#(thought this would be helpful for threads

[jji-lee]

wedding night w mark

(MDNI)

mark x reader , newlyweds , first time , shy sex , desperate mark , shaky nervous mark , husband material mark ofc , sappy romantic love , missionary, slow sensual sex , kisses lots of kisses, unprotected sex womp womp , requested here , not proof read since i am unofficially but officially coming back

sounds of quiet giggles and rushed kisses filled the hallways of the venue. you and mark crashing into every wall trying to keep your lips connected. mark groaned as he bumped his leg into a flower pot,

“shhh mark they’re gonna hear us!”

mark laughed as he brought he hands forward to cup your face, quickly planting a loud kiss on your lips,

“my love, we’re the guests of honor, i think they’ve noticed we’re gone by now.”

yes, of course the guest have noticed, who wouldn’t notice the newlyweds slipping away for some much deserved alone time.

somehow between kisses you and mark had found your way into an empty bedroom, hopefully it wasn’t one of your guest’s rooms, because by the end of tonight it would be ruined.

mark was quick to drag you towards the bed, giggling as you tripped on the ends of your puffy dress. he sat at the edge of the bed placing you in between his open legs, admiring you.

“you look like a princess, my princess.”

you smiled down at him cupping his face with your hands before planting a soft kiss to his lips,

“your wife mark, not a princess.”

he giggled into your light kisses, your lips tickling his face,

“even better baby, my wife. all mine.”

you hummed in agreement, a small smile on your face as you heard mark groan softly above you, your lips trailing down his neck.

his hands came up to hold your waist, pulling you closer into his chest,

“f-feels good baby, ke-keep going,”

you continued to work your lips on his neck, your hands coming up to loosen his tie, his buttons following soon after.

his hands held yours, stopping your movements. you leaned back to look at him, his cheeks already pretty and pink, a soft glow in his eyes,

“i want you baby, so bad. let me have you, please?”

you pecked his pouting lips, holding his hands tightly in yours,

“i’m all yours mark.”

his blush spread further down his neck, heart beating hard against his chest as he let go of your hands, reaching to unzip the back of your dress. you giggled as he struggled, a light huff escaping his lips,

“stop laughing, i don’t wanna ruin your dress!”

you reached back to help him out, immediately unzipping the dress and shrugging it off your shoulders. mark felt the air leave his lungs as you revealed yourself to him, no bra underneath, just you, bare and beautiful.

he reached forward to hold your breasts, a soft moan leaving your lips at the feeling of his cold hands,

“can i?”

you nodded quickly, gasping as he latched onto your nipple. mark thought this might be one of the best moments of his life, right after marrying you of course. he swirled his tongue around the hard bud, sucking gently to savor the taste of your skin. you threaded your fingers through his hair gently tugging at the strands.

he was quick to pull the rest of your dress down, detaching himself from your chest so that you could step out of the confines. you stood in front of him, only your white lace panties covering your core. mark didn't waste any time in picking you up, laying you down of the soft bed before kissing down your body,

"my girl's so beautiful, so beautiful baby, and all mine."

you bit your lip to hold back your whines, his soft lips leaving goosebumps on your skin as he got closer to your core. a light kiss to your clothed cunt was enough to have you whining in his grasp, a light chuckle leaving his lips,

"feel good baby?"

you nodded quickly,

"yes mark, please, keep going."

he leaned into your core, kissing the wet area lightly before slowly pulling your panties to the side. your breath was tense as you rested on your elbows, watching mark's every move. his lashes fluttered as he brought his eyes up to meet yours, his tongue poking out shyly to get a taste of you. you jerked your hips up at the sensation, moaning softly. you brought your hand up to cover your face, embarrassed by your movements. mark sucked on your clit gently, hands coming up to grip at your tits,

"don't hide baby, you're so perfect, taste so good, fuck."

all you could do was whine in response as mark dove back into your cunt, lapping at your juices like a man starved. his hands explored your body, flicking at your nipples, rubbing your waist, massaging circles into your thighs. mark meant it when he said he wanted all of you.

you felt a strange feeling in your lower belly, the muscles of your legs tightening with every flick of mark's tongue,

"mark- mark i think i'm close, oh my- please- feel like i'm gonna-"

he brought his hand down, fingers coming to rub quick circles on your swollen clit,

"it's okay, just let it go baby, i'm right here."

your toes curled as you felt the band in your stomach snap, your hips slightly rising from the bed as you chased mark's rough fingers.

"justtt like that, mhm, feels good right baby?"

you moaned in agreement, chest heaving as you relaxed back into the bed. you reached for mark's unbuttoned shirt, pulling him towards your lips. the kiss was sloppy, your muscles weak and mark's just starting to fire up. he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you up towards his chest, your core rubbing against his clothed length. you felt him grind into you, the fabric of his suit pants burning your sensitive clit. you winced at the overstimulation a whine leaving your lips as mark continued to kiss your exposed skin,

"sorry angel, can't wait anymore, need you so bad."

he reached down to his pants, shaky hands working at his belt and zipper as sweat built along his hairline. he quickly shoved his pants and shirt off, only his cheetah print boxers left on his body. you let out soft laugh, shocked by his choice of underwear. he looked down towards his crotch groaning loudly,

"shit, i forgot! haechan told me-“

“mark, those are gonna be on the floor in two seconds i dont care what stupid bet you made with haechan, please just do something.”

he was quick to take his boxers off, equally as desperate as you,

“fuck, you look so good oh my-.”

mark looked down between your legs, his cock twitching at the sight of your soaked panties, white lace practically invisible. he brought his thumb up to rub at your slit, his finger harsh against your swollen bud. you sighed at the feeling hands coming down to hold mark's length.

"shitt baby, wait- wait."

he moved your hands, taking a hold of his own length and laying it on your core. mark moaned at the sight of you, laid out in front of him perfect hair now a mess, nipples perked up and your legs tense as you waited for his next move.

he leaned down against you body, face coming to rest in your neck, his breath shaky. his hand guided his length to your entrance, panties pushed to the side.

"i love you so much baby, i swear-."

he slid into you slowly, your walls burning at the stretch. your arms wrapped around mark's back as he eased into you. his loud moans filling your ears.

"fuck, fuck, fuck- so tight, oh my-"

the feeling was strange, the slight burn leaving fast as he finally filled you completely. he moved his face from your neck, wanting to see your face,

"feel okay baby?"

you nodded quickly, blushing at the realization that your makeup was probably a mess, hair that was once neat now a mess against the sheets. mark brought his hand up to move a stray piece of hair from your face, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips,

"i've never seen anyone as beautiful as you ba- fuck, don't squeeze around me like that."

you giggled as his head fell to your chest, hands clenching your hips as he pressed his hips harder against yours. you moaned at the feeling of him deep inside you, tip kissing your cervix.

"mark, baby, please move."

he nodded against your chest, a small mhm leaving his lips as he slowly dragged his length out of you. mark was a mess, grabbing at your skin, sweat building on his entire body as he tried not the cum.

his thrusts were slow but harsh, each thrust pushing you further up the bed. he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you in place as his thrusts became quicker,

"feel s' good baby, made for me- baby you were made for me- god."

"yes, yes, yes mark, please don't stop- please."

mark thought he was losing his mind. the feeling of you squeezing around him with each thrust, your nails clawing at his back. mark wanted you to cum around him. no. he needed you to.

"come on mama-"

he moved his hand down to your core, fingers starting to rub circles on your sensitive bud.

"mark, oh my- mark feel so good, please- fuck."

he watched you squirm under him, leaning down to plant wet kisses all over your chest, his thrust and fingers relentless. his eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to hold in his cum, stomach tightening as your wet pussy clenched around him, your orgasm building quickly.

you threaded your fingers through mark's hair pulling him away from your chest and towards your lips. the kiss was messy, teeth clashing as his thrusts shook you,

"i love you mark, love you so much, i want you to fill me up baby, i'm all yours mark, all yours."

your sweet words and your sweet pussy were enough to drive mark off the edge, his hands gripping you tightly as he filled you to the brim,

"shitt, y/n- fuck, you're all mine baby- fuck, love you so much."

you squeezed your legs around his waist, your second orgasm of the night making your head fuzzy. you gripped onto mark as your mouth fell into a silent moan, only the sound of mark's heavy breathing filling the room.

you winced as he slowly slid out of you, cum dripping from your core,

"you're so perfect angel, so perfect."

he placed a kiss onto your lips and then another on your cheek then your forehead, and then your lips again,

"mark-"

"i just lost my virginity to the girl of my dreams and i made her cum twice!"

you giggled as he leaned in to give you a kiss, softly pushing him away,

"i married a dork! oh my god!"

he held your hands down, kissing all over your face,

"your dork baby, your dork."

your dork indeed.

[inkedinshadows]

On the Wings of Freedom

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel is flying back home to his mate.

Warnings: none

Word count: 770

@azrielappreciationweek

Azriel banked left, catching the air current as he soared higher in the sky, leaving the Illyrian steppes behind. The wind was cool on his face, almost cold under the morning sun, but it didn’t bother him. Winter in Illyria was when the cold became truly harsh, and he’d land with a red nose and rosy cheeks.

Winnowing back to Velaris would have been faster, but Azriel needed the two hours of flight to clear his mind after spending a whole week in Windhaven. Flying helped—it always brought him a much-needed sense of freedom that nothing else could match.

Still, he couldn’t wait to be home with his family.

He flapped his wings, rising higher as the wood below gave way to the mountains. It didn’t matter how many times he had seen it, the sight always took his breath away. Perhaps it was because, from up here, it was easy to forget how cold and cruel the world could be. Up here, there was only silence, despite the wind roaring in his ears. It felt distant from everything and everyone, a place where Azriel could let his thoughts run free.

As usual, those thoughts raced to the mate waiting for him at home.

He had missed you over the past week, just as he always did when he had to leave for a few days. It was even harder when he had to shut off his side of the bond, and he couldn’t feel your quiet presence anymore. But now that he was soaring through the sky, the wind at his back carrying him closer to you, he let that wall fall away. He gently tugged on the invisible thread that connected your souls across any distance.

He immediately felt you tug back, sending an overwhelming wave of love down the bond. It warmed his heart so much that he nearly forgot about the cool air whipping against his face and through his hair, and a smile spread across his lips. Azriel responded with his own love, imbued with the happiness of knowing he would see you soon.

He beat his wings, speeding through mountaintops and over valleys, gliding along the currents. If he hurried, he'd be home by lunchtime. He had to debrief with Rhys first, but it shouldn't take long, and then he could share a warm meal with you. He never thought he would come to dislike the silence, but sitting alone at the table every day for a week had made him feel lonely. He wasn't used to it anymore.

With the quiet presence of the bond now glowing faintly in his heart again, his mind finally settled, and Azriel focused entirely on his flight.

The rhythmic beat of his wings and the roaring wind were the only sounds reaching his ears, drowning out even the calls of the birds below. He took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling his lungs and carrying the scent of pine from the forest far beneath him. The sunlight kissed his wings, barely warming the dark membranes as he glided along the current. He could feel every shift in the wind, and he swore that sometimes it seemed to whisper his name, calling to him.

His lips curled in a playful smile as a wild thought crossed his mind. With a sharp flick of his wings, he veered into a steep dive, the wind rushing past him with a deafening roar. His heart pounded, and adrenaline surged through his veins as the earth seemed to race toward him. He waited with bated breath until the very last moment, then snapped his wings wide open, cutting upward with a burst of speed. A soft laugh escaped his throat as he soared higher once more, feeling utterly free and alive.

He needed this, he realized. There were very few things he couldn't live without, and flying was most definitely one of them. Perhaps it was because he had learned later in life, or simply because he was Illyrian and his blood sang for it, but he couldn't fathom a life without the wind in his ears and the infinite expanse of the sky around him.

With a final sweep of his wings, he leveled his flight and let himself savor the pure, unbridled joy of flying, knowing that no matter where life took him, the sky would always call him back. But now, his heart pulled him toward home, where you waited to embrace him once more.

Another kind of joy, another kind of love—but just as strong, and one more thing he could never be without.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[wolvietxt]

𝓒LOSER 𝓣HAN 𝓑EFORE !

pairing : daryl dixon x female!reader warnings : implied age gap, crybaby!reader, he’s a bit ooc, overprotective rick wc : 2.1k a/n : i’m seriously debating writing for carol i want her so bad also can u tell i’m in love with rick

it had been a week since the group returned from their last supply run. as usual, you'd found a quiet spot in the prison, back against the cold concrete wall, a pencil in hand, and your notebook resting on your knees. with each sketch, you could lose yourself in the lines and shapes, letting the chaos of the outside world fall away.

daryl had seen you tucked away like this more times than he could count. he often found himself stealing glances in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking, the way you focused intently on your drawings. there was something calming about it, a slice of peace in a world that had long since forgotten the meaning of the word. he liked that you managed to create beauty in such a bleak place, and it stirred something warm inside him.

as he gathered supplies for the next run, he couldn’t help but feel a pull toward you, the way a moth is drawn to a flame. but even as that warmth spread through him, a thread of hesitation tugged at his heart. he didn't know how to approach you without sounding awkward or making things weird. you were sunshine to him, and he feared his often grumpy demeanour would cast a shadow over your light. but he was trying, to be kinder, especially around you. the group made it easy, at this point, rick was almost like a brother to him, and carol a best friend. to his eventual dismay, this meant she knew a whole lot about him and could read him like a book.

“hey, daryl,” carol’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. she had a knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made him shift uncomfortably. “you’ve been staring at her again.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “i ain’t staring.”

“sure,” she said with a teasing smirk. “just like you weren’t the one who picked up that flower for her last week.” 

that had been a mistake. you had looked so happy, your smile lighting up the whole room. and damn if that hadn’t made him feel all sorts of things. but now, he just shrugged it off. “she’s a good kid. just… i dunno, wanted to do something nice.”

carol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on her face. “you’re not fooling anyone, daryl. you care about her.”

“i care about everyone in this group,” he replied a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. 

“sure you do,” she said, walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

he watched you again, how you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, completely absorbed in your art. he wanted to be closer to you, to show you how much you meant to him. but the words always stuck in his throat, trapped beneath layers of his own insecurity. he knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but he wanted you like he never had before.

later that day, the group gathered to discuss the next supply run. rick, as usual, was leading the meeting, his face drawn and serious. “we need to get more medical supplies. that last run barely did us any good.”

you were sitting under carol while she toyed with your hair, comfortable inbetween her legs while she was sitting on one of the beds. flipping through your notebook, a page with a half-finished drawing of a sunset catching your eye. you liked how it reminded you of the days before everything fell apart. 

“we’ll need someone to stay back and guard the place,” rick continued, looking around the room. “any volunteers?”

before you could even think, carol spoke up. “i’ll stay. i can help keep watch.” 

“me too,” you chimed in, glancing at daryl, who met your gaze for a brief moment. there was something in his eyes that made your heart race, but you quickly looked away, focusing on the conversation at hand, hoping the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“you sure?” rick asked, his voice skeptical. “it’s dangerous out there.”

“we’re capable,” you said firmly. “if something happens, we can handle it.” 

daryl watched the exchange, his brow furrowing as he weighed the risks. he knew you were strong, but he also hated the idea of you being out there alone. he couldn’t shake the need to protect you, but he didn’t want to stifle your independence either. 

“i’ll - i’ll be careful, i swear” you added, sensing the tension in the room, especially from daryl.

after the meeting, the group dispersed, but daryl lingered behind, gathering his gear. he overheard rick talking to carol, their voices low and serious. 

“she’s too inexperienced,” rick said, frustration lacing his words. “what if something happens? we can’t afford to lose anyone.”

rick loved you, he really did, as much as everyone else in the group, but he also had a tendency to worry, especially about you. you weren’t new to the group, you’d been with them since the camp, same time as rick. rick had found you limping down the road, a herd of walkers following not far behind you. he’d scooped you up as quick as he could, and since then, he’d always felt rather overprotective of you. your naivety often put him on edge, his worst nightmare would be you ending up in a bad situation because you were often too trusting of others. you didn’t know what kinda guy he could’ve been when he’d picked you up in the middle of the street, but you didn’t struggle at all. he cared for you like a father.

“she’s tougher than you think, rick,” carol replied. “but she’s also got a soft side. you know that. don’t underestimate her.” 

“it’s not that,” rick snapped. “it’s just… i mean she’s irresponsible, she’s - ” 

you walked past them, catching the tail end of the conversation. your heart sank, unsure of what to make of it. you wanted to prove yourself, but hearing rick’s concerns made you doubt your abilities. you ducked into a hallway, hoping to clear your head.

daryl noticed you walking away, and for a moment, he considered following you. he wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay. but then he thought about the conversation with rick, and fear gripped him. he didn’t want to sound like a worried parent, but you were really important to him. 

he took a deep breath and made his decision. he would go on the run with the others, but he would make sure to bring back something special for you. maybe that would lighten your mood.

as the day wore on, the run took longer than expected. they fought off a few walkers and scrounged around for supplies, but daryl’s mind was elsewhere. he kept thinking about you, how you had looked when rick was questioning your abilities. the way your smile faltered, and your confidence seemed to waver. he hated that rick could make you feel small, even if he didn’t mean to. 

when they finally returned, daryl felt a rush of relief to see you sitting in the same spot, sketching in your notebook. the others were busy unpacking supplies, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. your brow was furrowed in concentration, and it made him want to protect that focus, to shield you from any negativity.

“hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously. 

you looked up, surprised, and your face lit up with a smile that made his heart skip. “hey, daryl! how was the run?”

“it was alright,” he replied, his gaze flicking to your notebook. “what’re you working on, sweetheart?”

“just a little something,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “nothing special.”

he leaned over, trying to sneak a peek at your drawing. “looks pretty damn special to me.”

you turned the notebook slightly, revealing a sketch of the prison with a sunset in the background. it was beautiful, full of vibrant colours, and it made his heart swell. “y’re real talented, you know that?”

“thanks, daryl.” you replied, a hint of shyness in your tone. “it’s just a hobby.”

“hobbies are important,” he said, feeling bold. “keeps you sane in this crazy world.”

“what about you?” you asked, curious. “do you have any hobbies?”

he scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “hunting, i guess. and, uh, taking care of my bike.” 

“i’d love to see your bike sometime,” you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“yeah?” he said, surprised. “i could show you. it’s not much, but it gets me around.” 

“i’m sure it’s more than that,” you replied, smiling softly. 

“here,” he said, shifting the conversation. “um, i got you something.” he pulled out a worn paperback book from his backpack, the edges frayed but the cover intact. “found it on the run. thought you might like it.”

your eyes widened, and you took the book from him gently. “oh daryl, you didn’t have to…”

“i wanted to,” he said, a hint of shyness in his voice too. “thought you could use a new read.”

you opened the book and gasped, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and joy. “this is one of my favourite authors!”

“really?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “figured you might like it.” 

you hugged the book to your chest, your eyes brimming with tears. “thank you so much!”

“ain’t no big deal,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “now don’t you go cryin’ on me.”

you laughed through your tears, and he felt his heart swell. “sorry, i can’t help it. ‘s just really thoughtful of you. you always do nice things for me.” you said, giggling through the tears now streaming down your face. you didn’t really know why you were crying, but you hoped daryl didn’t think too much about it.

“i just think you deserve it,” he replied, shrugging but unable to hide his smile. 

“you’re really sweet,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek. 

“ain’t sweet,” he teased. “you’re just a damn crybaby.” 

you playfully nudged him, and he chuckled, feeling the tension that had built throughout the day start to dissipate. “you really like it?” he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn’t messed up.

“i love it,” you said sincerely. “and it’s just what i needed. i’ve never read this one before. ‘m gonna start reading it tonight.” 

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “maybe we could, uh, read together sometime.”

“i’d love that,” you replied, your smile brightening even more. 

he was struck by the way you looked at him, your eyes shining with genuine happiness. it made him feel brave, like maybe he could push past the awkwardness. “i mean, if you want to.”

“i definitely do,” you said, your voice soft. 

the two of you stood there, the world around you fading as the moment stretched on. daryl felt a surge of affection that he could no longer contain. he stepped closer, the heat radiating off you making him bold. 

“can i?” he asked, his voice low, leaning in slightly. 

you nodded, and without thinking, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. it was soft and tentative at first, but then you melted into him, deepening the kiss. the warmth spread through him, and he felt like he was finally letting go of everything that had held him back.

when you pulled away, breathless, he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “damn, you really are a crybaby.”

you giggled, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “maybe just a little.”

“well, if you keep bein’ so sweet, i might just have to keep makin’ you cry,” he teased, unable to hide his grin.

“i wouldn’t mind that,” you said, biting your lip, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “because i ain’t goin’ anywhere. you’re stuck with me.” 

“i wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, feeling a sense of peace settle between you two.

as the night drew closer, the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. daryl felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he knew that no matter what came next, he wanted to face it with you by his side.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[st-danger]

Something with Dewdrop and Rain and finger sucking?

Rarely is any of it enough. Even in his most hedonistic, indulgent moments, Dew never finds that it is enough. That he feels as satisfied as he would like when it comes to Rain. Frequently, he is delighted, and sure, satisfied is a word that could be used, but only in a temporary way. It is a passing thing, here and gone, and the longing he feels in the wake seems to him to be getting progressively more and more hollow as the time passes.

It feels necessary, more than anything, to sneak a hand around and press his fingertips to Rain's kiss-bruised lips and push them inside.

He cannot get any further inside him, buried deep and kissing his shoulder while he fucks out soft moans from Rain. Rain, who holds himself precariously up on his hands and knees, bracing himself with one hand on the headboard for a little extra support. Rain, who has been asked to fit so much of Dew inside him tonight, even before Dew worked his cock inside. Rain, who let himself be shoved bodily down to his knees, who opened his mouth and looked up with wet eyes while Dew used it, heedless of the drool.

Rain, who has done such a good job of giving Dew whatever he asks of him, and yet Dew cannot help but want more.

He feels almost ill with it, shoving his way inside again, harder this time, grunting along with the slap of skin on skin, brain fizzling into ash and smoke and sparks and soon- if Rain continues to find ways to make him burn like this, perhaps he's heading towards fizzling into nothing at all. He grabs Rain's hip and digs his fingers in viciously, harder than he needs, but wanting to bruise. Wanting to leave fingerprints of colour into the pale skin, just another way to get inside him.

"That it?" Dew grunts when he feels a tremor run through Rain, more noticeable now than what has come before. Is he getting close? Dew has never known him to be able to cum without a hand on himself, but the tension threaded through him says otherwise. He has no idea if he's even hard, he hasn't reached for him at all since sliding in. He's been hideously selfish and unwilling to change that, because his thoughts have all collapsed into moremoremoremore and it isn't enough to lick into his mouth and kiss him, it isn't enough for Dew to use Rain's mouth and fuck it until Rain's eyes are wet. It isn't enough for him to fuck him.

He presses his fingers into Rain's mouth and pets his tongue until Rain gags between two particularly brutal thrusts.

[butchgatha]

make your good love known to me

pairing: agatha harkness x rio vidal

summary: agatha enchants rio's strap-on. it's just smut.

warnings: smut, light dom/sub (sub!rio), enchanted dildo, hand jobs, blow jobs, dirty talk

w/c: 4.6k

men + minors dni | ao3 link

Even the firm grip on her hips, fingertips squeezing so tight she was sure they would bruise, couldn’t keep Rio from grinding herself down on Agatha’s thigh. Rio was moaning into Agatha’s mouth, kissing her fervently and without breaks, stealing her breath from her lungs just as she so often did to her. 

Just when Rio thought she might have the upperhand, that she may get to take charge just this once, Agatha sat right up, knocking Rio back onto her haunches over her lap. She gasped, nearly losing her balance until Agatha threaded a hand into her hair and tugged her head back. 

“It’s never going to be that easy,” Agatha teased. 

Rio groaned then, only half-frustrated by the way Agatha could see right through her antics. “I want to make you feel good,” she rebutted. She let her hands rest on Agatha’s waist, ignoring the sting of her scalp. “You deserve a break sometimes.” 

Agatha laughed, sounding genuinely amused, and released Rio’s hair from her hand. “Good try.” She slipped out from under Rio then, leaving her kneeling on the mattress. “Be right back.” 

A kiss to the side of Rio’s head didn’t deter her from groaning, watching over her shoulder as Agatha disappeared into the closet. “Agatha,” Rio called after her. 

“You’re impatient,” Agatha called back, not even trying to sound annoyed.

She emerged a moment later holding a jet-black dildo and a harness, and something stirred in Rio at the sight. From the bed, Rio watched as Agatha approached–she was staring at the items in her hands with rapt attention and mumbling to herself. Before Rio could comment on the strangeness of it all, Agatha was in front of her again, her eyes darkened with a scheming desire that sent a pang of butterflies through Rio’s stomach. 

“Not so smart now, are we?” Agatha teased. She tossed the strap-on onto the mattress and beckoned Rio over with a curled finger. “Come here.” 

Rio stood from the bed then, knees wobbling only for a moment as she closed the gap between them, and in an instant Agatha’s hands were on her. She tugged at Rio’s shirt, the loose material gliding smoothly as she pulled it over her head. Not a second later, she was pulling at the waistband of Rio’s jeans, her fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper before stripping them off her. Since she hadn’t been wearing a bra to begin with, all that was left were her underwear, which Agatha promptly ignored in favour of pushing her back onto the mattress. 

“I’m impatient?” Rio laughed, watching as Agatha tore her own clothes from her body. 

“Shut up.” 

Rio bit back her laugh at that, choosing instead to admire the expanses of skin being slowly revealed to her. Agatha’s stomach was the first to appear as she removed her shirt, followed closely by her bra. Rio reached out then, hoping to either help or at least get her hands on the soft skin that called to her, but Agatha swatted her hands away. 

“No,” was all she said, voice firm and final. 

Rio pushed back anyway. “I want to feel you, Agatha, please,” she said softly.

Agatha seemed thoroughly amused by that statement, and she laughed to herself. “I’m sure we can sort something out.” 

Rio had no idea how to respond to that, but much to her luck Agatha had just finished undressing herself, anyway, leaving herself in just her bra and underwear. She was gorgeous like this, as she always was, and it made Rio’s head spin to think about what exactly Agatha had in store. She loved the look she got when she was truly in the zone, the deeply obsessed, sort of maniacal one that always appeared when she was at her most inspired as she would say–Rio could see it blooming now, starting with the slight smirk on her lips.

Agatha took two steps forward to the bed and, without speaking, tugged Rio’s underwear down–an action that made Rio suddenly aware of just how sodden the material was, making her cheeks flush hot. “Stand up,” she said, sounding quite disengaged despite the brazen look on her face. 

Rio did, and, with a growing throb between her legs, watched as Agatha picked up the dildo and harness from the bed. Wordlessly, Agatha secured everything to Rio’s person, the straps sliding taut against her bare skin until it was just right. Then, right at the end, just when she should have been standing up, stepping back to admire her work, Rio saw her pause, the slight sounds of mumbled words hitting her ears. 

“What are you-”

“Sit back down.” 

Without question, Rio obliged. Whatever was at the edge of Agatha’s tone told her not to push, not because it would end badly, but instead because whatever she was planning was that much better. There was a certain twinkle in her eye, something devious and devising, so alluring Rio couldn’t bear even the thought of resisting. The dildo bounced as she sat, but before Rio could do anything with it Agatha took both her hands in hers. She was standing right in front of her, their knees all but knocking, and she took advantage of the closeness to place each of Rio’s hands at her sides, holding them there for a moment until Rio realized she was prompting her to grab at the sheets under her palms. 

“Good,” Agatha murmured.

She spoke almost absentmindedly, like she was miles away just thinking. Still, she leaned in next, coming so close to Rio that their lips grazed oh-so lightly, a tingle jolting through Rio’s chest. It was soft, a sweet moment wherein their noses brushed and their eyes fell to each other’s lips and Rio almost forgot she was sitting completely nude on the edge of the bed with a dildo strapped around her hips. Almost. 

Rio squirmed then, hyper aware of Agatha’s proximity and the promise of something particularly sinister on Agatha’s part. Whatever she’d mumbled, what sounded vaguely like an incantation that was barely audible over the thumping beat of her heart in her ears, had to have meant something, but she couldn’t fathom what exactly, not when she was so painfully turned on that even just thinking about it made her clit throb. 

“Someone’s desperate,” Agatha teased. She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth and sort of smirked. “I almost feel bad…” 

She was lying, of course, but Rio took the bait anyway. “C’mon, Agatha,” she tried, hoping feigned nonchalance would get her what she wanted, which just happened to be Agatha on top of her. “I know you want it, too.” 

Agatha scoffed. “I know you’re dripping for me, Rio. You can’t hide from me.” 

“Then give me what I want, Agatha,” Rio pressed. She tried her very best to put on that sultry voice she knew would either piss Agatha off or turn her on–either outcome was favourable to waiting. 

“Right,” Agatha smirked. Then, her voice dropped low. “You wanted to feel me?” 

Rio’s breath caught in her chest at that, and she could practically feel her eyes glaze over with sudden arousal. “Yes,” she murmured. 

“Well then…” Agatha lifted her hands from where they were resting on the bed. “Can you feel me?” she asked, her voice barely above a hum. 

Rio moaned then, feeling exactly what Agatha wanted her to–her hand wrapped around the dildo, squeezing just so as it slid right down to the base. “Fuck.”

She hadn’t ever wondered if anything like this was possible, never having considered using her magic in the bedroom this way, and Rio regretted that immensely the very second she felt Agatha’s fingers on the faux-cock attached to her hips. It was an impossible feeling, so tangible yet just out of reach, the sensations crossing and mixing with her own need and arousal, the throbbing of her cunt interspersing the movement of Agatha’s hand.  

A wicked chuckle left Agatha’s mouth, each lilt tightening the muscles in Rio’s lower stomach. “You like that, don’t you? So greedy… but we knew that already.” 

Agatha closed the gap between their mouths at last and slotted her lips between Rio’s, knocking the breath right from Rio’s lungs. It was desperate, no rhythm or true pace, and the unpredictability worsened Rio’s arousal. Her head was full of cotton balls, not a viable thought between the tufts of fluff and fuzz, and it took everything in her to keep kissing Agatha back because of it. 

Agatha’s hand had set a languid pace, so slow Rio could have sworn she wasn’t even moving at times, and god was it torture. The push and pull of her touch was something so unlike anything Rio had ever felt before, her entire body on edge from just the light pressure. It was overwhelming, so unique and specific, the true pleasure just out of reach–so close she could taste it in her mouth, right on her tongue, right where Agatha’s own tongue slid across hers. 

The sudden intrusion surprised her, and Rio moaned at it, the sound completely muffled by Agatha’s mouth. Whatever efforts she was making to reciprocate Agatha’s efforts, to kiss her back against the fog of her need, were moot then, her will futile against the thrum of her lust spreading through her. 

How quickly she dissolved into a puddle in her hands–her hips were canting upward seeking more, imploring Agatha to quicken the pace, but it was no use. Agatha’s hand disappeared and she broke away from Rio’s lips. With a whine, Rio leaned in after her, chasing her warmth and friction, but Agatha was too far gone. Her eyes opened at once, searching for Agatha somewhere far away, but she was still so close, close enough that they may have even been sharing breath, just staring at her with a satisfied smile on her face. 

“Poor thing,” Agatha cooed, her pouty tone a stark contrast to her smug expression. “Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

Agatha sank down between Rio’s legs slowly, never once breaking eye contact. Rio wanted to tip her head back and moan, to let out such a gutturally vulgar noise at just how desperately turned on she felt, but she couldn’t fathom tearing her eyes off of Agatha’s face. She looked hungry, her eyes wild with a devious desire that only ever came out when she was at her meanest. Rio knew then she was in for it. 

The image of Agatha kneeling at her feet, slotted right into the open space between Rio’s own weak knees, made her head spin. She’d seen her there before, of course, but the sight never got old. She was peering up at her with dark eyes, an amused smile toying at her lips, and with each passing second Rio could feel more heat pooling in her cheeks with the intensity of it all. Agatha openly admiring her, not the black strap sitting right in front of her eyes was enough to send her head reeling. 

Gently, Agatha’s hands smoothed up Rio’s thighs, her touch warm and electric across her skin. She moaned then, finally releasing the pent-up sound, her hips squirming just slightly at the sensation. 

Agatha’s thumbs pressed firmly inward, two pinpoints of pressure on each of Rio’s thighs. “Ah, ah,” she tutted. “Keep still.” 

Rio slammed her eyes shut, everything becoming too much all at once. “Sorry,” she mumbled, the word clumsy in her dry mouth. 

A laugh. “Don’t be, just behave yourself so I can give you what you asked for.” 

As many times as she’d felt Agatha’s tongue on her, nothing could have prepared her for the rife pleasure of her wet tongue licking a line up the bottom of her cock. She moaned loudly, her hands squeezing so tight around the sheets that she wondered if they might rip as she willed herself not to move. The need to please Agatha in that moment, as her spit was dripping down the strap so exquisitely, was strong; crushing, even. Rio was full of it, overflowing with a desperate need to obey that mixed deliciously with the sweet feeling of Agatha’s touch. 

Gingerly, Rio willed her eyes open and peered down at Agatha. She was staring up at her again, that starved look in her eye, and once Rio met her gaze she smirked.

“You’re all riled up and I haven’t even touched you yet,” she teased, her fingers dragging lightly down Rio’s thighs. “Such a pitiful thing.” 

It was a lie, she was doing so much and she knew it. Against her will, Rio felt her hips twitch in search of friction, of something to soothe the ache she felt building between her legs. “Agatha, please.”

“Look at you using your manners.” Agatha’s tone was condescending, sarcastic, and any other time Rio would have had an equally annoying rebuttal, but with her entire body tense and her head spinning she couldn’t find the words. “You’re so desperate for my attention. It’s pathetic.” 

Rio just nodded, because of course she did, because of course Agatha was right. Rio was pathetically affected, so desperate it was laughable, and every fibre of her being was alight with an insatiable urgency that only Agatha could remedy. She could feel herself dripping onto the bed, her sorely ignored cunt begging for attention she knew it wouldn’t be getting, and she couldn’t even bring herself to care. The foreign, alien feelings elicited by Agatha’s touch on her faux-cock were too heavenly to ignore–what little she’d received already was enough to excuse the aching throb of her clit beneath the base, enough for her to shove the urge to snap her legs closed and squeeze down deep enough she nearly forgot about it completely. 

When Agatha’s mouth finally descended onto the dildo, it was pure bliss. Her tongue laved across the underside as she went down, taking half of it easily between her lips before sucking gently around it. Rio’s stomach clenched hard, every muscle in her body taut as pleasure flooded her, a feeling so unfamiliar and so, so irresistible. She whimpered then, a moan that got caught in her throat spilling out in a broken series of whines, and, without thinking, she lifted one of her hands to Agatha’s hair. 

She tangled her fingers through the long hair that had fallen into Agatha’s face, gathering it and pulling it back so she could see the way the phallus disappeared into her mouth as she set yet another slow pace between her legs. 

Agatha’s head lifted and she looked up. “Careful.” 

It was a warning, but Rio kept her hand there, anyway. She didn’t pull, didn’t tug, she had no intention of interrupting the divine relief of Agatha’s touch. Wanton and ready, fully surrendered, Rio just wanted to see her deliverer as she ascended. 

Rio felt her place a hand near the base of the dildo next, her lithe fingers wrapping around the girth. Agatha lifted her hand once, twice, three times, then she leaned back in, letting the tip loll against her tongue as she welcomed it back into her mouth.. Their eyes locked in an intense stare, Rio watched as Agatha’s head bobbed up and down at a torturous pace, clearly intending to drag whatever this was out. Saliva dripped down the length of it, Agatha’s mouth leaving the strap wet in its wake, her tongue dripping spit right into Rio’s lap when it darted out to swathe closer to the bottom. Her hand worked near the base, twisting gently in time with her lips, and god if Rio wasn’t hellbent on watching every second she was sure she’d be passed out from the sheer intensity of the feeling. 

Agatha took Rio in her mouth like she was starved, filling her mouth to the brim each time she went down. The sounds floating up to Rio’s ears were so terribly pornographic, wet and loud in a way they had never been before, like Agatha was putting in more work now that she knew Rio could feel everything. The thought made her head spin, that Agatha might be doing the most just to please her, and she released another moan, her fingers twitching against Agatha’s scalp. 

As if she knew exactly what Rio was thinking, Agatha doubled down, her hand tightening just slightly as she bobbed lower. She gagged on it, and the sound went straight to Rio’s clit, her cunt throbbing with the vulgar noise and the subsequent flood of saliva from Agatha’s mouth. She groaned, her hips lifting involuntarily from the bed as Agatha’s lips wrapped back around her, the pleasure too much to take sitting still. Agatha didn’t scold her, not this time, and instead she repeated her previous action, gagging on Rio’s length twice more in what Rio could only assume was some twisted reward. 

Her eyes were still glued to Agatha as she pulled herself off, strings of saliva running from her reddened lips to the tip of the dildo. She released the base, and only then was Rio reminded of just how badly she was throbbing, still needing to feel Agatha on her, and she whined. 

Agatha chuckled, her eyes closing gently as she took a breath. “Pathetic,” she mumbled. “Lay back against the pillows,” Agatha said, gesturing toward the bed. 

Scrambling, nearly stupid from just how turned on she was, Rio clambered backward until she fell back onto the plush pillows at the head of the bed. She looked over at Agatha and found her on her feet, watching her fulfill her every request with a heady stare. Only when Rio made eye contact did Agatha begin to move–she pulled down her underwear and tossed it somewhere behind her, then climbed up onto bed after Rio, never once allowing Rio’s gaze to wander.  

A second later, Agatha’s knees bracketed Rio’s hips and her hands pressed into Rio’s shoulders for balance. She looked disheveled, her hair mussed and her face clouded with something carnally aroused, and in that moment Rio was sure she’d never seen anything more beautiful. Her skin nearly shone in the warm light, pleading to be touched at every curve and dip by Rio’s roaming hands, but she resisted. She knew Agatha wouldn’t tolerate any wayward touch, though she hadn’t yet said it–she always knew before Agatha did, anyway. Instead, Rio just set her palms gently on the fronts of Agatha’s thighs, not coaxing, not pressuring, just resting. 

As if to reward her restraint, Agatha began to slowly sink down onto Rio, her hips inching lower as she took the length of the cock inside of her–her mouth open in a soft ‘O’ as her hands squeezed at Rio’s shoulders. Immediately, Rio felt it, the warmth of Agatha’s cunt swallowing her, her silken arousal seeping out around her, and she gasped loudly, shaken by the sheer euphoria of such foreign sensations. And the sight, oh the vision before her of Agatha’s pussy stretching around her cock, taking her in little by little until she bottomed out, it was just too much. The sounds coming from her mouth slowly morphed into a groan, and Rio tossed her head back into the pillows, unable to watch and process the feelings at the same time. 

Agatha just laughed. “You’re not gonna last long,” she teased, tone bordering on desperate as she lifted her hips and sank back down. “This is so embarrassing for you… falling apart the second you’re inside of me…” She moaned then, grinding against Rio with a certain insistence that hit Rio’s clit perfectly. “Aw, honey, that feel good? Should I do it again?” 

Rio turned her head into the pillow beneath her and moaned loudly, her hands twitching where they sat on the fronts of Agatha’s thighs. The coil of pleasure in her stomach had never been wound this tight, and the weight of Agatha’s body effectively immobilizing her only exacerbated it, tightening it more and more with each passing second. She was at her complete mercy, her head full of only Agatha and the euphoria she brought, and she was already on the brink. 

Agatha scoffed, and then Rio felt her strong fingers grab her face. They squeezed at her cheeks and turned her head, pulling her from the soft reprieve of the pillows until she opened her eyes and found she was face-to-face with Agatha’s condescending smirk. Her hips had stilled, and tears welled in Rio’s eyes as her throbbing need swelled, her thighs quivering with the sheer effort of keeping still under her lover.

“I asked you a question,” Agatha sneered. “Should I keep going?” 

Rio nodded as best she could with Agatha’s hand still glued to her face, hoping to get away without needing to find the words, but her efforts were futile. Agatha laughed, taunting and dark, and she leaned in closer to Rio’s ear. 

“Use your words, mi amor,” she purred, voice dripping with honeyed sweetness despite her clear dissatisfaction with Rio’s response. “Tell me how badly you want me to keep fucking myself on your pathetic cock and maybe I’ll do it.” Her tone didn’t match the words coming from her mouth, the thinly veiled threat of denial and disappointment that, rationally, Rio knew wouldn’t pan out, but terrified her nonetheless. “C’mon Rio, you can do it.” 

She was truly ridiculing her now, coaxing Rio deeper into the headspace that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. “Agatha, I-” Rio cut herself off with a moan as Agatha’s tongue darted out to lick the shell of her ear. “Shit, I, god, Agatha, I need it.” 

Agatha hummed and removed her hand from Rio’s face, letting it drag down her neck instead. “That’s it. Beg me for my cunt.” 

A groan ripped from Rio’s throat, her desperation bubbling up from low in her stomach. Each of Agatha’s words was making her throb, her empty and weeping cunt crying out to be filled against the need for Agatha around the phallus that didn’t even belong to her. The conflict was intoxicating, so terribly arousing and so, so confusing. All she knew was that she needed more of Agatha, needed her to sate the insatiable greed she felt radiating from between her thighs. 

“Please, Agatha,” Rio breathed, not bothering to speak clearly with Agatha so close. 

She was kissing the underside of Rio’s jaw now, and she nodded. “That’s it,” she praised, her hips finally beginning to lower. “More.” 

Another moan escaped Rio’s open mouth as she felt the velvet walls of Agatha’s pussy inviting her back in, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her at once. “Agatha, please, I need to be inside of you,” she whined. “Please, you feel so fucking good, Agatha, I’m, fuck-” 

Agatha grinded down then, her hips rocking over Rio’s, and it felt so good Rio could practically taste her incoming release on her tongue. Her face was numb, every muscle in her body somehow tense and liquefied all at once, and it was all Agatha’s fault. 

“I need-”

“Shh, you’ll come with me,” Agatha cooed, accenting her words with a particularly firm drag of her cunt down Rio’s cock. “Don’t be greedy, now, not when you’re getting just what you asked for.” 

Rio wasn’t a stranger to Agatha’s tells, to the flutter of her walls or the arch of her lower back that betrayed her carefully levelled facade, but the allure of them was so much richer when she could feel each one from the inside. It wasn’t just her fingertips that pressed into Agatha, that hit the soft spot inside her with insistence, it was something else entirely, a feeling that Rio couldn’t name nor pinpoint. It spread through her like wildfire, a need to feel more, burning her up from somewhere deep in her gut. 

Somehow, by some impossibility, Rio felt each of Agatha’s movements in her own pussy, both inside her and outside on the dildo Agatha had enchanted. It confounded her deeply, not an ounce of rational explanation coming to her to articulate the specific sensation, but god did it feel good. 

Agatha pressed her face into Rio’s neck then, her hips stuttering, and she moaned. The sound vibrated in Rio’s ear, shaking up the fog of her arousal just enough for her to form a single coherent thought. She lifted her hands from the fronts of Agatha’s legs and wrapped them around to behind her ass, squeezing the flesh firmly as she spoke right into her hair. 

“You gonna come, baby?” 

Agatha scoffed, obviously annoyed by Rio’s sudden composure. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Rio wanted to bite back, an already half-baked quip forming in her mind at once, but it was no use–Agatha bit down on her neck and picked up her pace, and Rio was gone. Somehow, by some freak of nature, she felt her release both inside her and in the dildo, in the inanimate cock that Agatha had strapped to her. It was insanely overwhelming, the feeling so much more rife both from the novelty and added sensations, and she was sure she was going blind from the pleasure. 

Every muscle in Rio’s body quivered with the sheer force of her orgasm, like every ounce of tension was being milked from her body as Agatha rode out her own climax on top of her. Being inside Agatha this way, feeling her come right around her, feeling all of her flutter and clench around her was inexplicable, deeply affecting, so blissful she could feel the synapses in her brain all firing at once as if to capture the moment. 

She was sure it would never ever feel this good again, no matter what either of them did, the novelty a fleeting additive to the experience, and so Rio soaked it all in, letting Agatha overstimulate her in an attempt to drag more out of both of them. Only when the sound of her rushing blood in her ears subsided could Rio hear just how much noise she was making–each breath was a gasp, each exhale a moan. It was pathetic, the sounds so desperate and affected, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as Agatha slowed her pace, her face pressed even tighter into Rio’s neck as her body relaxed. 

“Fuck,” Agatha groaned. 

Rio chuckled, still gasping for air. “Yeah.” 

Agatha rolled off of her then, landing flat on her back next to her. “That was…”

Rio turned her head to look at Agatha and found the end of her unfinished statement. She looked thoroughly fucked out–her entire body shining with sweat, one of her bra straps fallen off her shoulder–, and she was gorgeous. Her hair was all in her face, messy and clinging to the skin with sweat, and her cheeks were bright-red, and all Rio wanted to do was devour her. 

Agatha smiled, chest still heaving from exertion. “Let me know when you’re ready to go again,” she laughed and glanced down at the dildo still strapped to Rio’s hips. “Because I need a turn with that.” 

Rio groaned, rolling over and away in a half-joking refusal. “Come find me in a week.”

“Yeah, right,” Agatha scoffed. She grabbed onto Rio’s shoulder and rolled her back over. “You know you want to.” 

“Maybe.” Mid-eye roll, Rio found herself cut off by a firm press of Agatha’s lips to hers. “Okay, yeah.” 

Agatha kissed her again. “That’s what I thought,” she teased, words clumsy between kisses. 

Rio felt Agatha’s fingers toying at the straps of the harness, and she reached down to help her. “If you’re ready for your turn then I won’t say no.” 

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

[sodavizz]

— Christmas Won't Be The Same Without You.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Pairing: Daisuke x GN! Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff again :3

Wc: 1.3k+

Author's Note: Tadaa!! It's almost Christmas time baby! I'm super duper excited as it is already half of November!! Are you all ready to celebrate it, cause I sure am!

The snow was falling softly outside, coating the world in a blanket of white. The small town where Daisuke had grown up was quiet, the streets lined with festive lights and decorations. Inside his parents' house, however, there was nothing quiet about it. The living room was alive with the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air, and the soft crackle of a fire burning in the hearth. It was the perfect Christmas setting, and you were sharing it with Daisuke.

“Can you believe it?” Daisuke said, his voice full of excitement as he stood beside you in the entryway. His eyes sparkled with that familiar joy you adored. “Christmas at my parents’ house. I'm sure they're just as excited you are to meeting each other!”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through you as he took your hand, pulling you into the house. “I’m really happy to be here with you, Daisuke. This place feels so… cozy.”

His grin widened. “It’s definitely cozy. And my mom’s cooking is legendary, so get ready for some serious holiday feasting. You might not even have room for dessert by the end of the night.”

You laughed, feeling your stomach growl at the thought of what awaited. You’d heard a lot about Daisuke’s mom’s cooking, but this would be your first time tasting it. You could already smell the roast turkey and baked goods wafting from the kitchen.

The house was warm, full of life, and adorned with decorations that felt like they had been carefully placed with love. Christmas stockings hung from the mantle above the fireplace, each one bearing a name stitched in gold thread, and a grand tree stood in the corner, its branches weighed down with ornaments, tinsel, and fairy lights. The atmosphere was peaceful but bustling, with Daisuke’s parents—his mother in a festive red apron and his father pulling drinks from the fridge—filling the space with energy and laughter.

Daisuke led you to the living room where his family was already gathered. His parents, always warm and welcoming, greeted you with open arms.

“Ah, there you are, so you're the one my son keeps going on and on about!” His mother beamed as he mumbled something to her, seeming embarrassed she would expose him about that. She then stepped forward to give you a hug. “We’ve been waiting for you both. Everything’s ready for dinner, but we can always add more if you’re hungry before the big meal!”

“You must be starving after the drive!” his father added with a grin, holding out a glass of eggnog. “Don’t be shy, help yourself.”

You chuckled and accepted the drink, glancing over at Daisuke, who was practically glowing in his own way, standing close by with a proud smile.

“You must be excited to have us here,” you teased.

He nodded eagerly. “Are you kidding? I’ve been counting down the days to Christmas here with you and my family. I think I’ve spent almost every Christmas here since I was a kid, and this time it’s even better because you’re with me.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. There was something about being here, in the warmth of his family’s home, surrounded by love, that made everything feel like it was falling into place.

“I’m really happy to be here, too,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “It feels so... right.”

Daisuke grinned and reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning to his parents. “I think it’s time for us to get the party started! We still need to do the Secret Santa exchange, and I’m pretty sure everyone’s excited for that.”

His mom laughed. “Oh yes, we can’t forget about that! We all got something special this year, so I hope everyone’s ready for a little holiday fun.”

Dinner was a true feast. The table was piled high with everything you could imagine—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, roasted vegetables, and an assortment of freshly baked rolls. In the center, a large cranberry sauce dish sat alongside platters of sweet potatoes and baked brussels sprouts. Daisuke’s mom had clearly outdone herself, and as you dug into your meal, you could tell that everyone was savoring each bite.

Between mouthfuls, you shared stories with Daisuke’s family, laughing and chatting about everything from your childhood traditions to more recent adventures. Daisuke’s dad was particularly fond of telling embarrassing stories about Daisuke when he was little, which had everyone in stitches. Daisuke, for his part, seemed unbothered by it all, even joining in with some of his own stories about his mischievous younger days.

But it wasn’t just the food or the laughter that made this night feel special—it was the way Daisuke kept glancing at you with that soft, affectionate look in his eyes, the way his hand would subtly brush against yours under the table, or how he’d pull you close during moments when no one was looking, as if to remind you that this was your time together.

--

After dinner, Daisuke insisted on taking you outside to see the backyard, which, as it turned out, had a stunning view of the town covered in snow. The Christmas lights from nearby houses reflected off the snow, creating a soft, magical glow that made the night feel like something out of a holiday movie.

“Come here,” Daisuke said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the porch. “This is one of my favorite parts of Christmas—just looking out over the snow. My family used to come out here every Christmas Eve when I was younger and just… enjoy the peace.”

You stood with him, watching the snow fall gently, the cool air brushing against your skin. His presence beside you, his warmth, was enough to make everything feel even more magical.

“I never imagined I’d get to spend Christmas like this,” you murmured, leaning into him. “It’s been perfect.”

Daisuke smiled down at you, his fingers threading through yours as he pulled you a little closer. “I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, just to share it all with you. Christmas is better when you’re with the people you love, and that’s all I want for us.”

You leaned up to kiss him, the moment soft, gentle, and full of meaning. When you pulled away, Daisuke’s face was alight with happiness, his eyes sparkling.

“Merry Christmas, the most beautiful person I've ever seen,” he said softly.

You chuckled at his compliment as you stared deeply into his eyes in an, oh such affectionate way.

“Merry Christmas, Handsome,” you whispered back.

Later, as the evening drew on, everyone gathered around the tree for the Secret Santa exchange. You’d gotten Daisuke’s mom, and after some playful teasing, she opened the gift you’d picked out—a beautiful hand-knitted scarf, which she immediately wrapped around her neck with a delighted laugh. Then, Daisuke gave you your gift, a small box wrapped with care. When you opened it, you found a delicate silver bracelet with a charm that read together, a reminder of how far you’d come and how much you meant to each other.

You blinked back tears as you hugged him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I love it, Daisuke. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice full of affection as he kissed your forehead. “This is just the beginning of our holiday together. I want to make this Christmas the best one yet.”

As the evening wound down, the two of you snuck off to a quiet corner of the living room, away from the laughter and chatter, to enjoy each other’s company in peace. With the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights surrounding you, Daisuke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“This is all I ever wanted,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “To be with you, here, now.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his family, the love between you, and the gentle snowfall outside, you knew he was right. It didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together.

“Merry Christmas, Daisuke,” you whispered, kissing him again.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, smiling softly, his heart as full as yours.

[aeralux]

"My Sweet Little Niece" - Daemon Targaryen

Summary: You foolishly thought that no one would find you pleasuring yourself in the midnight hours...

Warnings: SMUT; typical targcest (reader is Daemon's niece and it is mentioned a LOT); use of the terms 'uncle' and 'niece' during sex; degradation (slut, whore etc.); light spanking (like one/two spanks); doggy style; quite rough sex (but both like it); breeding kink (Daemon finishes inside reader); dirty talk (use of the words cunt and such)

Notes: Reader is Daemon's niece (Rhaenyra's sister) and has white hair, but nothing else is specified. No specific time frame or mention of marriages/other relationships.

Words: 4.2k

-- aera xx

As Daemon Targaryen paces the cold, stone floors of the council room in Dragonstone, his footsteps echo softly against the walls, a rhythmic cadence that punctuates the heavy silence of the chamber. The room is austere yet grand, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the sigil of House Targaryen — a three-headed dragon — woven in threads of crimson and gold. Tall windows line one side of the chamber, their panes frosted with a thin layer of ice, allowing slivers of pale winter moonlight to filter into the room and cast ethereal patterns upon the floor.

As Daemon's thoughts whirl in the chill air, his attention is suddenly drawn to quiet sighs and moans from a nearby bedchamber.

The castle was asleep at this hour, and it possibly couldn’t be a maid. Curiousness got the better of Daemon, and he went to investigate against his better judgment.

Once he reached the source of the sound, he smirked to himself. Of course. Who else could it be besides his sweet niece? Acting all innocent and loving before the eyes of the court and making sounds like a whore from the Silk Streets during the night.

He wondered who the lucky man between her plush thighs could be. Was it Aemond, or perhaps Aegon? What if it was Helaena, and this was the only time the two girls could show their desire for one another?

Already starting to walk away, something stopped him. The hardness in his breeches made it uncomfortable to move. He sighed and wiped across his face to compose himself.

Daemon needed to see. He needed to see his niece being pleasured by whoever it was. Be it a knight or a maid. Agonisingly slowly, he pulled open your door. Making sure no sounds betrayed his presence.

At first, you didn’t even notice his intrusion, too lost in the pleasure of two fingers circling your clit and two in your tight hole knuckles deep. But once you heard the familiar creak of the venerable wooden door, its aged hinges announcing a timeless entrance, your head instinctively snapped up. The air around you shifted, thick with expectation.

"Uncle Daemon!" you exclaimed, hastily pulling the sheets up to cover your bare form beneath. "I…I didn't expect you!"

You could feel the heat of embarrassment rising to your cheeks, mixed with a twinge of annoyance at having your private moment interrupted. Your long silver-white hair was tousled against the pillow, strands clinging to your sweat-dampened skin.

"I was just…" you fumbled for an excuse, your voice trailing off lamely. There was no hiding the truth - you had been caught in the throes of self-indulgence, fingers buried knuckle-deep inside your dripping cunny as you imagined being taken roughly by one of the handsome young knights in service to the crown.

Your mind raced as you tried to find the right words to explain yourself, but your tongue felt heavy and clumsy in your mouth. You knew that your actions were scandalous, especially for a highborn lady of House Targaryen, but you couldn't help the thrill of excitement that ran down your spine at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position.

Your fingers were still buried deep inside your sopping wet cunny, the evidence of your shameful desires dripping down your thighs and staining the fine silk sheets beneath you. The air was thick with the musky scent of your arousal, mingling with the faint smell of lavender that clung to your skin from your earlier bath.

Daemon's eyes widened slightly at the sight before him, his gaze flickering over your dishevelled form and the obvious signs of your recent activities. For a moment, he was struck dumb, caught off guard by the raw, primal desire that radiated from his niece's body like a physical force. He could feel his cock stirring to life in his breeches, thickening and hardening as he drank at the sight of you.

But then his training kicked in, and Daemon schooled his features into a mask of stern disapproval. He crossed the room in a few long strides, the heavy tread of his boots muffled by the plush carpet. Leaning down, he grasped your wrist firmly and withdrew your fingers from between your thighs, ignoring the way you gasped at the sudden loss of stimulation.

"Darling," he said, his voice low and cold. "What in the seven hells are you doing, girl? Playing with yourself like some common whore? Is this how you spend your nights, indulging in base carnal desires?"

His grip on your wrist tightened, and he brought your hand up to his face, pressing your fingers against his lips. The taste of your arousal exploded on his tongue, sweet and musky and utterly intoxicating. Daemon's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savouring the flavour of his niece's essence.

"You're a Targaryen," he growled, releasing her wrist and straightening up. "You should know better than to give in to such shameful appetites. Especially not with your uncle standing right outside your door."

Despite his harsh words, there was an undercurrent of something else in Daemon's tone - a dark, simmering heat that belied his stern exterior. He could feel the pulse of his own need, throbbing in his loins and demanding to be satisfied. The sight of you sprawled out across her bed, flushed and wanton and ready to be taken, was almost more than he could bear.

Daemon took a step back, putting some distance between them. He raked a hand through his golden locks, trying to calm his growing hunger for you.

Your heart raced as you watched Daemon lick your essence from his fingers, his eyes closing in bliss as he savoured the taste. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins, and you couldn't help but spread your thighs wider, inviting him to take a closer look at your dripping cunny.

The guilt that churned in your stomach was nothing compared to the raw, primal desire that consumed you. You had done far worse things behind closed doors, indulged in darker, more forbidden pleasures. This was merely a taste of the debauchery that coursed through your veins.

“Daemon," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Please, don't be angry with me. I… I couldn't help myself. The need was too great, too overwhelming to ignore."

You batted your eyelashes at him, hoping to soften his stern demeanour with an innocent, pleading look. You knew the power of your beauty, the way men were drawn to you like moths to a flame. It was a gift, one you had learned to wield like a weapon.

"You're the only one who truly understands me," you continued, your words dripping with honey.

As you spoke, you reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the hard planes of Daemon's chest through his shirt. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath the fabric, the steady thrum of his heartbeat. It called to you, urging you to press herself against him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you awaited Daemon's response, your dripping sex exposed to his piercing gaze. You could feel the weight of his stare like a physical touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. The vulnerability you felt at that moment was both terrifying and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire that made your head spin.

Daemon's eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of your glistening folds, his nostrils flaring as he caught the intoxicating scent of your arousal. He could feel his cock straining against the confines of his breeches, throbbing with the need to bury itself inside your tight, wet heat.

He took a step closer, looming over your prone form on the bed. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he growled, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust. "Teasing me like this, exposing yourself to me. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Your breath caught in your throat as Daemon reached out, his fingers grazing along the soft skin of your inner thigh. You could feel the calluses on his hands, the strength in his grasp as he slowly inched higher and higher, until his touch was mere inches away from your aching core.

"I… I wanted you to see," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. Although it wasn’t entirely true, you did still however want him to take you. And with these sweet words, he would cave in no time.

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain control over his raging desires. He knew that what he was about to do was wrong, a betrayal of every moral code. But the temptation was too great to resist, the allure of his niece's forbidden fruit too powerful to deny.

With a low, animalistic growl, Daemon surged forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, claiming you, possessing you, marking you as his own. One hand tangled in your long, silver hair, tugging it.

You moaned into the kiss. It was like a siren's call, luring Daemon further into the depths of depravity. With a growl, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed, his muscular body covering yours as he claimed your mouth with renewed hunger. His hands roamed over your curves, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh like a man possessed.

Your fingers scrabbled at Daemon's linen shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin. You tugged impatiently at the fabric, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank the garment over his head and toss it aside. Your eyes widened at the sight of his toned chest, marred only by a few silvery scars from battles long past.

"By the gods, Uncle," she gasped, your hands greedily exploring the planes of his back and shoulders. "You're so strong."

Daemon's lips curled into a smirk as he ground his hips against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock straining against the confines of his breeches. "And you, my little girl, are a temptress beyond compare," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "So soft, so ripe, so ready to be plucked."

Your back arched off the bed as Daemon trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above your collarbone. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, the ache between your thighs growing more intense with each passing second.

"Please, Daemon," you whimpered, your hips rocking against his in a primal rhythm. "I need you, I need to feel you inside me, filling me, claiming me."

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his control hanging by a thread. With a low growl, he captured your lips once more, swallowing your moans as he reached down and tore at the laces of his breeches. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and throbbing with need.

Your eyes widened as you took in the impressive sight of Daemon's manhood, your breath catching in your throat at the sheer size of him. You had always known that your uncle was a proud, confident man, but now you understood the true source of his cockiness. His cock was a work of art, thick and veiny and pulsing with an almost palpable hunger.

Unable to resist, you reached out with a shaking hand, wrapping your fingers around the hot, velvety length. You licked your palm, spitting into it to provide some lubrication as you began to stroke him slowly, marvelling at the weight of him in your grasp.

Daemon let out a low, guttural moan as your hand moved along his shaft, his hips rocking into your touch. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Stroke me, princess. Show me what that clever little hand can do."

You smiled up at him, your eyes shining with wicked delight. You shimmied closer to him on the bed, watching with rapt attention as Daemon stood before you, his cock extending out obscenely from between his legs.

The blood coursed hot and heavy through Daemon's veins as you worked his shaft, your delicate fingers gliding over his throbbing flesh in a slow, torturous rhythm. He could feel every nerve ending screaming for more, for the tight, wet heat of your cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that, don't you?" You purred, your hand pumping faster, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. "You like feeling my hand on your big, hard cock. I bet you've dreamed of this, of fucking your sweet little niece, filling her up with your seed."

Daemon let out a feral snarl, his hips snapping forward as he fucked your hand, chasing the pleasure that only you could give him. "You have no idea what I've dreamed of," he growled, his eyes burning into yours. "What I've planned, what I'm going to do to this tight little body of yours."

"Mmh, yeah? Why don’t you tell me then?” Your words and actions grew bolder as you saw his reaction to your touch, your arousal gushing out of you at the erotic sight.

Your daring words and bold actions ignited a fire in Daemon's loins that threatened to consume you both. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your grasp as you started to tease the tip with your tongue, your lips forming a tight seal around his engorged head. The sight of his niece's pretty mouth stretched obscenely around his shaft sent a fresh surge of heat straight to his groin.

"Fuck, you filthy little minx," Daemon growled, his fingers tangling in your long silver hair. He tugged at it roughly, forcing you to take more of him into your hot, wet mouth. "You want to know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to ruin you for any other man. I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll never be able to forget the feel of my cock inside you."

You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Daemon's body. You could feel the sticky wetness of her arousal coating your thighs, the musky scent of her desire mingling with the taste of his pre-cum on her tongue.

"Mmmph, yes Uncle Daemon," you slurred, your words muffled by his thick cock filling your mouth. "Ruin me, use me, make me yours. I want to feel you in every inch of me."

"That's it," he growled, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into your warm mouth, throbbing. "Take it all, baby girl. Take every inch of your uncle's big, hard cock."

You moaned around him, the sound sending shivers down Daemon's spine. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slide deeper until the head of his cock was bumping against the back of your throat. Your nose nestled in the thick, wiry curls at the base of his shaft, inhaling the musky, masculine scent of him.

"Gods, you're a natural," Daemon praised, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Such a good little cocksucker, so eager to please your uncle."

Your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the haze of pleasure as you worked Daemon's cock with your mouth and hand. You could feel the heavy weight of it on your tongue, the pulsing heat of it against the roof of your mouth.

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he fought to maintain control. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the urge to bury himself to the hilt in your tight, dripping cunt becoming more and more overwhelming with each passing second.

"Enough," he snarled, yanking you off his cock with a lewd pop. "I can't take it anymore. I need to be inside you, need to feel you wrapped around me like a vice."

With a swift, brutal movement, Daemon flipped you onto your hands and knees, kicking your legs apart to expose the glistening folds of your sex.

The sudden shift in position caused you to let out a surprised yelp. You felt Daemon's strong hands grip your hips, lifting your rear end high in the air. You instinctively arched your back, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. The cool air of the bedchamber kissed your bare flesh, sending goosebumps racing across your skin.

The depraved display sent a bolt of pure lust through Daemon's veins, his cock twitching with the need to claim you, to make you his in the most primal way possible.

"Gods, you're a vision," Daemon growled appreciatively, his emerald eyes roaming hungrily over your upturned ass and dripping cunny. "So wet and ready for me already."

He gave you a sharp smack on the rump, relishing the way you jolted and let out a gasp. The reddening handprint on your skin looked deliciously obscene.

"That's it, present yourself to your uncle like a good little whore," he commanded, lining up his swollen cockhead with your entrance. "Show me how much you need my cock filling this greedy little cunt."

You moaned wantonly, reaching back with one hand to spread herself open for him. Your puffy folds glistened with arousal, practically begging to be stuffed full. The shame of what you were doing only served to heighten your arousal, the taboo nature of your relationship sending electric thrills down your spine.

"Please, Uncle Daemon," you begged, your voice high and needy. "I need you inside me, stretching me, filling me up. I'll do anything, be anything you want me to be."

Daemon let out a low, appreciative chuckle as he stepped up behind you, his large hands gripping your hips with bruising force. "Anything, hmm? We'll see about that."

Without warning, he slammed his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You screamed in ecstasy, your walls clenching around him like a vice as he filled you.

"Fuck, you're tight," Daemon grunted, his hips snapping against your ass as he set a punishing pace. "So fucking tight and wet for me, baby girl. Your little cunt was made for my cock."

You could only moan in response, your body rocking forward with each powerful thrust of Daemon's hips. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure and Daemon's grunts of exertion.

As Daemon pounded into you, one hand snaked around your waist, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubbed it roughly, the calloused pads of his fingers sending jolts of electricity through your body.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you felt his fingers rub tight circles around your swollen clit. Hips jerking from the stimulation.

"There she goes," Daemon growled, his fingers working your clit with merciless precision. "My sweet little niece, so responsive, so desperate for her uncle's touch."

You could only moan in response, your head hanging down, your long silver hair cascading over your shoulders. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, a lewd symphony of flesh slapping against flesh and the squelch of your dripping arousal.

You shivered at his praise, your body still humming with pleasure. Despite the shame that threatened to overwhelm you, you couldn't deny how much you had enjoyed being used so thoroughly.

Daemon angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each powerful thrust. He could feel your velvety walls rippling around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

As he looked down he could see a ring of white cream coating the base of his cock, your arousal so evident. He smirked to himself and sped up his pace, fucking you almost brutally.

Daemon's brutal pace showed no signs of slowing, his hips pistoning in and out of your tight heat with relentless force. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed off the stone walls, mingling with your wanton moans and whimpers.

"Look at you," Daemon growled, his voice rough with lust. "My sweet little niece reduced to a mewling, cock-hungry slut. You love this, don't you? Love being used like a cheap whore, love having your uncle's cock stuffing your needy cunt."

You couldn't deny it, not with the way your body was responding to his harsh words and even harsher thrusts. Your back arched, pushing your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust, your nails digging into the fine linens beneath you.

Daemon's hand left your clit, moving up to fist a handful of your long silver hair. He yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder. His eyes were wild, burning with a primal hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

"Who does this cunt belong to?" he snarled, his voice a dark promise. "Who owns your pretty little body, baby girl?"

"You do," you gasped out, the words spilling from your lips unbidden. "It's all yours, Uncle Daemon. I'm yours."

"Damn right, you are," Daemon growled, releasing his grip on your hair to wrap his arms around your waist. He pushed you down onto your stomach and lifted your hips, shifting the angle of his thrusts to strike even deeper, harder, faster.

The new position had you seeing stars, your cries of pleasure resonating off the stone walls. Each thrust sent ripples of ecstasy through your body, your muscles clenching around him like a vice.

"Say it again," Daemon demanded, his voice strained. "Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You," you sobbed, your voice high and breathy. "It's yours, Daemon. All yours."

"That's right, baby girl," Daemon growled, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigour.

Your body was trembling beneath him on the silky sheets of your bed. Your tight hole spasming around Daemon's big cock, creaming all over his length. Like a bitch in heat you screamed in pleasure below him, cunt gripping him in a vice.

Daemon's grip tightened on your hips as he drove into you with pure animalistic lust, your cries of pleasure mixing with his grunts of exertion. Bed creaking beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each violent thrust. The feeling of your tight, dripping cunt spasming around him was almost too much to bear. Daemon could feel his release barreling towards him like a freight train, his balls drawing up tight against his body. The filthy sounds of your cries and the obscene squelch of your arousal filling the room only served to heighten his lust.

"That's it, princess," Daemon growled, his hand coming down on your ass in a sharp smack. "Take it all, take every inch of your uncle's big, hard cock."

You moaned wantonly, your hips bucking as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. Your juices coated his shaft, easing the way as he pounded into you relentlessly.

"Uncle Daemon," you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure. "It's so good, so deep. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Daemon grinned savagely, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigour. He could feel the tension building in his lower belly, the tell-tale tingle in his spine that signalled his impending release.

"Oh, Gods! I'm gonna cum!" You managed to squeal into the sheets, tears starting to stream down your face from the intensity of his thrusts.

"Aw, fuck yes, you are," Daemon growled, his voice a dark promise. "Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over your uncle's big, hard cock."

His hips snapped forward, driving his cock deep into your convulsing channel. Your cries of ecstasy filled the room, your body shaking with the force of your release.

You could feel your juices squirting out around Daemon's shaft, your inner muscles clenching and fluttering as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. It seemed to go on forever, your vision blurring at the edges, your mind numb from the sheer intensity of it all.

Daemon held you close, his arms wrapping around your trembling form as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your pleasure. His release was fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight against his body.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained. "Gonna fill you up, gonna pump you full of my seed. Gonna make you mine in every fucking way."

With a final, brutal thrust, Daemon buried himself to the hilt inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilt his hot seed deep within your womb. You could feel it, the way his thick, potent cum coated your inner walls, marking you as his.

As you both came down from your high, Daemon pulled out of you with a lewd pop. He flopped down onto the bed beside you, gathering you into his arms and pulling you close.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as you basked in the afterglow. Despite the taboo nature of your relationship, there was a rightness to being here with Daemon, a sense of belonging that you had never felt with anyone else.

[celestailio]

wanna be yours ( gojo x fem!reader )

outline: gojo satoru was one of the strongest sorcerers in jujutsu high. he could have anything and anyone except you. his best friend's girlfriend, whom he was hopelessly in love with. anyone but not you.

contains: gojo x fem!reader, lots of warnings, major deaths, angst, angst, angst, no comfort, a lot of angst, satoru is very much in love with reader, and is going through a lot, slight suggestive and very heavy themes, have i mentioned it's full of angst (￣з￣) please read at your own risk ( i am sorry )

wc: 5.9k

a/n: i am sorry in advance for this ＼(_ _) massive thankuuss to my baby bestieee who helped me with the editing. i feel like my english is improving a lot. i am very proud of this! i practised tons of literary devices to spice it up here and there. and i also registered for a writing course for my next semester! i hope it helps me! anyway as always feedback is appreciated and enjoy! <33

satoru first met you when you were both sixteen. at first, you were just another classmate — a name to remember, a warm presence. someone he respected and trusted, much like shoko and suguru.

the four of you were a constellation in the vast, perilous universe of jujutsu, each star shining the brightest when together. but somewhere along the way, satoru found himself drawn to you in a way that was beyond friendship.

he began seeking you out after lectures, his feet moving before his mind could catch up, his gaze lingering on you during sparring sessions at the bustling training grounds. he couldn’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but his eyes started finding you of their own accord, as though the universe itself was aligning for him to notice you.

one december afternoon, the classroom was bathed in a honeyed glow, the winter sun filtering through the windows like liquid gold.

the pungent smell of cleaning detergent hung heavily in the air, making satoru cough whenever he inhaled too deeply. the whir of vacuums and the rhythmic swish of mops grated against his ears, but none of it mattered.

not now.

satoru wasn’t religious, but the sight before him made him feel like he’d stumbled upon divinity. his breath hitched, cerulean eyes widening behind the black frames of his glasses.

you stood beside shoko, sunlight weaving through your hair like threads of spun silk. every movement you made seemed effortless, ethereal. in the warm light, you looked like a being from another realm, like you might sprout wings and ascend at any moment.

“you look like an angel,” he thought but didn’t dare say aloud.

you laughed as you struggled to erase the remnants of chalk from the board, your giggles light and musical, reverberating through the empty room. shoko chuckled beside you, teasing you about your height, and your shared laughter filled the space with warmth.

the sound lodged itself in satoru’s chest, tightening around his heart like a fist.

what started as a flicker of attraction grew into something deeper, something that felt like love. he didn’t know when or how, but the feeling had sunk its teeth into him, leaving a mark he couldn’t ignore.

and yet, for all his charm and bravado, he couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

satoru prided himself on his confidence and allure —his snow-white hair perfectly styled, his cerulean eyes drawing people in like moths to a flame.

he knew the effect he had on others, the way girls would giggle behind their hands whenever he flashed one of his charming smiles. his voice was a melody, his words honeyed melting everyone's heart.

so why did his confidence falter every time you were near?

“what is it, ’toru?”

your voice broke his spiral, your gaze locking onto his. you rocked back and forth on your heels, a teasing smile dancing on your lips.

he froze.

“uh, nothing,” he stammered, his usual swagger evaporating under your gaze.

you tilted your head, concern flashing across your features as you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. the contact sent a jolt through him, his brain short-circuiting.

“you okay, 'toru?”

he wasn’t. not even a little.

without a word, satoru bolted out of the classroom, his long legs carrying him down the hallway as if fleeing a curse. his heart pounded against his rib cage, each beat a painful reminder of the burning sensation in his chest.

as winter melted into spring, the world around jujutsu high began to shift. barren trees sprouted delicate buds, the air grew warmer, and the days stretched longer.

satoru sat at his desk, chin propped on his palm, watching the sky outside. the horizon was painted with streaks of oranges and reds, the fading light blending like a watercolour masterpiece. he licked the lingering sweetness of cotton candy from his lips, savouring the last vestiges of his afternoon snack.

then, another kind of sweetness called out to him.

you stood in front of his desk, painted nails nervously scratching the wood. your cheeks were tinged with a soft pink, your smile shy yet inviting.

“do you know what kind of tea suguru likes? i wanted to surprise him.”

your words took a moment to register. tea? suguru? his stomach twisted. before he could respond, shoko’s voice broke the tension.

“oh, look at you!” she teased from her desk, grinning like a cat. “so thoughtful. geto’s a lucky guy.”

her words ignited a storm inside satoru. his chest tightened, anger bubbling like lava in his gut. he wanted to snap back, but his jaw clenched shut.

“he’s been enjoying assam and pu’erh black tea,” he managed to say, his voice tight but steady.

you beamed at him, completely unaware of the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. “thanks, ’toru!”

“blossoming love, huh?” shoko teased, poking your side.

your response was a soft laugh, followed by a flustered, “something like that.”

the words echoed in satoru’s mind like a curse. his leg bounced restlessly under the desk as he watched you leave, the sound of your voice lingering in the classroom.

once you were out of sight, his smile faded.

he stared blankly at the empty doorway, his mind a hurricane of questions. what did suguru have that he didn’t? was it his calm demeanour? his quiet strength? or was satoru simply too much — too loud, too brash, too… himself?

your words played over and over in his mind, each repetition sinking deeper into his skin.

something like that.

and satoru sat there, drowning in the weight of unspoken words, unexpressed feelings, and the crushing reality of unrequited love.

the flowers begin to bloom, and so did your relationship with suguru. satoru tried to maintain his usual facade around him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. every time suguru mentioned your name or shared a story about the two of you, satoru felt like he was being torn apart.

his smiles were forced, his nods mechanical. deep inside, an ache hollowed him out, carving a void in his chest — a void that only you could fill.

he noticed how suguru's eyes lit up when he spoke about you, a spark that hadn’t been there before. jealousy simmered in satoru’s chest, sharp and bitter. he hated the thought that he could never make you smile the way suguru did.

but he stayed silent, swallowing his feelings. risking what little he had with you and with suguru, was unthinkable.

he thought that this was fine, as long as you and suguru were near him. even if he couldn’t have you in a way he wanted. it was fine.

the star plasma vessel happened, and then it wasn't.

the incident with zen’in toji shattered the fragile peace you all had. riko and kuroi’s deaths left a scar too deep to heal. satoru awakened as the strongest, embracing the blinding light of his limitless power. but suguru — he retreated into the shadows, finding solace in the darkness that consumed him.

it wasn’t like satoru hadn’t noticed the change in suguru. his best friend was a ghost of his former self, his cheeks hollow, his skin pale. his movements were sluggish, his smiles faint and fleeting. but when satoru asked, suguru brushed it off. “i’m fine,” he’d say, and satoru believed him.

he’s fine, satoru thought. he has to be.

it was the first warning he ignored.

what satoru didn’t know was that your relationship with suguru had changed too. he overheard you crying to shoko about the massive fight you and suguru had behind closed doors.

fighting? since when? confusion clouded his mind. he wanted to ask you to ask suguru, but he held back, too afraid of the answers. then, one day, you vanished from his life, retreating into solitude.

and then the unthinkable happened.

suguru massacred an entire village.

when satoru first heard the news, his first thoughts were of you. were you okay? did he convince you to join him too?

no, you couldn’t have.

before he could dwell further, a call from shoko blew away his spiralling thoughts.

“suguru’s here, near shinjuku.”

the confrontation was inevitable, a tragic crescendo in a symphony of heartbreak.

satoru let go suguru's hand that day, watching his best friend disappear into the crowd, and he felt like he was drowning in the sea of faceless strangers.

he hated himself for it.

he should’ve gone after him, should’ve fired that purple, should’ve done something. but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

how could he destroy the man who had been his best friend, his very own kin?

and yet, wasn’t that what suguru had already done to him?

what was he supposed to do now?

a week later, satoru found himself standing outside your door. he didn’t know why he was there and what he hoped to find. but his feet had carried him to you, as though drawn by an invisible thread.

he knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness. when no one answered, he hesitated before stepping inside.

the air was thick, oppressive. untouched objects sat in quiet disarray, and the dim light seeping through the windows gave everything an eerie glow.

your curse energy flickered weakly from behind the closed door of your bedroom.

“…are you there?” his voice was a soft plea, breaking the silence.

finally, the door creaked open.

you looked like a shadow of yourself. red-rimmed eyes darting around the room, hair dishevelled and spilling over your shoulders. you didn’t say anything as you retreated to your bed, and satoru followed, the weight of your sorrow pressing down on him.

he sat beside you, his presence hesitant. he didn’t know if he should speak, if his words could offer you any comfort.

finally, you broke the silence.

“it’s my fault,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i did this. i destroyed us.”

tears slipped down your cheeks, glistening like fragile crystals as you buried your face in your hands.

“it’s not your fault,” satoru murmured, his voice gentle but firm. he reached out to hold you, but you flinched away.

“he doesn’t love me anymore,” you sobbed, your voice cracking. “he left me, satoru. he left me all alone.”

each word was a dagger, slicing through him. he wanted to tell you that it wasn’t true, that you were worth so much more than the pain suguru had caused. but the words wouldn’t come.

instead, he held you. even as you thrashed in his arms, he held you, murmuring reassurances you couldn’t hear.

then, through your sobs, came the quietest plea,

“be my boyfriend.”

the words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain. satoru froze, his heart pounding as he searched your face. was this what you wanted? or was it just a desperate attempt to fill the void suguru had left behind?

he wanted to say no. his mind screamed at him to refuse. but his heart, a traitorous thing, betrayed him.

“okay,” he whispered.

you collapsed into his arms once more, your sobs subsiding into quiet hiccups. satoru held you tightly, threading his fingers through your hair in a soothing motion.

but as he glanced at the shattered frame on your nightstand, a photo of you and suguru beneath the sakura trees, smiling amidst the falling petals, he felt the sharp sting of regret.

even as you clung to him, seeking solace, satoru knew he was only a stand-in for the love you’d lost.

and yet, he stayed.

because for now, being near you, even like this, was better than being without you at all.

graduation felt surreal — a moment meant to be celebrated, yet devoid of joy. the echoes of laughter that should have filled the halls were replaced by a haunting silence.

what should have been the culmination of years of struggle and growth was overshadowed by the absence of suguru, a vacancy that no amount of nostalgia could fill.

satoru walked beside you on the school grounds one last time, his hands buried deep in his pockets, the cool breeze ruffling his silver hair. nostalgia clung to his bones like a second skin, suffocating yet impossible to shed.

the sakura trees stood as silent witnesses, their petals cascading like soft, weeping tears. each delicate bloom was a reminder of what had once been—a time when the four of you were whole, invincible, bound by companionship and dreams. now, the petals fell with a kind of mournful grace, marking the end of an era.

the sun dipped low, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene, as if attempting to gild the bittersweet moment with a sense of peace neither of you could fully grasp.

satoru’s thoughts churned like turbulent waves, crashing against the jagged cliffs of uncertainty and loss. the future stretched out before him, vast and unknowable. but one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to leave you alone in your sorrow.

he stopped walking, turning to you with a soft yet firm resolve in his gaze. "come live with me," he said, his voice a lifeline amidst the chaos.

you hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

"okay."

living together was anything but simple.

your relationship with satoru was defined by boundaries — walls you’d built around yourself, a fortress guarding your heart from him. he respected those boundaries, though they left him feeling like an outsider in his own home.

you avoided his touch, your conversations were clipped, and the space between you stretched into a chasm he couldn’t cross. he tried — initiating small talks, filling silences with humour — but your responses were often distant, a word or two before you retreated into yourself.

even though you were now his partner in name, satoru didn’t feel like one. you didn’t talked to him, kiss him, or indulged in him. you barely acknowledged him when he came home from his duties at jujutsu high, offering only a fleeting glance before disappearing into your room.

but what hurt the most wasn’t your indifference — it was the secrets you kept.

satoru knew about the late-night meetings with suguru, thinly veiled as last minute missions. he didn’t ask where you went when you returned the next day, dishevelled and silent. he didn’t question the dark mark on your neck, peeking out like a cruel reminder of a love he couldn’t compete with.

and yet, despite it all, you came to him every night.

knocking softly on his bedroom door, you would slip under his sheets, seeking his warmth in the dead of night. he let you in, time and time again, unable to refuse the fleeting closeness.

as you snuggled against him, your soft breaths brushing against his neck, he let himself dream. maybe, just maybe, there was hope. maybe you could love him as much as he loved you.

but hope was fragile, and dreams were fleeting.

in the quiet hours before dawn, as he stirred to begin his day, he tried to pry himself away. but you clung to him, your grip tightening even in sleep. and then, like a knife to his heart, you murmured suguru’s name.

someday.

december 23rd, 2018

satoru couldn't believe his eyes. he thought that at least one of them was lying, but all six of them pointed towards him. his familiar remains of cursed energy dominating the air.

suguru stood in the courtyard, his presence commanding and his aura suffocating. his long black hair framed his sharp features, cascading down his back like a waterfall. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on you with a silent invitation.

satoru’s heart roared, a storm of emotions threatening to spill over.

suguru’s voice was calm, chilling in its confidence as he declared war against the jujutsu society — a promise of chaos and destruction that sent ripples of fear through the gathered sorcerers.

you flinched at the sight of him, and when you slipped away into the shadows, satoru’s eyes followed you.

he wanted to stop you, to demand explanations, to beg you to stay. but the words stuck in his throat, trapped by the weight of everything left unsaid.

suguru mounted his cursed spirit, ascending into the sky. his figure grew smaller and smaller until he was nothing but a speck of ink against the blue expanse.

satoru turned back to the students, his responsibilities tugging at him. his jaw clenched as he ushered the frightened youngsters back into the building, suppressing the ache in his chest.

meetings consumed the rest of his day. faces blurred, voices droned on, and his mind drifted. he thought of suguru’s eyes, of the way they found you in the crowd. he thought of your quiet departure, your figure vanishing like a spirit into the shadows.

satoru returned to your shared apartment later that night, barely able to keep his eyes open. the meetings had dragged on, and before he knew it, night had settled in.

exhausted, he fumbled with the key, unlocking the door and stepping into the quiet living room. the kitchen lights were off. you didn’t eat today?

"where are you?" he called, but the only response was silence.

confusion clouded his thoughts as he slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly by the door. had you not come home?

he crossed into the hallway, hearing the faint sound of running water from the bathroom. he knocked softly on the washroom door, but there was no reply. a knot of dread began to twist in his stomach. something wasn’t right.

“are you okay?” he called, his voice edged with concern.

silence answered.

he knocked again, louder this time. a stern call of your name, his voice rising with a note of urgency.

still, nothing.

the silence pressed in on him like a physical weight, the dread in his chest intensifying. with a frustrated sigh, he knocked once more, his voice trembling now.

“please. let me in.”

the only sound that followed was the rush of water.

his heart raced, panic gripping him as he turned the handle and kicked the door open with a force that sent the wood splintering.

inside, you stood in the shower, the water streaming down over your naked form, your body rigid and unmoving. you stared blankly at the marble tiles, like a statue, waiting for something. for the water to wash away the stains of your sins.

satoru’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes took in the sight. bruises, faint yellow hickeys marking your skin. it all told a story he didn’t want to hear, one that shattered him piece by piece.

he sank to his knees on the cold tiles, his hands trembling as he reached for you. his touch was tentative, but it was all he had left to offer.

“what’s wrong?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you gently. blue eyes wide with worry, heart aching with the rawness of the moment.

your breath hitched, and finally, you spoke. your voice fragile, barely above a whisper. “i have to see him again.”

the words hit satoru like a physical blow, the blood draining from his face. his body tensed, frozen in place as the enormity of what you said settled over him, heavy and suffocating.

he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. his hands stayed frozen on your body as the world around him seemed to collapse.

“i’m so sorry, satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of the water.

you dropped to your knees before him, your eyes averted, filled with sorrow. the weight of guilt seemed to crush you, and satoru felt the air leave his lungs.

he reached out for you, his hands trembling as he cupped your face, his forehead pressing gently against yours.

his cerulean eyes searched yours, desperate to find the person he once knew, the bond you’d shared before everything changed.

“have i ever stopped you?” his voice was soft, but the tremor in his words told the story of a heartbreaking in real-time.

you didn’t answer, only stared at him. your wide eyes full of uncertainty as he turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around your body.

he guided you to the bedroom, his arm around your shoulders, offering silent support.

once you were seated on a chair, he reached for the blow-dryer, the hum of the machine filling the room as he carefully dried your hair.

the silence between you was thick, almost suffocating.

“i can’t go out like this. i can’t lie to you anymore,” you said, your voice cracking with the weight of the confession.

satoru’s hands stilled at the sound of your words, the blow-dryer humming in the background as he paused, unsure of how to process the storm brewing inside him.

after all this time, why now? does it matter anymore?

“i am so sorry, satoru.” you choked on the words, your hand pressed to your mouth as you tried to stifle the sobs threatening to break free.

he turned off the dryer, setting it aside as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pressing his lips gently to your skin.

“it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft, but the pain behind the words was undeniable.

he held you close, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. but beneath the warmth of his touch, there was something that had changed. the usual light in his eyes had dimmed, and his voice trembled ever so slightly.

the faintest trace of moisture gathered in his eyes, the tears threatening to spill as the weight of your confession hung between you both.

he hoped you wouldn’t notice the way his heart was racing a million miles or the quiver in his voice.

he hoped you wouldn’t see the way the light in his eyes had faded. devoid of anything.

it was beginning to get late — just a few hours before midnight. the apartment was shrouded in silence, save for the faint sound of satoru’s steady breathing as he lay sprawled on the couch.

he had tried to stay awake, but the weight of fatigue had dragged him under. still, some part of him stirred when he heard the faint rustle of fabric and the soft creak of the door.

he cracked one eye open, his cerulean gaze catching your silhouette by the door.

you were wrapped tightly in your coat, your form illuminated by the dim light of the floor lamp near the entrance.

he noticed the way your hand hesitated over the doorknob, a flicker of indecision that made his chest tighten.

don’t go. please.

the thought screamed in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. his body felt like lead, weighed down by a thousand unspoken fears.

his fingers twitched against the fabric of the couch as he fought the urge to call out, to stop you, to do anything other than lie there, paralyzed by the inevitability of your actions.

when the door clicked softly shut, the silence that followed felt deafening.

satoru sat up slowly, the ghost of your departure still hanging in the air.

his head dropped into his hands, fingers threading through his silver hair as a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

“why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

he muttered to himself, the question falling into the empty room. his voice sounded foreign, tinged with something raw and aching.

his hands fell to his lap as he leaned back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. the cracks in the plaster seemed more noticeable tonight, jagged lines stretching outward like the fractures in his heart.

was it always going to be him?

he shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. his chest felt tight, the kind of suffocating pressure that made it hard to think straight.

time dragged on, but sleep wouldn’t come. satoru found himself pacing the living room, the soft thud of his bare feet against the wooden floor, the only sound breaking the quiet.

he kept glancing at the door, half-hoping it would swing open, that you’d walk back in and tell him it was all a mistake.

he stopped in front of the window, the cold glass fogging slightly as he leaned against it.

outside, the world was blanketed in frost, the streetlights casting halos of pale yellow light on the snow-covered pavement.

you’re with him right now . . .

the thought was like a knife digging in his gut. he clenched his fists, the cerulean glow of his eyes dimming as he stared into the distance.

a part of him wanted to storm out, to find you, to bring you back home, with him. but he respected and trusted you.

you’ll come back, he told himself. you always do.

but the thought offered no solace. because every time you left, a piece of you stayed behind — just out of reach and beyond his grasp.

hours passed. the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, washing the room in a pale, grey hue.

satoru sat slumped against the couch, his head tilted back, eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

he hadn’t moved from his spot. his phone sat on the coffee table, untouched, the screen dark and silent. no calls. no messages.

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he closed his eyes, trying to summon the strength to face the day.

the clock on the wall ticked steadily, a cruel reminder of the passing time. his gaze shifted to it, and his stomach churned at the sight of the date,

december 24th.

today wasn’t just a date. it was a storm waiting to break, and he had no choice but to weather it.

the night parade of a thousand demons was set to unfold tonight, and all of it would start with the chaos suguru had set in motion.

satoru had known this day would come, but it didn’t make the reality of it any easier. the rebellion, the betrayal had been building for decades, and now it was too late to stop.

but for now, all he could do was wait. wait for you to return, and wait for the pieces of his heart to shatter just a little more.

the day had just begun, but the air felt thick with anticipation, the weight of what was to come pressing heavily on his chest.

his gaze wandered to the window again, his mind racing through a hundred different scenarios.

tonight was going to change everything.

he couldn’t deny it anymore. the jujutsu world would burn, and it would be because of suguru’s betrayal. and you were wrapped up in it all.

you had told him that you needed to see suguru one last time before everything fell apart.

and you had made your choice, hadn’t you?

but you were so close to him, and yet so far away from him, a distance between you two that no words could bridge.

satoru didn’t want to think about anything at this point.

suddenly, the door clicked open then, and he jolted on the couch. the faint sound of your footsteps echoing in the hallway and his pulse quickened.

you were here now, but he didn’t know for how long.

satoru didn’t look up as you entered. he didn’t need to. he could hear your soft breaths, the way you moved through the apartment like a ghost.

you hadn’t slept, had you?

the faint scent of you, of your perfume and something else, something darker, filled the air between you.

you paused, not looking at him, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

"you’re back," satoru said, his voice low, the words like stones falling into still water.

they seemed insignificant in the face of everything coming. but they were all he had, a small thread holding him together in the midst of this unravelling world.

you didn’t answer right away.

his gaze flickered over you quickly, noting the way you avoided looking at him. he didn’t need to ask, but his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the marks on your neck.

those faint bruises, a reminder of the part of you he couldn’t touch. right now, all he wanted was to pull you into his arms and run away along with you to a far away island from all this mess, but he knew better.

"you know it’s happening tonight," satoru continued, his voice thick with tension, eyes never leaving you.

he wasn’t asking for confirmation — he already knew, as did you.

“i don’t understand you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. he felt the frustration growing, simmering under the surface.

“why are you still holding on to him? even when you know what he’s about to do.”

the words were harsh, but they needed to be said. he needed you to understand that suguru was no longer the person he had once been.

he was no longer the suguru you had known, the suguru who had once been by your side, standing shoulder to shoulder with satoru and the suguru you had fallen in love with.

the silence in the room deepened, thickening until it felt impossible to breathe. and then, just like that, you spoke.

"i have no choice," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i thought i could let go. but he’s a part of me, satoru. i can’t change that.”

his chest tightened as the weight of your words settled on him. he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself.

“not anymore,” satoru’s voice cracked as he stepped forward, his hand reaching out, though he didn’t touch you. not yet.

“you don’t have to go back to him. you’re still here. you still have a choice.”

he didn’t know if those words were meant to comfort you or himself. the fear gnawing at his insides was relentless now, the certainty that suguru would stop at nothing.

the war was no longer just about a fight for the future. satoru felt like it was about you, everything you had once shared, everything he was still trying to protect.

but you didn’t say anything. you didn’t turn to face him and vanished behind closed doors.

the only thing that remained was the sound of his erratic breathing and the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock.

the parade was coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

satoru stepped into the apartment, the door whispering shut behind him with a hollow click that echoed like a funeral bell.

the silence inside was a living thing — thick, suffocating, curling around him like smoke. the faint scent of pine from the air freshener lingered in the stillness, but it couldn’t erase the metallic tang of blood that clung to his senses, that enveloped every part of his soul.

his hands trembled at his sides, pale and empty, yet they felt stained — stained with suguru’s memory, with the weight of a life he’d taken.

his brother, his best friend. gone, with no one left to blame but himself.

he had thought he’d been prepared. he’d convinced himself that there would be a reason for it, that killing suguru, the one person he had once called family, would somehow make sense. that there would be a point to all of this.

but now, standing here in the silence of your apartment nothing made sense.

satoru’s heart pounded, the remnants of the battle still echoing in his ears. the cold sweat on his brow wasn’t just from the violence.

it was from the gnawing emptiness left in the wake of what he had done.

was he really a hero for ending it? or was he simply a man who had destroyed the last vestige of humanity within himself?

the hallway stretched out before him like a tunnel, shadows yawning wide and deep. as he passed the kitchen, a cruel sense of déjà vu clawed at him.

satoru called out your name.

he glanced toward the dim corner in the dining hall where he had so often found you, your presence a balm against the chaos of the world. but tonight, the kitchen was lifeless.

“where are you?” his voice was soft, a fragile thread of sound that barely wove itself into the silence.

the walls seemed to close in, their stillness pressing against his chest. his heartbeat quickened, each thud a hammer against his ribs.

you wouldn’t leave me too, would you?

he moved faster now, his footsteps faltering as he neared the bedroom door. his fingers brushed the wood as if afraid to push it open, afraid of what he might find on the other side.

“please…”

the word slipped out, a desperate prayer to no one.

the door creaked as it swung open, the darkness inside swallowing him whole. his hand fumbled for the switch, flicking it upward with a trembling urgency.

and then the light came.

a harsh, glowy yellow illuminated the room, chasing the shadows into the corners. but the sight before him was worse than any darkness.

your body hung suspended in the air, feet swaying ever so faintly, as if caught in a slow, inhumane dance.

for a moment, the world stopped.

satoru couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, his cerulean eyes fixed on the unbearable truth before him.

no.

the word echoed in his mind, a drumbeat of denial that clanged against his skull.

his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, the wood biting into his skin as he fell.

stomach twisting violently, as bile raised in his throat. his hand flew to his mouth, muffling the broken sound that escaped him.

a scream tore through the silence, ripping out of him with the force of a dam breaking.

raw and primal, full of agony, the sound of a man who last lost everything.

his forehead hit the floor with a hollow thud as he writhed against the cold, unyielding wood.

the sobs came next, wracking his body like aftershocks, each one threatening to split him apart.

“no,” he whispered, his voice a shattered echo. “no, no, no…”

the heater hummed softly in the background, its indifferent warmth mocking the icy despair that consumed him.

his trembling fingers clawed at the floor, reaching out toward your lifeless form as if he could pull you back, as if touch alone could rewrite reality.

but you were beyond his reach, suspended in a silence that answered none of his desperate pleas.

“i killed him,” he choked out, his voice barely distinguishable from the sound of his own suffering. “i killed suguru… for you. for us.”

his tears fell freely, carving hot trails down his face, blue eyes falling shut and a blurry afternoon conjures up in his mind and an angelic smile flashed in his mind — soft, bittersweet, and hauntingly knowing.

was it all for nothing?

satoru let out another scream of your name, his voice cracking as it reverberated off the walls. the light above cast long, flickering shadows across the room, each one twisting like a spectre of what he had lost.

he slumped forward, his forehead pressed to the floor, his body folding in on itself as if trying to escape the unbearable weight of this moment.

and still, the silence answered him. you were not here anymore. neither you nor him.

[its-jun0]

Psychological analysis of Aira

And how the loss of her mother affected the development of her personality

I feel that this is something very overlooked in the community and in honor of the new chapter I would like to do a small analysis from my perspective on it.

Although it is something very little addressed in the story, it is extremely important in her development as a character.

This thread contains spoilers for the manga from the acro silky to the Space Globalist arc!

As we saw in the Acro Silky arc, Aira's mother died when she was very little and judging by her appearance she was no more than 5 or 6 years old at the time.

This simple fact makes the event even more relevant, childhood is a stage of utmost importance in human beings, since at this stage most cognitive skills are developed.

These skills help in the development of healthy and correct management of emotions during adolescence and Adulthood also influences how the child relates to people and their environment.

The importance of the presence of parents at this stage is indispensable, since the first bond that appears in the life of a human is with them and depending on the circumstances and how this bond develops, it will affect the poor way in the psychosocial growth of the infant.

The absence of one or both parents strongly affects the development of the infant, causing damage to the child's psyche that can last beyond adulthood and is even more serious when it is something irreversible such as the death of one of them.

With this begins a grieving process, which is very different from that of an adult given the poor emotional management capacity of a child, this directly affects the growth and development of the child's personality.

Her need for perfection

One of the main characteristics in Aira's personality is the need to be perfect, both in how she acts and how she looks physically.

At first it can be seen as the need to fit in that many teenagers have, but after the acro silky arc you can see the topic in more depth.

In chapter 17 we can see how in the flashback shared with Acro Silky, Aira as a child promises her father to be a great girl so that her mother can be proud when she “comes back”.

With this in mind by connecting their attitudes she can be given a little background, since she acts so “perfectly” because in a certain part she fills the void and the need to make her mother proud.

Because in her mind the fact that everyone loves and admires her makes her someone important, no matter if that means not being true to who she really is.

And this brings us to the point that she thought she was “the chosen one”, since this was a greater merit than just being loved and popular among the people around her.

Although she acted proud about it, this was the perfect situation for her to be able to fulfill the promise she had made, to become someone her mother can be truly proud of.

Although as the chapters go by she continues with this idea in mind, her perspective changes to a more serious one, demonstrating her great development during the plot.

Her actions in the acro silky arc and how this marked a before and after in her character

As I have said many times, despite being her debut arc, this one is very important since you can notice a change, even if it is slight, in how she was presented and how she developed after this.

One of Aira's characteristics is her great empathy towards people who have gone through difficult times; this may mainly be because her own situation helps her put herself in the shoes of others.

The main example of this was with Acro silky, since both shared the pain of a loss and in this case, both were very important figures as mother and daughter.

In other situations where this can be seen is when she finds out about Vamola's past, being moved to tears and another very important point is how she behaves with Chiquitita.

Her relationship with Chiquitita

Aira and Chiquitita's relationship is similar to that of an older sister and a younger brother, Chiquitita is in the same situation as her, he is small, his mother died and he is cared for only by his father, so she can feel more than identified In this case.

Aira is giving him the support and company that she surely lacked as a child given the circumstances in which she grew up.

It is not easy for a father to address all the needs of a child in the absence of, in this case, a maternal figure, since he has to dedicate himself to working and meeting the child's physical needs, even if this means leaving emotional needs aside.

This led us to another very important point in her personality, her great resilience.

The resilience and strength that she possesses

One of the characteristics of children who went through situations where they lost one or both of their parents is the development of “strength” as a defense mechanism.

This is both an advantage and a disadvantage, since although this will be a way to overcome Life's adversities but also open the door to over-demanding and closing ourselves off to the help of others.

Aira is a very strong and resilient person, both mentally and physically, this can be witnessed in fighting and in her ability to lead others, being able to make plans without getting carried away by her emotions like in the Space Globalist arc.

But as I said before, this is also a disadvantage since many times she over-demand herself and refuses to receive help from others and to do things on her own.

Characters like Jiji let her see this in a certain part, when she said that she could defeat the aliens on her own if they would just let her and Jiji told her that she couldn't do it alone.

Being used to and growing up with the idea that she has to be strong instilled by her father when she was little, makes Aira see this as the only thing she has known during her life, If she is not strong, she will not fulfill her promise.

With this in mind we can move on to the next point, her leadership and how she relates to others.

Her role as a leader and how she relates to others

How I addressed before Aira's strength and resilience helped her achieve a good role as a leader, despite being heavy-handed on many occasions, she cares deeply about her team members, constantly asking them to be careful, also trying to put her own needs aside to protect them.

You can see this in the Space Globalist arc, when she asks Momo to take care of herself, when she is happy to see that Mr. Shrimp is alive, when Mr. Shrimp wants to help her and she asks him to go see Jiji first.

This highlights the point of self-demand that she has and how she does not accept the help of others so easily despite being a team, since, again as I mentioned before, being strong and independent is what she has been from an early age.

This brings us to the last point, her relationship with others.

Aira was surrounded by superficial people for most of her life, who were only interested in the “perfect” facade that she had created, so this whole topic of genuine relationships, both friendship and love, is very new to her.

A great example of this is her infatuation with Okarun and the scene where he congratulates her for her great performance in battle, since it is something in which she genuinely makes an effort and she is not used to being given credit in that type of situation.

So when it comes to answering she wonders why. she wasn't being her “usual self,” even though at that moment she was being more genuine with herself.

Conclusion

Aira is an extremely interesting character, who has had one of the best developments in the play, although I failed to address many topics such as her ability to admit her mistakes.

I thought that they did not really come with the main idea of the analysis and I would like to address them more forward when she has more appearances.

I genuinely hope that Tatsu continues cooking with her and can become one of the best characters in the play.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post!!

I hope you found it interesting and do not hesitate to share your point of view with me. I will be very happy to read them!!!

[rainibao]

My thoughts on Caitlyn as a Caitlyn fan (my reply on threads to a comment that helped me collect my thoughts on her)

All in all I think a lot of people would lash out emotionally in the same way, BUT the weight and impact of her actions is just too much to be justified by emotions. And the reason why her tantrum is so oppressive is because...status...money...power...her job(not American but definitely in this case not only is she the one mapping out the plans, she's also the one directly executing them)...

As a story enjoyer, her current arc is scrumptious and I crave more of her. As a human being, man the reaction my mind and body had at the episode 3 opening... And the "it's her blood in your veins" line...

Edit: My main reason for commenting was to emphasise that anyone in her position has a really high chance of doing the exact same thing. Especially with the factors of grief, pressure to "fill the shoes" of her mother and be as great as her(which I think is the main driving force of her accepting the general role), and the thought that the only reason her mom is dead is because she wasn't vicious enough and hesitated to shoot Jinx (and maybe more that's left unsaid)

[purposefully-lost]

Of course, she'd been an opera singer. The thought made Charlie smile. It only made sense that someone with a voice like Vi's had something like that in the family. He couldn't even imagine what his upbringing had really looked like, full of music classes and dance recitals. Busy and hectic, though he wondered how much it really differed from his own. He'd spent his childhood in the backseat of his dad's van, getting dragged to and fro between Chris' football practices and Drew's softball games and his own drama club rehearsals. Chaotic, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything. Most of it.

He softened when he talked about her death, stepping closer to lean against the counter across from him. He it wasn't like he could judge him. Charlie had been through his own stretch of hospital visits and medications and failed rehab programs. Even before the wreck, he'd been having trouble. It was the band that had ultimately kept his head on straight, and without them... well. He understood.

The question made him laugh, his hair falling into his eyes as he glanced down at the counter. He tried to shake his head to get it to fall back into place with limited success when he looked up at him again. "One half of 'em did. I- I guess, uh.. it's not that common knowledge. My dad gave the music biz a shot, before I was born." He grinned for him. "Old school country. He, uh, toured with a few people, put out an album that did.. alright, but then he had us." Charlie shrugged. "Gave it up after that. After he and my mom split, anyway."

She was a different story. He looked down to pick at the sleeve of his hoodie. "Mom.. she didn't like it when he did it, sure as hell didn't like it when we did the same. But.. I- I dunno. We all kinda took to it. Music. Chris n' I more than the others." Drew had been sporty, him and Jay both more academic. Charlie's smile turned a little sad as he tugged loose a frayed thread. "We, uh. We just started playin' at these local venues. Places with open mics, y'know? I was- I was still in school. We did that for a few years, just for fun. Then places started wantin' us to come, y'know, when they needed a band, or somethin'. We decided to record a few tracks in a studio, like a real band would. Then suddenly we were a real band. ..Dad's career helped a bit. He still knew people who were willin' to give us a chance after we bothered 'em enough about it."

He looked up at Vi with a small smile and shrugged again. "Still feels crazy. Someone like you even knowin' my name is.. jesus, it's insane. Sometimes I still don't believe it happened."

Victory checked his phone again, opening the messaging app and confirming for the hundredth time this was the right spot. He'd pulled off some kind of miracle in the last month, not only getting in contact with one of his favorite artists, but managing to keep it going almost regularly. And now he was standing outside of an unfamiliar building on an unfamiliar street in the middle of Appalachian nowhere, getting ready to meet him in person.

He'd dressed down for the occasion, mostly for his own sake, but for Charlie's too. His own success was leading to more and more people clocking him while he was out, and he doubted dressing like Elton John would help him blend in in a place like this. The bleached hair he'd been sporting recently was tucked nicely under a baseball cap, his extensive ink work covered by a baggy sweatshirt. He'd even taken his earrings out in a rush, storing them in his pocket when he realized he'd forgotten to leave them in his hotel room. The last thing Charlie needed was to be bombarded because he agreed to meet him.

In the middle of using his phone screen as a mirror, his eyes widened as it lit up with a text. Vi quickly shoved it in his pocket and gave a quick sweep of the area. He frowned for a moment, but before he could pull out his phone again, his eyes landed on a familiar face, his own quickly brightening into a grin. Bouncing on his feet, he laughed as he waved his arms to usher his pen pal over.

Charlie Reimes. Cane Corso had been a staple on his playlists for years, and here was the frontman in the flesh. -- All because he'd gotten drunk and too bold, sending him what was an embarrassing DM expressing his admiration. It was a testament to maybe not all of his questionable choices led to questionable outcomes.

Beaming, he practically hopped the rest of the way over to him, his smile toothy, cheeks pink, and his eyes crinkled. "I can't believe it! I don't think you understand how massive this is to me." He said, babbling a little in his excitement. "I can't even begin to thank you. You've been such an inspiration to me forever and-" Oh! Oh, shit. Face flooding with color, he lifted his hands to wave off the starstruck gibberish, and instead offered him his palm. "I-I'm Vi." He managed, "It's nice to see you in person."

@purposefully-lost

[thebroccolination]

THE EX-MORNING SERIES CONCEPT

By now I think many people have heard that KristSingto’s upcoming series is an original script that was written for them. What we also have confirmed is that it was written about them.

[source]

KRIST: This series was written by P'Backaof and directed by P'Lit where they created this script from the start deliberately for the two of us and they got information for the characters etc. from KristSingto directly. In the series, the name for P'Sing is Tamtawan, and my name is Phatapi. And Tamtawan Tamtawan and Phatapi are KristSingto themselves.

INTERVIEWER: Does that mean you play yourself?

KRIST: [laughing] Yes, we act as ourselves, so it's not difficult at all.

Today, Aof elaborated on his part on Twitter:

[source: @backaof]

[translation: @_beinglistener]

And Jojo added:

[source: @jojotichakorn]

[translation: @_beinglistener]

So, two gay men are the leading creative minds behind KristSingto’s comeback series. Time to study up on your KristSingto history, kids. \:D/

Long live sanctioned RPF. 🎉

[starlight---starbrights]

Undertale yellow flowey embroidery

This took about 40 hours, give or take a few

[unshackled-instinct]

@girlsfightingarena

It was not often that Iori would frequent a cat cafe, but here he was. He sat very close to the back to avoid so he could have some relative peace. Iori was also clad in a dark purple hoodie, with the hood pulled over his face to keep him relatively undercover. The last thing he wanted was unnecessary attention, particularly from nosy fans who would try to probe him for personal details. The paparazzi would also be a nuisance to deal with.

Speaking of unwanted attention, Iori was not one to interact with the other customers, naturally. Some of them were obviously trying to film themselves as much as they could for some social media clout, and Iori wouldn't want to be involved in such nonsense.

[icangiveyouanything]

Improved? Was that what he called this?

Though he did have a point. Shade had never known Russell to be the type to try and get back at people. Shade was used to thinking that way though and so it at least made more sense than all this other stuff he was saying.

"I simply never expected something like this from you..."

But there was a thread there, the more he thought about it. He'd viewed Russell as a bright example of a good person but no one was infallible and there was something familiar in what he was saying.

'I've got an opportunity to make sure I won't fail anyone again.'

Was this where Russell's guilt over being powerless to help people had led?

Shade would be lying if he said he hadn't had similar thoughts before... Imagined what it would be like to rule the world, to command people to do what he knew would be best for the longevity of both humanity and the planet. But that had never progressed past a daydream.

"Join you...? Russell, I... What would you even have me do?"

"No, Shade," Russell just said then, "This really isn't a joke. You know I'm really the sort for pranks or jokes."

He chuckled a little bit, in what seemed to be genuine amusement.

"And you know I'm not really the sort for revenge like that either," Russell added, "You know very well, Shade. You've done so for years. I've not become a stranger to you. I've just been improved."

There was just that small flutter of sadness in those blue eyes, like he felt hurt that Shade would believe such a thing.

"If you want to call it that, I won't stop you," Russell said, "But it is all for the greater good in the end, even if it might seem unthinkable at the moment. I have failed so many people before. My niece, Rook, Damien, Elijah, my brother, you... and so many others just because I didn't have the strength or courage or foresight to be there, and this makes up for those misgivings. I've got an opportunity to make sure I won't fail anyone again and help them not fail themselves, now that I've got the abilities."

There was a stirring feeling in his chest and he put a hand to it. The arbiter was speaking to him. While there weren't words, he knew their feelings, and what they tried to convey.

"You could join me, Shade."

[pastafossa]

Hi honey! How are you? How’s your mom doing? I hope she’s better now🥺💚

I’ve recently decided to learn how to book bind bc it’s a must to have my fav fanfics as actual books. I’m still learning and it’s probably gonna take a while before I get the results I want but I wanted to ask you if it was okay with you to book bind The Red Thread? Obviously it would be just for me, I would not sell it or make any profits. (And if it turns out how I want to, I would love to gift you one👀)

It’s one of my favourite fanfics of all time, like it’s a masterpiece and I would love to have a physical copy of it<3

And I know it’s not finished yet but it’d probably have to be a few volumes anyways bc it’s a lot so😅

She's doing ok! Progress is slow but it's definitely happening! She's graduated from at-home physical therapy to outpatient, which is a HUGE thing. We've gotten the house pretty well set up too now (chair lift for a section of stairs not covered before, new railing on the front steps), and between me, dad, and sis's various sleep schedules, we're all able to make sure she has someone nearby when she needs help getting around or opening things. I'm still in caretaker mode and trying to balance everything, but she's getting there, so I hold onto that! As for me, I'm doing... ok I think, considering how exhausting and brutal the past few months have been. I'm taking @shouldbestudying41 's advice and just trying to be kind to myself, and I'll admit my brain seriously needed the break. I continue to miss Cato something awful, but I've felt a little more settled since his ashes came home, and I think I'm starting to adjust to sleeping without him next to my pillow. I also got my follow-up today with my cardiologist on my heart issues and their answer was basically a shrug and a, 'we have no idea why your heart's doing this, but it's getting better every time we test you, so keep doing what you're doing!' Which could be worse. So... I'm getting there. Slow and steady!

And oh my gosh, you absolutely, ABSOLUTELY can bookbind TRT, thank you! 😭The idea anyone would love it enough to bookbind makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY! Hell, if I could sell copies at cost I would, but sadly that's a huge no no and all I can do legally is tell people, YES you can bookbind TRT for your shelf! I'm 100% supportive basically (also I would D I E if I got one, like no pressure at all cause D A Y U M it's a long thing to bind, and also just knowing it's out there on someone's shelf is more than I ever expected would happen so I'm delighted even if you just bind for you!).

TRT volumes one to ten maybe??? LOL. I know I had it planned as a series originally before I decided to just kinda keep it in one thing since we were all already there LOL.