#I don't feel good and am tired as hell

[narrators-journal]

persona 3 and 4

Narukami x Elizabeth x Margaret

Kinks: maledom, petplay, lipsticks marks, cock worship, deepthroat, rimming and Double paizuri and blowjobs

Hi is me again, i read the chaper 43 and this Idea came of narukami in his honeymoon with his new wife and pet and bringing along her sister and narukami's second pet Elizabeth. For the pets i think It would be Nice If both sister have a leashes tied around a dog collar with the written like "Margaret, property of yu narukami" likewise with Elizabeth.

I hope you are Alive and well of mental health good sir. Kudos for you♥️

I wanted to knock another one out tonight, so this might be a lil sloppy, but meh! I’m tired, and I’m hyper at the same time, sooooo, fuck it lol. Just take ur Naru-cum-i content and feast. Feast I say! As I go fucking nuts about the times I’ve written about this man’s nuts.

CW: light maledom, titfucking, teasing, dom/sub marriage dynamics, bjs, a bit o’ deepthroating, cockworship, I missed the rimming, FUCK.

“Okay, if you’re going to join in on the fun, I’ll need to walk you through some things that’ll help you succeed in making my new husband feel good.” Margaret said, a small smile on her freshly painted lips as she spoke. “Especially after our wedding.”

With that, she strolled over to the bed her new husband sat upon, pantless and nodding as the woman shared in his near complete undress. With only her satin panties and a thick leather collar that was embossed in her name and a tag that claimed her as Narukami’s pet while her long, wavy, snow-colored hair was pulled up in a bun to be out of the way.

It was all part of a sexy sort of ‘game’ they played, a delve into dominance and submission that permeated their entire relationship. Hence why Elizabeth stood with them on their honeymoon. Wearing her own set of fancy lace under things in a rich blue and a collar. Not with her name, just a collar so far, but she did have a leash that tied her to the leg of the bed they sat upon. “For instance,” Margaret hummed, her fingers suddenly under Narukami’s chin to turn his face to her and kiss him. Their tongues allowed to dance and fight for a moment while Elizabeth watched in her ordered silence. When Margaret did pull away though, she smiled at her lover, “Master, may I continue to use you as a tool to show my sister how to treat you?” She asked, her voice as sugary as ever to hide how bratty she seemed to feel. But, he still nodded, “Sure. Just don’t neglect me.” “Never, master.” she hummed.

With that, she got up and removed her bra smoothly. “Now, watch closely, Lizzy.” she said to her sister while she dropped between Narukami’s legs, a smile on her face as she lifted her chest squish Narukami’s erection between the mounds of soft skin. And, Narukami groaned quietly as his new wife continued to use him for her sister’s first lesson while her sister seemed to throw her ‘restrictions’ to the wind in favor of applying her own summoned lipstick ever so casually. “You’ll need to know how to use your body creatively, lizzy.” Margaret hummed, and, the shorter-haired attendant scowled a bit at her slight scolding tone while her sister simply began to move her breasts methodically around Narukami. “First, by taking your time. Humans are more complex than we gave them credit for, they like it when you tease them.” She explained, and as if to prove her point, Narukami groaned at the friction of lightly lubricated skin against skin. “Margaret, you do realize I’m not stupid, yes? I have had a wildcard, I have learned about humanity.” Elizabeth reminded, but her older sister laughed slightly, “Yes, but you lack in the sexual department. Ihave had plenty of experience with that, so I am trying to teach you a few tricks for when you spend time with us.” And, as they spoke, Narukami simply sat on the hotel bed, his elbows the only thing that kept him from collapsing onto the bed entirely while his wife slowly worked his cock like a pro. Neither of the married couple bothered to actually enforce Elizabeth’s silence, though. Narukami especially couldn’t find it in him to care while that fire in him was being so expertly fed into a proper bonfire.

Though, after a moment longer, she released the throbbing member, “Now, come over here and give it a try.” Margaret instructed, which got another annoyed look from her sister as she stood, but Elizabeth didn’t say anything about it as she took her place between the silver-haired wildcard’s legs before she discarded her lacey bra to free her smaller, but still plenty full breasts. And, using what remained of the lubricant from Margaret’s example, she sandwiched Narukami’s dick in warm, soft flesh and began to massage her breasts together.

The simple movements just enough to send a shiver through the man on the bed and feed the furnace of lust in his gut. “Good,” Margaret hummed to her sister, sat at the foot of the bed to stroke her new husband’s arm slightly as her sister began slowly using her breasts to stroke up and down his cock to get another low moan. Yet, once again, Margaret stopped the friction before it could get too high, “Now, pause with your boobs and try your mouth.”

Obediently, Elizabeth’s breasts released his cock so that, instead, her mouth could keep him warm while she sloppily bobbed her head and left rings of her lipstick along his shaft. “Slowly, Lizzy. The goal is to torment him, not get him off yet.” Margaret reminded, her sister only able to hum as a complaint, which made Narukami reach up to squeeze Margaret’s hand as he collapsed onto the bed at last with a gutteral moan. Which, earned a smile from his loving, torturous wife. “Actually, it might be time to stop for a bit. He seems close to orgasming, and that’d be no fun~” She sang, her playful tone a teasing sting to the silver-haired man.

Once again, Elizabeth listened to her older sister. Her bobbing and suction stopped in favor of her being moved to one side of Narukami’s legs so that the beautiful, wavy-haired sister could join her on the floor with Narukami’s cock proudly between them. “Plus!” she chirped, “I want to try something, and I need him to last through it.”

And, with that, she moved forward a bit to ever so slightly squish his dick with a bit of her breasts. “Lizzy, you do this too. I want to see if we both can tease him like this.” she instructed, so, with raised eyebrows and interest in her golden eyes, Elizabeth did as she was told for a third time. So, Narukami’s cock was surrounded on all sides by soft, warm skin. Completely at the mercy of the collar-clad sisters and their careful, slightly cautious movements.

Each tested brush of skin, or nudge of flesh against his shaft a new bolt of fuel to the fire in Narukami’s gut. However, each movement didn’t go so far as to stoke that fire too far, as the sisters seemed to bond over how much they enjoyed each of Narukami’s groans and moans as he fell deeper into a maddening sense of need. Proven by the turns they took to lick the tip of his twitching cock, or the break they took to add more blue-hued bands on his shaft in some form of a competition on who could take more of him. A competition that was won by Elizabeth, when she took him down to the base triumphantly, much to the praise of her older sister, and the whines of the wildcard.

He’d get no breaks tonight.

[firenati0n]

i have been writing words again (slowly!) after so long, and I am so happy because they are:

a) planned, and

b) not born from unimaginable grief and loss and pain, and

c) written in a state of joy and excitement!

It's a slower, steadier, more measured process. But that's not necessarily a bad thing!

chugging right along on my multichap! hoping to start posting in May, if i keep it up. 🥰 Will share words for wip wednesday after [redacted] months. feels strange! feels scary! but mostly, feels good! thanks for sticking around through my highs and lows over the past year. appreciate y'all!!

[july-19th-club]

i have no mouth and i must scream speech but for about insomnia hate hate hate let me tell you how much i have come to hate being awake

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[ozsvessalius]

like what even is the point of the adult timeline idgi being a thing. like yes it establishes even as middle aged adults they're still haunted by the wilderness & their consequences followed them but like. ????? that rly isn't given as much focus as it should be given. there's too much random other shit going on. there's too many outta nowhere things. esp w other survivors showing up just to fucking die one season later. none of the mysteries in the adult timeline feel worth it being there. the adult casting is Great, & i wish i could like it solely for that, but man. even when i start to like it, some decision is made that turns me right back off to it. :/

i stay for the teen timeline bc i rly feel like despite some minor, minor qualms, it's genuinely super well done & interesting. truly an incredibly gripping mystery that keeps me on the edge of my seat, & makes me gasp, but that i can easily follow bc all the beats Make Sense.

but bc of how good it is, im just like. man i rly wish Both timelines had that much care put into them instead of making me wonder why there's two timelines at all

[innielove]

i knew things were going way too smooth lately..

[justin-peudeau-reblog]

I would have loved Jesus in his enterity if he didn't bring the eternal suffering in Hell stuff into his story. It just feels soooo tyrannical and imposing. If it wasn't for that, unironically, I would have follow him way more easily.

[running-in-the-dark]

well I can already tell this is gonna be a bad night

today has just been fucking weird and hard. I'm in a bad mood. everything feels bad. (probably not helped by me not taking the new antidepressant last night so I wouldn't sleep all day)

the plan was for my friend to come over this weekend to help me pack. she did that last time and it helped a lot. (my husband could help, obviously, but he's in charge of other things that also need to get done. plus he's very bad at putting things into boxes.)

but the rail strike is still going on so it's likely that she won't be able to get here (or get back in time). so now that's suddenly a lot more stressful and the one thing that I thought would make it go okay is gone.

and I also have to like. at least reread my thesis a few times or whatever to study for the oral exam on Friday. which will make me want to die. because it is bad. so. that will be bad. and the thought of being asked questions about that piece of garbage for 30 fucking minutes is so horrifying that I genuinely do not know if I will be able to get through it without taking my Lorazepam beforehand (which I know is a horrible idea, and my psychiatrist told me twice that it's a bad idea, and I know it would just make me unbelievably stupid. but holy shit that is the scariest thing I can imagine.)

and of course instead of doing anything useful I'm now just sitting here feeling like shit (like last night, only worse)

[cryptojuice]

take this with a grain of extremely drunk but at this point I'm my journey? now? I'm like literally the idealest person in the world and I think everyone else has something wrong with them

[bambiraptorx]

sometimes i wish my brain had a fucking off switch

[anomiidae]

listen I could make this a literal essay but I won't. tl;dr: I don't get why people get so angry about the concepts of demons or monsters being nice. for starters, if you read mythology, demons are pretty fucking chill; it's not all about fucking with humans. plus it's so boring to see the same plot regurgitated in movies and whatnot about evil demons wanting to ruin humans lives or some crap like that.

[rachymarie]

I tend to put the BARE in bare minimum; in that i can BAREly handle to even reach that that some days

[le-guin]

FINALLY getting to watch ncuti's episodes of doctor who bc the friend i watch with finally has the time. Space babies was forgettable and fine and the best parts were getting to know 15 and ruby, i love that their dynamic feels very "two troublemakers seeking out shenanigans" it's refreshing and it's great so far, and the devil's chord was absolutely fantastic and maestro was a delight to watch

ending musical number was also a delight until my friend mentioned that he's not a big fan of musicals in tv shows which has me A LITTLE worried for when we watch buffy the vampire slayer next and inevitably get to their QUITE CRUCIAL musical episode

[astrxealis]

on a whim and in spite of my responsibilities i have started on making a whole 9 chapter self-indulgent fic for mr. grim reaper from the hit game 'a date with death'

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[mercvry-glow]

Want and need (18+)

parings. andrew "pope" cody x reader

summary. you're tired of pope's staring, so this time you give him something to do about it.

warnings. this is an 18+ fic so mdni, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, possessive!pope, age gap (pope is late 30s, reader is 25), typical animal kingdom stuff, mentions of drug addiction and drinking (but nothing in depth), pope and reader have wanted each other for a long time and all hell breaks loose, I am not responsible for what you read online, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I really don't even know what to say, this was really self indulgent but also a shit ton of people asked for this. this is my first time writing smut, so please go easy on me 😭 I love y'all tho and I hope this makes those who asked for this very happy and I'd be more than willing to try for other characters too. as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 4100+

You were young when you were taken into the Cody household. Barely ten or eleven, chasing the coattails of Baz, Pope, and Julia. They were older, reckless, and way more fun than Deran and Craig in your young mind. You were just a kid back then, all scraped knees and wide eyes, desperate to be seen, to be wanted. And they gave you that—chaotic, dangerous, and messy as it was.

Now, you were older. Maybe not in their eyes, not entirely. To them, you’d always be the kid who used to sneak beers from the cooler and fall asleep on the couch mid-party. But you’d grown. Twenty-five looked good on you. It felt even better.

With the kind of money Smurf funneled your way—whether out of guilt, habit, or because she saw something useful in you—you were living comfortably. Shopping trips in LA with Julia’s old taste still lingering in the back of your mind, a crisp white sports car that purred when you touched the gas, and a room in Smurf’s homethat came with a 12-foot deep pool and too much sunshine. It wasn’t just surviving anymore. You were lounging, tanning, sipping something cold, and living the dream—Cody style.

But even with all of it—the car, the clothes, the pool—you still found yourself looking for him.

Andrew.

He was the one who never really changed. Still guarded. Still intense. Still carrying every unspoken burden like it was strapped to his chest. And even after all these years, you hadn’t outgrown the way he made you feel—safe, seen, even when you didn’t want him to see everything.

Sometimes he’d come by, dropping something off for Smurf, checking on Craig or Deran through you, but his eyes always lingered a little longer when you were around. Not in a creepy way. Just… aware. Like he was always assessing, always measuring how close was too close.

But you weren’t a kid anymore.

And you were starting to wonder if he knew that too.

He was always too worried about Julia or Cath to notice the young girl that gravitated toward him more than his brothers—and that was okay, it had been okay. You weren’t supposed to be seen back then, just allowed to linger. And Pope, for all his walls and rough edges, let you. He never pushed you away, never told you to stop following him like a shadow. But he never really looked at you, either.

Then life changed—fast and hard.

Julia left, tearing a hole right through the Cody family like a storm no one saw coming. She vanished into the haze of addiction, baby in tow, and that was that. Cath and Baz fell into each other in the aftermath, and that burned too—more for Pope than he ever admitted out loud. And when Pope finally cracked under the pressure, when he went to jail after a job went bad, everything fractured. The center couldn’t hold.

Life moved on, and you along with it.

You learned not to wait for anyone. You learned how to handle yourself, how to use what the Codys gave you—protection, money, a name that opened doors and slammed others shut. You carved a place for yourself in the world they ruled. No one questioned why you were there anymore. You weren’t the kid tagging along.

You were a woman now.

And when Pope got out, when he came back into that sun-soaked chaos of a world you both knew too well, he noticed.

Really noticed.

Maybe it was the way you carried yourself now—confident, sharper, always watching like you used to—but from a different angle. Maybe it was the way you didn’t look at him like a lost, broken thing the way everyone else did. Or maybe it was just time. Maybe he finally realized you weren’t following anymore.

You were standing still. And he was the one stopping in his tracks.

"You gonna keep watching me like a creep or are you gonna come sit and talk with me?" you called out, not even turning your head, just lazily lifting your sunglasses as you lounged beside the pool.

Your bikini left little to the imagination—tiny, tied at the hips, glistening slightly from the coconut tanning oil that coated your sun-warmed skin. The scent mixed with the citrusy bite of the cocktail you’d been nursing for the past hour, the condensation from the glass dripping down your fingers as you swirled the straw.

You could feel his eyes on you before you even spoke. He always tried to be subtle, lurking in the doorway or leaning against the fence like he had any real reason to be there. But Pope was never good at hiding his intensity, not from you.

"No one else is here anyway," you added, voice lower this time, laced with something soft—an invitation, not a challenge.

You finally turned to look at him. He hadn’t moved yet, still standing a few feet away like he was weighing his options. Same old Pope. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like walking ten feet to a lounge chair might cost him something heavy. But there was something in his expression that wasn’t so guarded now. Something careful. Curious.

“You worried Smurf’s gonna pop out of the bushes or something?” you teased, tilting your head with a little smirk. “She doesn’t care what I do. You know that.”

He shifted his weight but didn’t answer right away, jaw flexing like he was grinding down words before they made it to his mouth. Then finally, he started walking—slow, measured, like he was still deciding if this was a mistake.

But he came anyway and sat right at your feet. 

"What's on your mind?" you asked, nudging him with your pedicured foot—painted a glossy shade of white that caught the sunlight just right. It was playful, meant to break through the stiff walls he always had up. You weren’t trying to push too hard. Just enough to remind him he didn’t have to sit there like a stone.

He didn’t flinch at the touch, just looked down at your foot resting lightly against his jean covered thigh, then back up at you with that unreadable expression he always wore. But there was something different in his eyes. Softer. Or maybe tired.

"Nothing," he muttered, eyes drifting to the water. "Just making sure you’re alright."

You rolled your eyes, “Of course I’m fine, you’re watching over me aren’t ya?”

He didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker of something passed through his eyes—something just shy of a smirk. You caught it, even if he tried to bury it again just as fast.

You leaned back against the lounge, arching your back just a little as you stretched out your legs, your toes still resting against his thigh. “You always do that, you know,” you said, your voice low and smooth, laced with something warm. “Watch me like you’re trying to memorize every move, but never saying a damn thing.”

Pope’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t deny it either.

“I used to wonder if it was guilt,” you went on, your eyes locked on him now, studying his face. “Me being around… all the time. If maybe, you thought I was just another thing you had to take care of.”

His gaze finally slid from the pool back to you—slower this time. Steady. That unreadable expression giving way to something heavier.

“It wasn’t guilt,” he said. Voice rough, low enough you almost didn’t hear it over the soft splash of water from the filter nearby.

Your lips curved slightly. “No?”

He shook his head once.

Your foot pressed a little firmer against his thigh, not teasing anymore—more like claiming space, letting him feel the weight of your presence. “Then what was it, Andrew?” you asked, letting his name linger in the air between you like the taste of the rum still on your lips. 

“Why do you still look at me like that?”

Silence stretched for a moment too long. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, and Pope never needed many. He was more action than speech. Always had been.

So you sat up slowly, cocktail forgotten now, your body turned toward him as you leaned forward just enough to let your fingers brush his wrist. His skin was warm. Tense. Alive under your touch.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” you said, softly now, like it was a secret between the two of you. “You can tell me things...”

His breath hitched—so slight, but you felt it. Saw it in the way his hand twitched under yours, like he was holding himself back with every ounce of control he had.

You leaned in a little closer, close enough that he could smell the sweet coconut clinging to your skin, the soft salt of pool water in your hair. “You can touch me now, Andrew,” you whispered, barely louder than the wind rustling through the palm trees overhead. “If you want to.”

His hand moved then, slow and unsure at first, like he was afraid you might vanish if he did. But you didn’t. You stayed right there, watching him, heart pounding in your chest as his calloused fingers brushed your thigh—just a whisper of contact, but it lit a fire low in your stomach.

And he looked at you like he didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“You sure?” he asked, voice hoarse, thick with restraint.

You nodded, smile turning sultry, sure. “Go ahead.”

And for the first time since you were a kid chasing his shadow, Pope Cody didn’t run.

The tension between you snapped like a live wire—sharp, charged, inevitable.

You shifted, slow and deliberate, rising just enough to swing one bronzed leg over his lap. His eyes followed the movement, hands clenched at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from grabbing you right then and there. But when you settled on top of him, thighs hugging his hips and your hands bracing against his chest, he didn’t move away. Didn’t even blink.

He just stared up at you, jaw tight, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling like he was caught between every wrong instinct he’d ever had—and the one that felt right.

You leaned in slowly, your lips just a breath away from his, fingers sliding up the sides of his neck, thumbs tracing his jaw. “Tell me to stop,” you whispered, though your tone dared him to.

He didn’t.

So you kissed him.

It started slow—soft, testing. But the second your mouth met his, the switch flipped. His hands gripped your hips like he’d been dying to touch you for years and finally stopped pretending he didn’t want to. You moved against him instinctively, gasping softly when he deepened the kiss, his mouth hungry and rough, like he was trying to swallow every second of the years he’d lost, every second he hadn’t let himself want this.

Your fingers twisted into his curls as you rocked against him, feeling him grow harder beneath you. His groan rumbled in his chest, low and feral, vibrating against your lips. He kissed like he fought—intensely, without hesitation, like nothing else mattered but this moment. But even now, even like this, his touch wasn’t careless.

One hand slid up your back, fingers splayed over your spine, grounding you. The other stayed planted at your waist, as if anchoring himself to you, needing you close but terrified of losing control. You could feel it in the way he held you—like he didn’t want to break you. Like part of him still saw that girl who followed him around, and the rest of him was warring with the woman now straddling him in the late afternoon sun.

You pulled back just slightly, lips swollen, eyes locked on his. “I’m not scared of you,” you breathed.

His eyes darkened. “Maybe you should be.”

You smiled. Slow. Wicked. “But I’m not.”

And then you kissed him again, deeper this time, letting your body press flush against his, the heat between you scorching, undeniable, and no longer something either of you could ignore.

A hand slipped under your bikini top, rough palm closing over one of your tits, you gasped into his mouth. His thumb brushed against your nipple, and the sharp jolt it sent through you had you rocking harder against him, your hands fisting in his shirt.

“Fuck—just take it off me,” you muttered against his lips, breathless, needy.

Pope didn’t hesitate. He tugged at the knot behind your neck, and the top came undone with a quick flick of his fingers. You didn’t even care where it landed—just felt the warm afternoon air on your bare skin and the heat of his gaze as he pulled back to look.

His eyes swept over you like a storm cloud rolling in—dark, intense, and full of want. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, voice strained as he leaned in, lips brushing the swell of your chest.

Your fingers threaded into his dark curls, nails gently scraping his scalp as he sucked a mark into your skin, his stubble rough against your soft flesh. You moaned low in your throat, head falling back as he worshiped you with his mouth, biting, licking, claiming.

“You’ve always been mine,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

You looked down at him, your body flushed and burning, heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. “Say it again,” you whispered, grinding down against the bulge in his jeans.

And in the next second, he surged up, one arm wrapping around your waist as he stood, lifting you with him like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around him instinctively, breath catching as his mouth returned to yours—urgent and possessive. He didn’t say another word as he carried you inside, but his kiss said everything. Every step was heavy with purpose. Like he’d finally given in to what he’d been fighting for years.

He pushed the sliding door open with his foot, barely breaking stride as he carried you inside, your bare chest pressed to him, his lips never straying far from yours. The house was quiet, golden sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors as you clung to him, your fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin.

By the time he made it to your bedroom, the tension had hit a fever pitch. He laid you down on the edge of the bed, standing between your thighs, eyes sweeping over your half-naked body like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or ruin you.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, heart thudding, watching the way his hands shook slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. The way his chest rose and fell, same as your own, like he was holding back something dangerous.

"You look like you're about to bust," you said with a teasing smirk, voice low and breathy.

“I am,” he said simply, stepping closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs brushing the edges of your bikini bottoms. “You’re driving me insane.”

“Then lose the rest,” you whispered, voice nearly a dare.

He hooked his fingers under the ties, and with one smooth tug, the last piece of fabric between you was gone. You leaned back slowly, watching his eyes drag over every inch of you, hunger and restraint warring in his expression.

Then he was back on you, like wet on water.

Mouth on yours again, harder this time, kissing you like he was drowning and you were air. His hands roamed everywhere—your waist, your hips, the inside of your thighs—like he couldn’t touch enough fast enough. And you didn’t want him to stop. You wrapped your legs around his slim waist, pulling him closer, grinding against his buldge pressed between you. He was rock hard. 

Every kiss, every touch felt like years in the making—pent-up tension finally snapping in the heat of that bedroom. You moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his back as he pushed you further onto the bed, hovering over you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“Fuck—tell me you want this,” he growled against your neck, voice ragged.

“I’ve always wanted this,” you breathed, eyes locked on his. “I’ve always wanted you.”

He crashed his mouth against yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation—just raw need, years of it unraveling all at once. His weight pressed you into the mattress, solid and grounding, as if he was trying to make sure this was real. 

That you were real. 

That after all the years of watching, waiting, denying, he could finally touch you the way he’d needed to.

Your hands were everywhere—his back, his chest, tugging at the waistband of his jeans with trembling fingers until he groaned against your skin. “Jesus, kid,” he muttered, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank them off with a rough urgency, kicking them away as he settled between your legs again.

You arched up into him, your body already aching, your thighs spreading to welcome him as he hovered over you. There was a flicker of hesitation—his eyes searching yours, his thumb brushing your cheek in a moment of quiet, reverent pause.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low and gruff, but laced with something almost tender.

You reached up, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you pulled him back down to you. “Fuck me,”

That was all he needed.

He tugged on his cock a few times before sliding into you slowly, carefully, and your head fell back with a soft cry—his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. He filled you completely, a delicious stretch that had your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist.

He didn’t move right away—just held himself there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, like he was memorizing every second. “You feel like… fuck,” he whispered. “You were made for me.”

And then he started to move.

Slow, deep thrusts that left you gasping, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your chest, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising intensity, pulling you closer every time he drove into you.

“You’ve always been mine,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your ear. 

Your heart twisted, heat building, rising between you in waves. You met every thrust, your bodies moving in sync like they were meant to be tangled like this. And as his pace quickened, rougher now, needier, you clung to him—your body trembling, your voice breaking as the edge drew closer.

“Pope—” you gasped, barely able to get his name out before it hit you. A rush of heat, pleasure, everything blurring as your back arched as you came, orgasm tearing through you, raw and electric.

He wasn’t far behind—groaning into your neck, his rhythm faltering, then stilling as he found his own release, his entire body shuddering above you.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breath and the faint rustle of sheets. Pope didn’t move for a while—just rested there, head buried against your shoulder, arms still wrapped around you like letting go might shatter the moment. When he finally looked at you again, something had shifted. There was no going back.

His grip on your waist tightened as he thrust deeper again, rougher now—no more holding back. His mouth was at your throat, breathing you in like he needed your scent to stay sane, his teeth grazing your skin as he growled, “You don’t know how long I’ve fucking waited for this.”

You moaned, your fingers tangled in his hair as you clung to him, legs locked tight around his hips once again. “Fuck-ddon’t stop,” you whispered. “Show me.”

That snapped something loose in him.

“You want me to show you?” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “You think I can be gentle with you now? After all these years, watching you walk around in those little shorts, laughing like you didn’t know what you were doing to me?”

His hand slid up your body, wrapping lightly around your throat, thumb resting on your jaw as he looked down at you, eyes blazing. “This body’s mine now. Say it.”

Your lips parted, breath hitched, your voice shaky, “It’s yours- fuck! All yours,”

“Damn right it is,” he grunted, thrusting into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, his other hand gripping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist. “You’ve always been mine, I knew I’d take you like this.”

You cried out, body burning under his every touch, the filth of his words twisting deliciously in your stomach.

“You like that?” he growled against your ear, biting your lobe before sucking it. “You like me talkin’ to you like this? Fuckin’ you like you were made for it?”

“Y-Yes—God, yes—Pope,” you gasped, head swimming as he hit deeper, angling his hips just right to make your toes curl.

“I don’t want anyone else lookin’ at you like this,” he snarled. “No more showing off at that pool like you’re just some pretty slut.”

“Wh-why? You jealous?” you teased, barely able to keep your voice steady as your back arched into him.

He bit down on your shoulder—not enough to break skin, just to mark you. “I own you.”

With that, he flipped you onto your stomach in one rough motion, dragging your hips back until you were up on your knees, face pressed into the sheets. You gasped, the new angle hitting something brutal, perfect, as he thrust back in with a groan.

“This is mine,” he growled, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip so hard you knew it’d bruise. “You’re mine.”

The way he said it—like a promise, like a warning—you believed every word.

“Fuck- I get it—Oh my god!” you gasped as he tugged on your hair, hips barely able to meet his harsh pace. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans out, bucking even harder as he fucks you with intent. You pant, eyes fluttering as he continues his brutal rhythm that’s hard enough to shake the bed frame. 

You’re not even in your own body anymore, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. The once lavender scent of your room, now replaced with sex and what lingured of Pope’s cologne. 

He slides a hand down between the two of you, thick fingers catching on your clit as he rubs in tight circles bringing you closer to your next orgasm. 

“I- fuck Andrew… I’m- I can’t!” you moan into the bed, fists wrapped in the sheets like your grip will somehow alleviate the growing feeling in your stomach. 

“Cum for me baby, I want to feel you.” he head dips to your shoulder blades, kissing down your back as he eases you to the brink once again. 

It’s a white hot feeling as it rips through you, but Pope doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, pulling back just enough only to slam back into you one last time. 

He tenses, body stiff as he gives you a few more sloppy thrusts as he cums inside you—thick, hot, and everything you want as he pulls and lays beside you taking a few deep breaths. 

You can feel him dripping out of you, but you don’t care. Too spent, you take your time before turning to look at him. Pope’s curls are a mess, though you’re sure your own hair isn’t much better. 

It’s silent for a while.

 you’re cuddled up to him, tracing little shapes on his chest with his arm thrown around you. It keeps you close to him, like maybe you’ll disappear if he’s not touching you in some way. 

“Why’d you let me do that?” His voice is soft and gravely, but genuine all the same. 

“Believe it or not, I’ve wanted you to do that forever…” you give him a small smile, still tracing your little shapes into his freckled skin. 

He sighs, something deep and heavy laced in it. “I’m not good for you,” he mutters. 

“I think I can decide that for myself,” you shift your head to look up at him, deep hazel eyes meeting your own. 

His lips capture yours in a kiss, something softer than earlier but the meaning is still the same. 

You're his, and honestly you don’t really mind it. 

mercvry-glow 2025