashing across the screen, a small smile tugs at my lips and I quickly swipe to answer the call. 

“Hey schatz,” his warm voice lifts a small weight from my shoulders and I can’t keep the smile from my voice as I reply. 

“Hey Neeks,” I spare a quick glance at the clock, “It’s midnight there, why’re you up?” 

“I wanted to check on you before I went to bed. The boys and I just got back to the hotel. You hanging in there?”  

“That sounds fun. Did you guys have dinner with the team?” 

Nico sighs as I dodge the question, but plays along nonetheless. “Yeah. Had dinner at a place down the street with Timo and Jonas. Emma and Nola came too,” he pauses, voice softening. “Made me wish you were here, sweets.” 

His words are soft, but they sharpen the ache forming deep in my chest. I knew the distance was hurting him too, but the clear longing in his voice made it difficult to keep pretending I was fine. 

“I wish I was too. Maybe I can go with you next year since I’ll be out of school. You’ll wish you were able to get rid of me.” 

The rumble of his laugh warms me through the phone, “I would never want to get rid of you. I want you with me all the time. And just think, next year I can parade you around as Dr. Hischer.” 

The possessive tone in his voice is obvious, as is the smirk playing on his lips. I can’t help the snort that escapes me. 

“Hischier, huh? You gonna make me your wife?” 

“Been thinking about it. I want everyone to know you’re mine.” 

“I think you make that pretty clear, even without a ring,” I tease. 

“Still. It wouldn’t hurt. I’d get you a big one too. Something shiny, so men could see it from across the room. Then they’d know your mine before they could even think about walking over.” 

“Mhmm. I’m sure you would,” I grin, “Nice try, Hisch, but your name isn’t going on my degree. I’ve spent too much time and money on it for a man to get credit.” 

Nico pretends to think about it, “Fair enough. I’ll still be the one cheering the loudest when you walk across that stage, though.” 

The playfulness in his tone is replaced by a warmth that squeezes my heart. I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I can speak again. 

“You’ll have to fight my dad for that title,” I manage, but the words are hoarse. I clear my throat in a desperate attempt to stop the emotion clawing its way up. “Fuck, I miss you, Neeks.” 

The admission is no more than a squeak, and then I’m sniffling. I’d been fighting the tears for days, unwilling to let him know just how terrified I was, and how hard the distance had become. But I could never hide from Nico. He saw right through me, recognizing that his absence was unraveling me, no matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise. 

There’s a rustle of fabric as he shifts in the hotel bed, and then comes his voice. Low, and gentle in a way that breaks me all over again. 

“I know, Schatz. I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, “I would do anything to be with you right now.”

I nodded even though he can’t see me, a silent tear slipping down my cheek.

When I don’t respond, he continues. “I’m so damn proud of you, you know that? You are the most hard-working and determined person I have ever met. You’ve earned every bit of this recognition.” 

His words send goose-bumps skittering across my skin. The obvious pride in his voice soothes the shadow of doubt I’ve been carrying. It's his unshakeable faith that has me finally voicing the fears I’ve been dwelling on the past few weeks. 

“What if I don’t pass?” 

“Then you don’t pass. And we will deal with it together,” he says, like that isn’t the most terrifying outcome. “But that isn’t going to happen, sweets. You have given everything you have to this program for four years, and you know your thesis inside and out. I think you could defend in your sleep at this point.” 

The thought has a small giggle forcing its way out of me, “I don’t think that would go well.” 

“Maybe not,” Nico agrees, “that’s why you’re going to be up bright and early tomorrow. Coffee in hand, cute outfit on. Ready to girl boss your way to a PhD.” 

“Girl boss? You need to get off TikTok.”

“Nooo!” He protests, “I want to be able to speak your brain rot language.” 

“I do NOT have brain rot. I am on social media a perfectly normal amount.” 

Nico hums like he doesn’t believe me. I roll my eyes, choosing to move on instead of bringing up his Facebook addiction. 

“Speaking of bright and early, can you call me in the morning to make sure I’m up by seven?” 

“Of course, Schatz. We’ll be done with practice at eleven here, so I’ll give you a wake up call at 6:45? I can DoorDash you coffee, too.” 

“That’d be perfect,” I sigh. “Thank you.” 

Nico tells me a bit more about their time in Denmark so far, though it's pretty limited since he’s only been there for 24 hours. I fill him in on my post-defense plans, and soon we’re saying goodnight and ending the call. 

I don’t have the energy to do much else after that. I eat leftovers from the fridge while watching our show. Usually, he’d complain about me getting ahead, but he admitted on the phone that he’d watched an episode on the plane. So really, I was just catching up. 

After dinner, I shower, letting the warm water wash away the borrowed stress of tomorrow. I skip the hairdryer, knowing I’ll just curl it in the morning, and collapse into bed. The sheets cocoon around me, smelling faintly of Nico. 

I’m suddenly glad I didn’t do laundry last weekend, even though it's been on the to-do list for two weeks. My heart lurches, still aching for him despite the hour long phone call we just shared. My anxieties about tomorrow fight to keep me awake, but eventually exhaustion wins out and I drift to sleep. 

…

Nico is annoyingly on time with his phone call. The harsh ring of my phone drags me from sleep at exactly 6:45. My arm shoots out and I blindly fumble for my phone on my night stand. Finally, I grasp it and begrudgingly click the answer button. 

“What?” I slur, sleep still clouding my words. 

“Someone is in a lovely mood,” he drawls, a grin evident in his voice. 

“Shut up,” I whine into the phone, “I’m sleepy.” 

“I know, sweetheart. But todays the big day. Gotta get up.” 

“Mmmmm…no.”

“Take a sip of your coffee and see if that motivates you at all. I ordered your favorite.” 

I frown, still half asleep. “What coffee?” 

“The one on your night stand.” 

I pop one eye open, and sure enough, an iced latte sits on the bedside table. 

“How did you get it in my room?” I ask, suspicious. “I thought you were DoorDashing it.” 

“I gave him the code to your apartment,” a voice answers. Not from my phone. It’s too loud. Too close. 

My eyes pop open in disbelief, and Nico Hischer stands in my doorway. His phone is still pressed to his ear and a shit-eating grin is spreading across his face. 

My jaw drops and a strangled sound between sob and a laugh leaves me as I shoot up from the bed. My phone is left behind in the sheets and his clatters to the floor as I launch into his arms. He catches me, laughing as I wrap myself around him completely. I shake as I cling to him, the adrenaline overwhelming. His arms tighten around my waist as my hands thread through his hair. And we hold each other. Like this might all fall apart if we let go. 

We stay like that for minutes that feel like hours before I’m pulling back to look at him. 

Tears stain both our faces as my eyes meet his, “What’re you doing here-” 

He’s kissing me before I can finish. It is all consuming. Everything I needed wrapped into one touch, one action. One arm releases my waist to thread through my messy hair, pulling me impossibly closer to him, while my hands plant themselves firmly on his cheeks. By the time we pull away, we are both breathing heavily and our lips are plump and red. 

I rest my forehead against his and close my eyes. “You’re here,” I whisper. 

“Of course I’m here,” he kisses the tip of my nose. “I wanted to be here for you, sweetheart.” 

I shake my head lightly, still trying to make sense of him being here. I pull back to look at him. “But Worlds?” 

“Can wait,” he says simply, matter of factly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

I take in a shuddering breath and rest my cheek against his shoulder. “Even the Stanley Cup finals?” 

A small grin plays at his lips, “Maybe not that. Fitzy would probably kill me. But thankfully, that’s not the case.” 

“Knew you loved hockey more than me,” I teased, nipping at his neck playfully. He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to my cheek. 

His tone is suddenly serious when he responds. “No, schatz. This matters more to me. You matter more to me. More than hockey. More than anything.” 

I pull my head from his shoulder to look at him. Tears well in my eyes once again when I see the gooey, love-struck look in his. “I love you, Nico Hischier.” 

He kisses me deeply before pulling back to mumble against my lips, “I love you, too.” 

Then he’s giving a soft smack to my ass before releasing me from his hold. “Now, let’s get you caffeinated Dr. Almost-Hischier.” 

I give him an incredulous look, “I am neither a doctor nor a Hischier.” 

“Yet,” he smirks. “But you will be one of them by the end of the day.” 

I roll my eyes, “And if I don’t pass?” 

“Then I’m proposing at dinner,” he shrugs, seemingly certain about this decision. 

My cheeks heat at the potential idea of seeing Nico down on one knee, and I have to physically shake my head to clear the image from my mind. I choose not to respond to avoid saying something embarrassingly desperate in my flustered state, and down a third of my coffee instead. 

“Ugh, I love honey lavender lattes,” I groan as I savor the taste.

“I know,” Nico says, taking the coffee and gently pushing me towards my vanity. “Now go get ready.” 

...

The rest of the morning flies by in a blur. Nico makes me breakfast while I curl my hair and finish my coffee. He lets me review my major points as I apply my make-up, helps put on my heels, and ensures my water bottle is full before we leave the apartment. He asks me potential questions on my material as he drives me to campus, and hands me my flashcards with a kiss as he drops me off with a promise to pick me up when I’m finished. 

The defense goes off without a hitch, and by twelve they’re inviting me back in the room to share their decision. The table of advisors looks much less intimidating when I reenter the conference room, despite the fact that they currently withhold the most important decision of my life to date. 

“Congratulations, Doctor!” The chairwoman beams, reaching to shake my hand. For the first time in four years, I take a full breath. 

“We have passed you with no revisions to your thesis. This is incredible work.” 

After much congratulations and thanks, I gather my things and all but sprint to the parking lot. The tears are already falling before I even exit the building, but they only fall faster when I see Nico leaning against his car in the parking lot. 

The clack of my heels against the concrete has his head jerking up from his phone. A brief, concerned look crosses his face at the tears leaking from my eyes, but it disappears as a wide grin appears alongside them. 

“I passed!” I screech, and fling myself into his arms for the second time in 24 hours. 

He pulls me in tight, face buried in my hair, and inhales deeply. “I knew you could do it. Never a doubt in my mind,” he breathes. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.” 

It’s then I realize that even if I had failed miserably, I would’ve been fine. I already have everything I need with Nico. We could be living in a cardboard box on the street, and I’d still be madly in love with him. 

I pulled back then, grasping his face to force him to look at me. 

“Thank you. For everything,” the tears threaten to choke me. “For being here. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

His gooey brown eyes meet mine, equally as watery. “Always, schatz. I’d drop anything for you. Hockey or not. If you need me, I’m there. You are everything to me now.” 

I melt into his chest, overwhelmed by his admission and the events of the past few hours. We stay there for a moment, Nico swaying us as his hand rubs circles along my back.

“I’m gonna marry you someday, Hisch.” I mumble into his chest. 

He is unphased, still swaying gently as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. His response is certain. 

“Not if I marry you first, Dr. Hischier.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, et

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The phone rings. You pick up eagerly, nearly fumbling the receiver. You steady it and clear your throat. "Laufeyson Accounting, how may I help you today?"

"Ah, such a sweet voice. It is Jonathan Pine. I believe we met the other day?" The smooth timbre replies. You nod as you cradle the phone with your shoulder and keep typing.

"I remember. I'm afraid Mr. Laufeyson is out of office at the moment. He should be back short--" you voice catches as the door opens, as if on cue. You truly hope the thought of the man doesn't summon him so easily. "Shortly."

Laufeyson gestures with his finger for you to be silent. You squint and clear your throat.

"I can take a... message."

You falter as your boss approaches you. He rounds you and turns your chair so your legs are out from beneath the desk. You nearly swipe the keyboard and mouse onto the floor. You grip the desk's edge with one hand as the phone cord stretches before you. You watch him in confused irritation.

"Ah, simply tell him to give me a ring," Pine sighs. "But what of you? How do you like working for the man? He can be rather temperamental."

You furrow your brow as Laufeyson gets to his knees. What the hell is he doing? You shift as he runs his hand up your calves and up to your skirt. You ball your fist.

His green eyes sparkle at you as the drone of the phone tickles your brain.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pine. I didn't catch that."

Laufeyson tilts his head and arches a brow. He bends to kiss above your knee. Okay, he's delusional. He can't be doing this right now.

"I was saying I do hope you get some time off. Knowing the man, he would be the type to have you working overtime--"

Laufeyson slides his hands up your skirt and scoops them under your ass. You swallow your voice and cough.

"Eight hours a day," you try to put more than detest into your tone as your skirt rides up higher and higher. Laufeyson trails his lips up your thigh and instinctively you catch the top of his head. "I appreciate you checking in. I'll let him know you called. I'm just getting someone on the other--" He jerks you so your hips tilt and you slip in the chair. "line! Bye."

You flail and slam the receiver into the cradle. It hits the button and bounces off as it falls from your grasp. The dial tone quietly hums.

"You are getting rebellious," Laufeyson chides and bites your thigh above your stockings.

"Sir--" You sputter. "I was on a call. With your client."

"Tut, tut," he runs his finger over the lace at the top of your stocking, his other hand still buried beneath you. "I've more urgent business at hand." He kneads your ass as his hand slips up to your naked cunt. "That woman is abhorrent. I am rather in need of a palette cleanser."

You pull your hand back to clasp the arm rests. In that moment, the choice dangles before you; swat his incessant head or grit your teeth and bear the price of freedom.

He smirks as he drags his hand from beneath you. He shoves your skirt higher as his fingers glide along your slit. You clench but not out of any need. Only for it to be quick.

"I could--" you try to push yourself off the seat. "Finish--"

"Ah," he jabs your hip and you drop back down. "As I will have you."

He spreads his fingers wide along your thigh and squeezes as he watches his other hand. He tickles along your cunt and snickers. He bites the tip of his tongue as he glides between your lips. You wince.

"Irony, isn't it? The woman sworn to keep criminals in line is all but repulsive, yet the rat that's escape its cage is so... delightful."

You bite down. What's ironic, or rather hypocritical, yeah that it, is that this man proclaims moral superiority yet behaves as bad as those you broke bread with in the prison mess.

He flutters his fingers along your clit and traces down to your entrance. He swipes back up again, deliberate as he teases your cluster of nerves only to flick back up. You turn your face away as your body responds to his diligence.

"Hmm, shall I taste the forbidden fruit?" He purrs as he leans in.

You tense as he drags his fingers down and bows his head. His breath grazes your skin and his hand trails down your thighs. He kisses the curls along your pelvis and delves his tongue into your warmth. A squeak escapes you.

He hooks his hands around your thighs and pulls you further down the chair as he angles you to his feast. He spreads his tongue wide to taste you, then swirls the tip around your clit. You twitch and chew your cheeks, fighting the declaration of your surrender.

The sight of his sleek hair between your thighs sends a quiver through you. A mingling of disgust and thrill. It isn't him, only the years of neglect. Or maybe it's what you've never known. You're no stranger to that need but you've never had it fed.

"No, I can..." you push on his head, "I'll do... I'll... you..."

The fragments of your protest tumble around you. You reach up to grasp the back of the chair, gripping tight the arm rest as you slip further down. The noise of his eager lapping fills the office, his breath buffing up your thighs. He hums and growls as he drinks you in.

A flare of anger sparks beneath the heat of rising bliss. How can he do this? After all that you've let him do, he cannot be pleased. He has to debase you in any way he can. Even if it means you enjoy it.

"L--Mr.--" you stammer as your head lolls back and forth. "No-- stop." Your stomach knots and your chest pounds. No, you! You stop.

He seals his lips around your clit and the sudden draw of pressure makes you spasm. You clap your hand over your mouth and your voice escape through your fingers. Your eyes roll back as a tide flows over you.

"Mr. Lauf--"

He purrs and rolls over you. Your voice clogs in your throat and you curl your fingers as you turn your hand. You bite your knuckle as the swell crashes down and breaks into ripples through your muscles.

He coaxes you through the after waves as you shudder. He nuzzles into you, smearing your cum around his nose and mouth. That sends a twinge of revulsion through you. You pull yourself up as he sits back on his heels and licks his lips.

"Loki?" The stunned tone has you sitting up immediately.

The monitor blocks all by Frigga's long face and silver blond waves. You plant your feet as you try to tug down your skirt. "Shit," you hiss.

Laufeyson stares at you as he pokes his tongue in his cheek. He wipes his face with his sleeve, a shade of crimson kissing his sharp cheeks. He braces the corner of the desk and stands, staying behind it as he stiffly faces the unexpected drop-in.

"Mother," he greets in a strangled cough.

Her lashes flick, "yes, well, I only came by to... well, I've gone and forgotten..." she chuckles nervously. She looks at you. "I'm very sorry. Er, oh, but dear," she touches her neck. "I am not unhappy for the match."

"Mother," he adjusts his belt subtly behind the monitor. "It isn't-- please, we should talk."

"Not now, I think," she trills. "I will make an appointment." She turns to the door and pauses. "And I did try to call. The phone was off the hook."

"Mother--" he repeats but she's too quick.

She leaves and as the door snaps shut, you plummet back to the depths of reality. You grab the receiver and put it in the cradle. You sigh.

"Well," he turns to you and puts his hands on his hips. He looks down at his trousers. "You've made a fine mess." He runs his hand over to his buckle. "Best clean it up, darling."

You glare up at him. As you stew in shame, this man can't find an ounce of it.

He unbuckles and you feel the last of the adrenaline scatter. Numbly, you push yourself to the edge of the chair. With your heels, you walk it closer, the wheels skimming the floor.

"Ah ah, I want you in nothing but those stockings," he tisks. "They are rather fetching."

You look up at him. Jaw locked, lips sealed, cheeks taut. You reach to your blouse and sweep it over your head. He strides around the desk, a hand still on his pants, and locks the door. He returns to you with a snicker.

You stand to slip out of your now wrinkled skirt. You lay your clothes on the desk, on piece at a time. You unhook your bra last and reach for the chair. He kicks it away.

"Kneel," he commands.

Your cheek ticks. His own dimples as he notices. You cautiously lower yourself. He pushes down his pants and pulls his dick above his silky boxers. He strokes his length as he steps closer.

He presses his tip to your lips as he grabs the back of your head. He traces your lips and hums. He does it again, brushing around your mouth as he sighs.

"Open, darling," he slithers.

You obey and stare at the tails of his shirt, hanging loosely down his pelvis. He pushes you onto him, fingers splays across your skull. You latch onto his pants before he can gag you.

He chuckles again and slips his hand down to your throat. You tilt your head as he inches deeper. Your eyes water and you hold your breath as he ignores the strain of his intrusion. He pets your throat as he feels himself from the outside.

"You take me well, pet," he hums and eases back. "I wonder if it's practice or you are merely made to serve?"

He rocks into you slowly. He basks in ever dip down your throat, retreating with a haughty purr each time until his tip rests on your lip. In, out, in, out.

"Look at you, hmm?" He taunts. "I do think I've been rather generous in offering you a second chance. Hm?"

He groans and bites down on his breath.

"So good," he purrs. "Never..."

His voice unfurls into sultry snarls.

You puff around him, head throbbing, nails dug into his pants. You close your eyes as the mascara runs into them. You ball up all the anger and humiliation and let it sink into your stomach.

Just get it over with. That mantra always got you through. Childhood, teenage angst, prison... this is just one more thing.

You have survived worse than this man. You will survive him. Right?

[callme-holly]

The gang (or just which ever outsider character you want) with an s/o who gives them food all the time? like just loves making sure theyre fed and cooks all the time. thanks!!!

𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠

a/n: this is a little bit rushed so sorry! but thank you for the request!!1

Darry Curtis:

Darry tries to act as if he doesn’t need the food, telling you that he can cook for himself, but you also know he’s incredibly busy and he melts every single time you bring him something to eat. 

You’ll find him sitting before you can even set the plate down in front of him. He’s learnt not to fight you and to just accept whatever you make with open arms. He loves everything you cook and is secretly very grateful.

Don't think his accepting your insistence doesn’t mean he’s not going to offer to help, though. 

Sodapop Curtis: 

Soda loves your cooking so much and will eat anything and everything you make. He’ll accept each plate with a large grin and a quick, grateful kiss, making sure you know just how much he appreciates it.

If you’re in the kitchen, he’s always poking his head in to check on you, smelling the air and coming up behind you to see what you’re making this time.

“You making’ those little sandwiches?” 

He’s always stealing things before they’re done, claiming it’s to taste test what you’ve made him. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony has a knack of forgetting to eat so having you there to remind him and give him plates of food is really helpful and he appreciates it a lot. 

You’ll catch him trying to leave the house knowing full well he hasn’t eaten and will force him to sit down and at least have a snack before he goes anywhere. 

He gets so incredibly soft whenever you bring him something, especially if he’s reading or studying. He’ll thank you softly, nibbling away at the food while not taking his attention away from whatever he’s doing. 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny isn’t used to someone consistently feeding him, so to have you there, someone who cares enough to cook for him, makes him pretty soft. 

The first time you ever show up with food for him, he thinks you’re joking at first. He’ll try and refuse it, but when you insist, he gives in, and man, is it the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

He never ever takes your cooking for granted and savours everything you ever make him, making sure he eats all of it to ensure it isn’t wasted. 

Dallas Winston: 

He pretends not to care and will brush off everything you make him, but with enough convincing, he’ll eat. It’s not that he doesn’t want to; he’ll always accept the food, but he just doesn’t want to look soft in accepting it the first time. 

IF you were to ever skip a day, he’s not letting it go, coming over to you and asking where the hell his plate is. It becomes part of his routine and he just expects you to make things for him.

IF you ever give him a plate after he’s a rough day, he’ll go weirdly quiet and just eats like he’s never eaten before 

Steve Randle: 

He’ll eat anything you ever give him with no hesitation or shame. He won't ever turn down a meal and always praises everything he eats. 

If you’re cooking, he’ll stand behind you, arms around your middle, flirting mindlessly with you. He always offers to “help, but that mostly just consists of making a mess and taste testing. 

He’ll bring all of the things you make to work just to show off how good his partner is. 

Two-Bit Mathews: 

Two always compliments your food and he means every single one with his whole heart. He loves eating everything you make him and can never point out a single fault. 

He ranks every single dish but to him, they always come out at number 1 and there’s never a true ranking. 

He probably licks the plate clean. 

tag list. @mrsdillonx , @goingdelux18 , @princesshailierawr , @r0seb100d , @groovydonutpost

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I first wanted to say thank you so much for everything you guys do! This has been such a wonderful resource for finding new fics! Your hard work is very much appreciated 💕

For my request, I just read through Dark Angels, Golden Serpents by KiaraMGrey for the first time and I'm desperate for more fics that has one of the Husbands dark, obsessive, and dangerous but soft, kind, and respectful only for their love. I don't care if it's dom Crowley or dom Aziraphale, they're both lovely to me.

Thank you for any help you can provide!

Hey! We have #possessive crowley and #possessive aziraphale tags, so check those out. Here are more fics to add...

The Temptation Games by andy_allan_poe, BlueSkyeDragon (E)

Crowley regretted telling Aziraphale about his… proclivity for watching the Angel eat. Aziraphale was quite happy he admitted his fascination with Crowley's fashion. In other words: Several months after having sex for the first time, Aziraphale and Crowley are playing two different games of seduction. They'd both like the games to conclude, but neither of them will be the one to initiate their second round of intimacy, for one reason or another. Also, Aziraphale is winning both games.

The Shelter Of Your Wing by orphan_account (series) (M)

The mob has marked him for death, and Crowley ends up taking shelter with a bookseller he barely knows. But the bookseller is not what he seems. He might even be more dangerous than what Crowley is running from.

Greater Than Our Suffering by ladydragona, SylWritesStuff (E)

Things have changed. He's left the nunnery he grew up in, the rules he'd always known, the people, the village, his very name - he has nothing to his new name and so has nothing to lose. As Aziraphale approaches the foreboding castle ahead and the deadly vampire who lives within, he's well aware of this fact. But having nothing to lose means having everything to gain, and it seems worth a risk. Worth another drastic change. And, as Crowley well knows, life changes even after its end.

seeing you carry plants in by ChristopherTuring (E)

Crowley thinks about lying alone and in pain on a hospital bed when he was 5. He thinks about all those tearful prayers asking for an angel to help him, guide him, take care of him, protect him, and love him. He thinks about every single heartbreak and trauma he had endured for the past decade and a half and how they slowly ate away his confidence and dignity. He thinks about all the time he spent staring down from his window and wondering whether it would have been easier if he just took the leap. But now, with Aziraphale’s arms tightly around him, he has never been surer that he would gladly endure everything again and some more if it meant that Aziraphale would find him in the end. He wants to go back in time and tell that scared 5-year-old that an angel will find him someday. An angel in the form of a soft gentleman with the bluest eyes. He just needs to be patient and strong with just the right amount of stubbornness to not give up before then. OR 5 Times Crowley thought he was shattered beyond repair and 1 Time Aziraphale proves him wrong.

Just Like Heaven by AngeliqueTombee (E)

Aziraphale Fell finds himself foisted upon a new dorm mate at University who has a notorious history of making said roommates disappear. Whether it's his loud music, need for dark, or overall sarcastic nature, Crowley always manages to run them off before they become an issue. But...this one seems different. His wit is sharp, and his knives aren't far behind. He may seem like an old silly, but this one may just be the wake-up call Crowley - and his motley band of ne'er-do-wells - needs.

Saltwater on Skin by CandyQueenAO3 (E)

Ezra fell, an award-winning novelist, has just sold the one millionth copy of his newest book. While celebrating with friends and family on a rented yacht, Ezra falls overboard and is washed ashore on an uncharted island. Ever the optimist, he keeps his spirits up while he awaits rescue. That is, until he gets the distinct feeling that he isn't ALONE on this island; that there's SOMETHING else out there. Watching him. *~*~*~*~* EXERPT FROM EPILOGUE CHAPTER 10: As they’d glided silently over the dark, chilly waters of the ocean, Crowley had allowed himself to relax a little and be held. Normally he’d be the one doing all the carrying - he was a very tactile person and much preferred it that way - but every so often, he could see the appeal of being cradled against the bare chest of a literal angel. Then everything had gone wrong.

And the one you mentioned...

Dark Angels, Golden Serpents by KiaraMGrey (E)

It would be easy to look at Mr. Fell and see a soft, aging bookseller. It's what much of the world sees, even if it isn't the truth. Because Mr. Fell is also known by another name. The Archangel, the leader and head of London's largest and most powerful crime syndicate. When Crowley, a low level member of a rival organization get's into some trouble and needs help, he unknowingly goes straight to London's most prominent crime boss. For Aziraphale's part, he loves beauty. He loves decadence and art and food, and is not in the habit of denying himself the things he wants. The moment he sees Crowley, he knows he is beauty personified. He wants him, and he will have him, even if he needs to crush a rival crime boss beneath his heel to keep him.

- Mod D

[queenofmorningstar]

Hiiiiiiii(*^^*)❤️ idk if you taking requests but can you do a one shot for Adam x wife!reader???

AND I LOOOVEEEE YOUR WRITING ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Adam x Wife! Reader

CW: Wife! Reader enjoys/supports/participates in extermination. They are evil power couple together. Canon-typical violence.

Notes: Thank you oomf!! I enjoyed writing this, and hope you do too! You didn't mention so I'm leaning towards sfw and a little spicy. If you do want continuation in nsfw, do ask again. Asks are always appreciated.

The streets of Hell burned. 

Angels descended and sinners screamed, scrambled, scattered but none escaped the rain of judgment. The screams were music.

Your outfit, once pristine, was now kissed with splashes of crimson. A demon darted from the rubble ahead, eyes wide with terror. You raised your hand slowly, like a dancer preparing to twirl. A flash—your blade flew. It sank straight through his skull. He collapsed in a twitching heap, face frozen in surprise.

You sauntered over, heels clicking, hips swaying. You bent down, yanked the blade free with a wet crunch. “God, I love this holiday.”

The Extermination was your favourite time of year. It wasn’t just the killing…it was the cleansing. The raw beauty of it. The artistry. Your blade was the brush. Sinners were the canvas. And by the time you were done, the streets would be soaked in something divine.

“Sloppy,” you chided. “You’re all so sloppy. ” You stepped over the corpses and wiped your cheek with a gloved hand, smearing the blood like warpaint.

You walked ahead into the ruins, blade humming in your hand, heart pounding with excitement. There were still sinners left. And you hadn’t had nearly enough fun.

You felt the air shift, not even turning to see. You didn’t need to. You could recognize your husband anywhere. Adam admired the aftermath you’d created around. And damn , what a sight. Adam let out a low whistle. “Shit, babe.”

He raked his eyes over you, slow and blatant, licking his bottom lip like he could taste the violence in the air. You grinned, pleased. “Took you long enough, honey . You missed all the fun. I’m still ahead of you…got a good 302 of these fuckers.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He stepped over a twitching body, kicking it lazily aside. “I’m only a little behind, baby. I’ll catch up.”

He grabbed you by the waist, not gentle at all, and yanked you against him. You didn’t resist—why would you? You melted into his touch like a blade into flesh.

“Damn, look at you. You’re so hot like this, baby. You know that?”

Your breath hitched in the best way.

“Lucky fuckin’ me,” he muttered against your neck. “That this badass chick is my wife.”

“You gonna help me finish this?” you asked, a challenge in your voice.

Adam grinned, swinging his guitar. “Hell yeah,” he said. “Let’s go kill the rest of these assholes.”

_______________________

“On your left, babe,” Adam called lazily, slicing the head off a snarling sinner with one shot.

“Handled it,” You replied before the words even finished leaving his mouth. Your blade slicing clean through the demon’s throat with a wet crunch . The body dropped at your feet in two twitching halves.

You smirked over your shoulder. “Are you getting slow or just enjoying the view?”

“Can you blame me?”

You chuckled. “Then stop staring and cover my ass.”

He laughed, hitting another target with pinpoint accuracy. “Ass officially covered, hot stuff.”

They moved like synchronized chaos, he blasted from a distance with his holy light, you darted in close. A larger sinner lunged at you–eight feet tall, claws like spears. Adam snarled, but you waved him off.

“Mine,” You purred. You launched forward, slashing into the demon’s gut, then flipping over its back and jamming your blade through its skull from behind. It roared, thrashed, then fell still.

Adam whistled low. “Marry me again, goddamn.”

You laughed, slicing through another demon that dared to interrupt. “Aw, you’re so romantic.”

“I try,” Adam said, stepping beside you again. 

They turned in unison, wiping out the last cluster of sinners together. Blood sprayed across their faces, and they didn’t even flinch…just grinned at each other like lovers sharing dessert.

When the last body hit the ground, Adam let out a satisfied sigh. “Shower sex later?”

You twirled your blade, flicking off the blood. You laughed softly at his proposal, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

Smoke still curled from the ruins, the air thick with iron and ash. Sinners’ bodies lay in pieces, the scent of scorched flesh clinging to the broken pavement. 

He grabbed your waist with bloodied hands, his breath was hot against your ear. “Fuck, I love when you’re all smug and deadly. Babe—babe —I’m not even kidding. We need to find a shower, now . Or I’m bending you over right here.”

You cackled, leaning into him with zero shame. “Oh, so you’re into battlefield quickies now?”

“Only when my wife looks like this. 100% fuckable.”

He kissed your neck, sloppy and desperate, teeth grazing skin. You moaned softly, gripping his face and kissing him.

It was messy. Tongues and teeth and blood smearing between them as they stumbled back against a half-destroyed wall. His hands were everywhere , squeezing your ass, groping under your outfit, groaning into your mouth like he hadn’t touched you in weeks.

You moaned into his mouth as Adam’s hand slammed against the ruined stone wall behind, caging you in. His other arm wrapped tight around your waist, dragging you close, pressing their bodies together with shameless urgency.

He groaned as their hips collided. He ground into her with a low growl, rutting against you like a man possessed. You gasped, thighs clenching as you kissed him harder, nails digging into his shoulders.

He licked your throat, kissed your collarbone, dragging his lips across your skin like he was claiming you with every inch. He kissed you again, sloppy and starved. His hips rutted forward again and again, breath hitching every time your body responded to his.

"AHEM.” A loud throat-clear cut through the moment.

They both turned, still pressed together, breathless, lips swollen and saw Lute standing ten feet away, arms crossed, expression an absolutely lethal mix of judgment and rage. “…are you two seriously making out on a battlefield?” she said flatly.

Adam didn’t even blink. “Yeah. Problem?”

Lute gestured vaguely at the flaming wreckage behind them. “You’re still in the kill zone. There’s a demon twitching behind you.”

They both looked back. Yep. Still twitching.

Adam shrugged. “He can wait.”

You were grinning, biting your lip like you were about to pull Adam back in for more. Lute rubbed her temples. “No, don’t you dare. Go finish the job, then screw each other’s brains out somewhere less public.”

Adam leaned in again, still grinning. “I like her,” he whispered. “Think we can finish fast? Though I’ll definitely not finish fast in the bedroom.”

You laughed, grabbing your blade. “Kill first. Fuck later.”

“God, I love you.”

[infanttoes]

☕️ Regressor! Aizawa HCs 🐈‍⬛

Almost died trying to decide between doing agere or cg hcs for this guy. I deadass had to flip a coin LMAO

Requests temporarily closed til I’m on break btw, so like two weeks :P

🐦‍⬛ : Probably a teen regressor (14-16). It could fluctuate depending on whatever triggered it, but that’s the usual. Definitely involuntary, he’d never do this out of his own volition.

🐦‍⬛ : It’s impossible to tell when he’s regressed unless it’s somebody that knows him well. Mic eventually caught onto his mannerisms but he tries not to make a big deal when it happens, simply checking in on occasion and grabbing him anything he needs.

🐦‍⬛ : The type of guy to have chronic migraines (me too bro) and always slips during them. If needed, he’ll grab someone to cover his class and sleeps in the teacher’s lounge with all the lights off and the curtains pulled until it passes. Does not care who walks in.

🐦‍⬛ : (Spoiler-ish) Will sometimes forget about what happened to Oboro when his head’s extra foggy. He doesn’t ask about him anymore though because Mic gets a bit avoidant when he does.

🐦‍⬛ : Doesn’t take shit from anyone. Someone had the absolute gall to tell him he can’t have caffeine when he’s regressed, so he went out and bought a Monster energy drink to chug right in their face (he hates Monster.)

🐦‍⬛ : Carries around a stuffed cat in his bag. He’d prefer to hold it but he’s too ashamed :[. Its name is Lardass.

🐦‍⬛ : Bubble bath enthusiast. He doesn’t care how gross it is, his muscles appreciate it. Gets very bothered by the fact he has back pain as a supposed 16 year old. Also refuses to admit it but one of his favorite forms of affection is getting his hair washed by someone else.

🐦‍⬛ : When he slips after a particularly stressful day, it helps to do something with his hands like building Legos or origami. He feels useless if he’s not actively putting himself to work.

🐦‍⬛ : Physical touch is his main love language. Being kissed on the forehead, massages, and having his hair played with are the easiest ways to get him small.

🐦‍⬛ : Semi-canon but his favorite place to go is the cat cafe.

🐦‍⬛ : Likes night lights, they make him feel safe =3

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

May I please request platonic Craft Siblings x Parent! Spider! Reader?

Reader is more taller than the other toons and a bit intimidating due to their number of eyes and limbs, but they don't mind. The craft siblings are the only ones that aren't immediately startled by them.

(Bonus points if Reader encounters them when they are twisteds or a part when Reader was raising them when they were younger. Also sorry if this is too specific.)

Craft Siblings(+Twisted) With A Parent! Spider! Reader!

Hey, dear anon!! No worries, actually you're helping me SO much by making it too specific, I usually try to come up with my own ideas (which can take a while!) so you telling me what you want really helps!! It was nice to write so here you go, dear anon!! Thank you for requesting! <3

For the second part, I went with reader encountering them when they are twisteds! Gimmie those bonus points!!! >:D

-Anna

-Normally, anyone who ever first saw you visibly flinched or you could see their surprised and kinda uneasy expression. A lot of them tried to brush it off cuz well.. it was rude to do it literally in front of you, some even apologized for it but your appearance was quite spooky for them. You also happened to be taller than them, your eyes and limbs also kinda scared them but some actually didn't even seem scared of you, just curious. One of them was Goob, who happened to be accompanying Scraps, she was a little spooked but warmed up to you quickly, especially when she saw you interacting with her brother.

-You actually grew closer to the craft siblings quickly, you first liked accompanying them when they were doing crafts and arts together, passing around materials like it was nothing with your limbs and even doing things yourself. You preferred watching them either draw or making something together, it felt really nice to you for some reason. Goob would have this smile on his face and Scraps would have this focused face often, trying to make the best thing she could. Goob just had fun but Scraps would always look into improving her skills.

-You often felt the need to take care of them and also help them in any way you could. You would help Goob with things he struggled with, like cleaning his fur, brushing it and making it very soft for hugs, help him with drawing or crafting something as well, his hands could do things but it would be quite hard and he was clumsy in a lot of stuff. As for Scraps, you liked to keep her company and she would go to you to ask you to see if she has improved, either with her art or origami or anything else she would make. They really appreciated your help, it made their day better and they looked up at you a lot.

-Honestly, they helped a lot with your relationship with other toons as they talked so highly about you, making the others also warm up to you slowly, things felt normal in Gardenview for you. You were used to others being intimidated by you so it didn't bother you so much but this was a nice change. Goob often talked about how much you help him and that you give really big and warm hugs, it's also one of the reasons he gave you lots of them. As for Scraps, she was more happy with her progress in art and the things she made, saying you definitely have an eye for this thing and knew what to tell her to improve. You noticed an increase in the things she made after she improved some more.

-It was kinda funny how they literally acted like they were your kids but well, you have been taking care of them for a good while now, you grew super close to them and loved doing things for them, making sure they are happy and more. Seeing them smiling also made a smile grow in your own face as well and when they accomplished things they wanted to do, you loved to celebrate with them, being very proud of them. The craft siblings always wanted to celebrate everything together with you, as you have been a very important toon in their lives, always giving them more confidence to do things they wanted to do or put more effort in.

-Of course, smiles and laughter didn't last forever, with Gardenview closing down and toons slowly disappearing or becoming twisteds, you grew very worried about everything. You trusted the craft siblings to take care of themselves as they were always together, protecting one another. You stayed with other toons who didn't really have anyone but it didn't take long for the siblings to disappear and become twisteds eventually. You will always remember the first night you didn't say goodnight to them, especially after you were so used to it, it got you so stressed and you couldn't sleep well that night. The next day, even though you were supposed to wait for more toons to accompany you, you didn't care and went to find them yourself, not caring about anything anymore.

-When you finally found them after many floors, you couldn't help but freeze, your eyes kept observing them, how they looked in pain, their colors had somewhat faded and their eyes were red and just everything about them. Goob was crying, his claws bigger and fur looked more rough and Scraps.. she only kept smiling, her cup tail looked sharp and intimidating as well as her claws. Your heart dropped and you felt like you had failed them completely, allowing them to become like this. You couldn't even describe what you were feeling when you looked at them being in pain and completely different than before yet still so so similar.

-Goob had happened to approach you first or well.. had hugged you the moment he saw you. You had to hold his claws away so they don't hurt you and you watched him shake as he kept staring at you, even his hands shook when you held them away from you. You slowly embraced Goob as you held him tight and close to you, not even knowing what to say. You knew that twisteds couldn't speak nor understand a lot of things, especially since their minds were long gone a lot of the time. You felt as he held you close, having to unfortunately press the sharp claws on you but honestly? You didn't care now. Goob just wailed, ichor from his tears sticking to you.

-Scraps always stuck close to her brother and when she saw you? She extended her tail as it bit your arm, making you harshly flinch and pull away from Goob. She retreated her tail before she ran in your direction, ready to jump at you and slash you into pieces. It was going to be just that before Goob grabbed her and held her very tightly, not allowing her to hurt you. She struggled in his arms for a good while before giving up, frowning as she was technically forced to stare at you. You looked.. very familiar, after all. How come Goob was hugging you? She frowned even more when you stroked her head gently. Even if you were bleeding ichor, you looked at them with a small smile. You didn't know what would happen next.

-And you truly didn't know.. you knew it was very late and you definitely couldn't bring them back to the lobby or the room they shared. You don't think you would even get to watch them do the things they so loved. You.. still tried doing things with them. Goob would follow you around like a lost puppy and Scraps would climb things, looking at everything around for something to strike and tear apart, she would even circle the two of you, looking out for the both of you in her own.. new ways. You like to bring things like a brush to brush down Goob's rough fur and papers and more for Scraps to use.. even if she ends up scratching them or finding other things more interesting. No matter what now, you refused to leave their side, you wished things would go back to normal but what you could do was make their new lives easier now and stay there by their side.

Thank you for reading! <3

[emilyartstudio-s]

Everytime I saw your art (on twitter) it makes me wanna draw. It makes me want to go back to drawing because it made me happy. I just wish that I would have/find more time for myself to draw things that makes me happy again. College has been biting me in the ass and I'm slow af with my hw

Anyway I love your art a lot and I hope you never stop making them, but also please take care of yourself and don't push yourself too hard. Thank you for putting a smile on my face :) (and for making me squirm sometimes cus 💙💚)

Have a good day/night!!

OMG YOU ALL ARE SO LOVELY THANK YOU FOR THESE MESSAGES!! I reread these and others so much you guys literally fill my heart with so much love!! Thank you <333!! IM SAVIGN THESE FOREVER TO LOOK BACK AT :,))

[lethologicaee]

Hey I just got broken up with after years and I'm not here to vent to you I just wanna let you know the only thing getting me through it rn is the way you draw jason

hoping for your swift recovery...

[tojisdove]

"TW1TTER P0RN LINK5: PT4" — jjk men.

☆ cw : nsfw twt links w your favorite jjk men. afab reader. minors do not interact. ( make a request here! )

☆ note : kinda done with tumblr fucking up my posts, but wtv,,, comments and reblogs are appreciated!! mwah <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO / SUKUNA RYOMEN

cw: unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, fingering (4).

adores seeing the mess he's made inside of you

he's just so, so fucking big compared to his love

guess he gotta prep you nicely for both of his cocks

finally getting pounded like his darling deserves

"would you take it all?"

NANAMI KENTO / HIGURUMA HIROMI

cw: fingering, spanking, size kink.

"relax and let daddy take care of all your needs"

"ever so pretty when I leave you red"

gotta definitely brag about his new watch

ever so comfortable bent over his lap <33

another one just bc my size kink is going crazy

GETO SUGURU / SATORU GOJO

cw: riding + yourself on the shelf, jerking off vid.

always gonna make you work for it

he loves showing you off to the camera so much

little things he likes to send you when he's away ♡

better keep that arch deep for him

"bend over and take it like the pretty girl you are"

CHOSO KAMO / INO TAKUMA

cw: unprotected sex, oral, jerking off, body worship.

eating you out oh-so-slowly and oh-so-nicely <3

pretty boy will never be able to get you out of his mind

will ask to worship you every single morning

maybe spooning it's even better than you'd think

his princess always tastes so, so sweet on his tongue

© tojisdove 2024. please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[muntitled]

Tic-Tac-Toe

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Insertion, Fingering, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Gunplay, Deepthroating, Breeding Kink, Unprotected sex

A/N: Hell is empty

4k Words

You're strapped in a chair, like always, and you are blindfolded because he doesn't trust easily.

It's terribly annoying.

At any point of during and after your little 'arrangement' you could have called the cops. Doesn't he understand that?

Every Wednesday, you're taken from the warmth of your apartment, and you're delivered right back at 00:00 on the dot, every Thursday with barely an inch of life left in your bones. You'd either always come back wet, with semen sliding between your thighs, or with mysterious marks- old and new- crawling underneath your sweater. Whatever mood he was in, he'd always leave you feeling sore.

It should have bothered you.

The thought of seeing this large, domineering shadow-in-a-suit every Wednesday should not overwhelm you with all these feelings of excitement. Instead, you should do like all the mentally ill girls do and just get some fucking help.

But you want him to trust you, for some reason.

Which was utterly ridiculous considering the fact that to him, you were something akin to a porcelain wind up toy for his amusement. You had no business requesting he remove the blindfold aspect but still, you asked anyway. Toy's couldn't be trusted, could they?

"I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to wear one of these everytime I visit your place." He removes the blindfold, and in a second, your vision is filled with nothing but him. One moment you were in the cozy warmth of your dorm room. Curled up on the couch while your roommate spends her youth effectively- out with boyfriends and friends and everything you didn't have. You answered the front door when you heard his special knock, like you always do. You walked with him to the cab. You let him put on the blindfold. You said 'I'm fine’ when the taxi driver got a little too nosy and you let him lead you away from your boring life.

If only for a few hours.

You'd let him do whatever he wanted for those few hours because such surrender was almost sacred. You forfeited your safety in his hands, to do with it whatever he pleased and in that, you found rest. Whatever happens, happens.

Forget this room- what was essentially his personal dungeon, windowless, red and boasting various torture objects- your eyes are only on him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to kidnap me anymore? We do this every Wednesday," You become more childish around him and he lets you. Like you forgot you are a fully autonomous university student. There was power in that too. "Surely we've established some sort of trust?” He doesn't respond to you immediately. You crane your head up at him, hungry to lock eyes with his cold, empty slits that enchanted you body and soul.

You are in love with him, perhaps.

That's a logical response isn't it?

You laugh almost.

Listening to yourself try to rationalize your fondness for such a horrible man.

Said horrible man is silent. All you hear is the clicking of his dress shoes as he moves to the leather seat directly across from yours. Your eyes scan over all his movements.

The right corner of his lip quirks up. A small coffee table creates the only distance between you and he bends over to pour you both a generous glass of Brandy on the rocks. You don't drink it. Ever since he's been bringing you here, you never do. He knows this, yet still he pours.

"This relationship isn't about trust." He says finally. Something inside you, that is perhaps a little broken, actually purrs at the sound of his voice. You're hyperaware of your thighs squeezing together on the leather seat. They're spilling out of the sundress you purposely wore today.

Lots of your clothes were for the function of comfort. Your body was full and curvy and not always something to be advertised, unless you wished it to. Tonight, you wanted to show off as much as possible.

A thick leather band is keeping both your wrists locked to the armrests, while he sits back, free and so irrevocably in charge it should scare you. It should. But the sick and incredibly deranged thing is that it doesn't.

Outside, the rain is beating down on whatever building you're in, casting a thick veneer of grey all across the city.

But inside this velvet room... your heart is hammering inside its cage as you watch him undo the buttons of his crisp suit. A black one today. Jet black like his hair.

Although-

"You've got more grey in your hair than last week." You can't help but say.

He tilts his head in inquisition. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," you shrug your shoulders as much as you can under these limited restraints. At least he hasn't restrained your ankles this time. Progress. "In here, you're the boss. Right?"

He takes a sip of his drink until finally, you've finally locked eyes. Your bare toes curl and your back arches slightly as you sit a bit straighter in your seat. Like you're in a lecture hall, although he is far more interesting than any of your professors.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he finally says as he takes one more sip of his drink before bringing his briefcase onto the coffee table. Its presence is ominous and so horribly loud for an inanimate object. It kickstarts all your dormant nerves, revving up all the rest of your senses that have yet to catch up to the fact that you were facing the man of both your desires and nightmares once again.

"Who have you told about our arrangement?" The question causes you to roll your eyes. He watches the petulant movement with that same, silent smile and blank eyes. He unclicks the briefcase. Your stomach lurches and your thighs squeeze together. Pavlov's dog.

"Every time you ask me-" an object clinks onto the table. A butcher knife.

You try to pull your eyes away from the objects he's placing on the table, one by one. "Everytime you ask me if I've told anyone about our arrangement-" another object. A wooden spoon beside the knife. "Everytime I tell you the same thing."

Your throat closes when he uncovers a dildo. Bright pink and fucking menacing. "Carry on talking." He says, snapping your gaze away from the objects lining the table.

"I don't have any friends." Your voice is wobblier. You try to deny the sight of the rabbit vibrator, "It's the reason you picked me." You clear your throat as you hoped to clear all the nerves beginning to fog your mind. "Someone could've followed me here. B-But I don't really know anyone enough to care." The final object that clunks onto the glass coffee table and this time, you're unable to look away.

"Are we ready to begin?"

The metal revolver laying quiet and undisturbed beside the rabbit vibrator makes everything else on the table look like children's toys. Even the butcher knife.

You pull at the restraints, your legs quivering slightly as you shift and writhe in the seat. He studies you as closely as you were once studying him. You can see the excitement begin to flood his eyes at the physical manifestation of your discomfort.

"Now you're getting it." He nods sardonically, taking another sip from his glass before placing the briefcase on the floor beside him. "You were a little too happy to see me," he joked, letting out an airy exhale of laughter.

"You wanna hazard a guess as to what we'll be playing today?" He's smiling, genuinely. With that look in his eyes you can tell he's hovering in the clouds. Meanwhile you've begun to feel real fear. No matter how regular these visits might become you'd never get used to him. It's impossible. Not when he found new and daring ways to torture and pleasure you every single week. You couldn't get used to something as brash and unconventional as him. Like the conditions of a child in a broken home, he kept his tactics inconsistent so that every week is a new hell or perhaps- depending on his mood- heaven.

"If I guess wrong?" You swallow thickly and something dark in him settles. He spreads his legs more, there's a twitch inside his lips before he smiles again.

"Well, guessing isn't the game, so you'll be fine."

You nod your head... assessing the objects. There's menacing objects and household objects. Even just looking at them you can tell what they all have in common.

"Am I going to have to insert-"

"You're not guessing." His voice booms. He rests his elbow on the armrests, his hands corded with veins seem itching to do something, you're not sure what. "I said guess." He commands.

"Hide and seek?"

He snickers, "A favourite-"

"More like your favourite." You snip back, "I couldn't sit down the whole week." You frown at the memory. That week he'd brought you to an abandoned warehouse, letting you run the entire perimeter full.

"It's in your best interest to keep coming to our sessions-" he reminds you, snapping you back into the present.

"You're paying my university fees, I'm not complaining." You nod, before plastering a thin smile on your face, "All I have to do every week is prostitute myself to a literal sadist-"

"Have you given up on guessing today's game?" He didn't like you making him hyper aware of the fact that this dynamic, whatever it is, is considered objectively bad. And so you're not surprised when he swiftly moves past the topic.

He leans forward. His large hand disappears under his chair before uncovering a small whiteboard. Four lines- 2 horizontals are running across 2 verticals, creating 9 blocks. He stands up, while your eye is still focusing on the board. From your point of view it sits underneath the row of objects on the table. You don't even realize your right wrist strap is being untied.

"Colour?" He asks, pushing a crate of whiteboard markers towards you. With your now free hand you pick the pink one.

He snickers. "Predictable." He whispers before placing a large, domineering hand on your head. He presses down your braids, patting you like a stray he's rescued from the cold. You stare aimlessly ahead, fearing you won't be able to contain everything you've begun to feel for him if you lock eyes now.

"We're playing tic-tac-toe," he relents. His hand lingers on your head a bit longer before he's stepping away.

"With a twist, I presume?"

"Clever girl," he nods, walking back to his seat. "So you're aware of the objects."

"Place a gun in front of a girl and she's going to notice."

"Paranoid girl." He tsks before leaning forward.

"You want to start or should I?"

"Wait-" you swallow, "What happens if I win?"

He smiles that dazzling, debonair smile.

"You pick which one goes inside you."

Lightning cracks across the sky. A chorus of thunder roars all at once like some kind of phenomenon and your lips stutter open.

"Th-That's insane I-"

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you came here out of your own volition. "

"What happens if you win?"

"Then I choose." He says.

Your eyes skate over the object. It doesn't take an ivy league graduate to hazard a guess as to which of the objects he's itching to stick inside you.

"There's a fucking knife here-" You're trembling. Tears are pooling in your eyes. It doesn't even matter that you're a somewhat decent tic tac toe player. It doesn't matter that you're confident in this game. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

"And there's also a spoon," he nods, neutrally, "And a vibrator, and a dildo. Etcetera. Etcetera." He leans forward, unclicking his whiteboard pen, "your words are just words, Darling. You're just listing things. Start," he says, with a deadly lilt in his voice. "Or I will."

You scramble to uncap your marker with one hand, all while he watches with dead and black eyes. You knew that whoever starts the game was placed at a big advantage and so you're nearly scrambling to place that dignified X in the center block.

"Clever girl." He says once again, drawing his blue 'O' directly beside your pink 'X'. You aim for the block above him. He blocks it. You aim for the block beside the center. He blocks that too.

Your victory comes too quickly. You barely feel it as you strike a line vertically through the blocks. 3 X's.

Relief washes over you but it's overcast with doubt. Like you're celebrating in trepidation as you watch him stand up.

"Congratulations! Which do you choose?"

"I can pick anything?" You ask, staring up at him, bright eyes wild with the adrenaline that comes with wanting to preserve your organs.

"Anything you want, my little winner."

You begin to lean over. His eyebrows quirk up when you wrap a small hand around his wrist.

"I pick that." You say breathlessly. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands at his side. And you watch as he walks towards you, as if compelled by an unforeseen force. His palms are calloused underneath yours and you blow out several unstable breaths as he stands above you. So imposing it's breathtaking.

"You sure?" It's the way he asks it that has you second guessing. And perhaps he sees the caution seeping into your eyes because there's excitement lurking in his. Before you're even able to formulate a response, his hand is locked tightly around your esophagus, vacuuming all pathways shut until you're writhing for air.

"A fine, fine choice," He's becoming more and more riled up the more you writhe in your seat, trying to scrounge for a single breath of air. He doesn't let you. Instead he moves behind you, before leaning down.

If you could breathe, you would shiver at the feeling of his lips behind your ear. "Here we go-" he whispers, before reaching around your torso with his free hand before forcing your legs open. The second he lets his three digits stab into your cunt, he uncurls the grip on your throat as you make a horrid sound somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a haggard gasp. "FUCK- Sl-Slowdown-" you knew better than to request something like that. All you hear is a snicker from behind you as pain blossoms all across your nether regions. He's not gentle. He's not kind. He doesn't allow you to adjust to his fingers before he's scissoring them inside you, causing a blood-curdling scream to rip itself out of your throat. Your back is arched and you're trying to get away from him but the fucking persists.

"You've been wet like this for me the entire time?" He sounds absolutely demented, behind you, "You wanted this didn't you?" He bites at your ear as the first tears begin to pool at your eyes, "My little winner."

"P-Please stop-" His fingers are restless inside you. Curling and uncurling. Scissoring and stabbing as if wanting to open you up and split you all the way in half.

"What a pretty little pussy, huh? Look at what a mess you're making."

"When-" you can't form words. "When- Stop?" It's all you're able to say as your nails dig into the material of his suit.

"The sooner you cum the sooner it stops."

You doubted your ability to cum under these circumstances. He's setting an ungodly pace and it's all so hurried and in a frenzy, it's like your brain does not have time to understand if you even like what's currently being done to you.

"What- Do you want you want my help?" you begin to shake your head. "I'll help you, baby-"

His other hand reaches over and pinches your clit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm is quite literally forced out of you. Your hips writhe and your ass tries to leave the seat as the first feelings of pleasure rip through you by force. "That's it, Clever girl," he coos, still curling his fingers inside you, "That's my Clever girl." He says once more before stilling his movements. For a second you just sit there, trying to collect your breath while he's still inside you. All at once, his hands are removed from your body.

He grabs a handkerchief from his breast pocket and you watch him clinically wipe his hands before erasing the marks on the board with the same cloth. A very clear boner pushes against his black slacks yet still his face is calm.

"Alright, My turn to start-"

"WHAT!? B-But I won." You scream, absolutely seething with desperation.

"You know everyone who plays 'X' has a significantly higher chance at winning-" You say with your eyes narrowed. He nods.

"And you know that too, which means we each should be granted alternating times to play ‘X’. Regardless if you won or not." You slump in your seat, suddenly far too aware that your bare cunt is exposed.

"Don't mope." He says, "It's not cute." Before drawing his 'X' in the center.

You close your legs, sitting upright with a new zeal of self preservation as you grab ahold of your marker.

You draw your pink 'O' underneath his.

You both play many more rounds. All ending in ties. This is how you play- with a frazzled grip and closed legs. A shiver every now and then overcomes you with the gravity of your aftershocks. His snickers bring your eyes up to his. He speaks as he makes his move.

"You're so focused on blocking," he sighs, "You're not even trying to win anymore-"

"I'm not letting you stick a knife in my cunt." You nod in finality before blocking another move.

"Not even if I say please?" He asks, making a faux pout.

"Fuck off."

"In that case, I have to win."

Your heart kickstarts as he pushes his pen to the board. Images flash across your mind. Blood splattered across his gorgeous face. Your blood as he fucks the sharp end of a knife inside you. You nearly vomit while he speaks. “Easy as-" you block him.

"Tic-" you block him again.

"Tac-" you block him some more

"Toe- I Win."

A victory that somehow escaped your vision. He strikes a line diagonally through the squares and your stomach sinks. He stares at you from across the room. His eyes so deeply satisfied you can feel it radiating off of him in waves.

You lower your teeth to the other restraint, violently trying to free your left wrist from its oppressive hold. And you watch as the devil slowly rises.

Your heart aches. Your brain is sent into complete alarm as your flight or fight kicks in and your sympathetic nervous system fires.

"Now, which one would look pretty inside you?" He drags his fingers along the objects, undoubtedly an act of taunting. You stomp your feet on the ground. You try to push the chair underneath you but it's plastered to the floor.

"Please!" Tears are running thickly. They cloud your vision. You don't even see the way his smile falls enough for him to rub over the bulge in his slacks.

"Fuck," he says gravelly as he relents and picks up the gun. "You're so fucking pretty when you're scared out of your fucking mind. You know that?"

You shake your head as he nears, wondering if this might really be the end. Has your body become too worn out by his games? Has the time for him to discard his toy finally dawned on you both? Is he all grown up with no need for such things as toys?

"PLEASE-NO-"

"Open your mouth." He's standing in front of you, your head directly in front of his raging bulge.

You shake your head, trying to move away but he rips your face towards him. "Listening to me is the only choice you have to make it out alive, Baby. You wanna live, don't you?" He's nothing but a tall figure, with the overhead lights shining around his head like a halo. Your face right by his bulge.

"Little girl needs to go to school." He nods, eyes fluttering shut, "She needs to complete her studies and get a good job so she wouldn't have to meet with scary men like me- Fuck-" it riled him up to no end to have you scared of him. You suppose it triggered a part of him that craved attention. He needed to feel like he existed and if that was reeped from fear then so be it.

"Stick the barrel in your mouth," the bottom of his hand coaxed open your jaw, and, as if on autopilot, you listen. Perhaps there is a way out of this. Perhaps you should just listen.

"That's it... Fuck," he brings your free hand up to rub his erection "That's it, Baby, stick it inside your mouth." Cold metal hits your lower teeth, "Stick it in like you would a cock." He says, looking down at you intently as your tongue unfurls and you suck the barrel in. "Shit-" he places his other hand on the back of your head before forcing you to take the gun deeper down your throat. He's trembling. Far too badly. And so is his finger on the trigger.

"Fuck, you're such a fucking whore, you know that?"

You're gagging and flailing around the barrel, saliva slides down.

So desperate to please him.

In your hast you don't even realize your left hand that had been restrained is now free. Your eyes are closed.

Please him.

Just please him and you'll live.

"That's my brainless girl..." he praises and that rouses something in you. It has your hips bucking against nothing.

"Such a stupid girl..." he continues, "You're gonna ride me, aren't you? You're gonna fuck me so good-" You're not about to tell him that sex wasn't supposed to be apart of this game. You're not stupid.

You faintly hear the sound of a belt unlooping. A zipper siding down. "You're making me so happy, baby." He admits before effortlessly lifting you from the chair until you're straddling him.

You're free.

When did that happen?

"F-Fuck, I need you to ride me." His head is leaning back against the chair. His tie hangs messily from his shirt that has two buttons undone.

You're free.

"Don't try anything," he warns, as he lifts you enough to pull his cock out of his pants. "Matter of fact. Keep it in your mouth while you ride me-" He slams you down onto his cock the very second those words leave his mouth. He's fucking into you with recklessness and fury and violence. His hair falls in his face but the gun is too heavy, without a hand there, it nearly slips from your mouth.

He's careful to catch it, forcing the barrel back in your mouth as he places a hand on your ass, controlling how your ass bounces on his lap. The gun offers motivation like no other. It has you arching your back and swirling your hips as you tighten your cunt around him.

He sticks the gun down too far and you gag. "You trying to get me to cum, huh? You little slut-" you nod, the tears still spilling as pleasure begins to stream through your brain. It has you excited by the prospect of being held at gunpoint. You realize with grave certainty that you've arrived at the point of no return.

"What a good girl- fuck-" he's ramming up into you, his hand on the gun twitching like his cock does. "I'm gonna fucking cum- FUCK-" he does and your orgasm immediately barrels into you at the exact same time. You try to ride him, to milk it as much as you can, to continue to make him happy.

"Such a stupid fucking slut-" he whispers, eyes hooded as his hips still spurt cum into you.

Your ears perk. You see his finger on the trigger move. You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear a click.

"Such a silly girl." You hear him say. "Don't worry, Baby, it isn't loaded." You're still in your body. You're still alive, on his lap, your sundress unfurling around you both.

"Not yet anyway."

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ POPPING YOUR CHERRY

જ⁀➴ Nanami was patient until you were ready, giving you a night full of pleasure and taking your virginity in a gentle way

ﾉ including: Nanami Kento

ﾉ cw: fem!reader, no dynamics, soft sex, oral (reader giving and receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy job, creampie, lots of pet names, consent checks, gentle aftercare, slight body worship

ﾉ wordcount: 4.3k (whoopsie)

ﾉ info: I need this man so badly I can not tell you | Requests are open!

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED (share your thoughts!)

Nanami has been nothing but kind and patient with you ever since you two met, sure he had his moments where he snapped at you due to stress at his work but you never took it to heart, almost feeling bad that you didn't quite know how to help him since he always brushed you off before he would say something he regrets and you gave him the desired space. He would always come back to you after a long and hot shower, muscles relaxed, his mood way better.

It wasn't until you happened to walk past his big bathroom when he took one of these showers when you found out what was really going on. Through the noise of the water hitting the tiled floor you could hear soft groans, followed by a few mumbled words… Was he masturbating?

Your hand gently knocked against the closed door before you could stop it from happening, a few grumbles to be heard from the inside of the room. “It's open!” He called out mere seconds later, his thick shaft still resting heavy in his palm, body hidden away behind the steamed glass of the shower. Swiftly you entered the bathroom and went straight for the shower, your clothes falling in a trail as you approached your lover. “May I join?” You called out slightly hesitant, your cheeks heating up at the thought of seeing him like this for the first time, but silence filled the room until he eventually spoke a small “Yes”, unable to resist you any longer. Nanami wanted to take things slow with you, knowing you're inexperienced so he waited for you to make a move, to give a sign that you want him as much as he wants you - he was craving you, the image of your body clad in the beautiful sundress you wore once stuck in his head and leaving little space for imagination what your body beneath might look like. The thought of you was his sweet salvation and his downfall late at night when he couldn't sleep or during the day when he couldn't focus. Only you.

After taking a deep and shaky breath you opened the milky glass door of the shower, steam clouding your vision for mere seconds before it evaporated enough to see your lover standing in front of you, not daring to look down where you saw his cock standing proudly in the corner of your eyes.

Noticing how you seemed to be frozen to the spot, Nanami tried to cover his manhood with his large hands, his eyes staying respectfully on your face, not once wandering. “Changed your mind?” He asked with a soft voice, not a hint of pressure behind his words, just curiosity, but you quickly shook your head no to let him know that you did not change your mind. With a careful step you joined the blonde man in the shower, hot water cascading down your figure yet his eyes remained trained on your face.

“Warm enough?” He asked caring, his voice soft as silk when he spoke which seemed to calm your breath a little. “It could be a bit warmer… if you don't mind,” you mumble, feeling a little awkward for intruding on him during such a private moment and now you just stand around in front of him, fidgeting nervously with your hands while he reached out to the faucet, brushing past the soft skin of your arm which you had draped over your chest in a rather shy manner. This simple touch alone left your skin to erupt with goosebumps and your eyes wandered over his strong arms, ending at his chest before you looked to the dark tiled wall once more, the rippling muscles beneath his skin embedded in your brain now. “You don't have to be so reserved. I'm your partner after all,” he pointed out lightly, not minding your eyes on him and as much as he wanted to just push you against the wall and take you, he remained patient and caring. He knew this was a rather big step for you to take already and he didn't want to scare you with anything, but you simply nodded, unsure arms wrapping around his torso in a gentle hug.

Nanami held back a chuckle upon this sweet and innocent gesture, holding you close to his body underneath the big rainshower, hot water cascading down both your bodies now. He would lie if he said that your soft skin and your perked nipples pressed against him in such an intimate way didn't affect him but his body betrayed him already - his erection twitching against your stomach and letting you feel just how badly he needed you. He cleared his throat and was ready to mumble out an apology for being inappropriate during such a delicate moment, but you looked up at him with a newfound hunger hidden behind your eyes.

Without hesitation the blonde man leaned down to capture your soft lips in a heated kiss, his tongue no stranger to your mouth as the kiss grew heated like oh so many times before. The butterflies were doing cartwheels in your stomach when his large hands reached down to hold your hips, pulling you impossibly close to his body in an effort to get you even closer until you had to break the kiss for air, his kisses traveling to your neck and it was evident that both of you yearned for more than just a makeout session.

By the time your hand stroked over his rock hard abs it was clear to him and he nodded almost breathless, craving the touch of your soft hand wrapped around his shaft for the first time and when you finally did he couldn't hold back a relieved groan. Nanami’s lips returned to yours once again as he guided your much smaller hand up and down the length of his cock, showing you just the way he liked it, but the way your hand barely managed to wrap around his girth left his head spinning, desperate to maintain focus when his hands crept over to your body once more. Calloused hands resting on your hip and just below your chest, your nodding of wordless consent was all he needed to let his hands travel further, one pulling you closer as the other started kneading your chest. “You're so beautiful, doll” he managed to rasp out as his kisses returned to your neck once more, his low moans and pants filling your senses as your hand worked on his length to help him get off.

Your soft whines didn't go unnoticed by him when he gently rolled your pebbled nipple between his thumb and index finger, his lips now trailing down to take care of your neglected breast, the warmth of his mouth engulfing one nipple while his fingers played with the other and you started to rub your thighs together in desperation. “Let me take care of you,” he mouthed against the soft flesh of your boobs and you could only nod, your hand working faster on him as his teeth tugged on your nipple ever so gently. He should have felt ashamed for being selfish, but your hands working on him got him off faster than his own ever could, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach and hands only to be washed away by the water right away, his head resting in the crook of your neck for a short moment, but before you knew it, his fingers were brushing against your thighs, begging for you to open up for him, which you did.

Skilled fingers caressed your inner thighs until he finally reached your core and just as he touched the part where you needed him most his sweet touch disappeared, a small chuckle vibrating through his chest which caught your attention. “We should take this to the bedroom, I want to take my time with you” he mumbled into your ear, his voice hoarse from how aroused he's gotten by the thought of finally claiming you as his entirely. You didn't need to answer him either, the way you turned off the water within a mere second was answer enough and he shook his head at how eager you seemed to be.

Leaving the warmth of the shower first, Nanami went to get a fresh towel for you, the soft fabric smelling like orchids and cotton, something you've started associating with him - with home. Just as he wrapped it around you, one hand stretched out to help you out of the shower and guided you to the bedroom you've been to a hundred times before. You should know the way by now but perhaps the towel that hung dangerously low on his hips, threatening to fall off, was all you could focus on. You were grateful for when he gently scooped you up into his strong arms, the hint of chest hair tickling your skin before you were placed onto the bed with utmost care.

Warm hands untucked the towel from around your body to reveal your beauty to him, your body entirely exposed but you didn't feel the need to cover up, his gaze letting the heat rush to your cheeks. He made you feel wanted, desired like you're the most beautiful woman on earth - and to him you were. You were perfect in every single way, almost feeling bad that he's about to ruin you like this but he craved to hear you whimper and whine for more, pawing at his sculpted body when he takes you past the edge, begging for him, pleading to fill you up - making you his entirely.

Of course he will take his sweet time until he is sure that you can handle him, the thought of hurting you made his heart clench and… he's been staring for too long, your sweet giggle filling his ears. You broke the shell of the stoic man, you could make him crawl to you if you'd only ask. He was fully devoted to you and your love, craving you, his body screaming for you in every way - it was almost scaring him but he was undoubtedly yours.

Kneeling down just in front of the bed he pulled your body closer, your beautiful legs now resting over his shoulders until your glistening folds were right in front of his face, his blonde hair tickling your thighs when he started pressing open mouthed kisses along your supple flesh. Minutes that felt like hours passed and you needed him, going crazy with how badly you yearned for his pleasure until your hands found their way into his silk like hair, pulling him towards your core with pleading eyes. “Patience, doll” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over your folds and eliciting goosebumps over your body. You've never had someone this close to your heat but it was Nanami - you had no reason to grow shy nor embarrassed over your feelings for him, his rock hard cock letting you know that he was equally eager for this.

His amber eyes held nothing but warmth in them when he pressed a kiss to the mound of your core, looking for any sign of discomfort in yours. “Yellow if it's too much, red if you need me to stop” his words cut the silence in the room, accompanied by the thumping of your heart now picking up, almost sounding like a war drum. You nodded, unable to form words in the anticipation laced with nervousness but it was enough for the man between your legs, trusting you to let him know if you weren't ready to go on and you knew he would never pressure you into anything.

Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his kisses travel over your mound onto your folds until his thumbs ever so gently parted them, exposing your wetness to him. Unsure what to expect you gasped softly when the first kitten lick of his tongue brushed over your exposed clit, fingers digging into his scalp at the sensation. You could feel him smile at your reaction, his tongue traveling through your folds in a zigzag motion only to circle your bundle of nerves, alternating between gently flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it until you were helplessly bucking against his face, the pleasure washing over you which caught you entirely off guard with its intensity that you couldn't even warn your lover - but he knew.

Nanami's tongue kept playing with your clit until he heard the cry of his name leave your throat, begging him, for what you didn't even know yourself but the orgasm that followed was better than any you've given to yourself.

Allowing you to calm down, his tongue slowed down its assault on your sensitive nub only to travel further down, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. The slurping noises were lewd but you didn't want him to stop, neither when he pushed his tongue into your entrance, nor when his thumb came down to rub small circles at your overly sensitive clit. Nanami was entirely lost in your taste, eyes fluttering shut and breaking eye contact for a moment and it made you swoon, seeing how much he enjoyed this - how pleasing you was pleasing him. Your juices kept coating his tongue, followed by soft groans against your heat only for his tongue to leave your entrance and return to your clit once more.

“God. You're so addictive” he mumbled into you, the hand which rested on your thigh now joining his tongue, his index finger gently circling your entrance to gauge a reaction from you, seeing if you show any signs of it being too much, but you were babbling at this moment, cunt clenching around nothing when his tongue started his assault on your bundle of nerves once more. Nanami was certain that you needed this as much as he did, ever so gently pushing his finger into your untouched hole just to feel how tight you clench around him from the intrusion. Nodding you started grinding against his face and finger, needing him deeper, needing more and he heard you, briefly pulling his finger out of you before replacing it with his middle- and ringfinger. Your cunt sucked them in, almost struggling to accommodate his thick digits - the stretch much more than your fingers ever managed and when he curled them into your sweet spot it was over for you once again. A loud whine erupted from your throat as the squelching noises of your pussy grew in volume “Ke-Kento… too much!” You whimpered helplessly to get him to slow down but the second your sweet voice reached his ears a clear stream of liquid splashed out of you and against his tongue. His fingers slowed down the moment you begged for it but your orgasm already washed over you, legs shaking violently on his shoulders when he lapped up the juices that just squirted out of you.

Your ears were ringing as your lungs desperately tried to get air back into them, not even noticing how your lover was raking his hands over your thighs in a caring manner, absolutely mesmerized by you. He knew very well that your body was pushed past its boundaries so he wanted to stop or at least give you a break but you finally came back to your senses, your gaze still hungry despite looking utterly fucked out by just his tongue and fingers. “Don't stop… please,” you whimpered, begging him for more. Oh you little vixen, knowing exactly how to play his heartstrings - how is he supposed to deny you such a request when he could devour you whole?

A single kiss was pressed to your right thigh before he put it down onto the bed, shaking his head with a breathless chuckle when he caught a glimpse of your frown. “You're going to be the death of me, love” he mumbled amused, your left leg now lined up with his chest and shoulder as he stood between your thighs. The feeling of his cock resting just above your heat made you want to scream, the kiss that was placed upon your ankle provoked the smallest whimper to erupt out of you. “Please Kento,” You encouraged him, being entirely certain about going this step with him and he nodded, thumbs spreading your folds once more to get a view on how wet he got you, a small puddle forming underneath your ass on the bed and he deemed it good enough to drag his length through your cunt, slowly.

Nanami wouldn't last long if he made love to you now, far too riled up from all your moans, your taste and the way you squirted just from two of his fingers working their magic on you. “Ken… i need you” you begged, soft voice sounding strained now, almost desperate but he only picked up his pace slightly, his tip now nudging your clit just the right ways to have you mewling for him once again, hands digging into the bedsheets from how sensitive you were by now and it needed everything inside of him to not push his cock inside of you when he felt close.

You could feel the twitching of his shaft against your wet cunt, heavy balls clenching as he spilled his seed over your heat and lower stomach, his head thrown back while a guttural moan left his throat. You really were going to be the death of him - now he was certain. Seeing your little pussy covered in cum did things to him, eyes darkening when he dragged the head of his cock through your folds once again to collect your mixed juices, only stopping when he arrived at your entrance. One last time his eyes wandered up your body to rest on your half closed eyes, looking so tired but so happy at the same time.

Nanami needed to make sure that you still wanted this since you were almost at a point of no return. Sensing his hesitation you reached your palm out towards him, letting the man that stood tall like a tree between your legs lower himself so you may cup his cheek in the most loving way. “I want you, Kento Nanami. I've never been more sure of something in my life before,” you whispered softly, the room around you falling quiet once more, only your heartbeats to be heard, hammering against your chests and begging to be united.

Your gentle giant couldn't ask for more from you, hearing you say it loud and clear - you wanted him, wanted this. His soft lips captured yours in an enchanting kiss and taking your mind entirely off of the way the bulbous head of his dick slowly pushed past your tight entrance and molding you to be his.

A hiccup caused by your pain interrupted the sensual kiss but Nanami was quick to help you, halting his advances when his length was halfway inside of you, taking your virginity with utmost care. “Shh… you're doing so good for me, doll. Do you want me to stop?” His voice sounded strained, yet caring and it was clear that it took everything in him to not thrust the remaining half into you which was greatly appreciated. His forehead connected with yours after he pressed a kiss to yours, waiting for you to say something, anything. “G-green” your voice cut through the silence and allowed him to go on which he did, one of his hands still holding your leg to his chest while the other intertwined with yours, lips returning to yours in a desperate attempt to ground himself so he won't lose control. Hurting you was the last thing Nanami wanted to do after all.

His balls rested heavy against you when he finally bottomed out, his deep groan echoing off the walls when you raked your fingers over his well defined back, feeling every ripple of his muscles beneath his pale skin. “Taking me so- fuck… so well,” he moaned breathless when his hips started to move with small thrusts, his thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek and you're not sure if it was from the pain or the fact that he made you feel so incredibly good. Weakly you nodded your head, drinking the praise in like it's the essence that's keeping you alive. “My good girl,” he continued, hips meeting yours with every word and he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest at any moment, seeing your jaw slowly going slack and your moans growing in volume to create this lewd image of his usually so sweet love.

Nanami had to halt, his chest rising and sinking rapidly from the way you manage to steal his breath, your wet cunt gripping him like a vice and trying to milk him from all he's worth and he wanted to just fuck you senseless right then and there, hips pistonning into you like his life depended on it… but he didn't - he couldn't. Not this time at least. Instead his hips moved in slow but deep, rhythmic thrusts which let him feel every ridge inside your heat and only adding to his bottomless hunger for you. You were moaning beneath him, angelic sounds to his ears but when he straightened up so he was no longer bending over you on the bed you suddenly cried out his name in pleasure, soft moans turning desperate for more.

The new angle made you feel even fuller than before, his tip angled perfectly to hit your sweet spot with every gentle thrust until your glossy eyes landed on his almost closed ones, nodding over and over “I know you're close, princess. Just let go,” he encouraged you, his thrusts picking up their pace to push against your sweet spot repeatedly until your toes curled and your back arched so perfectly off the mattress. His thumb rubbed tight circles onto your sensitive clit to drag out this earth shattering orgasm as long as possible - you deserved a first time to remember fondly after all but he just doesn't stop. Your breathless whines turned into cries for him, for more, for him to not stop. You were high on this feeling he gave to you, his hips rutting into you aimlessly at this point and his head was thrown back as his moans mixed with yours. “One more, just- fuck! Just one more,” he groaned with a rough voice, needing to feel you clench around him in bliss again before he allowed himself to follow you.

When your pussy clenched around him as another orgasm rippled through your beautiful body, he finally understood why they call it a little death. His hips thrusted into you a final time, burying himself as deep as he physically could while his dick twitched wildly inside of you and you could feel the way his balls contracted, slowly filling you up with his release.

Nanami's vision went white for a moment, pure bliss taking over and his body feeling like he was floating on cloud nine - this is why they call it a little death. You were going to be his own piece of heaven, your core gripping his cock so tightly he felt like it was hard to breathe but at the same time you were the oxygen his lungs needed.

His barely there thrusts finally came to a stop and he lifted your leg off his chest and shoulder before lifting your body against his chest so you could be as close as possible without having to slip out. The way he fell onto the bed with you was almost clumsy but he didn't want to let go of you, not even for a fraction of a second.

His big hand came up to wipe a strand of hair behind your ear, a tired smile on his lips “Are you okay, doll?” he asks with his voice like silk, needing to know if you're fine and you nodded tired, laying on top of him now with your bodies still connected. Even with his own seed running out of you and onto his body and the bed beneath he made no effort to move, the moment too perfect. Your body was draped over his, your limbs ever so tired as his hands ran up and down your back which was sticky from the sweat but he didn't mind it for one second. This moment dragged on for a while, gentle touches and even gentler kisses shared between lovers until your breath started to even out. In your half awake state you barely noticed how he carefully picked up your tired body to carry you into the room where it all began, only registering it when the sound of the water running and the scent of lavender filled your exhausted senses. “You can just rest, I'll clean you up” he whispered and lowered you into the warm water of the bathtub, following you mere seconds after where he let you rest against his chest again. You let your eyes remain closed when he picked up the softest washcloth, slowly dragging it over your arms, your torso, your legs and lastly over your sore pussy, still leaking his cum. There was nothing sexual in his touch, only tender care as he made sure to clean your body from any filth so you may rest and let him take care of you so you could wake in the bed to the smell of breakfast in the morning…

[deebris]

Save you from yourself

Silco (from Arcane) x Wife reader

Synopsis: The tender moment between you and your daughter, Jinx, is interrupted by your sudden fainting, and Silco takes control of the situation.

Warnings: Fainting, self-neglect, based on real symptoms of dehydration, the reader is a motherly figure for Jinx, and Silco is somewhat possessive in the end, angst with fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

Zaun tonight was surprisingly quiet. For the first time in a long time, you could hear the water flowing through the windows of your room, and a cool breeze carried the scent of your daughter’s freshly washed hair through the corners. It was an incredibly comforting moment to care for her blue locks; it always brought an inexplicable peace to your mind. You really needed it after the exhausting day you had.

The affection that surrounded those moments, with both of you sitting on your bed, gently running your fingers through her strands and laughing at how Jinx always ended up sleepy, warmed your heart. But tonight, that warmth felt strange and discomforting. You tried to ignore a sudden dizziness and the chills, keeping the window open as you brushed through her long hair to continue braiding it. Was tiring work, but you loved.

“Is it going to take much longer?” she asked impatiently, something you had already expected. Complaining about the time was part of Jinx, but you took it with indifference.

“I’m almost halfway,” you tried to reassure her with a gentle, maternal tone, something she liked. “Just this one left.”

“Ugh, I hate when it takes so long,” she grumbled irritably, throwing herself back into your lap. Her movement made your hands lose the strands, messing up part of what you had done.

“Jinx!” you called her name, annoyed, but softened when you felt her cling to you even tighter, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in your belly. Her body started warming yours even more, pushing the cold away, and you stayed silent, appreciating the closeness.

“Can we do it later?” she asked in a low voice, almost needy. Jinx had a thing with physical contact; it was something she appreciated when it came from the right people. That’s why she was now closing her eyes while you stroked her cheek and the side of her head.

“It’s going to be harder to fix,” you tried to argue, struggling with the duality of wanting to stay cuddled with her or return to the hard work of finishing her hair.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, and you couldn’t see, but she furrowed her brow, feeling your body temperature against her pressed cheek.

“I think so,” your whisper came without weight, not caring about the statement. Or maybe you just didn’t have the strength to think properly anymore.

You felt drained, and your daughter had noticed your lack of energy when she took your hand to play with your fingers, interlacing them in a sort of waltz but seeing how you barely reacted to her movements, letting her have fun on her own. And you always used to play along.

“Let me finish,” you asked with much effort, confused by the new sign of your condition that had just emerged: a sharp pain in your forehead. But it wasn’t common for you to get headaches.

Luckily, Jinx obeyed without further rebellion. She stood up to allow you to finish what you had started. She pulled her legs up to her chest on the bed, pouting with a dissatisfied expression while she felt you place the golden pins.

When you had just finished braiding, your fingers fell, sliding down the braid’s length, as if keeping your arms raised for just one more second was extremely difficult. And it was.

Your dizziness worsened, leaving your limbs weak, and now you couldn’t avoid feeling a hint of nervousness as your breathing became irregular, along with the dryness in your throat.

“My love, can you close the window?”

Your request alarmed Jinx, who turned toward your voice but not enough to look directly at you. Hesitant, she stood up, and when she returned, a look of confusion took over her face.

“What...?” The word got stuck as she quickly approached, placing one hand on your back and the other on your shoulder. “What’s going on?” Her desperate tone cut through you like a blade, filling your chest with guilt.

“I... I think I’m not feeling well.” You tried to hold back the tears, but your trembling voice betrayed the effort. Just a few tears fell, as if they had run out, and the pain in your muscles and joints, which had started as a discomfort in the morning, had become unbearable. The discomfort had been easy to ignore before, but now it seemed impossible to divert your attention from it.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the dizziness that had disrupted your day, but sitting for a moment seemed to amplify all the symptoms. Maybe they had always been there, silently growing, until they reached this point.

“Say something!” Jinx’s voice sounded choked, pulling you out of the haze. You tried to open your eyes, but it was hard. She was scared—you could feel it in the way her hands trembled as she held your face. She shook you gently, the urgency clear in every movement. “Don’t close your eyes!” she screamed, her voice breaking as darkness overtook your vision.

When consciousness started to return, you opened your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the dimness of the room. A faint light illuminated the room enough for you to realize you were lying down, now wrapped in a blanket. Your hearing seemed muffled, as if you were submerged, but amid the confusing sounds, Silco’s voice emerged.

He was calling for Jinx, trying to calm her. “Jinx, listen,” he repeated, his voice deep and firm, but filled with concern. His tone seemed to seek her attention, trying to contain the emotional storm that was overwhelming the girl. “Jinx, I told you it is fine. It is nothing serious.”

Silco’s deep voice, usually so controlled, was now filled with a disturbance he could barely disguise. As he spoke, he repeated those words mentaly, as if trying to convince not only her but also himself that this was just a temporary illness.

“B-but...” Her voice broke, and the rest of the words got stuck in her throat. Jinx seemed unable to look directly at her father; her eyes nervously scanned the room, searching for an answer where there was none. “She... she just suddenly got like this.”

“Was not sudden, Jinx.” Silco took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “We just did not notice before.” He adjusted his tone, seeking a firmness he didn’t feel, hoping to convey some confidence. “It is common. People get sick all the time. She will be fine.”

He continued, repeating the words like a mantra, silently praying they were true.

“Do you promise?” Jinx’s question came loaded with urgency, almost like an ultimatum.

Silco hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard at the weight of that word. Promising meant more than just reassuring her; it meant banishing any possibility of loss or failure. He knew he couldn’t say “yes” lightly, but he also couldn’t imagine denying that reassurance to his daughter.

His gaze shifted behind him, seeking your figure lying down. When he noticed you trying to sit up, despite visible effort, Silco felt an unexpected relief. It was a sign, even if small, that gave him the strength to respond firmly.

“I promise.” His voice came low but firm, as he squeezed Jinx’s shoulders, trying to convey a security he could barely feel.

Jinx followed her father’s gaze, and upon seeing you move, her behavior shifted instantly. With the frantic energy characteristic of her, she ran to you.

“Calm down!” Silco tried to call to her, but she was already on top of you.

You, however, were lost in confusion. Your mind felt like a blur, and the unbearable weight on your eyelids made it impossible to react or understand what was happening. The last thing you felt was Jinx’s hesitant touch, quickly replaced by the touch of calloused hands, before everything went dark again.

Silco watched as your eyes opened and closed again, what seemed like the thousandth time that night. It was as if you were waging a battle against your own consciousness and body, trying to hold onto reality as it slipped through your fingers.

He hadn’t slept. He had spent the night by your side, patiently waiting for that moment when you would finally wake up for real. Making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with the needle stuck to your wrist, connecting you to the IV that kept your body hydrated, had been an exhausting task. Every time you briefly stirred, it seemed like you were compelled to move your arms, as if testing your own strength, and he found himself forced to intervene.

“I thought you were going to pass out again,” he murmured, his voice low and strangely gentle, something rare coming from him. He carefully placed his hand on your forehead, checking the fever that, to his relief, was starting to subside.

“What do I have?” you asked, the words coming out slowly as your mind pieced together recent memories and adjusted to your surroundings.

Silco let out a long sigh, somewhere between irritation and relief. The corner of his lips curved into a dry smile, as if he found the situation so absurd it was almost comical, yet no less serious.

“You spent the whole day without drinking water.” His voice carried a hint of exasperation and he carefully brushed away the hair that was sticking to your face. “Dehydration. How, for the love of everything, did you not feel thirsty?”

His question was genuine, a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, feeling small and stupid under his analytical gaze.

Silco didn’t say anything more right away. Instead, his eyes studied you for a moment longer than necessary before he leaned back in the chair next to the bed.  

“Whatever the reason, this will not happen again,” he declared firmly, his voice carrying a tone almost possessive as he crossed his arms, as if imposing his will on the universe itself.

“Sorry,” you said, the weakness still evident in your voice, but there was also a trace of embarrassment, making your words almost a whisper.

He watched you in silence, his gaze fixed as you stared at the pillow. Even pale and visibly fragile, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever known. The soft moonlight illuminated your face, highlighting a few strands of your hair, and in that moment, something inside him softened. The hard expression he always carried melted away, replaced by a rare tranquility—a surrender to the simple relief of seeing you there, breathing.

You saw the IV, something Singed must have done, and noticing it was almost empty, Silco carefully leaned forward to remove the needle. His movements were almost methodical, but there was an uncommon tenderness. His fingers slid lightly over the skin of your wrist before touching the catheter, and that seemingly small gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if, in that touch, he wanted to send you a message: I’m here, and I will be gentle.

“Jinx will be on your case the whole week,” he stated casually, though his tone was firm, as if warning you about your foolishness that caused all this.

You laughed, the weakness in your voice softened by the playful tone. “I can handle it.”

Slowly, you pulled his fingers, as an invitation for him to come closer. Silco accepted without hesitation, climbing onto the bed beside you. He positioned himself behind you, wrapping his body around you in an embrace that, though silent, carried a desperate intensity.

His hands tightened around your waist, the fingers interlacing as if he feared that if let go, you might slip away. The warmth of Silco’s breath brushed against your neck, bringing with it the scent of the cigars he always smoked. On anyone else, or in any other situation, the smell would have been overpowering, almost repulsive, but from him, there was something strangely comforting about it. It was a subtle reminder that, despite everything, he was there—solid, present, and, above all, familiar.

Silco squeezed your waist tighter, his deep voice cutting through the silence, almost a controlled growl as he whispered against your ear:

“Do you really think you will achieve something important if you forget the basics? Forget to drink water, to take care of yourself… That is not just foolishness, it is pure recklessness.”

He held you close, his eyes wandering to a distant point in the room, as if searching for something to focus on, while trying to make you understand the weight of his words. Silco knew you had this habit of putting yourself second, neglecting your own needs for what you thought was more urgent or important.

“Stop putting yourself at risk like this,” he continued, his voice firmer, “or I woll not have any choice but to take care of everything.”

His voice, cold and incisive, sounded almost like an attempt at humor, but you knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t one for jokes. Silco didn’t care for casual remarks, and the lightness in his tone was just a mask for the frustration he felt. You worried so much about not overburdening him that you ended up ignoring your own well-being, making his biggest concern a reality: he would have to carry the weight for you.

“I take care of you… even if I have to save you from yourself,” he whispered, almost like a mantra. The words were both a promise and a necessity. He was speaking to himself, trying to reaffirm his own position, and you didn’t dare interrupt him. You just cuddled closer to his body, feeling the warmth and firmness of his words as a protection that, somehow, also felt like a prison.