#asktotag.txt

[kentocidal]

assistance

users: ango sakaguchi x gn!assistant!reader

internal warnings: pwp, established d/s relationship, praise, oral (m!receiving), gender neutral terms for reader, reader is implied to be ango’s assistant, spit mentions, semi public, subspace if you squint, ask to tag

internal notes: i’m caught up with the anime. lays on the floor and screams.

“hm? … yes, of course. the plan is in motion. i wouldn’t worry. you know i have things under control.”

fingers tapped idly against the crown of your skull. one, two, three. one, two, three. one, two, three.

“i need to log off for the night. i can’t discuss the budget, i don’t have the paperwork in front of me.”

the digits curled in your hair, tugging the slightest bit, catching your attention. his voice had that slight edge to it. he was tired. he wanted to be finished with this phone call.

you nudged closer to him, between his legs, resting your cheek against his inner thigh.

“we can take this up tomorrow. our work for today, at least, is finished. will that be all?”

your hands moved on their own, sliding up his calves and shifting towards his belt buckle. he didn’t stop you this time.

“alright. tomorrow, then. thank you-… yes. thank you. goodnight.”

you heard the line click. you heard ango sigh deeply and watched him fall back in his chair, pushing his glasses up on his head to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes.

you got his belt open and started making quick work of his zipper.

“are you alright?” he shifted back and returned his hand to your hair. you hummed softly in response, and his fingers curled tightly. a warning.

“yes, ‘m alright.” frankly, you felt like you were in a daze. you felt like you were floating, as you often did when you found yourself kneeling underneath his desk. a sort of different headspace, as ango had called it once in passing.

he pet your hair. “i’m sorry that it took so long. the higher ups had a few more questions than i had anticipated.”

you leaned into his touch before finally dropping your head to lick over the outline of his cock through his boxers. you could feel him, see him through the fabric; only half hard, his cock twitched at the contact of your warm, wet tongue through the fabric. he let out another sigh as you started to lap at his length over his boxers, unashamedly making a large wet spot in the fabric as you worked him to full hardness.

“you were very patient today. i’m grateful.” you could barely see him from where your head was poking out from under the desk, but you could hear the faintness of a smile in his voice.

you had done well. that was good enough.

you sat up from your ministrations and finally reached with hesitant hands to tug the waistband of his boxers down, watching the way his cock jumped up into the cool air of his dimly lit office. he hissed, quietly, and you licked your lips as you studied the sheen of pre on the tip.

his fingers pushed their way through your hair with little effort on his part. he didn’t say anything further; he knew that you understood.

you leaned forward and shifted your weight on your aching knees. how long had he been talking? how long had he kept his foot between your thighs, making you sit down on it? how long had he been stroking your hair or patting your head to put you in such a quiet, needy stupor?

you didn’t know. and you didn’t care. you were here to help and assist ango. he would guide you in the right direction.

your lips wrapped around the thick tip of his cock and sucked, and you reveled in the low groan you had earned from it.

his one hand stayed firmly planted in your hair while the other moved to cover his mouth with the back of it. it made sense that he needed to keep quiet; you were still in an office, in a government building. not that it mattered, but…

you started to bob your head, drool spilling from around your lips as you took more and more of him in your mouth. the tip of his cock bumped the back of your throat and you almost gagged, but the feeling made ango’s hips twitch.

you swallowed around him to make it easier, and his hand moved from your hair to your throat to feel where he was.

“there you go. much better. keep swallowing, ugh, fuck…” he mumbled into the back of his hand as your own settled on his knees to brace yourself.

your eyes were half shut as you peered up at him, at the way his glasses reflected on his forehead where he had forgotten them, at how his face was now flushed a shade of pink as he resisted the urge to fuck your throat. his fingers splayed against the soft, sensitive skin of your throat, feeling how his cock sunk into your mouth over and over and over again.

your mouth was hot, wet, your spit dripping down his cock and making a bit of a mess of his boxers. nothing that couldn’t be washed.

your movements, while searching for his climax, were slow and tender, your eyes fluttering as you tried to breathe through your nose, but it was so hard to focus. all you could think about was the weight of his cock on your tongue, the way he tasted, and the way he was looking at you like you were an angel from above.

his hips twitched, his cock jumping in your throat, making you gag and swallow hard. he gritted his teeth and swallowed back a moan.

“ah- shit, careful, i’m- gonna…” he trailed off as his hand moved to cup your cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. you whimpered around his cock and he grunted and jerked forward.

you felt his cum drip down your throat and onto your tongue as you sucked at his tip to make sure you got every drop. ango breathed heavily and fell back in his chair again, still holding his hand to your cheek.

you pulled off of his cock with a wet pop, and his thumb was in your mouth immediately to inspect his spend on your tongue.

“good. didn’t make a mess.” he panted, and smiled softly at you. “swallow it all, then we can go home.”

you closed your lips around his thumb and swallowed as promised.

[kentocidal]

i fucking hate you (but i love you)

alhaitham x afab!reader

tws: dubcon, afab reader, hatefucking, semi-public (they’re in the akademiya), porn with plot, alhaitham has questionable motives but like barely so do with this warning what you will, pulling out

words: ~3.9k

a/n: i did his story quest and then i was possessed. lol um anyway. reblogs >>> likes.

it was your fault for choosing the elective course with the smallest number of registered students. no, seriously, it had to have been your fault. only you of all people would have made such an idiotic mistake. you knew something was up when you had enrolled and saw the suspiciously low number, but hey, it was just an easy elective from haravatat, what could go wrong?

everything. the answer had been everything.

“you have it wrong again.”

those words had become ingrained into your brain, etched into your bloodstream and made you boil over. you had failed almost every test, every assignment, absolutely butchering every field task you were given for this class about linguistics for a language you had been studying for years, and instead of just dropping the class and choosing another elective, you chose to take on a tutor, also from your class at the time, and he had been your worst nightmare.

alhaitham. a star haravatat student destined for greatness. someone you should have been looking up to, someone that honestly should have helped more. but, alas, alhaitham (in your opinion) was stuck too far up his own ass to help with your grades, or with your comprehension of anything having to do with the material you were struggling with.

“this is an easy concept. i really do not need to explain it to you.”

“you- you’re literally being paid to explain it to me. explain it.”

“no.”

“you do realize you’re supposed to be tutoring me?”

“yes, i do. i have explained this concept three times by now. at this point, it is simply your own fault for not comprehending it- you are definitely wrong again there, too.”

alhaitham did not help your grades. alhaitham did not help you. he did not find the idea of helping someone other than himself interesting, not in the slightest, but yet he still showed up to your twice-a-week tutoring sessions to piss you the fuck off.

twice a week you would be given long paragraphs to read over and translate, or images of runes to decipher and translate again. and alhaitham would sit next to you, his nose in a book, barely answering your questions with more than ten words at maximum. or, worse, he would stand almost over you, his presence just over your shoulder and over your back, watching the way your ink pencil scribbled mindlessly over the images or the texts to try and make sense of them. he would click his tongue in those moments, shifting his weight behind you, and the hairs on your neck would always stand on end.

alhaitham was really only there because he was forced to, and so were you, but in the short month and a half that you were with him twice a week, you found yourself absolutely loathing your fellow student.

you passed the class by a hair’s breadth, marring your educational reputation within the akademiya for good. and it was mostly your fault for believing that the elective course would be easy for you, but something inside of you had snapped. you did not like alhaitham.

you grunted as you carried the hefty file down the long, winding hallway, clutching it close to your chest and gritting your teeth.

it had been a long time since that elective course, and every time you heard of alhaitham’s academic achievements afterward sent some foreign emotion through your body. while he continued to succeed and grow, you had to rebuild your reputation from the ground up. while he became a scribe, a hero, you were stuck in the shadows, working in the background for your previous master in spantamad. your name was listed almost last on all of his papers, as if he was ashamed of the fact that you were there. you felt as though your accomplishments were not your own, and you were promptly of the opinion that someone other than yourself needed to be blamed for your unfortunate misgivings.

alhaitham was that person. which was why this task of yours was so bothersome.

not only were you lugging worthless documents halfway across sumeru city to the akademiya main offices to drop them off for filing, you had to hand them to alhaitham. the same guy who you felt had a hand in ruining you.

you gritted your teeth harder together as you made your way up the stairs towards the scribe’s private offices.

you felt like he had been a constant presence in your life ever since that semester with him. alhaitham was consistently in the background, enshrouding your consciousness with his overbearing presence. you wanted to walk through sumeru city to clear your head from studying? he was there, sitting in the back of puspa cafe with some physics book in hand. you wanted to go out towards apam woods to get some data on ley lines for your research and your thesis? he was there too, studying some old decrepit domain and sketching the symbols on the arches. and he would always glance over, as if to say, see, i’m better than you. you’re not worthy of your lowly position beneath me.

part of you wanted to seriously scream at him. give him a piece of your mind. but maybe that’s what he really wanted from you, or maybe he really just didn’t care. not at all.

you stopped outside the door to the scribe’s office, glaring hard at the lacquered nameplate that had been made for him. ‘scribe alhaitham.’ what a fucking joke.

you shifted the heavy folder to one arm and turned the knob, pushing the door all the way open. the scribe was often never in the place anyone needed him to be, so you had been instructed to just leave the file on his desk with a note from your master that simply explained where it was from, and to please file accordingly, thank you very much.

unfortunately, though, you weren’t allowed to have good luck. not when it came to alhaitham.

you stared bug-eyed at the gray-haired man sitting behind a desk that had never been so neat in the length of time that you had been dropping files off to him. it seemed that the scribe had actually chosen to report to work during business hours, for the first time in his adult working life, and looking at him straight on made your stomach flip.

also, you hadn’t knocked. so you were just barging in on the scribe while he was probably doing something of some importance to warrant his appearance in the akademiya.

you wanted to be sick. you couldn’t.

“excuse me?” alhaitham stared at you, a look of mild surprise overshadowed by annoyance. “can i… help you with something? you look lost.”

you stared at him for another moment, feeling like a fish out of water what with the way your jaw opened and closed. it had been a considerable amount of time since you had seen him up close.

“i’m- here to drop these off.”

“okay.” he jutted his chin towards his desk, and you remembered that yeah, you should probably put them down and leave.

just put them down and leave. your feet moved, and your arms moved to shift the weight of the file folder, and your hands definitely moved to grab it and set it down properly in front of him, but your head? your head was spinning, what was this? loathing? rage? jealousy?

“next time, you really should knock. i was in the middle of something.”

his voice cut like a knife, and your lips were moving before you could wrap your head around your thoughts.

“oh, i’m so sorry, scribe alhaitham. or should i still call you the grand sage? i don’t know what to call you these days, since you’re never around to do your job.”

you hesitated for a second after the words left your mouth, and then you took a step back to look at him, eyes wide.

alhaitham was a rather stoic man. his facial expression almost never changed from that of mild boredom and dissatisfaction with the world around him. he was the type of man to sit and stew about everything all of the time. it seemed, to many, like he had no true emotions at all.

this time, though, when you looked at him after insulting him to his face, he looked… he looked almost shocked, bewildered would be a better word for it. somewhere in those oranged-tinged irises, though, laid a deeply seated heat that could only be attributed to anger.

you had gotten a rise out of him.

“i’m sorry?” his voice was steady, but from where he was sitting in his chair, he looked stiff.

you swallowed. you would be fired. at least you could go out in a blaze of glory.

“you heard me.” your voice was shaking, and you forced air back into your lungs as you did your best to find the best vocabulary to use on him. he was intelligent, after all; he’d be able to understand. “it isn’t my fault for just walking in here. i mean, you’re never around when you’re supposed to be. isn’t it the job of the scribe to, you know, take notes of the goings-on in meetings and within the akademiya? you would think that after your disgustingly high pay raise from playing grand sage simulator for a month, you would find it in you to stop being so self-serving and actually do some of us a favor by doing your job. we’ve all gotten accustomed to you not being around when you need to be because you’re always off doing some fuckery or some independent research, so excuse me for deciding to skip the formality that i don’t believe you truly deserve.”

you had to force air back into your lungs. you had shifted forward a bit, hands on his desk, towering over him like you had some sort of power in this dynamic, when it was entirely the opposite.

alhaitham’s brows were knitted together, an annoying crease making itself known above the bump in his nose. you took another breath as he sat back, smoothed out the front of his shirt.

“are you still hung up on our class together?”

you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “what?”

“you cannot blame me for your lack of educational prowess in a subject that is far out of your field.” alhaitham hummed as he pushed his chair back, got to his feet, reminded you of his station above you both physically and mentally. “i tried to tutor you, but nothing i did for you ever worked. that is simply not my fault.”

“you-” you stood up, trying to meet his height. “you asshole. you didn’t try at all. all you did was intimidate me- this has nothing to do with the past!” you snarled at him, all bark and really no bite, “i have tried my best to recover from the hell that you put me through. while you were handed everything on a silver spoon, i had to claw my way into a job-”

“don’t try and speak on subjects you don’t have any true knowledge of, it’s unbecoming.” he squinted at you, hands relaxed at his sides while yours were fists.

alhaitham was a menace. you hated him. he had everything you had ever wanted – a cushy job within the akademiya, status, worthy research tagged to his name, and you had failed one class in his field and failed. it had shifted your world, your future, and he remembered it.

“you make me sick.” you hissed at him, and he barely shrugged as he stepped around the wooden desk between you to your side.

“i can’t say the feeling is mutual, because it certainly isn’t. i almost want to pity you.”

he was tall. you felt like heat was radiating off of him as you took a step back and away from him, just one. you glared up at him, something in your abdomen shifting, like when you would drink too much water at one time. maybe you were going to be sick because of him.

it was stifling in the small office as you glared at each other. the proximity between you and the scribe was small to begin with, but it felt like it became ever smaller now that alhaitham was on the same side of the desk as you.

alhaitham sighed. “you are just as pathetic now as you were then in my class. it’s unfortunate that you barely passed, there’s potential in you.” the feeble scholar stepped into your personal space, crowding you against the bookcase behind you. “i’ve seen your previous work, your research. i am the scribe, after all. i do in fact do my job, and do it well. if you had been just a bit more open to learning from me, perhaps you would have my position instead.”

something inside your chest lurched as you stared up at him, your anger and hatred pulling back like waves receding from the shoreline, leaving something in its wake.

the tide shifted. a storm was brewing.

it was hot in the office. far too quiet. no one ever really came up to the scribe’s office, let alone his floor; he was never there, there was barely a need.

the tension in the room crackled. alhaitham had always been there, working in the background, tugging your eyes away from your work or your life to command your attention to him.

the first crack of lightning spidered across an ever-darkening sky.

you weren’t sure who had moved first, whether it had been your hands to his collar or his hands to your face, but suddenly he was on you, his mouth on yours, bruising and forcing you to simply open up to him. and you were kissing him back, fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, crumpling it beneath your nails and tugging him forward to feel the weight of his broad chest pressed against yours.

his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, fighting with yours to occupy the most space; alhaitham always took up the most space in a room and this was no exception. his hands, calloused from his sword usage and so hot, brought your face closer to his and tipped your head back to really stand over you. you felt him against your thigh through his pants, hard and twitching, and part of you wondered how long he had been hard for. did he get off on getting told he was shit at his job? at being degraded?

did he get worked up because it was you?

his hands slid their way down from your face, over your chest and to your sides to pull you flush to him. some worthless sound bubbled up in your throat, making you feel small and meek against his broad chest.

he started to move, and you went with him, biting at his lips and making him hiss and bite you right back.

he brought you over to the front of his desk again, barely pulling away and licking the saliva that clung between you two away to push you back until you were just barely sitting on the top of his desk. he seemed to have a motive, calculated ministrations planned three moves ahead at all times.

you felt like a pawn in his chess game, and you let him take your queen.

his rough hands gripped at your sides and pushed their way towards the buckle on your pants, and you put your hands on his desk to lift yourself up, sliding on the papers you had brought and scattering some to the ground.

“you messed it up,” he huffed at you, his turquoise eyes completely hooded and darkened to some deep, foreign color.

“fuck you.”

“i will.” he grunted as he pulled your uniform pants down and off, dropping them to the floor and shoving his way right back between your thighs.

you panted, having barely a moment of reprieve as he removed his hands from your body to start tugging at his belt buckle. somewhere in your hazy mind, you asked yourself what you were doing, but the question disappeared when his lips crashed into yours again, making your teeth bump into his and making you whine.

it was like he needed to remind you that he was in charge here. he was ahead of you in everything, always coming out on top, even now.

you groaned into his mouth when you heard his belt buckle finally clink open, and the shuffling of fabric. he didn’t push his pants or boxers down, not yet anyway; he pulled away from your kiss finally and put a hand on the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his shoulder to make you watch as his fingers moved your panties to the side to reveal your sticky cunt to the both of you. you bit your lip to fight back a whine, his fingers threading through your hair as the middle finger on his other hand swiped slowly through your folds, making you jolt. he was silent as his rough finger traced over your hard clit before slipping back down and slowly, slowly sinking into your fluttering hole.

you moaned, mouth dropping open as knuckle by knuckle your enemy’s thick finger pushed into you, you wanted to drop your head back, arch up into him, but the hand in your hair held you steady and firm, acting like an anchor while the storm crashed in your ocean.

he pumped his finger in and out of you, experimentally, testing the waters, stretching you. it wasn’t for your pleasure, despite how he curled in you; he was prepping you proper, stretching you open.

one finger turned to two, and your moans got higher at the stretch, turning to whines as your thighs tried to press together but couldn’t because of his hips being in the way. he kept you spread open, barely having a foothold on the desk, gripping at his shirt. he had you at his mercy as he scissored his fingers inside you to prep you, soaking his hand with your juices, shushing you gently and making sure you were ready to take his cock.

you cried out when two fingers turned to three, scissoring and stretching you farther than your own fingers had allowed. your head was buzzing and part of you recognized that you were allowing this to occur on an akademiya desk in an akademiya building, but fuck it. damn it all to hell, even.

his fingers slowly pulled out of you and you whined at the loss, but his opposite hand pulled your head up by your hair to get you sitting up straight. both of his hands moved to finally, finally free his cock from its constraints, and it jumped up towards his stomach, hard and leaking.

you bit your lip. what had you gotten yourself into?

neither of you said a word as he pulled your panties to the side again, harder this time, and pressed the hot tip of his cock to your wet clit. the slide made you both groan, your eyes rolling back while his nose scrunched up slightly.

alhaitham gritted his teeth as he guided the head of his cock through your sticky folds, catching on your entrance and making you whimper. it was only a matter of time until he was pushing into you, guiding himself all the way, sinking deep into your wet heat and carving himself a home there.

your jaw went slack and your hands braced themselves on the desk, crumpling your papers, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

your eyes finally caught alhaitham’s when you felt his hands under your knees, pulling them up to hook in the slots of his elbows. you squirmed. you were completely open, stretched and full, being forced to be split apart on his cock.

he stared at your face as he pulled his hips back, and then slammed home, and got a sick pleasure out of watching all of the air leave your lungs.

he set a brutal pace, grunting and watching your pussy closely as you started to wail into the confines of his office, head either thrown back or staring down at the milky white ring you were leaving at the base of his cock. it bullied into you, and you swore you could feel his tip kissing your cervix when he shifted angles.

finally, the prodigal scribe spoke, shifting and leaning more into you to bite at your neck. “fuck…” he groaned against your ear, and you felt like you had ascended.

the tidal wave building within you finally started to come to a crescendo, and your body started to go taut, squirming under him, clawing at his back. “a-a- ‘haitham, i-“

“i know. i can feel you.” he practically growled against your ear, and the bass was like thunder, making you cry out and start to really come on his cock, the pap, pap, pap of his hips meeting yours getting louder as you gushed around him and gripped him like a vice.

he huffed against your skin and made sure you were properly coming down from your high before pulling out at the absolute last minute to shoot white ropes over your pussy, making a further mess of you.

you both stayed there for a second, panting against each other’s skin. your hands slowly dropped from his back, and he placed one of your legs down carefully, and then the other, as if he were some kind of gentleman. that kindness was kind of wiped away by the way he assessed the mess of your pussy, hummed, and moved your panties back to their rightful spot, keeping his cum there. he patted your pussy over your panties, making you jump and whimper.

“this should keep you relaxed now, shouldn’t it? you are always so upset. hopefully this will keep you at bay for some time for me to continue my work.” alhaitham took a small step back to tuck himself away and fix his pants, cleaning himself up while you sat there on his desk, ever so slow to catch up to his speed.

you couldn’t say anything before he was helping you back into your uniform. your head was clouded and foggy as he looked you over, holding your chin between his wet fingers and assessing your face.

“you have potential. i can assure you of that. do not underestimate your intelligence or your strengths.” he pressed an almost chaste kiss to your lips. “go, your other master is most likely wondering where you’ve gone. do not make him think you are skipping out on your assignments.”

confused and muddled, you left the office and shut the door behind you.

your anger surged, but it was but a small wave against the much larger ship that was now going to become a problem: you liked him.

[kentocidal]

menthol and tobacco

users: osamu dazai // chuuya nakahara // atsushi nakajima // doppo kunikida // ryuunosuke akutagawa // fyodor dostoyevsky // ango sakaguchi x gn! reader

internal warnings: cigarettes, smoking, nsft (kunikida, ango), ask to tag !!

internal notes: got hit w a community label first time around so we trying again. if anyone opens their mouth to me abt writing abt smoking in the year 2023 i swear to god i'm gonna get real belligerent real fast. anyway. the inherent eroticism of sharing a cigarette with someone you care about. yeah.

osamu dazai — he lights his cigarette first, standing outside the closed cafe that sits beneath the armed detective agency’s headquarters at sunset. he lets his eyes close as he takes a deep inhale of the cigarette, holding it between his fingers. you feel around for your own pack, finding it successfully in your coat pocket, but you lost your lighter during the fight earlier. you were still bleeding from a cut at your temple; dazai had come out unscathed. you made a displeased noise as you put the cigarette between your lips - “can i have a light?” dazai opened his eyes and glanced at you before smiling in that foxlike way of his, taking a step closer to you in the orange sunset. he leaned towards your face to press the end of his cigarette to yours, eyes locked on your own. it proved an effective method — your cigarette took light and allowed you to take in a breath of smoke. “there, darling. better now?”

chuuya nakahara — chuuya grunts as he takes a seat on one of the couches in the main port mafia building, rubbing his gloved hands down his face and completely deflating into the cushions. overworked, exhausted, battered and bruised, he was frankly quite fed up with the day’s—no, the week’s—workload. he dropped his hands from his face and was met with yours as you stood over him from behind the couch, watching him intently. he squinted at you, about to snap at you for trying to sneak up on him, but instead you showed him a cigarette that you held between your fingers. he blinked once, twice, and then gave a curt nod. your free hand moved under his chin to keep his head tipped back against the couch as you placed the cigarette between his lips for him, and lit it. your hand did not leave the tender column of his throat as he sucked down the smoke. “seriously, i’m convinced you can read minds or somethin’. thanks, dear.”

atsushi nakajima — atsushi didn’t smoke often. he was around it a lot, sure, but he never really picked them up himself. at least, not often enough that he would have his own pack in his pocket. when he woke up in the hospital bed in the detective agency after a long night fighting and staying awake with yosano, his fingers were twitching and the compulsion set heavily in his muscles. you were there, and he sat up slowly with a grunt, mumbling something about cigarettes. you were quick to sit up with him and fumble around in your pockets, having been sat at his bedside waiting for him to come to. you placed the cigarette between his shaking fingers, letting him place it between his lips, and you leaned in to light it for him. “thank you. sorry for, uh, scaring you. it might happen again though… thank you.”

doppo kunikida — cigarette smoking was against his ideals. he never has purchased them, and never planned to. he was meant to stay in top shape for as long as his body could hold on. despite this, however, you had always been there to throw wrenches into his plans. when you collapsed to the bed after your orgasm and fussed on the nightstand for the pack of cigarettes, he was watching. with rapt attention he watched your unsteady hands fumble with the pack of cigarettes, struggling to get one out, placing it between your lips. you quietly asked if it was okay, but you were already lighting it while in his bed. he had barely caught his breath, still feeling the endorphins flow, but he could already feel his blood starting to pump again as smoke poured from your lips. he reached to take it from your mouth with his rough fingers, and took a meager drag from it. “i hope you understand that if you were anyone else, i would have kicked you out of my house. lay back.”

ryuunosuke akutagawa — he shouldn’t be smoking considering his bad cough, but you found him again in an alley by pure chance, watching the way his lithe fingers tapped the ash off the end of a cigarette as he stood against the wall. you hopped down from your perch on the roof and stalked closer to him, hands in your pockets. he glanced at you as he brought the cigarette to his mouth again to take another drag. you stood off to the side, not exchanging words with him for fear of anyone catching you. he blew the smoke out through his dry lips, letting it cloud in the air and disappear. then, he extended his hand to you, offering it to you for a drag. you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, not with him, and yet you reached your own hand out to take it from him and feel his fingertips against yours.

fyodor dostoyevsky — it was a regularly scheduled visit. you had snuck the cigarettes and the matches into a high security prison, a feat that you had never imagined. maybe cigarettes weren’t banned items, but matches… they had to be, right? it didn’t matter as you rounded the corner and finally stopped in front of the holding cell where your darling was waiting for you with a smile, his arms looped around the bars and his face close up to them. you didn’t smile back, as you really needed to keep the lawyer thing up for the cameras, but your eyes flashed with adoration as you stepped closer to the bars and showed him the cigarettes and the matches. he laughed softly as your deft fingers pulled a cigarette from the box and held it up for him to take; he gladly took it in his mouth with a smile and allowed you to light it for him. “oh, my darling. you didn’t need to go so out of your way. you are such a sight for sore eyes. now, get me out of here so i can take you home, yes?”

ango sakaguchi — your lips are wrapped around the head of his cock, lazily swirling your tongue and bobbing your head. you could hear him fumbling with something above you, but your eyes were shut and you were focused on clawing at his thighs and breathing through your nose. a hand suddenly fisted in your hair and pulled slightly, encouraging you to pull off with a wet pop and crawl upwards into his lap. the cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he guided you up and settled you on his thighs. he took a long drag and grabbed your chin, pulling your mouth close to his to breathe the smoke out and fill your lungs with it. “that’s it. you look so much better like this. good pet.”

[kentocidal]

closer

users: gorou x afab!gn!reader

internal warnings: pwp, rough, drabble, dubcon, pronouns are not used for reader

internal notes: uhhhhh this is loosely based on closer by nine inch nails. anyway gorou fucks like an animal and i’m right to say it.

new notification: @yaemuse

gorou prided himself on being a man in control. he was a war general, decorated and honored, and he took great care to be seen as a man first, and an animal second.

on rare occasions, however, something about the way you smell sometimes makes him fucking crazy.

you brushed past him late in the night. the moon was high and you were both up from the heat of the summer night. he had been panting and rubbing ice along the back of his neck, and you came up beside him to grab a cup to fill with water from the icebox. that was when he smelled something on your skin.

his ears perked up high on his head, his tail flicking up. his head swung towards you, nose twitching as he sniffed the air. something… it was heady, rolling off of you in waves. 

his fingers curled around the ice in his hand, and it slipped from his grip and fell to the floor with a crunch.

you turned to look at him as you sipped your cold water, cocking a brow as you stared at his blown out pupils in the dark. “gorou? what’s wrong?”

“are you-...” he sniffed the air again and felt something primal crawl up his throat. it felt like something was vibrating inside his head, blurring his vision as he honed in on you.

you smelled like sex. like you needed to be bred.

the look on your face made him come to the realization that the vibrating was his growling. you looked nervous; yet, your cheeks were red. flushed, even in the dark. “gorou? what’s wrong? are you alright?”

he blinked and tried to shake the feeling off, but as you stepped closer to him to put a hand on his arm, squeezing softly to try and get his attention and focus back, something in him snapped.

gorou was a controlled, calm man. but he couldn’t hold off when you smelled like that.

he couldn’t get the words out. it happened quickly, the way his clawed hands grabbed your waist and shoved you against the counter, his lips and teeth gnashing against yours in a rough almost-kiss. 

you gasped out as your hands scrabbled for purchase against the countertop, and then against his broad chest. he had a smaller build, sure, but he was wide and thick with corded muscle from years of training and fighting. you moaned into his mouth, unsure of where this energy was coming from, especially so late into the night.

his hands and his teeth were all over you - your sides, your breasts, snaking down around your hips to press his weight entirely to your front. his cock, already starting to tent his sleep shorts, pressed against your inner thigh with a passion.

he was acting like a fucking animal. you felt your pussy gush in your panties as his teeth sunk into your shoulder and stayed there, certain to bruise or even break skin. you couldn’t tell.

gorou was in a haze, his eyes glazed over and blown out wide like a wolf who got the kill. he breathed in deep against your shoulder as his claws dug into your sleep shorts and yanked them down around your knees, clawing a hole in the crotch of your panties.

he was snarling against your skin, tearing at the fabrics separating him from you. he needed to be buried deep in you, deeply, carnally. 

it felt like one moment barely passed until he was sinking his cock into your dripping hole, bullying his way into you with a doglike yelp. you gripped his shoulders and cried out his name, but it fell on deaf ears.

gorou was going to breed.

[kentocidal]

*sits down*

*contemplates life*

Okay hear me out but Thoma getting absolutely wrecked. I can NOT be the only one looking at that man and goin: this bitch would be so pussy feral when he got some. Ride that bitch till he’s sobbing; praying to the archons you’ll play nice and you just tug his hair and man’s cross eyed

cws: nsfw, reader is afab/has a pussy, slight begging, oral (fem receiving), riding, pussydrunk!thoma

thoma is my dogboy and i love and miss him

it was the middle of the night, and frankly it should be completely silent inside his chambers, but it definitely, definitely wasn’t. the sound of slurps and your little huffs filled the room; sucking and dripping and heavy panting made the candles keeping the room dim almost go out.

you were sat down on his face, pussy bumping and grinding against his ever-moving tongue, nudging your hard clit against his nose. you had slapped a hand over your mouth long ago, forcing yourself to remain quiet in his closed-off quarters while you shook apart above him.

thoma, however, had far fewer reservations. he was drunk, clawing at your thighs and pulling you down to sit heavier on his face. he wanted to be drowning in you, pushing his tongue between your folds and moaning against you. you tried tugging on his hair when his little whimpers got too loud in the thin-walled room, but it would just make his hips buck up against the air and shift the sheets around.

you gasped a little behind your hand and had to remove it to grip his hair tightly as you came hard again, soaking his face and forcing the prettiest high-pitch whine from him. his lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking hard — he had no plans in stopping, completely lost while he suffocated under you. if this is how he went out, he would go out a happy man.

you shuddered hard and finally lifted your weight from his face, shifting back and looking down at his debauched expression. from his chin to his nose he was covered in your slick, licking at his puffy red lips and whining at you.

“where- where are you going? come back, it’s fine, please-“

“darling,” you murmured, breathless and shaking, sliding your hands down his chest as he scrabbled at your thighs to stop you from backing up, “please, i need you, let me help you too…”

“ohhhh, fuck,” he groaned and shifted his hips as the sheets were pulled back. they were wet; he had come untouched just from eating you out, and was still hard and leaking against his hip. you settled around his hips as he quickly sat up to meet you, panting like a dog and pressing his face against the crook of your neck.

“please, oh archons please. please. put it in, please…”

“i am, shhh…” you found it in you to giggle in the dark, shifting around in the limited space against his chest to grab his weeping cock and line it up with your swollen folds. he gasped and gritted his teeth as the tip of his cock slipped so easily through the mixture of your wetness and his saliva, his hands gripping your hips so tight and tugging you forward.

you let out a sweet sigh as his thick tip finally squeezed into your hole, sinking so slow, and he moaned against your skin, utterly shaking underneath you. he could barely move, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you in to be flush against his bare chest. he needed you against him, needed you to be so close while you started to rock and bounce on his lap.

he was at your mercy, and he was your boy. he thanked the archons when you let him finish deep inside you.

[kentocidal]

scara wit a coochie 🫶

offering

users: t!scaramouche x gn!reader

internal warnings: sacrilege/religious themes, oral (eff tee em!receiving), parts referred to as “cock” and “hole”, degradation, use of ‘pet’, reader is compared to a dog once, pwp, not beta read, vaguely dubcon but reader is enthusiastic about it really

message: i saw this req and then blacked out. my fault og. really wanted to wax poetic about the holiness of the false archon scaramouche. idc if it doesn’t make canonical sense it does to me

sac•ri•lege (noun): violation or misuse of what is regarded as sacred.

you hadn’t expected to be summoned. not today, not ever. but you had been, and here you were.

the tsaritsa had expressed her pride in the archon project, expressed her pride towards her most favored fatui harbingers, and you had done what you could to help the cause. offerings, support, anything you could give.

and you had been noticed. your efforts had been acknowledged.

you had been summoned to the fatui headquarters and escorted quietly in the night. you had gone willingly. you didn’t flinch when you were led through the frigid headquarters, but you did stiffen when you were left alone in a lab room with no one but the balladeer inside.

the door had been shut and locked behind you. your mouth went dry.

the balladeer took one, two, three steps down from a lab bench where he had been hooked up to machines. his eyes were trained on you, almost as if it was a test as he walked towards you.

it felt like the energy in the room had completely shifted. the hair on your body stood up.

“y/n.” the voice of the balladeer, of scaramouche, of the god, spoke as he stood in front of you.

“yes?”

“kneel.”

you do. your shaking knees hit the stone floor with a sharp crack, and you flinch at the pain shooting through your legs. you would bruise, but they would heal.

you shifted your weight, smoothed out the fabric of your trousers, settled yourself on your knees and your heels. it was not comfortable. it was not meant to be.

you tipped your head up, wary, appalled, blinking up towards his face.

his body was haloed by the lamplights overhead, orange and yellows casting around his wide-brimmed hat as he stared down at you. you could barely see his face in this lighting, but you squinted anyway. to look a holy man in the face was to be blessed, after all.

his hand moved, tracing a cold finger up your jaw, tilting your head forward. you shuddered, something akin to a lightning strike shooting down your spine at the faintest touch from him.

you breathed out a little whimper, swallowed. was this fear?

“what an obedient thing. how pathetic.”

no, it wasn’t fear. it was warmth. it was pure heat, ecstasy, his touch was golden and you were melting underneath it.

you tilted your head, trying to lean into his touch, but it was gone just as quickly as it had been there. nimble fingers moved to his belt as he took another step towards you, looming over you, violent eyes darkened to almost black in the shadows and in his bloodlust.

you were kneeling at your archon’s altar, and he was acknowledging your offering.

your eyes dipped low as his thin fingers pushed his pants down towards the floor, letting the fabric pool at his feet. you licked your lips, your dry mouth suddenly filling with saliva.

“sir…” you whispered, staring at where his fingers parted his lips to make his cock protrude out further towards you. he clicked his tongue, allowing you to continue, “i shouldn’t… it’s not…”

“shut up.” he hissed, and you closed your mouth immediately. you suddenly regretted ever openly using your voice. “i’m commanding it. you’ll do as i ask.”

of course you would. in a heartbeat.

you shuffled on your knees to get closer to him, and he didn’t stop you. his free hand reached and gripped your hair tightly, weaving his fingers into the strands to make sure you couldn’t have free movement.

his other hand shifted, sliding between pale thighs, collecting his own wetness on his fingertips to slick up the head of his cock. you stared at how it twitched in the cold air of the room, your own hands curling into the fabric of your trousers, creasing the fabric. wrinkles were the least of your worries.

you swallowed again, feeling like you were about to start drooling, and scaramouche snickered. “weak. open up.”

he pulled your hair, and immediately your jaw loosened and your tongue slipped out in a crude display of need.

he let you stay there for a moment, staring up at him, tongue hanging out of your mouth like a lowly dog. maybe he even mumbled that as he pulled your face forward towards his cock, nose smashing into a soft bed of indigo curls.

you groaned around the thick cock head in your mouth, immediately wrapping your lips around it and sucking.

scaramouche sighed, both of his hands now tangling up tightly in your hair.

you were at his mercy. you did not care if you couldn’t breathe.

for the moment, you let your eyes slide shut as you tasted the forbidden fruit, the fruit of your labor; a gift from above. you whimpered against his skin, vibrating against his cock, your tongue laving around the bud before you craned your neck to get more of a taste of him. he allowed it, spreading his legs just a bit to let you get deeper, get your tongue lapping at his leaking hole, slurping and making a mess of your chin.

he grunted at the feeling, and after barely giving you a minute of freedom, he was curling his fingers roughly against your scalp to pull your head back and forth on his cock.

in layman’s terms, he was fucking your mouth, forcing you to suck on his cock, bobbing your head for you and fucking himself down on your tongue.

“good pet. so pliant. always wanting to do something to be noticed. are you satisfied?”

you moan against his cock as you wrap your lips around him again to suck hard. yes, i’m satisfied.

the new archon petted over your hair as you sucked him further into your mouth, making him groan behind gritted teeth. “i’m glad i could put your mouth to good use- fuck. already getting me there, huh? how pathetic.”

he rocked his hips against your tongue, making you almost choke on your own spit as he caught you off guard. his movements were rough, ragged, almost like he had never been made to feel this good before.

you rubbed your thighs together, your hands shaking where they were balled into fists as you fought against the urges to grab onto his legs or hump his boot.

you opened your eyes to look up at his face. his cheeks were pink, lips curled into a wolfish smile as he started to get rougher, sliding his dick along your tongue and bumping your nose harshly against his skin.

“good little pet, keep listening, just let me lead. let your god lead.”

you would. that was an easy command to obey.

you watched his face closely as you sucked hard on his cock, making a lewd slurping noise, and his eyes rolled back into his head. he gushed down your chin and chest, and you lapped at him eagerly, barely breathing, focusing on tasting him fully, entirely, wholly.

this was the closest you would get to heaven.