#hauntingly painful

[jesncin]

I know very little of most DC characters, Constantine included, but your guyses art and comics have been incredible. "Why didn't you scream - when I pushed you away." is such a good line and really hurts

aaw, thank you! :') I do my best to write these characters to be accessible to all sorts of fans regardless of how much lore and context they know. Always touched when people take the chance to connect with these characters, especially these niche guys I keep getting obsessed with haha.

[astrummorte-m]

the concept of a legacy is so powerful and defining that even those who claim to not want one leave one behind as a default. some believe in familial legacy, while others believe in independent legacy. most of the time people believe that a legacy is something you shape yourself. in this essay, i will

[natugood]

I have incomprehensible thoughts rn about how many classic American folk songs are kinda fucked up (and many are "sanitized" for modern listening to be less fucked up), and it's wild that we just, teach these songs to children without any context or anything? like, clementine is about a miner's daughter DROWNING TO DEATH as he watches helplessly? Old folks at home is a fucking RACIST AF ass song written by a white dude in the perspective of a slave who has been freed who misses his life on a plantation? when John Henry was sang by miners it often had ad-libbed, graphic lyrics about having sex with women at the end of the work day (as a way to motivate themselves and get them through the hell that was mining in the 1800s), and a lot of our modern versions are just super sanitized? like I get its hard to explain a lot of that shit to kids but like, its often never revisited and those songs are just left as sanitized, incoherent childhood introductions to America when they actually all have great amounts of value and history when put into context!!

[tonycries]

Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too. 

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room. 

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this. 

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle. 

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already. 

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked. 

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them. 

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious. 

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

. 

A weighty beat passes. One. Two. 

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this? 

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What? 

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face. 

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity. 

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better. 

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word. 

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually. 

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth. 

“Out.” 

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now. 

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?” 

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him. 

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but. 

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar. 

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal. 

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away. 

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan. 

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his. 

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this. 

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth. 

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast. 

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers. 

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. 

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth. 

And Gojo keeps going. 

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily. 

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good. 

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?” 

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs. 

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit. 

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous. 

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together. 

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute. 

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone. 

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife. 

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch. 

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly. 

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance. 

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you. 

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there. 

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least. 

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.” 

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear. 

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side. 

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?” 

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him. 

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find- 

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted. 

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles. 

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are. 

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices. 

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper. 

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you. 

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes. 

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his. 

“Clean that room up.” 

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie. 

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[leona-hawthorne]

you cannot tell me that mattheo riddle wouldn’t be the most vocal bitch during sex.

groans, whimpers, whining, you name it. that man is not afraid to show you how fucking good you feel around him. why would he bite back his moans when he gets the blessing of being surrounded by your warmth?

you wrap your legs around his waist while he’s pounding his hips against yours, locking your ankles around his back, and he’s seeing stars, crying out your name with his eyes squeezed shut.

your nails hauntingly rake down his back, no doubt leaving countless marks, and he lets out a hiss, a mixture of pleasure and pain as he bites into your neck, his chest heaving.

don’t even get me started on the dirty talk, he is the absolute king.

“you're so fucking wet for me. i can feel you dripping down my cock.” “fuck, you're perfect. say my name, pretty girl.” “you're so damn beautiful, love. i could fuck you for hours and never get enough. you want that? you want me to fuck you for hours until you can't walk straight?”

and trust when i say he needs you to be vocal too. he needs you whimpering and stuttering over your words as your pussy clenches around him.

he’ll groan when you bite into his shoulder to silence your moans before grabbing you by the chin and yanking your mouth away. if he sees your palm cover your pretty lips to muffle your moans, he’ll grab that wrist and hold it above your head until he’s done with you.

he needs to hear every single reaction you have, needs to hear you screaming his name and begging for more. if he doesn’t hear how good he made you feel, what was the point of fucking you at all?

and by the time you’re writhing around the sheets and coming undone, reduced to nothing but a moaning mess of yourself, he’ll hold back from cumming with you just so he can bring you to the edge all over again. just so he can hear more of those pretty noises.

“you’re so fucking tight, i can feel you squeezing me. you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? you want more? beg for it.”

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

[brie-annwyl]

So I just re blogged a post that made me think about this.

All the batboys look more like their moms than their fathers in some way.

Tim and Jason HATE IT with a burning passion. Both for different reasons of course. Tim (as the post that inspired this) is hauntingly beautiful. Just like his mother was and he is so thankful he wasn’t born a girl because he knows he would hate his looks even more than he does now.

Jason literally died because of her, she sold him off to the joker for a chance to escape. This man has MOTHER ISSUES in the biggest block letters you can imagine. Dick made the mistake of saying “she’s obviously who you get your good looks from.” And Jason refused to speak to him for weeks.

Dick will never admit it but he’s forgotten what his parents looked like before they died, he says he looks like the perfect mix of both of them when in reality he’s his mothers carbon copy and he just doesn’t remember it.

Damian is the child that actually looks like a perfect mix of his parents. He looks like a young Bruce but when standing next to Talia a lot of people would say he just looks like a masculine version of her. He takes pride in it and secretly loves it when Bruce makes a comment like “you look so much like your mom when you make that face.”

Bruce knows he looks like his mom, he just refuses to admit it. For years after she died he would see himself in the mirror and see her and it physically pained him. Now when he looks in the mirror, he sees Damian.

[yusiyomogi]

hot take, but i genuinely think that anime fucked up the scene where falin rips her shirt apart. like, seriously. that moment in manga is sooo masterfully drawn, like, literally every element is important in that picture and integral to its beauty. the composition, the weight of the lines. she's screaming, her neck is bent to the side from pain, but her animalistic eyes look right at you. her body is solid, realistically drawn, so all the non-human features are even more accentuated, but she's also ethereal, almost angelic-looking. she's hauntingly beautiful, but also so scary and unfamiliar, you almost forget it's falin.

anime did an okay job (and most of the other scenes with her were great), but i feel like they didn't do it justice

[diorcities]

running your teeth over jeno's sensitive tip and watching him roll his eyes makes you feel haughty. knowing you've got him at your complete mercy, a mess of grunts and involuntary spasms as your tongue curls and tease with the slit of his cock, savoring his salty precum on your palate while his heavy, dark gaze is fixed on you. teary eyes as a plaintive moan leaves his lips when you slide his penis deeper into your warm mouth, and your tongue presses against his shaft. it feels so full you have to close your eyes, drool at the corner of my mouth that you slurp when you take it out to pepper wet kisses up and down his length, “nice job, doll.”

numb legs and body in a sedative state as haechan eats you in front of the mirror. he wants to make you see how hauntingly breathtaking you look with your teary-doe eyes and haunted features every time he makes you feel this good. lips nibbling and sucking on your folds before his tongue attacks the swollen area of your clit. teasing it around and exerting pressure that causes your body to react in a spasm and scream. humming against your cunt and making a stream of pleasure run through you as he fiddles with the entrance, “eyes in the mirror, honey. you don't want to miss a bit.” fingers enter the scene when he pushes them inside your needy pussy.

hearing chenle's cocky laugh when you go nonverbal. mouth letting out breathy sounds and choked moans as he hits your sweet spot over and over again. pelvis hammering you into you, rocking his dick in and out with hard thrusts. beads of sweat forming on his chest pale from the effort he's been making for the last hour, prolonging the moment to nut and fucking you mercilessly, head in subspace by how good he's riling you, the painful knot of your belly growing and loosening every time you cum and squirt all over his cock. “fuuck, that's so hot, angel.”

messy make out with jisung as he buries his cock in your abused pussy. steady pace driving you crazy and clawing at the taut skin of his shoulder blades. choking out a hiss in your throat while he pounds you with mighty thrusts on the countertop of a nightclub bathroom after you grind on him and his growing bulge from the way you were dancing. “fuck, baby, fuck, i'm cuming.” ruined and wrinkled clothes, underwear thrown to the side because he needs you and your tight pussy. so eager and excited his pants are halfway down and your lipstick is now all smudged over his mouth.

stripping you of sleep by jaemin's cock sliding inside you in the middle of the night. arms holding you close to his chest as he inserts himself into you with smooth, fluid strokes. arching closer to him to go deeper, eyes rolling back and mouth spilling hoarse grunts when he speeds up. chest pressed hard against the mattress as he holds on to the headboard and his thrusts become wilder, mind in pure bliss. “does it feel good? fuck it does.” turned into a rag doll, forced down as he fucks you dumb, feeling the sedative and numb effect run through your entire body.

riding mark on the dining table. hands gripping the table in front of you hearing him sound so affected as you bob over his dick. squelching sounds coming from the motion followed by your moans and pants from getting tired. hands quickly going to assist you and pronouncing the thrusts more. harder and frenetic. whines and sobs forming in your throat because it's too much to handle, his movements becoming more eager and desperate, groping your waist as he let out a guttural growl, “you're doing so great, baby. keep up.”

dry humping with renjun, feeling his bulge grow as you rock your clothed pussy over him. the hardness of his erection pressing against your wet folds, soaking his underwear with your arousal, hands going down his length to run your nails up and down, making him moan loudly. “need to fuck you, yn, please.” thrusting his hips at you when he gets needy to put his dick inside your warm walls. both releasing a pleasurable exhale as he guides his tip inside with ease, digits going to your clit as you shove it completely in and start to ride him.

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Just a Glimpse of Us

ex!Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader, Theodore Nott x gn!reader; angst

summary: after a particularly rough break up with mattheo, theodore is there to pick up the pieces. he’s the perfect boyfriend in theory, so why do you wish it was your ex instead?

a/n: while the reader is currently dating theo, this isn’t really about him (sorry bby ily). our focus today is matt. he’s a bit of a dick for the majority and says a couple of insensitive things. the happy ending won, so here it is, happy valentine’s day ♡

Only 2 weeks after your relationship ending fight with Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott asked you out. You said yes.

It had taken you a week longer than it had for Mattheo.

You weren’t entirely sure why you had said yes. The pessimist in you said it was only because you were hurt. The optimist in you meekly thought different.

Theodore was attractive and surprisingly gentle with you. In the days following the break up, he frequently sought you out in the nooks of the castle you started to escape to. The times when you couldn’t keep yourself together, he held you as you broke down in tears and didn’t let go until the pain subsided. His chest was warm and sturdy and safe. The scent of smoke lingered on him hauntingly similar to the way it hung to Mattheo, permeating his clothes and your soul.

He was there by your side when you stumbled on a Ravenclaw girl practically chewing Mattheo’s face off out in the hall in front of god and everyone, 3 days post breakup. Part of you knew he wanted you to see.

A piece of you died that day.

The following weekend party ended with you in Theodore’s bed. Maybe you wanted Matt to walk in his dorm and see you with one of his best friends. Maybe you wanted him to feel the same festering wound you had been living with since he had stormed out of your life.

He never did come back that night.

A week after Mattheo broke your heart a second time, Theodore found you sitting in the astronomy tower, knees to your chest, staring at the view of the valley. He sat next to you, arm easing its way across your shoulders as you leaned into him. He had seemed nervous, so unlike his usual stoic and relaxed demeanor.

“Would you want to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me tesorino?”

The pessimist in you was right.

♡ ♡ ♡

That was a month ago. A month of dating Theodore Nott. You were less sad at least. Or maybe you were just more numb.

Despite sitting at the Slytherin table with Theodore and your friends, you weren’t really present. You were vaguely aware of his hand resting on your side and the unintelligible chattering filling in the background noise of aimless thoughts. Your eyes were facing the rest of the Great Hall, but you were looking through it. You used to sit here with all the same people but Mattheo always used to be here too. You hadn’t seen him during meals or class lately. He would sling his arm around your waist during meals like this. Theodore’s touch burns.

Before your mind can drift off too far as to what he could possibly be up to recently, the doors to the great hall open with a thud.

It takes a few blinks to get your eyes to focus back and when they do, you’re greeted to a bored looking Mattheo, arm loosely resting on—what appears to be a Hufflepuff—girl’s shoulder.

Theodore’s grip on you tightens and a kiss is pressed to your temple. Matt’s eyes rake over to where you’re sat and you can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. As quickly as he looked your way, he directs his attention elsewhere.

“You okay tesorino? You got tense,” Theodore speaks softly above your ear.

With an exhale you smile up at him, “I’m okay Teddy.” He’s looking at you like you placed the moon in the sky for his enjoyment and it reminds you of brown eyes that had once looked at you the same way.

Pushing the thought from your mind, you press a firm kiss on his lips- searching for butterflies or fireworks or something when he returns the motion.

You find none.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Nott? Really sweetheart? You can do better than that.”

Mattheo’s voice stabs through you, making you involuntarily jerk to a halt. It had been so long since you’d heard his voice. You try to regain your breath before turning to face him. He’s standing in the middle of the hall, cocky smile on his face. You had forgotten how arrogant he could be, used to his sweet smiles and soft eyes reserved only for you. You desperately longed for it. That Matt was long gone, just a whisper you were still hopelessly trying to grasp onto.

He raises an eyebrow when you make no attempt to respond, seemingly expecting a snarky remark. He takes a couple strides toward you. He baits you again, “I guess I can see why you hang around him, he follows you around like a pathetic dog.” You bite.

“At least I’m not a manwhore who jumps in the first skirt offered to him,” the calm in your tone surprises you, your entire soul feels like it could shatter any moment. “What do you want Riddle?”

Something flashes across Matt’s face for the briefest of moments. So subtle only you would have noticed it.

Before he can respond Theodore is by your side, “why don’t you say that shit to my face next time.”

“And here’s the guard dog now. Have to say, didn’t expect my best mate to lap up my sloppy seconds.”

Tears sting in your eyes at his unexpected cruelty. Then the sound of a fist cracking bone is making you jump. You cover your mouth with your hands as blood starts pouring out of Mattheo’s nose. A crowd has started to form around the three of you and you’re grabbing Theodore’s arm that’s getting ready to take another swing.

Matt’s face is hard to read. He doesn’t immediately react to his apparently broken nose nor the blood staining his uniform. Instead his eyes are locked on you.

You force your voice to work, “c’mon Teddy, it’s not worth it.”

He snaps his head towards you in bewilderment. “Tesorino you heard what he just said about you, right?” Your heart aches at his concern only for you, your gaze shifting to meet Mattheo. The same aching heart reminds you he would have done the same for you once upon a time.

Those pretty brown eyes convince you that you don’t want to see his face anymore beaten than it already was.

“Please Teddy, let’s just go.” You look up at Theodore’s face and tug on his arm.

He relaxes his stance and gives you a nod, letting you lead him away. You do your best to not look back at Mattheo.

However you can’t help the quick glance over your shoulder; seeing Matt looking at you, ironically, like a kicked puppy.

You cry yourself to sleep that night, locked in Theodore’s suffocating embrace.

♡ ♡ ♡

Monday night finds you back in the astronomy tower, cigarette in your fingers. You had swiped it from Theodore’s stash before classes this morning. It wasn’t the same brand Matt used. Knowing Nott, it was probably higher quality.

You turn the stick in your hand, blinking back tears. Thoughts of your time up here with Matt swirl around your head, making it hard to breathe.

There at the top of the tower surrounded by the cool night, you break.

It happens all at once. No build up, just a shatter. Sobs rack through your body and an animalistic cry of pure pain and despair forces its way out of you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Mattheo pushes himself off the leather couch he sat on in the common room. Enzo looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and flashes it at the boy, “need a smoke, wanna come with?”

He gets a small head shake no in response before he turns to leave the dungeons.

The walk up to the astronomy tower is familiar and would be comforting in different circumstances. As he starts climbing up the stairs he hears broken sobs echo through the tower. He hesitates thinking it might be best to leave the person alone, but his concern wins out and he treks onward. To say he’s shocked when he sees it’s you is an understatement. Heart rate picking up at the thought of you being hurt, he makes his way over.

At the sound of his footsteps, in between sobs you choke out, “please leave Theo, I want to be alone.”

“I’m not Theo, sorry to disappoint,” the words are slightly joking but his tone is gentle.

You lift your head up to look at him, eyes red and tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart aches. He settles himself down next to you, giving you space.

You sit together in silence for a few moments, his mere presence wrapping itself around you like a childhood blanket, tattered and long lost. You feel some semblance of peace for the first time in months.

“I’m sorry,” he ducks his head down, shame overtaking him. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.”

He tilts his head to look at you, eyebrows knitting together. He almost looks like he could cry. “You’re not my sloppy seconds and Theo isn’t a dog, I just-“ he goes back to avoiding your eyes and blinks a couple times, a tear rolling down his cheek. You reach out and gently wipe it away with your thumb. It has the unintended consequence of making more tears start to fall.

“I was angry and hurt and I guess the only way I know how to express that is by hurting everyone around me.” Your soul shouts at you to reach out for him, but you hold back.

“I think about you all the time,” he’s curled in on himself in the way you’ve only ever seen him do when he talks about his home life. “I miss you so much.”

His eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to stop crying, fingers digging into his biceps. You know him too well, can read his actions like you were reading his mind.

You pull him into your arms.

It’s easy to tell you made the right decision when he instantly relaxes in your embrace, instinctively pushing his head against your chest like he had done so many times before. His voice comes out quieter when he says, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, lord knows I wouldn’t.”

A small smile works its way onto your face as you speak to him for the first time since the fight in the hallway, “you’ve always been the type to hold a grudge. And I know you’d never admit it, but it’s because you care.”

“I’m sorry for kissing that girl, I don’t even know her name. I thought it would fill the hole in me, but it didn’t. Then I saw you with Theo at the party and—“ his voice cracks. You tighten your grip, a hand coming up to run through his curls.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, “I told Theo that I couldn’t keep seeing him today. I felt like I was using him, cause he’s not you.”

Matt pulls himself out of your embrace to cup your face in his hands, dark eyes swimming with unshed tears and that gentle look he used to give you. The one where you could see the longing, the raw need for your touch and love and approval and very essence of your being. It was vulnerable and gave away just how deeply sorry he was for hurting you.

You were drawn to him as you had always been, a planet orbiting a sun that gave off such warmth and fiery passion but could also burn magnitudes of pain that was near incomprehensible.

“I can’t fix the damage I’ve done, but I want to spend my life making it up to you. And I’ll do everything in my power to make amends with Theo. Please, let me be part of your life again.”

“Matty, I want to, but I don’t want to feel like that again. It was hell,” your voice catches on the last part, a stray tear escaping. Gentle lips are pressed on your cheek where the tear was.

“I will never make you feel that way again. And I give you full permission to use an unforgivable if I don’t keep my promise. Fuck, I’ll take an unbreakable vow if that’s what you want, love.”

You can’t hold back anymore, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that rivals the most beautiful sunsets, warmth rushing over you. This is what home feels like.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Y/n wakes up, her wings gone and her mind fuzzy. What will ensue? PART TWO TO MY ONE SHOT UNDERSTAND.

Link to Part One: Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Warnings: Uh, brief mentions of bandages and pain and stuff. Toxic relationships. Kidnapping?? What you'd expect to come after part one.

Word Count: 1,500

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N you guys have been like, breaking my door down for this one.

The world spun circles around Y/n as she opened her eyes. Memories as blurry as her vision, she struggled to bring her surroundings into focus. She could tell she was in a bed but not much else. Everything was different shades of red and unfamiliar, with a window to odd dark woods in her sight.

As the room settled into focus, the first thing she realized was that the window was not in fact a window. Instead, the room simply came to a point where the walls fractured and gave way to the outside. The second thing was that she was not alone.

"There you are, darling." came a hauntingly familiar voice from beside her, "I was starting to worry."

Everything came crashing down around her as she heard his voice. In her minds eye, Y/n watched the portal close. She saw her husband soaked in blood -- in her blood -- with that far off, crazed look in his eyes.

Alastor reached out to wipe a tear that threatened to fall from her eye and Y/n violently jerked away on instinct. Pain ricocheted through her body from the movement, stemming from the middle of her back. Emanating from the place where... she couldn't bring herself to think of it.

He let his hand hang there in the air by her face for a moment before bringing it back to his side with a sigh. Y/n turned her head to the side, her cheek pressing into the cool silk of the pillow case. She watched Alastor carefully.

There hadn't really been time when they first encountered one another in that ally to take in his new appearance. He leered over her, the same constant sharp tooth smile. Y/n couldn't help but notice that there was something there in the red glow of his eyes that was the same. It was the only thing that really remained of the man she had known. Well, that and the monocle.

"How are you feeling?"

"Awful."

With painstaking effort, Y/n pulled herself into a sitting position in the corner of the bed where it met the wall. As the blankets fell from her torso, she realized she'd been wrapped in crisp white bandages.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't give you anything for the pain until you woke up. Here."

Y/n looked up from the bandages to see that Alastor was holding a few pills and a glass of water out to her. She eyed them suspiciously.

"It's just aspirin."

"And you're just my fucking kidnapper. You're just the one person I was supposed to be able to trust completely."

Alastor's eyes fell to his hands. He took a deep breath.

"Y/-"

"You know," Y/n cut him off, her eyes falling to her hands as they fiddled with the blanket pooling in her lap, "I really thought you..."

Alastor looked over at her as her words fell off into silence. There were tears pooling in her eyes again. He didn't regret what he had done. No, it had been necessary. He couldn't lose her again. None of that mattered right now, however. It still hurt, to see her in such pain and know he was the cause.

"Thought what, my dear?" he prompted after a few moments.

"It's dumb." Y/n shook her head, still refusing to meet his eyes, "I was dumb."

"Now now, you know how I feel about you talking down about yourself. It is unbecoming and untrue."

Y/n shook her head again, letting out a small, sad, laugh. The sound was nothing more than a sharp exhale through her nose, it was rueful.

"I mean it, Y/n." Alastor insisted, "Tell me what is on your mind?"

As he spoke, he reached a hand out to her. He tried to hold her hand, he wanted to comfort her but Y/n flinched away again and so, he stopped his efforts.

"I thought you wouldn't hurt me." she admitted at last, meeting his eyes once again.

An arrow through his heart.

"I really thought you... I was so dumb."

"I'm not going to apologize." Alastor sighed after a moment, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest, "I did what I had to do."

"What you had to do?" Y/n really did laugh this time, her eyes searching the room before meeting his once again, "What you had to do, Al?"

"Yes. One day, you will realize that and you will thank me for it."

"Alastor fucking Hartfelt: no."

He stilled. It wasn't the usage of his full name, no. That he was used to hearing from his wife. She had a love of calling him it, it was a privilege in her mind. The real issue was that Y/n, the prim and proper precious girl he adored so much, had cursed. The only other time he'd heard her do that was when she had learned about his mother dying. She was serious.

"No." Y/n said again, shaking her head fervently as her gaze lowered to her lap, "I... in what world would I thank you for cutting the wings off my goddamn back? In what world.... how the fuck do you think things are ever going to be okay between us again?"

His hands slowly slid from his chest, falling loosely to his lap as Y/n met his eyes once again. She looked tired, she looked heartbroken. He hadn't meant for that.

"I..." Alastor searched for the words but they both knew there were none, "I didn't know what else to do."

"I told you I was going to figure something out!"

"And what if you didn't!?" Alastor yelled back, getting to his feet, "What if someone on your end found out and you got killed, for real killed."

He slammed his hands on the bed, leaning over Y/n who trembled slightly, her eyes wide.

"I did what I had to do." Alastor sighed, the anger falling from him as quickly as it had arrived, "Just... please. Please, Y/n. I couldn't lose you again."

Y/n's heart hurt. He was begging her. He had hurt her so much but, had the reasons really been that bad?

She knew he was right. With her plan, she would have most likely ended up dead or worse, with Adam forcing her to kill Alastor, or forcing her to try to at least.

He was begging her. He was begging her and even after what he had done, she loved him. Even after the violence, the pain, discovering his new nature, she loved him and was elated to be in his presence once again. Y/n wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. More than anything, she wanted to close her eyes and open them again to find it had all been a dream, open them to their sweet little house in the garden district -- alive.

"Please." Alastor said again, sinking to his knees as if in prayer, "Please, Y/n. I don't expect you to forgive me right away just try to understand where I'm coming from."

She watched him, his head in his hands, his eyes on the mattress. Y/n was angry. Because he was right, because she still wanted to scream, because god she just wanted him to hold her. Even knowing that he was the source of the pain, all she wanted was for him to hold her and make it all better. Because that was what Alastor did, what he had always done. He made things okay.

Life was easier with Alastor, life was lovely. Memories overtook Y/n, over took her reason and her anger and her fear. Tentatively, she reached a hand out and placed it on Alastor's head. He looked up at her, ears swiveling. Still smiling.

"Can you do anything else? Can you only smile?"

He hesitated a moment before shaking his head no and Y/n sighed.

"I..." Y/n trailed off, sighing once again.

She felt caught, trapped. Even if she wanted to go back to the hell of life as an exorcist, she couldn't. Options were limited: Alastor or alone. Y/n didn't think she wanted to be alone. Not now, not here, not like this.

"Can I have a hug?"

The question was small, her voice trembled. Alastor's eyes lit up. With a practiced grace, a practiced giving of space and time, he stood and sat down on the bed beside her. She fell into his chest, clutching his jacket as he wrapped his arms around her, careful to avoid the fresh wounds he had inflicted.

Y/n began to sob. Big heavy breaths, big wet tears soaking through his suit into his skin.

"It will all be okay." Alastor cooed, rubbing her shoulder gently, "It will all be okay."

And the worst part was, she beleived him. His words made her feel better. And the worst part was, Y/n began to smile.

----

A/N I looked up his last name and this is what the wiki said. Please don't be mad at me.

Tags:

@trashbin-nie @themoonitselff @lululucii @asianfrustration13 @sphynxtheweeb @nenerobobot @bumblebeebluebell @ast-jime @otherthoughtsofbu @sanemiswifeyxo1 @messyserver @rainyvandragon @xxwerefangxx @campgarbage @alexdelray1 @ellie-x0xo

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I beg of you, your the only person who wrote such a good zayne story 😍 it makes everything tingle, can we get a story of us sucking him off PLEASEEEEEE

⋆｡°✩ PWP Smut, Banter, Oral (M-receiving), no pronouns. Please let me know if I missed something, and I'll fix it.

Your nerves are on fire, each one a tiny beacon for arousal to run its rickety, lurching course through you. Overwhelmed, you bring your hands up and brace them against the headboard of the bed, clasping them into tight fists to calm the adrenaline rolling like waves through your veins.

It’s been too long since you felt this way, burdened with trembling limbs and stomach-knotting excitement, something that could only be accomplished when you have a certain surgeon between your gripping thighs. It’s been too long since you’ve seen Zayne, let alone have his hard, defined abs taut where you cradle his stomach.

He props his shoulders on dark blue satin pillows, his head in the perfect position for you to look at him. The unyielding gaze he holds does nothing to calm your heaving chest or aching nether regions as you take your time soaking and drinking him in.

Zayne has already changed so much since you last were with him. Your eyes are anchored to the widening of an already broad physique and the stretch and bulge of his biceps when he runs his hands down your back and over your ass to grip at the meat of your thighs. The golden glow of the nightstand lamp setting off against dark hazel eyes and battle-worn skin tempts you to squeeze his slowly fluctuating chest.

Before you can seal the deal on your spiraling dirty thoughts, Zayne catches your intentions, as if the position you were in didn’t already make it obvious. It’s a game that both amuses and frustrates you at the same time.

“It seems someone worked themselves up rather quickly.”

Lifting your sight from his chest, you meet a playfully mocking glint hidden behind a firm gaze. To keep your annoyance, or impatience rather, from showing, you set your attention on the intricate designs of the headboard.

“Just admiring the finish on the wood,” you excuse. “Lacquer?”

Zayne lifts a hand and pinches at your chin to force you to concentrate on him causing you to take your first shuttering breath that night. With piercing eyes, he searches for something in your face, so hauntingly that it makes you throb, and you silently hope he doesn’t feel your legs clamp harder at his waist or how much you're beginning to leak.

He doesn’t need it. As always, Zayne finds what he wants. His voice is inquisitive but the look in his eyes is teasing when he finally asks, “Are you sure that’s what it is? Your pupils are dilated, and I don’t think you’re one to really care about woodwork to that degree.”

You huff at his observation, always the smart-mouthed one. Could he blame you for being hot and bothered when you have an undeniably attractive man under you, especially when you haven't been able to touch him in weeks? It’s so hard with your schedules. Even now, it’s thanks to an unexpected sick day that your schedules managed to align. So, yeah, maybe you were more worked up than usual, but Zayne was a lot of things, stern, serious, reservedly kind, and very much aware of his commanding good looks and the effect it has on you.

Luckily, you’re not the only one who is having trouble maintaining a calm visage. His face holds a barely recognizable flush, his chest strains with too-deep breaths, and his large, scarred hands squeeze the back of your legs to an almost painful point before he swipes your tender skin with manicured thumbs.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the tepid atmosphere is growing too tense for both of you. Who admits to it first is anyone’s guess, but it’s not likely to be Zayne without some encouragement.

So, you prance your fingertips across his angular jaw before drawing a seductive line from the point of his chin through the center of his pectorals, a line you plan to use to start your reacquaintance with his body very soon. The sticky heat radiates from him and seeps into you, knotting the aching twists in your lower stomach even tighter.

“You’re one to talk,” you remark, displaying your own mischievous thoughts. Your hand finds a place to roost over his left side and sprawls open over his heartbeat, reading the steadily rising pace. “I can hear you breathing from here, and your skin is so hot and sweaty.”

For someone whom others wrongfully describe as cold, something about him is smoldering when he rakes his eyes over your body. It’s hungry, and you’re so ready to devour and be devoured, as he forces himself to meet your face again.

“It’s the fever.”

Holding in your laughter, you smack your lips at him. “Didn’t you say you were feeling better today? You didn’t lie to me, did you, Zayne?”

The man doesn’t respond, usually a sign that he was thinking but the only thing on his mind was your hand running orbits around his nipple, outlining the smooth round expanse circling it. You grope lightly at his chest, marveling how full it makes your hand, before cascading that touch lower and lower.

The girth of his cock twitches against your ass, and you think you almost got him as he begins to ripple under your exploration; alas, he manages to keep in his sighs until you start to comb through the delicate valley of shallow black hair that curls from his lower stomach and disappears under his sweatpants.

“I knew you would blow it out of proportion otherwise,” he plays off, releasing another low groan. “It didn’t seem to stop you from marching right over, however.”

“Oh?”

Pitifully pouting, you roll onto your side next to him, press your chest into his arm, and lean in to kiss under his ear.

“You don’t like me taking care of you?” you whine with a pathetic infliction and a whimper, all the while adding pressure as you begin to massage his groin over his briefs, close enough he can feel the sensitive flesh right above the base of his cock imprinting with your touch but not quite where he wants it or how he wants it. “That’s so mean.”

Playfully, you blow against his ear, and there’s the smallest shudder that makes your heart pound hard. There’s nothing like seeing him slowly give in, trying to act in control when his cock readily jumps and stiffens as if to reach your hand. The reaction encourages you to shuffle your hand under his briefs in a few ticklish swipes only to be met with disappointment when his voice catches, hiding a guttural sound you could only curse him for not letting you hear when you wrap your fingers around his cock.

It frustrates you how he won’t even give you an inch of nonresistance, but his cock pulses at your touch, and you smile to yourself at how he couldn’t hide the eager hard-on that you were quickly encouraging with only a few twists and pets.

“When you forced me to let you take care of me,” he begins, pausing only to hiss softly when your fist tightens, which causes the warm slick of precum to seep into his pants and a brief fluttering of his eyes before he recollects himself. “I assumed that meant you’d make a wreck of my kitchen like last time.”

Slowly, you slide your calf over the top of his knee.

“My soup made you better though.”

Zayne groans as you pull him free from his clothing, holding onto his cock as it springs from too-tight confines. Your thumb follows the thick pulsing vein running up the side of his cock before tracing his dripping slit. His head slides back against the pillow, tilting back as he quietly gulps, and his thick throat stretches with the swallow.

“At the cost of my best pot.”

“A win's a win,” you mumble against the crux of his neck, which turns into a sigh when his arm makes space to slide under you, wrap around your upper hip, and squeeze at your ass.

“Now, I see you only had one thing in mind when you came over, after all.”

“That’s not it,” you mewl, squirming when he pinches your cheek harder.

“Are you saying you didn’t come over to take advantage when you have me like this?” he asks.

“You make it sound so calculated!” You shake your head. “I just know this will fix you up in no time. Besides, I missed you.”

There’s a short and irritatingly self-satisfied chuckle from him that makes your chest vibrate with the makings of a moan as his deepening voice rumbles in your ears. “I’m in your capable hands then,” he finally relents, not that you expected any other outcome, and you make your move to flip on top of him again.

There’s a snap somewhere finally releasing any inhibitions when your lips meet. It’s passionate, filled with every desire that’s been burning in him since he’s seen you. Zayne can be gentle, but he can also be bruising. Sometimes he’s a mix of both like when his tongue glides on top of yours and his teeth graze against your bottom lip during the short moments you break for air before capturing each other’s taste again.

You moan into his mouth when he cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer, deepening the kiss to the point you're becoming dizzy. It takes some strength to break free from the passion of it all, but you want more of him, and you’re not willing to wait anymore. So, you pull away and allow your mouth to collide against his collar before he has time to capture you again. Zayne’s eyes glower, half-lidded as he watches every pucker of your lips and every kiss and bite on his body.

Zayne slides a palm up the small of your back, the other going to rub the crux of your thigh, dipping inward to stroke at the yielding flesh right at your center. You moan against him, doing your best not to start dry humping him like you’re in heat whenever his cock pulse against your lower belly, but the scent wafting from him was becoming too much. So, you quickly begin to make your way to the promised land, trailing kisses along the way.

“I missed you,” you puff out softly before wading your tongue across his nipple then under his chest and to his stomach. Releasing his cock, you slide your hands down his sides, making sure to keep them aligned with the movement of your kisses. “You don’t know how much.”

Zayne brushes his fingers along your hand, following down your arm before gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb gliding over your cheek in a tender return of your sentiment as his once proud demeanor in his eyes softens with the smallest of glances from you.

“Is it more than I’ve missed you?” he whispers, and when you nod, he smiles. “I don’t think that’s possible.” Seeing you like this, so beautiful, all his, is a luxury. “I never tire of seeing you.”

Feeling a rush of shyness overtake you, you muffle the small sigh of his name against his stomach. Butterflies filling your stomach, you slide further down and kneel, your knees digging into the end of the bed as you sit back on them, your ass in the air as you hover your face over his lap. He’s so big that you’re never entirely sure where to start. You could go for where he’s most sensitive or—

“You can always use your hands instead if you don't think you can fit it all in your mouth,” he instructs half-jokingly, causing you to grow flustered at your overthinking.

“This isn’t the first time, I know how—” You clamp your mouth shut when you remember the first time you tried, something you’re sure he wouldn’t let you forget. “Don’t,” you order before sliding your tongue over his tip to clean away the pre-cum.

Your tongue laps along his glans as you slowly take his head into your mouth. It’s only when you finally get to work, sliding your mouth halfway down then back up that he finally stops his teasing and lets you have your way with him.

There’s an audible sound of relaxation when you squeeze his base with your palm and purse your lips around him. There’s a certain pride that comes with knowing you’re the only one who can see him like this, with his shoulders lax, eyes closing in bliss, and jaw slightly slacked as he groans. It’s not an easy sight to imagine on someone as stern as Zayne but the look of arousal was also something that seemed like it was made for him, which only causes your legs to squirm with need when it evolves into a low grumble from his chest.

You push it a little further to turn it into a growl by relaxing your throat and allowing it to press against the back, pulling back up and slurping the sheen of saliva clean from him before lapping your tongue over the tip. When you repeat the process, his hips twitch and buck, causing you to whimper when you feel more liquid scalding down your throat.

With a quick reposition to sit up more and force you closer, he presses both hands to cup at your cheeks, lifting your head partway up as he lightly strokes your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Briefly, you look at him, heart fluttering a bit at the flush dusting the bridge of his nose and the wetness of his parted lips.

“You’re so good,” he breathes out, a chilly flow emanating from him, “so good for me.”

Blinking away the water in your eyes, you moan around him, the vibrations rolling down his heated flesh as you suck your cheeks around him as he holds your face. One hand goes to the back of your head, and you bob once again with the encouragement of his hand pressing down on your head.

“Fuck,” he hisses out when you pop him out your mouth and brush your lips down the side of his shaft. You pepper it in kitten kisses before nipping lightly. You squeeze around his tip, making it your mission to keep your thumb grinding his slit and blushing head while you cup and suck his balls.

When you feel them strain and tense, not once but twice in your mouth you have enough warning to know he’s about to cum. It’s with one last stroke of his shaft and one last quick suck around his head that he paints your mouth white, the excess seeping from your mouth and flooding over his length.

You take your time cleaning your mess, like you promised. It’s with slow, deliberate movements as you allow him to ride out his much too quickly fading high, the last throbbing spilling the last drops of his finish on your lips. You release him with a pop and a sigh.

“How messy,” he quietly remarks, causing you to tense as his thumb ghosts over your lips. “You missed a spot,” he explains and slides the finger into your mouth for you to readily close around. He wipes it clean against your tongue before sealing your mouth with a kiss. He slides his finger free from your kiss, and you can feel the lingering wetness of your saliva against your face when he holds you in place to kiss you more passionately.

His strength starts to become too much when he grips your shoulders, pushes you towards the bed, and pins you on your back.

Breaking the kiss and pushing against his arms, you puff out, “Wait, I’m supposed to be in charge today.”

“Sorry to change your plans, but I don’t think I can hold back anymore,” he explains with a growing smile that makes shivers climb up your spine from the sheer hunger in it. “Allow me to show you how much I missed you as well.”

[kitten4sannie]

ꜱᴄᴘ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ

ᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ/ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: past lover/SCP! san x researcher! reader (fem) feat. resaercher friend! mingi

genre: SCP au, horror elements, angst (there’s a hopeful ending i promise ;;), smut

summary: having seen everything under the sun as a researcher at the SCP foundation, you didn’t think much of SCP-1117. it wasn’t until he started appearing as your late husband that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

w.c: 3.4k

warnings: past character death, ANGST (i’m telling you now…), hard dom! san, bratty sub! reader, brat taming, cnc, san’s a heartless monster here so yeahh, he also has monster features yk (sharp teeth, black eyes, monster cawk), dirty talk, degradation/name calling, brief tit play, brief spit play, restraints, choking, rough oral (giving), deep-throating, kissing, fingering, squirting, like…so much cum…, finger sucking, rough sex, mating press, dacryphilia, creampie

a/n: listen ik it’s filth fest okayy there’s def filth in this but i also used this one as an angst outlet so just know this one’s got a little kick to it,, im sorry my lovelies i just couldn’t help it </33

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ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴋɪᴅ ꜱɪꜱᴛʀ

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

SCP-1117 was a curious one. Neither you nor your coworkers knew what its true form looked like, due to its ability of morphing into whatever it pleased. You couldn’t quite figure out what it truly was either. It was simply an amalgamation of pure chaos. One that you found yourself being drawn to ever since it began to replicate your late husband’s image. 

Was it to entice you? Punish you? You weren’t sure. What you were sure of was that you couldn’t bring yourself to escape from its clutches, remaining at work during the late night hours, always telling your coworkers that you were simply running tests on it, when in actuality, it was running tests on you. Testing how much pain and pleasure you could take. Testing how much it could take from you and give to you without completely swallowing you up. 

Oh, how it would love to. 

࿏࿏࿏

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be staying here so late…and you shouldn’t be around SCP-1117 so often. It’s too dangerous…” one of the researchers you were closest with told you in a hushed voice inside the hauntingly white, sterile hallway of the facility, placing a hand on your stiff shoulder, his fingers squeezing into your plain white lab coat, hints of coffee still on his breath. 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Mingi,” you began softly, looking up at him past the smudged lenses of your glasses, taking a sip from your own cup of stale black coffee. “But I’m getting closer to a breakthrough. I need this…The foundation needs this.” 

“We still don’t know what its intentions are though…What if you get hurt?” Mingi pushed, concern present within his hushed, though gravelly voice, studying you with his sad, deep-set eyes. He searched the pristine tile floor for something he couldn’t find, finding it even harder to look back up at you. “I feel like…ever since the passing…you’ve been…” 

You offered him a gentle smile, reaching up to pat the side of his cheek, interrupting him, “Mingi, I’m fine, really. I just need something to focus on instead of the grief, and this is it.” Something inside you shifted, the edges of your facade fading for only a moment, causing you to push your glasses up past the slope of your nose. “Research is all I have left as of late.” 

Mingi inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling like shit, causing him to bring you into a warm, tight hug, whispering into your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, do what helps you.” He squeezed you a little tighter, as if you would slip away from him at any second. “Just don’t forget, I’m here for you, Y/N. Night or day, I’m here.” 

You stayed still inside his grasp, wanting to feel comfort from his gentle, loving touch, but instead feeling nothing at all. All you felt was the muddled memory of what love was to you. You heard it whispering into your mind and onto your skin, tormenting you with what you once had access to. “Thank you, Mingi,” you replied sincerely, slowly reaching your arms around him to hug him back, settling into his embrace. Before you even realized it, you had begun to hold him just as close, nuzzling his shoulder until your glasses fogged up. 

Eventually, Mingi left you to your own devices, and you found yourself heading down to the basement floor, your high heels clacking loudly against the tile inside the large, empty hallway as you made your way to the entity’s room. 

Once you pressed your keycard into the room’s security system, a small blue light flashed across your eyes, scanning your identity, before it let you into the vast, dark room. 

Little by little, the plain room morphed into what used to be your late husband’s office, that in real life, was shut off from the rest of the world with a key, as you were never internally prepared to walk into a space that he had spent so much time inside. Here, it was perfectly clean and kept-up. Inviting. Warm, even. Not covered in thick layers of dust and shrouded in darkness, like in your reality. A reality you were relieved to have an escape from once again. 

“You took so long to see me, honey. I’ve missed you dearly,” a deep, masculine voice called out to you, causing you to turn around and see your late husband sitting at his computer desk, wearing a coat similar to yours, his glasses slipping down his nose like they always did, a pout on his classically handsome, feline-like face. 

“San, I’ve missed you too,” you called back, running over to him just as he got up from his computer chair, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Missed your touch.” It was then that you heard a slow, calculating chuckle ring out inside your ears. It sent a shiver right up your spine, your idyllic fantasy quickly falling apart at the seams like it always seemed to do. 

“Oh, did you now? What did you miss, honey? My cock in your ass? Your throat? Or your wet little cunt?” he remarked filthily, the dark amusement inside his eyes reminding you that he was not your husband, and that this wasn’t the life you had. This was a cold, empty room, and you were in the arms of a nameless monster that wanted nothing more than to ruin you. 

The feeling was mutual. 

“I’ve missed it all. Need you,” you admitted hastily, opening San’s work shirt up to reveal his pretty, tan skin, simultaneously letting him push you back into the desk, watching him rip open your top, the buttons flying off and skidding across the floor. 

“You’ll have me, slut. Relax.” San pulled your bra off, immediately encompassing your tits with his large, warm hands, squeezing them roughly and kneading them around, making you squeak. “Missed these tits of yours.” 

“Yeah…? I bet you jerk off thinking about them when I’m gone. Pervert,” you tested him, hoping to provoke the beast, reaching down to grab his hardening cock through his tight work pants. 

San sneered at you, showing off his sharpened teeth. “Why would I need to jerk off when you come here every night and willingly give me your holes to fuck as I please? Huh?” He lowered his mouth to your chest, spitting on one of your tits, before sucking on it sloppily, licking at your nipple with his forked tongue. “Or did you forget how fucking filthy you are?” 

“Might need a reminder…” 

“I forget just how truly mindless cock sluts are,” San mused to himself, flicking your other nipple roughly with his pointer finger, making you jolt from the sudden twinge of pleasurable pain. “I'll remind you, my dear.”

The entity suddenly swiped all the things off of his desk, from the large, ancient computer that your husband never wanted to get rid of because of the ‘lovely vintage aesthetic’ it apparently brought to his office, the various knickknacks he was never able to part with, from romantic poetry books he never got to read, to clay cats he made in the pottery class he begged you to join, knocking everything onto the floor so that he could place you onto it, with enough force that you felt a bit dizzy. With his hands pressed onto either side of the desk, San hovered over you, his now fully black eyes boring into your half closed ones, drool falling from his lips onto your flushed face. “Show me how wet you are, Y/N. Show me now.”

You obediently slid up your work skirt and lowered the lip of your panties, showing off your glistening, plump folds, your lips forming a playfully wicked smile. “Is that enough for you, 1117? Hm? Does it make your cock stiff?” 

You both knew that you using his given name pissed him off more than anything, which led to him sending one of his fists straight through the desk near your shoulder, with so much ease, it was almost as if he was slicing through butter. You didn’t flinch, and he loved you for it. He loved his perfect little playtoy. You always knew how to press his buttons just right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t swallow you whole just yet. “You know, what does make my cock stiff is the thought of fucking that bratty mouth of yours until‌ you’re dripping drool and my load all over yourself…” 

“Well, what are you waiting for, huh? I don’t have all night, you know. The morning crew comes in early,” you deadpanned, your heart hammering away inside your chest, your mind and body vibrating with an excitement that you haven’t felt since, well, the night before. 

“I’m going to be cumming early too, when my cock’s ramming down your throat…” San climbed off of you and moved your body around to his will, so that you were laying on your back with your head hanging off of the desk. He ripped off his belt and looped it around your wrists, tightening it up until you whimpered. It was then that he pulled out his long, veiny cock, the tip of it dripping obscene globs of pre-cum onto your face, some of the saltiness getting on your lips. “Y/N, tell me, did your husband ever fuck and claim your throat for himself? Or did he do something disgusting like eat you out for your own sole pleasure instead?” 

Visions of your late husband worshiping your body like a temple, with love in his eyes and praise on his lips, flashed across your mind, filling your stomach with lead, just as San, the monster, the entity that you couldn’t understand, filled your mouth and throat with his large, pulsing length, not giving you a chance to answer, instead snapping his hips forward. 

“Oh my god, that’s it, right fucking there,” San groaned gutturally, closing his talons around the sides of your throat, watching the way his cock made an obscene bulge inside it each time he thrusted roughly into it, amused by the dribbles of spit escaping past your stretched lips. “Hey, do your coworkers know that you’re a whore for SCP-1117? Do they know that you study the way my balls hit your fucking face every time I thrust into this tight throat of yours?” 

You gurgled noisily around his rapidly moving length, his salty pre-cum leaking into your mouth, not even having the ability to gag anymore from the amount of times that you’ve taken him inside, your throat already used to the shape of San’s enormous cock. “Mmmmfff…”

“Uh-huh, I know, baby. I know how much you love it,” San mused knowingly, reaching past your throat to rest one of his hands on the opposite edge of the table to thrust more easily into your tight throat, one hand already on your messy cunt, his talons returning to normal hands, a wedding band present on his ring finger, eagerly rubbing from your clit to your slit just to hear your juices squelching through his fingers. “I know how much you love being a hole for me.” 

You spread your trembling thighs open, bucking your hips against his fingers, your moans sending pleasant vibrations onto his cock. It was when he stuffed your cunt full of his fingers that your moans were near constant, your eyes rolling up into your head, drool sliding up your face from the upside down position you were in, drops of it landing onto the floor near San’s black work shoes. 

“Your pussy’s leaking so much, baby, did you know that? You must be really desperate for my cock, huh? Even though I pound you into a coma every single night? Are you that much of a brainless cum dump for me now?” 

“Mm-hmm...!” Your thighs suddenly clenched around his rapidly moving hand, encouraging him to force them back open, most likely leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

San let out a significantly more pleasured groan than the rest that he was letting out, his cock throbbing deep inside your open throat, sweat dripping down the side of his temples, his hair starting to stick to his forehead, his wire glasses threatening to fall from his face. “You’re such a pathetic slut, god, it’s gonna make me fucking cum…” 

Clear liquid suddenly gushed past San’s thick fingers, your muffled moans crescendoing into an equally muffled scream, your thighs going limp against the now slippery desk. You closed your eyes, and for a second, you saw your real husband standing at his desk, proudly holding up one of his crudely painted clay cats for you to see, showing you his pretty dimpled smile and sparkling, affectionate gaze. 

It was then that San tore you away from your brief blissful memory, bringing you back to reality with his wet hands closing back around your bruising neck, his throbbing cock rammed completely down your contracting throat. “Go on, do what you do best and drink it all for me, baby,” he purred, just as he unleashed load after load into your mouth, some of it spilling out and dripping along your sweaty face and into your hair. 

You simply laid there, still trembling, your wrists straining against your leather restraints, doing your best to swallow the endless amount of cum down without choking on it. It was so much that you almost found yourself beginning to pass out from the lack of oxygen, too busy guzzling down cum to breathe, your brain and fingertips growing tingly. How nightmarish would it be for the morning crew to come to find you passed out in SCP-1117’s room, your body covered in squirt and semen. Though it couldn’t be much more of a nightmare than the one you were already living in. 

Once San’s balls were sufficiently drained in that moment, he slowly pulled out of your throat and mouth with a lewd pop, lifting up your practically lifeless body and flipping you around so that you were on your back again and gazing up at him. His face had grown more monstrous, his curled, sharp teeth starting to grow into his cheeks like they were sewn into his flesh, his glasses now gone, his eyes, like portals to an abyss you couldn’t seem to look away from, unintelligible symbols carved into the skin of his neck and collarbone. “What’s wrong, honey? You look frightened. Is something the matter?” he asked with faux concern, a deep chuckle emanating from his tattooed throat. 

“Shut up and fill me with cock, already, 1117,” you sighed, reaching up to rub the cum from your glasses the cloth of your shirt, simply smearing it around instead. 

Growling animalistically, San grabbed onto your hips, sinking his sharpened nails into your skin enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips, positioning his hardened cock against your cunt, rubbing his cockhead along it, just teasing your slit, instead of actually giving you what you wanted. “You’re just asking for it, you goddamn brat. You’re lucky I love fucking your whore hole this much or else I would’ve eaten you up a long time ago…You’d be so…tasty…” 

Just as San began to drool on you again, you reached your restrained hands up so that you could have your wrists resting behind the monster’s neck, his overheated body impossibly close to yours. “Eat me up, 1117,” you whispered near his lips, catching his mouth against yours when he lunged forward, his split tongue slipping over yours and down your throat. 

San pushed himself inside the tight heat of your cunt, immediately getting to work, pistoning himself in and out of you like a well-oiled machine, having no plans of stopping until he was pumping monstrous amounts of cum into your womb. 

You sucked and licked at his long, agile tongue the best you could, watching strings of saliva spread in between your panting, parted mouths when San pulled back. “Fuck me harder,” you demanded, choking on your spit when San rubbed his fingers roughly into your clit, watching him bring his fingers up to your lips, taking them inside to suck your arousal off of them. 

“Relax, little slut. You already know I always fuck you within an inch of your life.” San suddenly brought his legs up onto the desk, using his obscene strength to easily position the both of your bodies so that he had you in a mating press, thrusting viciously into your hot, leaking cunt. 

Your already loud moans began to grow even louder, threatening to somehow escape the soundproof room. You couldn’t do anything but take everything San gave you, his thick, impossibly large cock drilling so roughly into your squelching cunt, he punched a prolonged, breathy whine out of you each time. “S-aaaan, pleaseee…!” 

“Please, what? Don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words. Is it because I’m in your guts, baby? Is that why?” San began to laugh evilly near your ear, his tongue slithering past his curled lips to lick the salty tears that began to drip down your cheeks. He thrusted once more, this time feeling your squirt dripping in between your sticky bodies, driving him to fuck you even harder than before, the desk slamming roughly into the side of the wall over and over. “Is that your squirt leaking all over my cock? Fuck, you always cum so hard when I use you like this…Makes me wanna cum too…Gonna fill your womb with my load, Y/N. It won’t stop dripping out of you until tomorrow night when I fill you up again, and again, and again.”

It was then that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. You tossed your head back, getting lost in a bout of boundless ecstasy, finding yourself back in your husband’s office. This time, he brought you into his arms, enveloping you in his comforting warmth and scent, his kind eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t hear the words for yourself, but you saw his lips moving. ‘I love you.’ That was all you could ask for these days. Just a glimpse. Just a taste of what once was yours. 

You were once again brought back to reality by the entity, his heavy, twitching body pressing fully against yours, filling your cunt up with an unending amount of cum, some of it having to spill out, drops of it hitting the ground.

San gazed down at you, his jaw appearing to be completely unhinged, long, jagged teeth curling downwards, easily able to crush you up until nothing remained, his large black eyes now multiplied like an arachnid, still staring deep into yours, seeing his own reflection in them. He stayed still, like he was debating on consuming your flesh and bones — though….if he did that, then his fun would be over. Without another word, San pulled your restraints off and climbed off of you, his horrific, vaguely familar form staying long enough for him to say, “Until tomorrow, Y/N.” 

It was then that he disappeared, along with San’s office, leaving you cold and alone inside the seemingly empty room. Having been through this routine time and time again, you walked over to a locker in the corner, putting on a fresh set of clothes, fixing your hair and makeup in the small mirror that sat inside the locker, not looking at it long enough to realize that there were still tears escaping your bloodshot eyes. 

You pressed your keycard to the door once more, the system repeatedly leaving a flash of red over your skin until you opened your blurry eyes wide enough so that the blue light could scan them and let you out of the room. Once you were back inside the empty, sterile hallway, you walked to the opposite hall, your heels clacking against the floor along the way, your hands inside your coat pockets. 

It wasn’t until you made it to the elevator that you found yourself falling to your knees, not having enough strength to make it inside. Why you did this to yourself over and over was a mystery. Maybe it was the simple fact that you could still visit some version of your husband, even if he was a soulless monster. Maybe it was because you would rather punish yourself, than take the time to heal from what you lost. You weren’t very sure. What you were sure of was that you stayed in the dark long enough to see that there was always light on the other side. You were ready to crawl towards it.

It was then that the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal who was inside. Mingi stood there, his worried expression morphing into one of conflict, some sort of relief mixed with grief. 

“Sorry, Min, I just…I couldn’t help it…I’m sorry…” you whispered softly, unable to speak more when he simply lifted you off of the ground into his arms. He held you tight, his warm body encompassing yours, reminding you of the person that was always with you, even if you couldn’t see him. He was there through the heartbreak, through the emptiness, through the fullness, the pain, the pleasure, the grief. He was there through it all, just a thought away. Even though he was gone in a way, he had never left you to begin with, and you knew that now. 

You knew. 

“Let me take you home, Y/N,” Mingi spoke up, gently carding his fingers through your hair.

“Okay,” you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, hearing your late husband’s soft voice whisper something into your mind. “Mingi?”

“Yeah?”

With your gentle eyes creasing at the corners, you gave your dear friend a smile filled with warmth, a smile that the love of your life offered you time and time again, your shoulders feeling just a little lighter in that moment. You thought about the clay cats, about how they should be cherished again. “When we get there, can you help me find the key for San’s home office? There’s something I want to show you.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[dollyyun]

"Consider yourself lucky, doll." His deep voice is a lulling seduction, while his lips are grazing against the shell of your earlobe, a hauntingly intimate gesture. "Not many managed to live to see another day after doing what you did, and you seem to have forgotten that you're just a mere human."

As soon as Jay steps away from you, you release the breath you have been holding back rather shakily. Though you remain poised with your icy eyes glaring into them, the fear oozing from your body melds with your enigmatic scent, an irresistible combination that enraptures them. You observe the colour of their eyes turning into the same shade of crimson that looks eerily hypnotising, sending you dreadful shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitches in your throat at their ravenous gaze, and from the look on their faces, you know that they can hear your pulse pumping loudly out of fear and anxiety. Still, you decide to act on your instinct as you turn around to make a run, only to let out a startled shriek at the swift appearance of Sunghoon as he towers over your figure imposingly.

"It's time for our little prey to learn her lesson, yeah?" Sunghoon's gravelly deep voice intensifies your inner turmoil as he tantalisingly backs you up. "Lesson number one: never turn your back on your predators."

Your back hits something solid, and in a blink of an eye, your arms have been seized from behind in a lethal grip, rendering you helpless in the menacing presence of your predators who desire to devour you at any moment.

A cruel smirk plays on Sunghoon's lips, allowing his deadly fangs to peek between his lips while you feel every bit of your resolve crumble, your humanly instinct wanting to surrender defeat.

"Lesson number two," Jay nearly growls out next to your ear, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you while they revel in the palpable fear you exude. "You'll let us use you however we want, and you'll take it like an obedient human who is only worth being our walking blood bag."

Amidst the fear, you can't help but become aroused — a newfound sensation that pools in your tummy. It seems that they are able to smell your arousal in the way their noses flare and their fangs become elongated.

"Fuck, princess smells so fucking good," Jake mutters under his breath, nearly salivating in the mouth at your remarkable, heavenly scent that no doubt will send him into a state of ecstasy.

"Darling is turned on by this, yeah?" A smirk etches on Heeseung's charming face as he gazes at you condescendingly, sending a peculiar flutter to your heart. "Don't worry. If you're good, we'll reward you with a different kind of pleasure."

You open your mouth to speak, but instead, a scream tears from your throat at the searing sensation of Jay's fangs sinking deeply into your neck. Tears glisten in your eyes as you stare at Sunghoon, who revels in your agony before he swiftly sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck, drawing out pained gasps and moans from you while Heeseung and Jake await their turn to get a taste of your sweet blood.

[zevrra]

never forget—

synopsis: where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them caaaause that moment in the game was not enough for me pfft!

tags: 18(+), lil angst, mostly fluff, sebastian(18) x reader, i didn’t know how to end this oops, one-shot, 2k words.

“Crucio!”

The pain that followed that one little word was excruciating.

Yet the spell casted upon you was of your own doing. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had become good friends since your first day at Hogwarts. Always together, always the 3 of you somehow in trouble. Well, mostly you and Sebastian. Somehow Ominis always managed to get out of the trouble the two of you dragged him into. You were Slytherin after all, it was most likely in your blood.

When you first met Sebastian, he had such an eager to learn that his demeanor was contagious. So much so you couldn’t help but also want to gain more knowledge with him over the years. It was all thanks to Ominis from keeping you two from ending up expelled. Your savior in a sense. But ever since the three of you had become good friends, Sebastian never let up about Salazar Slytherin. He was set on finding his Scriptorium, begging Ominis for so long to show him the way. Seeing as he believed finding it would help cure his sister’s, Anne, curse.

When Ominis had finally given into you both and led the way, the three of you worked wonderfully together. Traversing dark and wary caves. Fending off giant spiders, solving puzzles all that good stuff. Until finally you reach a room with a single note, bones buried in dirt, no way out, the word CRUCIO etched into the stone before your feet, and what looked to be a screaming apparition burned onto a mirror.

You sadly read the note aloud for all to hear. Detailing a grim last few words from Ominis’s aunt. Who unfortunately had gone looking for the Scriptorium, alone, and met an untimely fate. You reach out to gently touch Ominis’s shoulder and he stills beneath your touch.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt, Omni.” You mourn. He nods in acceptance. Nothing they did now could’ve changed what had happened to his aunt. He would at least find some peace in knowing what happened to her.

Sebastian is at your side then. Concerned look on his own freckled face. “Ominis…I know it’s hard. But the letter details using Crucio. You’re the best suited for this—“

“No! I won’t do it. To use Crucio you have to mean it. I will not cast that spell ever again…especially on you two.” Ominis steps away from your reach. Closing off from the activity entirely. You didn’t blame him.

You turn to face Sebastian then who looks..almost disappointed with Ominis's rejection. He gestures for you to follow him closer to the wailing mirror. Hauntingly beautiful, even in its twisted state.

“Well, two options. You cast Crucio on me, or I…cast it on you. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here. We can’t die here and now because of—of morals.” Sebastian whispers to you. The thought of dying in that suffocating tomb alone makes your skin crawl.

Ominis had always been vocal about how horrible any of the killing curses were, especially this spell. Seeing as he was forced to cast it when he was younger. The nightmares still haunt the blonde from what you could tell. His sleepless nights. The flinch at loud noises. It was obvious, whatever you decided, that this would forever weigh heavy on your soul. Yet the spell…could come in handy when facing Ranrok. He was your enemy after all.

You hoped it would never come down to using it though.

“Fine. Teach me the spell but you…you cast it on me. I won’t hurt you Seb.” You mumble. And at first, he’s hesitant. His wand slightly swayed before he reluctantly nods. His hands slightly shake as he teaches you the wave of the wand. He had never performed the dark arts before and this could go very wrong or just really wrong. Either way was going to hurt. But you trusted him.

That’s how you ended up in the here and now. Agonizing pain ripped through your flesh like lightning. Flames behind your eyeballs that force them to shut tight. Hoping to ease the pain away. Your teeth gnash against your lip to hold back screams of pain. It does nothing. Dark magic moves under your skin like writhing red and green tentacles. You gasp between almost suffocating screams.

Breathe in, scream, breathe out.

Your back is against the stone, arched, burning hot. Even as Ominis, or maybe it was Sebastian’s, or both of their hands are grabbing at your arms. Cool fingers press into your hot flesh as the boy’s try to lift you from the floor.

They try to comfort you during one of the worst moments of your life. It doesn’t help. They both fumble as they move you into the room that opened up behind the wailing mirror. The pain is nauseating. Every fumble, correction, and movement makes your stomach churn. Threatening to spill out your lunch. Your consciousness is slowly fading at this point. Stars blinking behind your eyelids as you grasp for whatever you can to stay awake.

Through the pulsing pain in your head and ears, you barely hear the two boys arguing. More or less Ominis yelling about how he was right. How this was a stupid idea as he struggles to help carry you. Ominis can’t see where he steps yet he’s trying so hard to save you now.

“You—you’re both idiots!” Ominis snarls. Struggling with words through his rage and panic. “How could you do something like this!”

“I understand, Ominis! Just—just, Merlin, help me! Help me get to the infirmary!” Sebastian spits back as they continue to fumble around, looking for an exit.

The last thing you hear is Sebastian calling for desperate help before the pain becomes too much and finally takes you under. Passing out from the curse spell later than you would’ve liked.

When concussions come back to you, it’s almost unbearable. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed once again. Maybe you could just stay like that for forever. Lying on a cloud, nice and warm, with your eyes closed. Eh, sounds a little too much like death for your liking.

Thankfully, your second attempt at waking up is far more fruitful. Candlelight flickers rapidly at the edge of your feet as your eyes slowly come into focus. You make out the white sheets laying across your body. Feel the firm mattress against your back. Connecting the dots, slowly but surely, that you were in the infirmary.

Your head moves slightly to continue looking around. Hoping a nurse was close by so you could ask for some water or medicine or anything to make the dull ache in your body stop. Instead your eyes find Sebastian.

His unruly brown hair is somehow even messier than usual. He slumps against the side of your bed and from what you can tell, he might be asleep. Seeing as it was sometime during the night. If you had to guess he probably snuck into the infirmary to be at your side.

Suddenly memories of what happened in the Scriptorium come back to you. Sending a harsh chill down your entire body. The cast of Crucio echoes in the back of your mind. You’ll never forget the feeling. Or the look on Seb’s face as he waved the spell and casted it upon you.

‘Crucio can only be cast if you mean it.’ You remember Ominis’s haunting words. Sebastian must’ve meant it. But you try your best to not blame him. He was just trying to get you all out of that stone grave.

“Seb…” You try to speak. Your throat burns as you attempt to rouse the sleeping man at your side. Voice hoarse, borderline gone, from what you can only assume is from the screaming you barely remember doing. “Sebastian.” You barely manage his full name.

His body shifts at the sound of his name but he doesn’t rise. So you make your way to sit up. Although the moment you prepare to sit up, weight shifting ever so slightly, Sebastian shoots up instantly. His pretty green eyes meet your gaze in a wild look. As if he can’t believe you’re awake. Dried drool sticks to the edge of his lips. You can’t help but laugh. Or what you assume is a laugh. To Seb it probably sounds like you’re coughing.

“I—we—are you okay?” Seb stumbles over his words. Knowing Sebastian, he most likely had something planned to say the moment you woke up. Yet now he was almost speechless. For the first time ever.

“I’m o-okay just…w-water.” You manage to mumble. Now he’s quick to react. A glass of water is held out with lightning speed to you and you take it graciously.

After a moment of what felt like an eternity of being parched, you chug the water given to you, before you hand the glass off and sit fully upright. Your fingers lay in your lap, picking at the cotton of the blanket.

Silence falling between the two of you was so uncommon. It almost felt worse than writhing in pain. Not really but the wall built up was hard to ignore. You needed that wall to come down.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask softly. Breaking the silence as your throat is finally feeling better after some water.

“Three days,” Sebastian replies. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t blame him, not really. The guilt must weigh heavy on his shoulders.

Three days. The fact that it had been days since you had passed out in the scriptorium made your gut twist. You can’t even imagine what rumors must have spread among the school. Or the amount of questions the headmaster will be asking you. Oh you were definitely in for some trouble.

“I’m so sorry.”

Apologies were not something Sebastian was known for. The fact that he was apologizing at all was almost shocking. You didn’t have to guess that he didn’t really mean it when he casted Crucio. It was all just a matter of choices, for you all to survive.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is soft as you speak. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. I agreed to it Sebastian,” You remind him. It only makes Seb angrier with himself.

“Of course I blame myself! I could’ve killed you!” Sebastian says in a strained voice. He wants to scream and yell. He wants you to scream and yell at him. For letting him do something so stupid. For not listening to Ominis in the first place. For being too eager.

“It was a matter of life or death Seb you know that—“ You began to say but he cuts you off as he quickly stands from his chair.

“But what if there was another way!? What if I didn’t have to…didn’t want to—I could’ve changed something!” He angrily hisses as he turns his head away from you.

Silences befalls between the two of you again. Stretched longer than previously as you can’t think of something to say. He had three days to beat himself up for dragging all three of you to that scriptorium. You couldn’t imagine how many scenarios he himself had imagined over and over again while in your slumber.

“What if I had lost you?”

The soft words are barely loud enough to hear. Just a whisper under his breath you almost can’t manage to make out. But you do. The somber confession comes at you like a heavy rainstorm. Unexpected, welcoming, lovely, and a little noisy from his previous minor outburst. Building from a small drop to a straight downpour and you’re caught in the middle of it with no umbrella.

Even in the candlelight you see the tips of ears, beat red as he refuses to look at you. Shoulders tense as he tries to will himself to calm down. It was late, you weren’t supposed to be awake, and he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was not the time for this conversation.

Yet it makes you smile anyway. Butterflies jump around under your skin, in your heart, stomach following suit in doing somersaults. You reach with a gentle hand and grab hold of his shirt sleeve, giving it a tug. For a moment he stands completely still. Debating whether or not it was the right moment to hash all of this out. It wasn’t. Yet a second tug on his sleeve has him turning to finally look at you.

This time when you meet his green eyes, his wild look is gone. He looks at you like you’re the cure to whatever alignment he’s currently experiencing. It’s a saddened, sleepless, relieved look. Feeling every emotion he’s ever felt in his life all in the span of a few short seconds.

You smile fondly at Sebastian, praying he could see it in the soft light of the infirmary. “But you didn’t,” You remind him. Almost gesturing to you, him, and your surroundings. “I’m still here, Seb.”

Sebastian simply nods. Not having the courage to speak for it may bring him to tears. Now that would truly be the end of the world if that happened.

You reach for his hand. Reassuring and gentle as your fingers intertwine with his. He’s stiff as a board at your touch. He has always yearned for it but never had the faith to act upon his feelings.

“Plus, it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” You say hoping to ease the young man’s feelings. At least for tonight.

A squeeze to your hand is the only response you receive as he returns to his seat. He rests your connected hands on the bed before his head follows suit. Instead of returning to the side of your bed he makes himself comfy on your thigh. You smile at the puzzling picture before you.

The great Sebastian Sallow, a man who rarely asks for any help, unless it involves trekking in some dark cave somewhere, was vulnerably sprawled out on top of you.

You stifle a giggle, fearing if he heard you laugh he would assume the worst and pull away. Instead your free hand pushes through his hair. Pushing away dark curly hair from his freckled face.

“You should return to the dorms before the nurse finds you.” You hum as your eyes scan his own closed eyes. Gazing at the lengths of his eyelashes. Every freckle you could see, thinking how fun it could be to count them one day.

“‘Ts fine,” Sebastian shrugs it off. You hear the softness of his breathing, slowly becoming shallow as he falls asleep. Fast asleep in your thigh with his hand tightly wound to yours. You wish you could have a painting done of this moment. Hoping by every ounce of magic in your veins that you never forget this feeling or the sight. And by Merlin does the sight make your heart ache and pound in equal parts.

You just hoped to never go through something like this ever again. Hopefully Sebastian would see how powerful and dangerous the dark arts could be and look for another solution to healing Anne’s curse. Maybe the ancient magic you wield could help next time instead of turning to the unforgiving curses.

[kierahn]

yandere police officer x wanted criminal male reader :D?

A GAME OF TAG. [ y ! police officer x m ! criminal reader ]

yandere ! police officer x criminal ! male reader

warnings:

suggestive content (16+)

agressive handling from yan! officer

request/ask here.

a rushed update since i haven't posted in a while :] i have a long weekend ahead, i might be able to catch up with writing some of the piled up requests in my inbox.

× silas cromwell. it was a known fact to everyone in town that he and you were long-term rivals; like the two opposing sides of a coin. you were his favorite criminal. but you ? you didn't really like him that much; all snugged and smug in his police uniform. you were not one to get along with his kind too well.

× this game of cat and mouse between you and silas had been going on for about 2 years now. the young officer would always find himself facing a dead end everytime he tried to uncover your real identity. it was a pain in the ass for silas to chase someone he didn't know much about around.

× it was a frustratingly long chase, but silas would always find himself grinning at the thought of emerging as the victor of this game of chase you had started. little by little, his obssession with you grew.

× and, finally, he claimed sweet victory. what was more sweeter than having the most notorious mastermind himself in his grasp ? after 2 years of restlessly pursuing you, he finally had you on the tip of his fingers.

× "so what do you intend to do now, dear officer ?" the criminal asks smugly, his hands cuffed behind him and a blindfold taking away his vision as he sat on his knees before the officer. a delicious sight for silas to take in. "hand me over to the 'authorities' ? let their so-called justice deal with me ? tell me," you continued to prod him for answers, your smug smile never fading. oh, how he would love to break through that confident facade of yours.

× "i believe you don't fully understand, y/n." silas draws out after snapping out of his thoughts, standing before your kneeled form. a cold hand placed itself under your chin, sending a shiver up your spine. "i'm the authority. i'll be the one delivering justice." his voice dropped to a hauntingly low tone, holding a hint of threat that made something inside of you click.

× all this time, you've been the one in charge of leading the chase between you two; the one who was always on top of the game you yourself started. but now silas had taken the control out of your hands.

× "it seems like you're finally starting to realize," silas' voice started to move around you, your lack of sight heightening your sense of hearing. "GH–!" a harsh blow to your stomach causes you to slouch over in pain, a pained groan escaping your lips.

× you violently coughed, the harsh kick causing your breath to stop for a second. you pant heavily, drool spilling from your lips. for a flimsy officer like him, silas really knew how to use his feet to make it hurt. "that was very foul move, officer–" a cough, then a mocking laugh. "kicking down a defenseless opponent is completely unnecessary."

× a tug to your hair and a large hand encasing your cheeks tightly into a bruising grip. your laid-back attitude was starting to get on his nerves. why weren't you cowering in fear before him like he had expected ? you weren't taking him seriously at all.

× "y/n l/n, you have some nerve." you could sense that silas was very, very close to you with how his hot breath kissed the tip of your nose. however, you remained unfazed. you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you all vulnerable.

× but he would get his satisfaction either way. he always gets his way. "maybe we can find a better use for that pretty mouth of yours." his grip on your cheeks slightly loosened, his thumb glazing over your lower lip.

× "consider this my reward for winning this childish game of tag."