#ITS NOT JUST YOUR JOB THEY WANT TO TAKE. ITS YOUR SPIRIT TOO.

[raspberryjellybrains]

thought about AI generated work too long and now I'm mad

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines

[horce-divorce]

It's wild watching someone who used to be self aware (or at least, who didn't want to be like their parents) become entitled to things like avoidance. And children. Often simultaneously

[yamujiburo]

Ketchum vs. Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

Woo! Finale time! I wanted to make this final battle feel special and give it more substance than I could do with just a comic. So! I got the help of @cyberwulf to write out this ending in fanfic form! Check it out here on AO3 if you prefer! If not, the journey continues below the cut~

prev / END

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / [X]

James Sidestory / Meowth Sidestory

A lot has happened since our Poké Moms began their journey. After a rocky start…

“*SQUAWK*”

…they’ve managed to catch some new Pokémon…

“Run! Run! Run!”

…in their own way.

“What a cute baby! You know, I have a son, too!”

With their month on the road almost up, Delia had just one more thing she wanted to do…

“I want to beat the Cerulean City Gym!”

But little did Delia know, there was a surprise waiting for her in Cerulean City!

“MOM??? JESSIE???”

“Let’s have a double battle! You and Ash versus Jessie and I!”

“You’re on! But I’m not going easy on you just cuz you’re family!”

“…What’s going on?”

Poké Mom Adventures

EP009

Ketchum vs Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

The water of the Cerulean gym battlefield glistened in the sunshine streaming through its crystal glass roof. Both teams gazed at each other with steely determination (and some lingering confusion, in Misty’s case) as above them, the Drone Rotom announced the rules.

“This will be a double battle between Gym Leader Misty and Champion Ash, and the challengers Delia and Jessie.” It projected a holographic image of both teams. “For today’s battle, each trainer may use two Pokémon. The battle is over when all of one team’s Pokémon can no longer battle.”

“All right!” Misty declared. “This is an official League battle for the Cascade badge!”

“And bragging rights!” Jessie added with a smirk.

“We’ll see about that!” Ash retorted. Misty glanced at him, taking in his clenched fists and gritted teeth. She’d seen Ash determined before, but… there was something here that she was missing. However, with the Drone Rotom hovering expectantly overhead, finding out what that something was would have to wait.

“Come out – Corsola!”

The Coral Pokémon landed on the rock in front of her, eagerly crying its name.

“This is a water-themed gym, so I’ll go with a Water-Type,” Ash remarked. “Oshawott, I choose you!”

“That’s the spirit, Ash!” Misty exclaimed. “It’s the job of a Gym Leader to help trainers learn type advantage and weaknesses by specialising in one kind of Pokémon, and around here that’s Water-Types!”

“Water, huh?” Jessie frowned as she considered the three Pokémon she had on hand. “Well, I don’t want my delicate little Ziggy to get her fur wet.” With a flourish, she tossed a Pokéball high in the air. “Go, Venomoth!”

The Poison Moth Pokémon emerged, hovering over the water.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any Grass or Electric-types,” Delia mused. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best with what we have.” Pushing her bangs out of her face, she called, “I choose you!”

Ash and Misty’s jaws dropped as the light from Delia’s Pokéball coalesced into a very large, very stern-looking Kangaskhan.

“I didn’t know your mom had such a strong Pokémon,” Misty whispered.

“Neither did I,” Ash whispered back. Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked down at his starter Pokémon. “Something wrong, Pikachu?”

“Pika…”

Pikachu gazed across the water at Kangaskhan, ears and tail up, alert to… something. But before anyone could figure out what had caught his attention, there was a small cry.

“Kangaskhan!”

The baby squirmed, spooked by the glistening water lapping all around the rock. She buried her face in her mother’s belly and cried again. Cradling her young protectively, Kangaskhan gave Delia an apologetic look.

“Oh, of course!” Delia exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. Kangaskhan, return.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called across the battlefield. “That doesn’t count as one of my Pokémon, does it?”

“Of course not, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty shouted back. “Please choose another Pokémon!”

“If she’s got one,” Ash said with a confident smirk. “I’m betting she’ll send out Mimey.”

“I choose you… Clefairy!”

“Looks like you bet wrong, Ash,” Misty laughed as Ash stared in surprise at the Fairy Pokémon.

Above them, the Drone Rotom moved into position.

“Begin!”

“All right, Oshawott!” Ash called out. “Open up with an Aqua Jet!”

With a determined cry, Oshawott blasted a jet of water across the field, hitting Clefairy square in the belly and knocking the Fairy Pokémon off the rock and into the water.

“Ash Ketchum!” Delia exclaimed reproachfully. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Thrown off-guard, Ash gulped. “S-sorry!” (Oh man - I can’t believe I’m actually battling my mom!)

On the opposite side of the battlefield, a wet and bedraggled Clefairy clambered back up on the rock ridge, scowling at her attacker.

“Shake it off, Clefairy!” Delia urged as her Pokémon did just that, sending a fine shower of water droplets flying from her pink fur. “Use Disarming Voice!”

With a deep breath, Clefairy shot a vortex of pink hearts towards Oshawott, taking the Sea Otter Pokémon by surprise and knocking him into the water.

“Good work, Deerling!” Jessie shouted triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn!” She pointed at Corsola. “Venomoth, use Poison Sting!”

Venomoth hovered uncertainly for a few moments, then looked back at her.

“It doesn’t look like Venomoth knows that move, honey,” Delia remarked.

“Well, Dustox knew that move!” Jessie protested. “Venomoth should know it too, aren’t they both Bug-types?”

Venomoth just blinked at her.

“You really don’t know what moves your Pokémon knows?” Misty asked incredulously.

“Of course I do, just – just let me think!” Jessie spluttered, clenching her fists. “All right, Venomoth – use Gust!”

Venomoth didn’t move.

“Whirlwind!” Jessie tried. “Psybeam! …Tackle?”

Venomoth looked back and forth between Jessie and the battlefield as it fluttered about agitatedly, utterly confused by the barrage of unfamiliar orders.

“This is just sad,” Misty muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Ash. Raising her voice, she called out, “Corsola! Use Spike Cannon!”

Corsola glowed, and a split second later a shower of glowing white spikes slammed into Venomoth, driving it backwards towards the trainer box.

“Oh, no!” Delia groaned in dismay, wringing her hands. “Maybe we should’ve practiced with our new Pokémon before coming here!”

“We’re not giving up!” Jessie snarled, clenching her fists. “Venomoth! Get back out there!”

With a trill, Venomoth shook off the spikes, and floated towards its opponents again.

“Corsola!” Misty called. “Hit it with another Spike Cannon!”

Corsola began to glow.

“Well don’t just hover there!” Jessie barked out. “It’s about to attack again!” Venomoth looked back at her, and Jessie gestured angrily towards the battlefield. “Just do something! Anything!”

Once more, glowing white spikes shot towards Venomoth. This time, however, Venomoth dove towards the attack, sweeping its wings in front of itself at the last minute. Blue blades of light cut through the barrage of spikes, one hitting Corsola and driving it back.

“That’s Air Slash!” Ash exclaimed.

“Air Slash, eh?” Jessie shot her opponents a triumphant smirk. “Venomoth! Use Air Slash on that pitiful pink Pokémon again!”

“Hang in there, Corsola!” Misty called as her Pokémon was driven back for a second time. “Use Recover!”

“Don’t let it recover, Venomoth!” Jessie yelled. “Air Slash again!”

As her Pokémon geared up for another attack, she noticed Delia gazing at her in rapture.

“You’re so ferocious when you battle, Smoochum,” Delia remarked dreamily. She lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”

Jessie blushed and giggled. “Baaabe, not in front of the twerps.”

Misty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “…Smoochum?”

“Freak out later, Misty!” Ash yelled. Venomoth was bearing down on Corsola, and the Coral Pokémon didn’t have much left. “Oshawott! Use Hydro Pump on Venomoth to protect Corsola!”

Leaping high into the air, Oshawott sent a powerful jet of water directly at Jessie’s Venomoth. With a cry, the Poison Moth hit the floor between Jessie and Delia, bounced once, and fainted.

“Hey, no fair!” Jessie bellowed, stamping her foot. “I was distracted!” She recalled Venomoth with a scowl. “I ought to ground you for making me look bad!”

“This is really weird,” Misty mumbled.

“You have no idea,” Ash sighed wearily.

“All right, you big blue blob,” Jessie growled to her faithful Patient Pokémon, “get out there and let’s win this thing!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet waddled forward, straight into the water. Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as Wobbuffet awkwardly clambered up onto the protruding rock.

“Wobbles can’t attack unless he’s attacked first,” Delia murmured to herself. “Oshawott is strong, and Corsola can use Recover to gain back health. That means I’ve got to make this next move count!” She looked to Clefairy, wet and winded but not out of the battle. It was risky, but…

“Clefairy! Use Metronome!”

“Metronome?!” Misty exclaimed as Clefairy began to move her fingers hypnotically back and forth. “Now anything can happen!”

“Hold tight, everybody!” Ash called, just as the Fairy Pokémon’s fingers turned white.

Razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air, striking Oshawott and Corsola. The Grass-Type move was too much for the dual Rock/Water Type, and Corsola collapsed into the water, fainted. Oshawott was driven back against the rock ridge, and Ash held his breath, but the Drone Rotom only counted Corsola out.

“Oshawott! You hanging in there, buddy?”

With a grimace, the Sea Otter Pokémon gave him a determined nod. “Osha!”

“Ha!” Jessie cried triumphantly. “Now we’re even!” She clenched her fists, calling tauntingly across the battlefield. “Who’s next, twerpette? Togepi? Psyduck?”

“She sure is cocky for being down to just Wobbuffet,” Ash muttered.

“Not for long,” Misty replied with a smirk. She plucked her second Pokéball from her hip.

“Go – Gyarados!”

Delia’s eyes widened and Jessie took several steps back as the gigantic Pokémon appeared in the water. It glowered down at both trainers, making Delia swallow hard.

(Now’s not the time to lose my nerve! Gyarados is just a Pokémon like any other. All I have to do is-)

“Hey!” Jessie exclaimed angrily. “No fair using such a powerful Pokémon! What, are Staryu and Starmie at the Pokémon Centre or something?!”

Taken aback, Misty gaped at the former Team Rocket member in disbelief. “Since when do you care about playing fair?”

“Since you decided to use that monstrosity on a first-time trainer!” Jessie retorted with a shake of her fist. “That’s cheating!”

Misty paused, almost second-guessing her choice of Pokémon, when she remembered who she was dealing with. Squaring her shoulders, she shot back, “You’re not a first-time trainer!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ash muttered.

“I heard that!” Jessie bawled.

“It’s okay, honey,” Delia murmured, placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We can beat them. We just need to use strategy!”

“Gyarados!” Misty called out. Jessie may not have been the best trainer, and her track record with him was hit or miss, but Wobbuffet could reflect almost any attack. It might just have been luck, but Clefairy’s Metronome had taken out Corsola and left Oshawott just barely hanging on. There was only one choice of target.

“Use Hurricane on Clefairy, now!”

Rearing back, Gyarados shot a powerful blast of air directly at the Fairy Pokémon, sending her flying back to the trainer box.

“Oh no!” Delia cried. She knelt by her stricken Pokémon’s side, but it was obvious even without Drone Rotom saying so that Clefairy couldn’t continue. “You did a wonderful job, Clefairy.” Recalling her Pokémon, she rose, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, and called her second Pokémon.

“Mimey, I choose you!”

Ash clenched his fists. No more surprises – he knew what Mimey was capable of. Oshawott was tough, but he’d taken a lot of damage. If the Sea Otter Pokémon only had one move left, then Ash had to make it count.

“Oshawott! Hit Mimey with Aqua Jet!”

“Mimey, dodge it!” Delia cried out.

The Barrier Pokémon leapt high in the air, leaving Ash to watch, powerless, as Aqua Jet splashed harmlessly on the ground between his mother and Jessie. But before he could call out another attack –

“Now, Mimey, Focus Punch on Oshawott!”

There was no time for Oshawott to get out of the way. Mimey dove straight down, fist outstretched, and scored a direct hit. Both Pokémon vanished underwater. All four trainers held their breath. After a few seconds, Mimey burst out of the water, effortlessly leaping onto the rock. A moment later Oshawott floated to the surface, fainted.

“Good work, Oshawott,” Ash murmured as he recalled his Pokémon. He turned to Pikachu. “Looks like my mom’s a tougher trainer than I thought. You ready, Pikachu?”

The yellow mouse nodded, one tiny fist raised. “Pika!”

“You be nice to us now, Pikachu!” Delia cheered brightly.

Jessie was less optimistic.

“Babe, this isn’t looking good,” she murmured urgently. “I’ve been beaten by that Pikachu a zillion times! And that Gyarados looks strong. And mean! I don’t know if…”

She trailed off as the other woman took her hands.

“Now you listen to me, Jessie Ketchum.” Delia gazed into her eyes, a look of fierce determination on her face. “A zillion battles. A zillion losses. Against that very Pikachu. And you never gave up. So you’re not gonna give up now! Okay?”

Jessie stared back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Delia’s fingers were warm on her own as her words of encouragement hung in the air.

“Jessie… Ketchum?”

With the briefest of nods, Delia turned to face their opponents.

“Ash honey, don’t you hold back just because I’m your mom!” she called. “We’re going to give it our all, even if we lose!”

“She’s a lot like you, Ash,” Misty laughed. As Ash tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his blush, she raised her voice and called to the challengers. “You’re doing great, Ms. Ketchum! I’m really impressed by your abilities as a trainer. Now show me you’re worthy of the Cascade badge!”

“Hey!” Jessie yelled indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?! My Venomoth pushed your Corsola to the brink!”

Misty grimaced. This was all still too strange – Jessie was a good guy? Jessie and Ash’s mom were… partners? She struggled for something positive to say about Jessie’s performance so far.

“Uh – yeah!” she managed. “It was, uh, really great how you figured out that one move.”

Jessie put her hands on her hips. “Ugh, could you sound any more insincere?!”

With a growl of impatience, Ash cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the battlefield. “Hey! Are we gonna battle or what?”

“Oh, we’re battling, twerp,” Jessie shot back. “And we’re gonna win!”

Ash grinned. “You ready, Pikachu?” The yellow Pokémon turned to look at his trainer. Ash pointed. “Quick attack!”

“Ha!” Jessie scoffed as Pikachu zigzagged along the rock ridge. “Wobbuffet, use Counter!”

Pikachu leaped forward…

“On Mimey!”

Delia and Jessie gasped as Pikachu pivoted and went straight for the Barrier Pokémon. Taken by surprise, he took the full brunt of the attack, losing his balance and hitting the water.

“A fake out!” Delia exclaimed. She beamed at her son with pride. “That was so smart of you, honey! You had us completely fooled!”

“Baaabe!” Jessie hissed. “I get that you care about him – I do too – but right now he’s the enemy!”

Delia tapped her fist against her head, grinning nervously. “Oh, right!”

“This is hurting my brain,” Misty groaned.

“How do you think I feel?” Ash grumbled.

Delia took a moment to centre herself and assess the situation. Pikachu didn’t have a Type advantage, but his Electric attacks were powerful – not to mention that Mimey was still wet. Of course, using them ran the risk of electrifying the entire battlefield, including Gyarados, but only one Pokémon needed to be left standing in order for that Pokémon’s team to win.

“Mimey!” she commanded. “Use Psychic on Pikachu!”

“Mr Mime!”

Mimey fixed Pikachu with an intense stare, his eyes and hands glowing blue. Blue light enveloped the yellow mouse as he was lifted into the air. Pikachu strained and struggled, but couldn’t break free.

Ash groaned in exasperation.

“Misty, go for Mimey!” he called. “If you weaken him, maybe Pikachu can break free. Plus, he’s a lot stronger than Wobbuffet!”

Misty nodded. “Right!”

“Hey!” Jessie objected. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it!” She shook her fist at them. “I raised you better than that, Ash Ketchum!”

“Wha – ” Ash took a step back, flabbergasted. “You didn’t raise me at all!”

“The heck I didn’t!” Jessie retorted. “Who kept an eye on you while you twerped your way through eight regions, huh?!”

Misty rubbed her temples. The whole situation was giving her a headache.

“Gyarados!”

The Atrocious Pokémon stirred itself and looked her way.

“Use Crunch on Mr. Mime, now!”

“Oh no, not Crunch!” Delia fretted, as Gyarados reared back, a sinister purple aura swirling around its fangs. “That’s a Dark-Type move!”

“Wobbuffet!” Jessie barked. “Get between Mimey and Gyarados and use Counter!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet leaped in front of Mimey, his body outlined in orange light. Crunch hit, hard, and bounced back twice as hard. Both Gyarados and Wobbuffet recoiled from the damage.

“Wobbles!” Delia cried out, as Mimey caught Wobbuffet in his arms.

“Don’t you quit on me now, Wobbuffet!” Jessie shouted.

Wobbuffet saluted weakly as Mimey pushed him back onto his paws. The distraction worked, and Pikachu dropped back to the rock, freed from Psychic.

“Keep the pressure on, Pikachu!” Ash yelled. “Use Iron Tail on Mimey, now!”

“Quick, Mimey!” Delia shouted as Pikachu somersaulted through the air, tail glowing white. “Use Reflect!”

Pikachu hit the invisible barrier and flew backwards, landing in the water.

“Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “Use Crunch again!”

“Mimey, keep using Reflect!” Delia shouted. “Don’t let them in!” She had to think. Poor Wobbles, he didn’t have much left – one more shot from that big Gyarados and that would be it. Not to mention that if Crunch hit Mimey, the battle would be over! She’d completely forgotten Gyarados could learn that move! Oh, maybe she should’ve used Zaggy instead…

Mimey obediently continued to use Reflect as Gyarados and Pikachu attacked from either side. Slowly the invisible barriers began to box them in, till Mimey and Wobbuffet were crowded together on the rock.

“Babe!” Jessie urged. “We have to do something or we’re gonna lose!”

“I know!” Delia groaned. “I just…” She cupped her face in her hands, pulling down on her cheeks. “…I don’t know!”

“Ms Ketchum!”

Delia lifted her head.

“You can’t let us back you into a corner!” Misty called. “Use your environment to find a way out!”

Ash shot her a glare. “Hey, whose side are you on?!”

“It’s my job as a Gym leader to help trainers to learn,” Misty explained with a smile. “Did you forget?”

“You didn’t help me when I battled you for the first time!” Ash replied indignantly, poking his thumb into his chest.

Misty glowered at him.

“That’s because you still owed me a new bike, Ash Ketchum!”

“Aaagh!” Ash placed both hands on his head, tugging his hat down. “Can’t you let that go already? It got repaired, didn’t it?”

While their opponents bickered, Delia had taken Misty’s words to heart.

“Use the environment…” she mused. There was only one place Mimey and Wobbles could go – but first they had to do something about the double attacks coming their way.

“Jessie!” she hissed, beckoning her partner to come closer. “Can you have Wobbles use Counter?”

Jessie looked at Wobbuffet, sweating nervously as he stood behind Mimey. She nodded.

“Okay,” Delia replied. She whispered quickly in the other woman’s ear. Jessie grinned, then straightened up.

“Wobbuffet! Use Counter on both those attacks!”

Without any hesitation, Wobbuffet moved in front of Mimey, body once more enveloped in an orange glow. Crunch and Iron Tail came back double on Gyarados and Pikachu, sending the two flying backwards. Both Pokémon landed hard on the rock, Gyarados almost wrapping around it with the force of the blow.

“On your feet, Pikachu!” Ash called. “It’s not over yet! …Huh?”

He blinked at the empty battlefield. Mimey and Wobbuffet had both disappeared. Ash tensed as he scoured the water for any sign of the enemy Pokémon, but the surface was still settling from the last bout of attacks. The sunlight streaming through the roof didn’t help either – it made the rippling water glitter.

Misty spotted movement a second too late.

“Look out-”

In tandem, Mimey and Wobbuffet burst through the surface, taking up positions either side of Gyarados and Pikachu, trapping their opponents between them.

“Good work, you two!” Delia cheered. She pointed dramatically. “Now, Mimey – use Psychic on both of them!”

Once more, Mimey’s eyes and hands glowed. Both Gyarados and Pikachu rose into the air, enveloped in blue light.

“Great strategy, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty called, earning a dirty look from Ash which she ignored. “There’s no point going for Wobbuffet – he’ll just Counter our attacks again.”

“Right,” Ash agreed. “We’ve gotta take out Mimey!” He raised his voice. “Pikachu!”

Misty did likewise. “Gyarados!”

Delia grinned. “Just as I thought.” She looked at her partner. “Get ready with Mirror Coat!”

Jessie blinked in confusion. “…Huh?”

“Thunderbolt –”

“Hydro Pump –”

“On Mimey!” both young trainers yelled in unison.

“Mimey!” Delia called, just as both Pokémon charged their attacks. “Drop them, use Light Screen and aim at Wobbles!”

“Aim at WHO?!” Jessie exclaimed.

There was no time to explain. Everything turned on a split second. Pikachu and Gyarados began to fall through the air. Several volts of electricity and a powerful torrent of water hit Mimey’s Light Screen and barrelled towards Wobbuffet.

The diabolical beauty of Delia’s devious plan suddenly caught up with Jessie. That pair of pathetic Pokémon were in for a –

“Now, honey!”

Jessie almost fumbled the command.

“M-Mirror Coat!”

Wobbuffet glowed, shrouded in a reflective aura. Everything seemed to slow down. The attacks hit. They bounced back at Mimey. Pikachu and Gyarados fell. Ash’s mouth opened in a silent noooo.

The timing was perfect.

Gyarados and Pikachu fell in front of Mimey, taking the full brunt of Thunderbolt and Hydro Pump, doubled by Mirror Coat. The sheer force of the attacks drove them along the surface of the water, causing huge plumes of water to rise into the air either side of them. The battlefield disappeared in a shroud of surf and spray.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried out.

All four trainers held their breath as the mist began to clear.

Jessie cried out in dismay on seeing Wobbuffet floating belly-up in the water. Ash groaned on spotting Pikachu doing likewise. Draped over the rock, Gyarados lifted its head weakly, then dropped it again.

Delia scanned the water, a smile spreading across her face as Mimey swam to the rock and clambered up, standing tall with a cry of, “Mr. Mime!”

“Wobbuffet, Pikachu, and Gyarados are unable to battle,” the Drone Rotom declared, as Ash sank to his knees. “The winners are the challengers, Delia and Jessie!”

“I… I can’t believe this…” Ash moaned.

“We…” Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the battlefield, Drone Rotom’s words ringing in her ears. “…we won?” She looked to Delia, and the joyful look on her face confirmed it. “We WON!!!”

Delia shrieked as Jessie caught hold of her and lifted her high in the air, doing a twirl before setting her back on her feet and peppering her face with kisses. “Hahahaha!” She turned to their opponents, pulling down on one eyelid while sticking her tongue out. “Suck it, twe – I mean, Ash and Misty! I knew this day would come sooner or later!”

“Jessica, I know you’re happy, but don’t be a bad winner,” Delia chided gently. “Magnanimity in victory goes a long way.”

“But baaaabe!” Jessie whined. “I’ve never had a victory this magnificent before!”

Delia just smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I think poor Wobbles wants you,” she remarked, nodding to the battlefield. “We’ll need to get him to a Pokémon Centre with Venomoth and Clefairy.”

Jessie nodded and went to haul Wobbuffet out of the water.

“Come on, you,” she grunted as she dragged the Patient Pokémon back onto dry land. Briefly she removed her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. Fine, so she couldn’t taunt the twerps any more. Victory still tasted pretty sweet.

In her arms, Wobbuffet stirred and smiled weakly up at her. Jessie couldn’t help but smile back.

“How about that?” she murmured to him. “You’re a winner, Wobbuffet. I bet you can’t wait to tell the others.”

He managed a salute and a quiet “Wobba…” before Jessie recalled him to his Pokéball.

Ash, meanwhile, remained on his knees in the trainer box. “I can’t believe we lost to my mom.”

“You gotta admit, that last strategy was a thing of beauty,” Misty replied with a smile. She’d made her way out to the rock and was cradling Gyarados’s head, absently rubbing its crest. The big Pokémon opened its eyes and let out a quiet rumble. “I guess now we know where you get your battling skills from, champ!”

Stepping out of her sneakers, Delia carefully negotiated the slippery rock and fished Pikachu out of the water. A couple of vigorous rubs from his head to his tail, and the Electric Mouse Pokémon opened his eyes.

“You were great, Pikachu,” Delia murmured. She tickled him under his chin, getting a weak “Chaaa” in response. She made her way back to the side of the battlefield to find Ash, Misty and Jessie waiting. “You were great too, honey.”

Ash managed a smile as she handed Pikachu to him. “Thanks, Mom.” He gasped as he was pulled into a hug.

“That was such a fun battle!” Delia exclaimed. She loosened her hold just enough to look at him. “I can see why you like this so much.”

“Watch out, Ash,” Misty teased. “You might just have a new rival on your hands!”

Ash let out a distressed yelp.

“Oh no, I don’t have time for that,” Delia assured him with a wave of her hand. As Ash sighed with relief, she cupped his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “But travelling around this past month and battling with you today… it’s made me feel a little bit closer to you.”

Ash blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Aw, Mom,” he mumbled with a grin.

“Ahem.”

Ash and Delia turned to see Misty holding out a Cascade badge.

“This is yours, Ms. Ketchum,” the Gym Leader declared. “You made the battlefield, your Pokémon and their moves work to your advantage. I’m impressed!”

“Oh, you’re too kind, really,” Delia replied, blushing as she accepted the badge. Its blue surface seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the roof. “I’ll treasure this, always. Thank you.”

“That’s how you win a badge fair and square,” Misty teased, shooting a wink Ash’s way.

The Champion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

All three turned to see Jessie holding out her hand.

“What about me?” she demanded. “The perfect Pokémon battle partner? Trainer of vicious Venomoth and wild Wobbuffet? Where’s my badge?”

Misty sighed. Jessie had been on the winning team, and she had won a badge fair and square, but the whole situation was still bizarre.

“I’ll give you a badge if you explain what all…” She waved her hand between Jessie and Delia. “…this is about.”

“Delia and I dating,” Jessie scoffed with a shrug. “It’s not that complicated.”

“I got that part,” Misty shot back irritatedly, “I just…” She looked from Jessie, standing with her arms crossed, to Ms. Ketchum, who had one hand on Jessie’s hip, to Ash, who looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “…you know what, never mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a second Cascade badge.

“I can’t believe this is happening, but… you earned this!”

Jessie let out a little cry of joy as Misty put the badge into her hand.

“Oh, Deerling, look how pretty it is!” she gushed. “Do you think maybe we could just get the prettiest Gym badges?”

“I don’t see why not,” Delia replied. “With James to run the restaurant, I can take vacations more often!”

“James is –” Misty glared at Ash, who pulled the brim of his cap down and giggled nervously. “We’re going to the Pokémon Centre and then you’re telling me what’s been going on, Ash Ketchum!”

“Let’s all go to the Pokémon Centre,” Delia suggested. “Our Pokémon battled hard today, they deserve a good rest.”

It wasn’t long before Nurse Joy’s tender care had Venomoth, Corsola, Oshawott, Clefairy, Wobbuffet, Gyarados and Pikachu feeling like their old selves again. Delia squeezed Jessie’s hand, murmuring “that’ll be you one day, Smoochum” as they watched Joy work.

“Well, we should get going,” Delia declared once they had their Pokémon back.

“We were going to stay and have dinner, Ms. Ketchum,” Misty said. She eyed Jessie reluctantly, but made the offer anyway. “…You’re welcome to join us.”

“That’s sweet of you, Misty, but we’ve been away long enough,” Delia replied, to both kids’ relief. “It’s time we headed home. Thank you both so much for such an amazing battle.” She hugged Ash tightly. “Don’t stay away too long, honey.”

“You know I won’t, Mom,” Ash replied, blushing. He shot Misty a grin. “I’ll be home right after I kick Misty’s butt in our rematch!”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” Delia murmured. She let go of her son and gave Misty a quick hug and a wink. “Try not to beat him too badly!”

“Hey!” Ash exclaimed indignantly.

Delia stepped back, joining her girlfriend near the door of the Pokémon Centre. She gave her a look and nodded to both kids. With a sigh, Jessie trudged up to Ash and gave him a stiff hug.

“See you at home, kid,” she mumbled. Letting go, she turned to Misty. “Thanks for the battle and the badge, I guess...?”

The two gazed at each other for a few awkward moments, then Jessie took a step closer, slowly lifting her arms.

“Aah!” Misty hurriedly moved back, holding her hands up in front of her. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Jessie dropped her arms with a huge sigh of relief. “Great! Me neither.” She offered her hand instead, and the Gym Leader shook it.

Ash and Misty stepped outside the Pokémon Centre to see them off, their goodbyes ringing in the air as Delia and Jessie got on the road. Jessie slung her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Happy, babe?”

“Yes and no,” Delia sighed. “I’m sad my journey’s over, but I couldn’t be happier about how it went. I made three wonderful new friends, foiled a nasty poacher, and that battle today –” She clenched her fists in front of her. “ – I never felt so alive! I can’t wait to tell Professor Oak and James and Meowth all about it!” She slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “I’m so glad you talked me into this.”

Jessie preened. “Oh it was nothing, babe, I –”

She broke off as Delia took hold of her hands.

“Thank you for making my dreams come true,” the other woman whispered. Jessie’s heart caught in her throat as she saw tears shining in Delia’s eyes. “Not just today, but every day we’re together.”

Jessie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. Delia deserved more, so much more, for putting up with her, believing in her, loving her. Not to mention all she’d done for James and Meowth too. Maybe one day –

- but before Jessie could continue the thought, Delia leaned up and pulled her into a tender kiss.

THE END

“Oh, I can’t wait to get home to our nice comfy bed!”

“Ugh, me too. I hate sleeping on the ground.”

“…who said anything about sleeping?”

[dollgxtz]

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

[satorusugurugurl]

Hiii :33 i literally read all ur works in one sitting omg ur amazing pookieee AND IT GOT ME THINKING-

What if reader and the JJK men had their bodies switched due to a curse??? Like- For example- Nanami Kentos body but readers mind/conscious and stuff like ykwim??? (same with readers body) Also i love how u write sukuna its so BEIFNSKFHKDD ARF👹👹 if u could add some smut and crack in it too pls🥹 tyty

(W/ nanamin toji sukuna n geto pls) ☺️☺️😚😚

JJK Men: Body Swap!!

Summary: Body swapping with your boyfriend? What could go wrong? 😃

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Sorcerer AU), Geto Suguru, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, a little crack, body swapping, creampies, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Word Count: 7,174

A/N: Hi Pookie!! hajsjjdjdthank-you so so much! I lo ove too! Modern Sukuna is one of my favorite boys to write for! I love him so much. (even though I know its OOC). Anyways thanks for being so patient with me. this last month has been insanely busy and I'm just now finding my creativity again!

Fushiguro Toji:

It was supposed to be a simple mission to take out a sorcerer. What you both didn’t know was that this sorcerer had a lot of curses to spirits protecting them. So when you both took him out, one of the spirits attacked you. And you weren't sure what happened. One second, you were standing back to back with your boyfriend. The next second, you were lying flat on your back, staring up at the sky.

While your head was spinning and you felt sick to your stomach, that meant you were alive and well, which was a success in your books. Sitting up, you grumbled out a groan as you blinked several spots away.

“Son of a fuckin’ bitch.” You said, but it wasn't you that said it? When your vision finally cleared, your eyes widened as you stared down at yourself. “I’m telling Shiu we need double the pay for that shit.” A string of vulgar words escaped your lips as you watched your body sit up.

“T-Toji?” You asked, finding your voice several octaves lower.

“Yeah, you good?” your head turned towards you, and that’s when your boyfriend finally seemed to notice something was wrong. Toji, I’ve been told you you were never good at hiding your facial reactions, and seeing a pure panic that crossed your features let you know he was right. “Oh, what the fuck?!”

“I-It’s me! I-I just—uhm—what the fuck happened?!”

After thoroughly researching the files you both refused to read, you discovered that this was one of the side effects of one of the curses you had taken out. It allowed the souls of its victims to switch with each other. The technique was only meant to last a few hours to a few days, which was a blessing, but your boyfriend didn’t seem to see it that way.

Although you both insisted that you could handle a few more jobs, Shiu couldn’t stand the way you were smiling sweetly at him with Toji’s face, and your face was glaring daggers at him from the rearview mirror. So he did the only logical thing he could think of. You were taking your asses back home until this side effect wore off.

Which was something you found yourself longing for. Because you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle being in the small confining space of the apartment with your boyfriend who is currently stuck in your body. You were trying to preoccupy your time, attempting to fix dinner with Toji’s sausage fingers, when you could hear your voice and make the most pitiful sounds in the living room.

“My fucking back hurts!” Toji yelled out, stretching his back out.

“Yeah?” you asked, “I told you I wasn’t fucking joking with you. Having breasts can weigh you down sometimes. Why the fuck do you think I ask for a back massage all the time?”

“Because you want my dick.”

“Hardy har asshole, now you know when I ask for a massage and being serious seventy-five percent of the time.”

You tried to focus on cutting onions but found it extremely difficult with the wines emanating from the living room. “Oww, babe, come give me a back massage. Your beautiful tits that I love are causing me immense pain.” Ignore him, you told yourself as you went back to cutting onions. If you just ignored his whining, everything would be okay. “Babe!” Your voice at you from across the apartment. “Baby!” Your fingers tightened around the handle of the knife you were holding, fighting the urge to use your newfound strength not to throw it at yourself. For just a moment, the tiniest millisecond, you thought maybe he had given up on calling you forward, allowing you to go back to cooking until you heard yourself cry out a wine that would make any toddler turn their head towards you.

“Oh my god!” You snapped, tossing the knife into the sink. “What?! What do you want me to do for you, Your Highness?!”

“Rub my back,” Toji grumbled as he shoved your face into the couch. “It hurts, and I know how good I am with my hands.”

With a sigh, you plopped down on the ground behind your body, using your boyfriend's hands to rub circles at the knots always in your back gently. Almost instantly, Toji let out a moan that was porn worthy. You could see him sink further into the couch; your fingers dug into the cushions as you continued to use Toji’s thumbs to rub circles into the sore muscles. Toji continued to whimper, squirming under your touch, pressing your thighs together as you worked your hands lower and lower.

And while it seemed like he was finding some relief in your touch, you found his pants a little too tight for comfort sounds that were resonating from your mouth.

“Fuuuck, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, babe, Fuuck.”

The sound of your moans seems to affect your boyfriend’s body. Allowing you to move on impulse, allowing his body to take the lead. “I bet I can make you feel better.” You whisper against the nape of your neck, relishing how your boyfriend recoiled back.

“Oh yeah~? And how do you plan on making me feel even better?”

Your way was fast and hard, much like the way Toji always gave it to you. You wasted no time, ripping your clothes off of your own body, slamming your lips against the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin as his hands reached around, groping your breasts, just the way you liked it. Despite being in different bodies, neither of you were at all clumsy. As soon as you started ripping your clothes off, he told you he was tugging his shirt off his own body, turning to face, allowing you to pin him below you.

The kisses you shared were messy teeth clashing against each other as you both worked at your bottoms. Toji pulled your shorts and your underwear to the side. While you yanked his cock out of his sweats. Even though you were in different bodies, sex wasn’t any different. Toji just needed to feel you against him despite being inside your body, and the same for you.

You spit into your hand, rubbing it over your boyfriend's cock before you press it against your entrance. Never once did you break that kiss, the kiss that was full of raw need as if you both were high on an aphrodisiac when, in reality, you were high off of each other. Toji moaned against your lips as you pushed yourself inside of the tight, wet heat. Your breathing hitched at the strange new sensations washing over both of you.

“Oh my fuck,” you grumbled, pressing your lips against Toji’s. “I-It’s so tight and wet, oh, fuck.”

Toji wanted to laugh to make some crude comment about making sure you didn’t come too fast, but that was hard when he was being split open by his cock. “I-I feel s-so full.” He whispered nearly breathlessly against your lips.

“Does it hurt? Do you need a second?”

“No, I’m okay. Keep going, it feels good.”

Not needing to be told twice, you found yourself pulling out slowly before pushing back inside of your tight, wet walls. You both cried out, your head falling forward while Toji arched his back off the ground. You aren’t sure how long you could last like this. Hell, you weren’t even sure how Toji lasted as long as he did when he was inside of you. The man who was like a crazed sex god going for hours upon hours. While your boyfriend was wondering how the fuck you were able to take his cock like this every other night.

The pace you both set was messy and entirely out of rhythm. But despite not having any rhythm you were used to, it didn’t mean it didn’t feel good. Being able to lose control and lose yourself in the passion and sensations of just feeling good was hot. It was so hot that it had you both biting and sucking and clawing at each other. Your fingers dug into your hips while his nails scratched down your back as you both lost yourselves in the sensation of being with each other in a way you had never experienced before.

Being with each other in such a raw, more personal way allows you both, in a sense, to know how it feels for the other to know what to do, how to kiss, how to touch, and how to move against each other. This might come in handy for future sexual sessions for you. You knew that when you dug his nails into your upper back, your body trembled with pleasure. And Toji realized that when you angle your hips, a sure way to brush over your g-spot and cervix made your walls clench down so hard. He was afraid he was going to squirt all over you. Neither of you had ever expected it to happen, but both of you were excited that it had. Even if it meant neither of you was going to last very long.

“Oph fuck!” Toji cried out in your voice, his back arching. “B-Baby, I feel weird, like I need to pee!” Your boyfriend stared up at his face, which smirked sinisterly down at him.

“Yeah~? You gonna cum on my cock?” You asked, your voice deep and ragged. “Be good and cum for me.” You growled against his neck, smirking as you released your grip on his hip, rubbing circles over the swollen, sensitive clit.

“Ah! Fuck! Oooh fuck yes, gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, Toji~ come on!”

Toji screamed as he came so hard he squirted all over you, his legs shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm. As he screamed and squirmed underneath you, you lost yourself in the way your walls tightened around your boyfriend‘s cock. Hugging him, milking him, trying to get him to come inside. Which, fortunately, was far too easy to do. You collapsed forward, fingers digging into your hips so hard you were pretty sure you were going to leave bruises much, much darker than your boyfriend ever left on you. It was just too much, tightening the screaming, the pleasure. There was no way you could’ve stopped yourself.

“C-Cumming! Ooh fuck!”

“Yeah~! Give it to me!”

You thrust fast and hard, pumping your pussy full of your boyfriend's cum. Not stopping until the head of his cock was oversensitive, and you weren’t sure if you could hold yourself up any longer. You grumbled, somehow collapsing onto your side as your boyfriend giggled, curling up against you.

“Fuck, I understand why you don’t like pulling out now.”

Toji, your nails down his chest. “Yeah, it feels really good, doesn’t it?” You hummed, wrapping your boyfriend's arms around your more petite frame, not entirely used to the size difference. “God, I gotta give it to ya’ you take my dick like a fucking champ. Don’t know how you do it.”

You smirked, pressing a quick kiss against his forehead. “I’m lucky enough to have a boyfriend to make sure I’m more than ready for his monster of a cock.” He snickered, pulling back to look at me. “And I know I already failed at foreplay, but I couldn’t help myself when you’re making such pretty sounds. I needed to hear more.”

“Yeah, remember that the next time you bitch that I don’t prep you enough after giving you a massage.”

“Toji, I fully understand what you mean, and it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Good, now— are you ready for round two?”

“Round two? Already?”

Toji swang your body over his hips, rocking gently over your oversensitive cock. “Oh yeah, I thought you were fucking with me, but your sex drive is insatiable; hurry up, I’m ready to go.” Maybe this whole body swap thing did have its downsides.

Nanami Kento:

It took five seconds for Nanami to turn away from the curse you were fighting. The curse shot out a green goop that coated you and Nanami in that span. It took five more seconds for your husband to act, blinking away the goop before jumping back into action. It was only when he went to swing his blunt blade that he realized something was wrong. Instead of swinging his typical weapon, he tossed a talisman paper instead.

In that momentary confusion, you and Kento took out the curse before looking at each other. Imagine his surprise when he didn’t find your pretty face looking up at him but his own, looking down at him. The initial shock turned into panic as he watched a look of pure terror and confusion cross his face.

“My love, it’s all right.” The calm manner of speaking sounded so strange coming out of your mouth. “We have to remain calm.”

“Oh my God, oh my God!” Nanami sighed, running a hand down your face. “What are we gonna do? This is terrible.”

Your husband wasn’t sure if you consider this terrible. Both of you were safe, so that’s all that truly mattered. However, he also found himself strangely intrigued by the predicament. He found yourself then. Seeing the expressions on his face, the cute little corpse you had, like picking at your nails, nipping up your bottom, lip, or weighing, looked strange to him, but it also left him longing to see what other reactions he could drop out from you.

Unaware of your husband’s intentions, you try to remain calm. You continued gently rubbing your hands together as Shoko and Nanami looked over your body he was in.

“Any pain or discomfort?” You watched in horny silence as Nanami moved your shoulder again.

“A little pain in my, well, my wife’s shoulder.”

“Let’s get that taken care of.”

You slipped your top over your head alone, you to see your body. The blue lace bra you wore was on display as Shoko's eyes flowed through her hands over your shoulder. Staring at your skin shouldn’t have any effect on you. It was your body. You had seen yourself naked one million times, but Nanami’s body reacted differently. Its bare skin and breasts had his pants feeling much too tight.

“How’s that?” Shoko asked as she stepped away, watching Nanami rotate your shoulder with a sigh of approval.

“Much better, thank you, Shoko.”

“And you?”

When Shoko turned her attention to you, your hands immediately went to cover your crotch. An action that seem to go unnoticed by your best friend but was clearly noticed by your husband. Nanami hummed cocking an eyebrow in your direction, his eyes focusing on his crotch, seeing how the fabric of his cream-colored suit pants with straining.

You cleared your throat, looking away, “I-I’m fine! Totally fine, just eager to get home and wait this out!” You wanted to get away from her and her praying eyes because how embarrassing would that be for you to be popping a boner in your boyfriend’s body at the sight of your tits?

“Alright, sounds good to me. If you need me, I’m just a call away; go home and rest.”

You have never been more happy to hear the words go home and get some rest in your entire life. You held your boyfriend’s hands in front of his crotch before taking his suit jacket to keep it over the prominent tent in his pants. This was perfect. You would be able to get home without anyone noticing. There, you could take a cold shower and sleep this off.

But your boyfriend had another plan.

Before you both could make it down the hall, Nanami grabbed your wrist, tugging you into one of the spare classrooms. “Kento?” You asked, the unsure tone of your husband’s voice sounded foreign. “What are you—nngh!” Your body jolted forward as he slipped his hand down, rubbing at the throbbing erection straining in his pants.

“Shh, let’s make this quick. I can’t have you walking around with an erection like some teenage boy.”

“W-Wait h-here?! If we get caught, that would be worse! At least I can hide a boner with your jacket!?”

At that moment, your husband was undoing the zipper of his pants, allowing you to see the hunger in your own eyes. It was a look that spoke volumes, and you suddenly realized why your husband had told you several times in the past to control your facial reactions. It was a look you only gave him when you were unbearably horny.

“Oh my god, that’s it. That’s the look you always talk about.”

“Mhm,”

“You’re horny?!”

Instead of answering your question with words, he took your hand and slowly slipped it under the waistband of your pants. There, you could feel the wet slick that you were familiar with. Not skipping a beat, your muscle memory kicked in as your fingers began to trace circles over your clit, knowing just how you like to be touched.

“I saw how hard you were and couldn’t help myself. Your body is screaming you need me. I’m so wet, and I’m throbbing; I need you.”

Hearing those words leave your mouth made you realize how your husband felt when he was in your position. When you talk like that in public, it is hard to control yourself at that moment. You had no clue how Nanami managed to do it because you lost your composure the second he opened his mouth.

You slammed your lips against his as you lifted him, pinning him against the wall, his hands worked at the button of his trousers while you slid your panties to the side. Luckily, both of you were so aroused that there was no need for foreplay. Lips moved against each other as you pressed the head of your husband’s cock against your entrance, pushing inside without a second thought. You couldn’t care less if the door wasn’t locked, and you seriously doubted anyone would enter from the moans resonating from both of you.

All that mattered was fucking each other's brains out. Whether it was a factor from the curse or your undying love for each other, you allow yourselves to lose sight of your control. You needed him just as bad as he needed you. And you gave it to him. It’s hard and fast as he gave it to you after he had been pent up from work all day.

Nanami screamed, head rocking back against the wall as you thrust forward, slamming the head of his cock against your cervix over and over, making sure to go as deep as you possibly could. You wanted him to know how good he always left you feeling after a rough session. Your fingers dug into the fat of your hips as you nipped and sucked at your neck, drawing out more moans from him.

You were giving it, your all fucking your husband as hard as he did; Nanami was gripping onto his biceps, staring into your eyes as he took it all in. Every thrust that led to immense pleasure, every kiss, he took in everything you were doing to him. Because the second he was back in his own body, he would make sure he made you feel as good as you made him feel.

And that was a promise he intended to keep.

“Oh, my fuck—” You cried out softly, feeling your orgasm already approaching you. “You feel too good—”

“Yeah, I know that’s how you make me feel every time. But it’s—nngh! It’s—haaah!”

“Hard to not cum?” You answered for him, feeling your walls tightening around your husband’s cock. “Fuck—oooh fuck.”

“C-Cummi—oh m-my god!”

There was no warning, no further words expressed. All that you managed to do was lose yourselves in your orgasms. Nanami cried out tears, picking your eyes as your walls constricted and convulsed around his cock, drawing out your orgasm. You roared a moan loudly into Nanami’s ear as you came inside, fucking his come further inside of you, doing exactly what he did to you every night.

The classroom felt stuffy and hot and reeked of sex. But neither of you cared as you slowly slid to the ground, holding Nanami flush against your chest. You kissed each other deeply, only breaking apart to take a deep breath as all the air escaped your lungs.

“I didn’t think it was possible—” Nanami whispered in your voice, “but I fell deeper in love with you right now.”

“Ken—I love you so much.”

You never made it home that night. Instead, you went to one of the spare dorms and ravished each other all night. Both of you took notes on how exactly your body reacted to certain touches and kisses because the second you were back in your own bodies, you planned on using this newfound information to spice up your marriage even more.

Ryomen Sukuna (JJK Sorcerer AU):

“I hate this!” Sukuna barked out, pacing the floor back and forth. “Ugh!”

“Calm down.” You said from the couch, rubbing your hands down your face. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”

When Sukuna turned to give you the dirtiest look in the world, you weren’t met with his tattooed face, but your own instead. “Have you stopped to look at what happened? I am in your body.” That was true. Your boyfriend was in your body, and you were currently inhabiting his body.

“So it’s not like you’ve never been inside me.” You waggled your eyebrows at him, only to win it go to hell look in return. “Okay, shit, sorry for joking, but you heard Shoko. The effects of this curse will only last a few hours.”

“A few hours too many.”

You weren’t sure if it was the testosterone right now feeling in your blood or the very common annoyance you had with your arrogant boyfriend at times. But for some ungodly reason, watching him, he back-and-forth with a scale on your face was irritating, ever-loving fuck out of you. He was acting like a brat over something neither of you could control.

It wasn’t even just the whole situation itself. Shit like this happened when you were a sorcerer. You got hit with different curses, injured, and usually were expected to live not that long of a life. You knew there was always a chance you wouldn’t come home from a mission. You both were hit by a curse, and you manage walked away with minor injuries and a mild side effect. That was something he should be happy about. But for some damn reason, this whole situation only made him angrier than usual.

“This is bullshit; if only my reverse technique worked shit like this.”

“Kuna! Seriously, what is your problem?”

He growled at you, which would usually put you back in your place when you’re back talking to him, but it seems that growl wasn’t as effective when it came from your body. Meaning you were pretty much unaffected by his tactic of intimidating you.

“I feel weak, okay?!”

“Weak?” You asked with a scoff. “You’re seriously calling me weak?”

“N-No! Fuck I mean, I don’t feel as strong as I normally do.” The more he tried to defend himself, the deeper the hole he dug. “I don’t have the power or technique I have mastered through the years. Instead, I am unfamiliar with your technique, and all I have to defend myself with are these stupid papers.” He scoffed, digging into one of the pouches attached to your belt and pulling out one of your talisman papers. “I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this fold origami?”

“You could shove it up your ass when you get back in your own body, and I hope you get a papercut when doing so.”

“No, I—you know how I see you.” He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’re strong, and you’ve mastered your technique. But I don’t know how to do anything you do. I feel useless, and I’m not saying that you can’t hold your own in a fight you kick ass. I feel weak because I’m unaware of how to use your technique.”

There was a paying of understanding deep inside your chest. You knew what he meant because you felt the same way. There was an immense amount of power coursing through your veins, which could easily be used for evil instead of good. Having such a plethora of cursed energy made you feel as though you were a ticking time bomb, like if you were to sneeze, you would blow up a building.

So, instead of lecturing or giving him even more of a hard time, you draped a tattooed arm over your shoulder, pulling your boyfriend close to your side. “I get it, I guess.” You whispered, tilting your head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Being in your body makes me feel as though I’m destined to destroy things.” Sukuna snickered, turning to look up at you. “But just because I don’t have the same amount of cursed energy doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’m still strong in my ways.”

“Yeah? In what ways?”

“When I’m riding your cock. I feel all-powerful like nothing can stop me. Especially when you’re groaning, grabbing my hips, encouraging me to move faster.”

At that moment, you regretted the words that came from your mouth. Because all you heard was your boyfriend's understanding hum. A hum that led to his hands working at your pants.

“W-whoa, easy there, Kuna. What are you doing?”

“Taking control, to see just how powerful I’ll feel.”

There was no room for protest; once your boyfriend set his mind to something, he made sure to get it done. Even if that means stripping down, straddling your hips, and lowering himself awkwardly on his cock. Watching his wish contort with pleasure left you feeling as though you might be able to take the reins on this. It wasn’t as though your boyfriend would be able to take control, to ride cock like a pro.

But you seem to forget that this was your boyfriend, one of the strongest sorcerers of the modern age, just as strong as Gojo, if not more robust. The man was smart, and despite the facial tattoos and the muscles, he knew how to get shit done.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as he slammed himself down onto his cock with a satisfied growl. “K-Kuna baby! P-Please slow down!”

His hand clamped firmly over your mouth, silencing your protests. “Shut up, I’m in control.” your voice sounded so dark and sultry, god it was so hot! “Just be good and sit still for me; let me use you.” you couldn’t argue with that, and with the way he slowly lifted himself off his cock, before slamming your body back down onto it, leaving you feeling pussy drunk.

“Fuck!”

You cried out, shaking as Sukuna rode you like there was no fucking tomorrow. “Oh fuck, fuuuuck!”

“Yeah~ I suddenly see why you like to be on top of a lot.” he dug your manicured nails into his shoulders, dragging them down over his chest. “From this position, I can do whatever I want to.” You couldn’t even ask what he planned on doing to you before his hips were rolling in circles and you were seeing stars. “Are You paying attention? This is how I want you to ride my cock from now on.”

“K-Kuna—Kuna!”

“I feel so powerful; seeing that pitiful look on my face should piss me off. But instead, it’s making me wanna draw out more.”

It was a combination of everything that was going on that sent you coming first. It was the way Sukuna was purring in your ear, so how he rolled your hips around his shaft, to the stinging burn left of your nails over his skin. It happens so fast, and your boyfriend's cock twitched inside of your walls as you came first. And it was unusual. Usually, you were the first to finish, but it never happened like this before. Your boyfriend being the first to fill you up rather than you soaking him with your release.

Sukuna wasn’t even upset about it. He swelled with a certain sense of pride at getting you off first and with a body he was unfamiliar with. That left him feeling so satisfied he could feel his ego swelling. Before he could brag over the fact that he was better than you, his head began to pound as his vision blurred. His grip on his own shoulders tightened. Sukuna thought he might black out for a moment before he was blinking the black spots out of his vision. When it cleared, he was no longer towering above you but underneath you.

Much to his relief, he looked up at your beautiful face instead of down at his own.

You barely had a second to process what was going on and how it happened before Sukuna’s strong hands and your hips were holding them tightly. Open your mouth to speak, but before any words had the chance to leave your mouth, your boyfriend was pulling you up the link of his cock before slamming you back down on him. You nearly came again just from that action in itself.

“N-Nngh! K-Kuna w-wa—ahh!”

He holds you up and back back down on his cock again and again and again. “I thought I told you to pay attention while riding you.” His hips thrust up into your dripping wet pussy. “I want you to do exactly what I did. Don’t keep me waiting; show me how strong you are, Kitten.”

Geto Suguru:

“So let me get this straight?” Satoru questioned while sitting across from you and your boyfriend. “You both took out the special-grade curse?”

“Yep.”

“Suguru turned it into a ball and gulped it down as he does.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then everything went black, and you both woke up like this?”

He motioned towards the bodies of his two friends, lifting his blindfold to watch as you knotted your head, which was your boyfriend’s head. Satoru got the story right; it was a simple mission, simple enough for both of you to handle. You could take out the curse with no issues, but when Suguru absorbed it, everything took a turn. Everything went dark, and the next second, you were sitting up in your boyfriend’s body with the most unpleasant taste in your mouth after swallowing the curse.

It was a shock initially, but weird things happened whenever your boyfriend absorbed a curse. That just came with the territory of a curse manipulator. Cursed spirits sometimes had different effects on his body and sometimes the body of those near him. Fortunately, you had been near him on this mission. Geto would have hated to be in Gojo’s body, so this was a win-win scenario.

“Yep, for the time being, we’re stuck like this.”

Gojo sat back in his chair, wincing at the situation, you both found yourselves in. “Shit, sorry about that, guys.” Suguru shook his head, stretching your arms above you.

“Eh, it could have been a lot worse.”

“ that’s true, but are you guys gonna—ya’ know?” Satoru jester to the two of you with his hands. “Use the opportunity to your advantage?”

Suguru and you looked at the white-haired man, blinking in confusion. “Advantage? Satoru, what are you even talking about?” you asked, running your fingers through your boyfriend's black hair.

“You know, I’ll get down and dirty?”

“What?!”

“Satoru~” Your voice purred out as Suegro shook her head. “Is sex the only thing on your mind?”

“Hey, it’s a genuine question. I’m just curious.”

Your boyfriend, who was irritated from the throbbing vein in your forehead. Having sex like this in his body hadn’t crossed your mind. When it initially happened, neither of you had been more concerned with making sure both you and Suguru were okay than about what happened. Besides that, sex wasn’t the only thing on your mind! The thought of doing it like this even occurred to you, and it wouldn’t have even crossed your mind, but thanks to manifest. It was out in the open, sticking out like a sore thumb.

You shifted, trying to listen to your boyfriend bickering back and forth with his best friend. Suddenly, you were aware of the throbbing inside your boyfriend, thankfully baggy pants. And you had the sudden urge to go home because the only thing you bring could focus on was how your boyfriend‘s dick was swelling. The last thing you wanted to do was pop a Boner in front of your mutual friend after he had just suggested hooking up with each other while in the opposite body.

If he found out how you felt, you wouldn't hear the end of his arrogant comments and encouragement.

Yeah, it was best to keep him out of your bedroom life. Especially when you weren’t sure if you wanted to take it that far. There was a burning desire deep in your stomach, one that had you itching to touch your body, to kiss your boyfriend, to succumb to the lust that was burning like a fire deep down inside of you. Was this how Suguru felt around you all the time? Or was it just part of the curse?

“Hey,” you looked up from the bed, watching as Suguru brushed your damp hair. “I think I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

Suguru stopped turning his focus on you. “Why would you do that?” What could you even say? You were hard as a rock and wouldn't be able to control yourself? That you wanted him, but you didn't want to gross him out or make things even weirder?

“Well—I uhm—I—have a bit of a situation.”

“I know. You’re hard; you've been hard since we left campus.”

Your hands almost instinctively died towards the crotch, trying to cover the erection that was still throbbing angrily within the confines of the boxers. “H-How did you know?” Your boyfriend let out a giggle that sounded so strange coming out of your mouth.

“My pants may be baggy, but they aren’t that baggy.”

You felt yourself turn fifty shades of red as you groaned, covering your face in your hands. “Oh my god, you could tell?! Why didn't you say anything?” Another sweet laugh came across the room as you resisted the urge to summon Rainbow Dragon to eat you.

“I didn't want to embarrass you.”

“Yeah, well, I think I'm more embarrassed now. Can I manipulate your curses to eat me? To put me out of this misery?”

“Oh, stop, you're fine. I was only able to notice because I know my body.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better.”

“Well, it should be because you looked so fucking hot. Seeing you fight against those primal urges has your body reacting just as strongly.”

You perked up, watching as Suguru swayed your hips as he slowly approached you. “Is that so?” Suguru nodded, pulling your sleep shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

“Even though we're in different bodies, my soul is crying to be near yours.” He slipped your shorts down next, kicking them off to the side.

You slowly ran a hand down your boyfriend's stomach, grabbing his hard cock through his pants. "Fuck guess I got caught. But can you blame me? This is weird." Your hands slowly stoked his hard cock. "But also strangely arousing at the same time."

Seeing your hand stroking his cock had Geto’s eyes widening as he looked over his body before he was overtaken with the sudden urge to shove you down on the bed, immediately straddling his hips. "Don't mind if I do~"

You moaned, blushing up at Geto as he hummed softly. "O-Oh, holy fuck." You said, grabbing his hips. "Fuck is this what I look like to you?" you were in awe of your body. The curves, softness of your skin, and fuck, the fact your pussy was nearly touching his cock. Making it even harder, which seemed impossible.

“Mhm~” Suguru nodded; he rolled your bare hips as he ran his fingers over your hair. "It's really hot, isn't it?"

"Fuck yes, fuck look at my boobs." You said, reaching up and squeezing them. "The way they bounce, it’s so hypnotic."

Your boyfriend giggled, rocking your hips harder before reaching behind him, pulling his own cock from his pants with a moan. "Holy shit.”

"I know it's really hard," You whispered. "I-I holy fucking shit." His cock was so hard Suguru knew it had to be painful.

"I knew I was big, but Fuuck, this put it in a different perspective. Fuck, I'm going to put it inside of your pussy, Princess.” He hummed as he rolled your hips up and down your cock like you had done countless times before.

"Oh, you are?" You asked, licking your lips. "Nah, I don't think so; it’s time I give you a taste of your own medicine.” You growled out while flipping him over onto his side. "I'm going to put it in your pussy." You ground your hips against drenched folds with a snarl.

Suguru gasped, moaning as he felt the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy. Being the one to do it felt much different than being on the receiving end. But it still felt good regardless. He suddenly knew why you begged so pretty; he longed for more than teasing touches. He was about to start praying for more when his whole body seized up as you pressed the head against the tight ring of muscles of the entrance, fighting the need to shove it all in.

“Baby, please—!”

“Oooh, who's a needy slut?”

"Fuck, I am! I want you to fucking destroy me, please.” Suguru moaned, his head slowly rolling back against the pillows.

You smirked, running your tongue over your bottom lip. "Oooh, begging for me already, that’s so cute.” You slammed inside Suguru’s tight pussy. "Fuck—you're so tight~!!"

Suguru gasped before screaming out a moan while you thrust in and out. "F-Fuck yeah!! Just like that, oh god!!~ Princess!!” Hearing such pretty sounds only filled your desire, making you eager to move, to make him feel as good as he did for you.

"Fuck yeah~ what are you always saying? ‘You like me fucking your cunt slut?’”

“Yeah, I see why, fuck you feel so fucking good!!" Suguru cried out, his eyes rolling back. "Fuck! Princess!! Fuck, I'm your slut, god I want your cum so bad!!"

"Cum for me then~!" You commanded, reaching around and rubbing your clit in fast circles just as you knew your body liked it. "Cum all over my cock." Your thrusts were becoming erratic as you felt your balls tighten.

Suguru cried out, his head thrown back as he clenched hard on your cock. "Yesyes-Yes! Fuck, Princess!! Fuckfuckfuck-!!"

You followed immediately behind Suguru; your hips stuttered as you came hard, cum filling your pussy with thick white cum. "O-Oh fuck~!"

"H-Holy shit!!”

"Fuck, oh fuck." You panted roughly, looking down at Suguru, who was still trapped in your body. "That felt s-ao good."

"Holy hell, the cum feels so fucking good—"

“Yeah~ it makes you feel all nice and warm afterward.”

Your boyfriend moaned softly. "You know what feels even better? Fucking you with my cum~ I promise it feels fucking amazing give it a try."

You perked up at that, turning red, but you couldn't just take his word for it. You needed to feel it for yourself. So you slowly started thrusting back inside, moaning loudly.

"Oh god, you're fucking right, feels good.”

“I N-Nngh told you!”

You kissed Suguru eagerly, thrusting faster. Your boyfriend smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands, kissing you deeply as he moaned into your mouth. You kissed back just as eagerly, stroking Suguru’s cheek. Your nails dug into his hips as you moved faster than you could think.

"F-Fuck, can't stop—! God, you feel too fucking good!"

Suguru moaned softly, smiling up at you. "F-Fuck~ I love you too, Princess, so cum in me again!”

You groaned, sucking his neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. "I will." You growled, nipping her earlobe. "I'm gonna keep cumming inside your pussy." your hip bucked, slamming against her cervix as spurts of hot cum filled Suguru, the sensation enough to throw him over the edge with you.

“Y-Yeah! Oooh fuck!” He cried out a moan, clawing at your back as he felt himself cum around your cock when you slammed deep into him. "C-Cumming!! Cumming Princess!!"

You gritted your teeth as you came inside your boyfriend again. That’s how you both were. You were just in sync with each other. Despite the fact, you were in each other’s bodies. You knew how to make the other field good; you wanted to keep going because you weren’t sure how long this side effect would last. But your lack of experience having a dick and poor stamina said otherwise.

"M’ sorry baby, I-I do-don't think I can go anymore. I can’t take it.” You feebly cried out before collapsing on top of your own body, winning a satisfied sigh from Suguru, who was underneath you.

“Honestly, I’m okay with that,” he said as he gulped air. “Fuck you’re probably gonna be sore in the morning. And I don’t wanna hear you complaining about it because this was your own doing.”

Your mind felt fuzzy as you just nodded your head nuzzling your boyfriend‘s face into the crook of your neck because you took in the afterglow and the rash of being near him in such an intimate way. Suguru hummed happily, running his fingers through your hair. He was honestly surprised you were able to go two rounds.

“Sleepy?” he asked softly, only receiving a hum in return. “Ooh—my sweet girl. Lay down for a minute, and let's cuddle before we take a shower.”

“Okay.” you finally could form coherent words as you lay down on your side, cupping your boyfriend's cheek. “Can I—”

“Yes, you can be the little spoon.” You weren’t sure how long the curse's effect would last, but as long as you were with each other, it didn’t matter. All that you cared about was coming home safely with Suguru and sleeping soundly in his arms, which made your dangerous job worth it.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f��you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[v4guelyv4mpiric]

ITS HALLOWEEN

the time of the year we are able to buy fangs in retail. and i've tried literally every brand of fangs that spirit halloween carries (and more), so this is my review and recommendations.

Scarecrow Fangs

unpopular opinion, but i did not like these. They're way too expensive, imo and the molding solution sucks and is a nightmare to work with. the fangs themselves are alright.

price: 19.99 us

rating: 5/10

Spirit Halloween

It's surprisingly good! i used these until i broke them - they use thermoplastic for molding, which i think should be the standard for fangs. It's far easier to work with. the plastic is cheaper than Scarecrow, but they feel solid and are a more realistic color (at least for me)

price: 4.99 us

rating: 8/10

Monster High

Oh my ghoul, i love these. These fangs are a bit on the smaller size, which is useful if you're going for subtle. and of course, being monster high, i'm all for them. i mean, that case is adorable

again, these use thermoplastic. Though its imortant to note not to put the fangs themselves in hot water while you're molding them- i warped one by accident. regardless, they are so comfortable and resilient. my second favorites.

price: 9.99 us

rating 9/10

Special FX

we've all seen that video of that girl using these in like 2008 and wanted to be her. at least i did... but im sad to report that these fangs dont work on my anatomy. they mold to your back molars with thermoplastic, and when you press on the bar, the fangs come down. these fit simular to a retainer as they just sit above your teeth.

i, however, am missing one of those molars and cannot line it up right to use them. (never beating the kentuckian stereotype)

price: 9.99

rating: 3/10

Now for the ones not sold at Spirit Halloween

Amazon cosplay fangs

You've most likely seen these before. they're nothing special, but they get the job done. i do like the case they come in! very convenient. But the color is far too unrealistic for me. still, they do use thermoplastic! which is always a win. and theres four sizes, again convenient.

price: 7.99 us (give or take)

rating: 4/10

Dracula Fangs

I had never heard of this brand before someone posted about these on tiktok. i bought them immediately (i am not immune to propaganda, and neither are you), and i gotta say... They're my favorite I've tried.

I got the large ones; and let me tell you, they're massive. definitely not for subtle vamp vibes. They're sharp, too! That's a plus for me, not for everyone, i assume. and they mold with thermoplastic! they come with way more than you need (which you can use to make more fangs if you desire)

they do come in smaller sizes as far as I've seen, but i haven't tried those yet.

price: 20.00 us (i know that's rather pricey)

rating 10/10

honorable(ish) mentions

...

vampire condoms. only get them as a bit. a /j fang if you will.

price: 0.99 (i got mine at dave&busters for 25 tokens)

rating: i am wampire/10

Walmart Fangs

i swore there were some in different packaging, but i can't find those now. these suck (not in the fun way). They're made of rubber, and i dont remember them having any molding agents. just skip these, okay?

price: 2.89 us

rating: 0/10

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Third time’s the charm. Simon/fem!reader. Handjobs, edging, cumming untouched, thigh riding, femdom behavior, somewhat submissive!simon, literally tried to cure my depression with this (did not work)

-

“You said you usually go three times in a session. We should try one more time, shouldn’t we?” 

Ghost looks at you like you’ve grown an extra set of eyes. He shakes his head a little, his eyes hard and disbelieving when they meet your own. “Have I not embarrassed myself enough for you?”

“Not really—? I mean—fuck,” you fumble, running a hand down face. “That didn’t come out right. I just meant that I don’t feel like you have any reason to be embarrassed.” 

He stares at you, through you, like if he looks long and hard enough he’ll be able to see your truth straight down to your bones. Well let him look. He hadn’t exactly bared his soul during the few weeks you had spent discussing this before meeting in person, but he had told you plenty: his issue had cost him relationships. It had cost him jobs thanks to lack of focus. Friendships thanks to neglect. You couldn’t imagine anyone willingly choosing something which gave them so much suffering. His lack of complicity cleared him of any blame in your eyes. 

At length, he must see that there is some honesty in you. Looking like it pains him, he nods his head, hulking shoulders deflating a little. “Fine. One more time. I’ll need a few minutes though.”

“That’s fine,” you offer, and it is, or at least it would be if it meant you both didn’t have to sit in complete silence, Ghost uneager to offer up conversation topics and you too awkward to try. 

He keeps staring at you, too. Or more specifically, your breasts. You’re wearing a simple t-shirt, but the effect is aided by one of your prettier bras. You had worn it unsure if Ghost was serious in his insistence that there would be no sex taking place between you both 

It seemed a pity for it to go to waste. 

“Do you want to see?” you ask him, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and gripping it tightly, folding it a little anxiously back and forth like an accordion’s bellows. 

“See? What? No—!”

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

Ghost reaches up a hand to rub at one eye like a headache is forming behind it. His mouth never abandons its signature frown, even as he says, “If you want? Jesus, fuck. I don’t know. I’m not going to stop you.”

You find that you do want. You kneel up, take the hem of your t-shirt into your hands and work it up over your breasts. For all his lack of enthusiasm, his eyes crack open straightaway and glue themselves to you, widening a little at the sight of your strappy, lace-laden bra. 

“I know you didn’t fucking wear that for me,” he says, sounding winded. 

“I’ll be honest, I thought this was just a ploy to hook up. I wore the matching panties too, do you—“

“Stop—talking,” he mutters, closing his eyes. His hand reaches down towards his (valiantly hardening) cock, but thinks twice, turns into a fist, and comes to rest at his side. “And under no circumstance should you take your pants off.”

“Got it. Pants stay on.”

Ghost sighs. “I’m ready. Let’s get it over with.”

That’s the spirit, you think to yourself dryly. You lift your hand to your mouth, creating a little cup with your palm and to spit in, your eyes locked on his own. You hear the click as he swallows, but it’s progress that he doesn’t cum, right? That must mean that he had experienced some level of desensitization, either to you as a partner or to the specific stimulus or a mixture of both. 

But that’s not how this is supposed to work. The whole point is to help him learn to last when he’s as desperate as possible, hoping that edging when he’s truly suffering will lead to a more satisfying orgasm and therefore a need for fewer of them. 

You lower your hand instead of spitting and grip the hem of your shirt, tugging it off over your head altogether. Ghost can’t seem to find his tongue, staring at you with dark, huge eyes as you reach around back and fumble with the clasp of your bra, but at last that comes undone, and you peel it away from you, letting it join his jeans and your shirt on the floor. 

His eyes rake over your naked breasts, mouth forming a curse that he lacks the breath to whisper. His cock is so hard and heavy that it lays against his belly, thick and twitching. 

You shift and straddle his thighs just proximal to his knees. He fists the bedsheets, abs tensing sharply as he watches you with silent awe and trepidation. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

“Getting comfortable?” you suggest. 

Now you cup your hand and spit into it. Then you offer it to him, holding out your hand expectantly. Looking wary, he leans up onto his elbows, ducks his head, and spits into your hand too, quite delicately for being a giant of a man. 

You take your hand and place it palm down against where his cock lays on his belly, slicking the underside from top to bottom. Ghost groans, a low sound torn deep from his chest. He collapses off of his elbows and onto his back, hands finding his eyes and palming at them again while you slick his cock all over with a delicate touch, barely more than a tickle. 

“Are you teasin’ me?” he grits out. 

“I would never.” The tips of your wet fingers trail down over his balls, tight and drawn up against his body already. He hisses through his teeth, cock flexing. You fight a grin. 

Taking him firmly in your hand, you give him a series of smooth, slow strokes, your hand loose and gentle where it is cupped around him. His body writhes against the sheets. 

“Stop, please stop,” he gasps, and you do, letting his cock fall to rest against his belly with a soft thud. He opens his eyes, takes one look at your tits, and squeezes them shut again. ”Fuck, can’t believe you took your shirt off.” 

“I can put it back on if you want.” 

“Really don’t want that. Really fucking don’t. Just—sit there. Please,” he tacks on to the end like an afterthought. You’re grateful to have received a please at all. He takes deep, slow breaths, his nostrils flaring as he strains for air. 

When he gives you a curt nod, eyes still firmly closed, you reach down and use one hand to grip the base of his cock. The other you place toward the head so that you can softly drag your thumb over the deep red tip, tracing the sensitive ridge and over the leaking slit. He whines, honest to god whines, a sound which you feel viscerally in your belly and lower. You shift on his thighs, wondering if it would be so bad to just straddle one, to get some pressure right where you need it most. It’s not like there’s any sort of propriety in a situation like this. He’s getting his, why can’t you get yours? 

You use your thumb to trace a vein up the length of his shaft and smooth the slick over his tip, polishing it softly. 

“Fucking—! Stop! Stop!” 

You stop, and you swallow an unhappy sound. Things had just been getting fun—for you, at least. Ghost looks like he’s being put through the wringer, redness creeping down his neck to disappear under his shirt, knuckles white where he grips the sheets, breaths rapid and shallow. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He laughs a little, a self-deprecating, unhappy sound. “You’re too good at that.” 

“Good with my mouth too,” you say on a whim. 

His eyes flash open, wide and surprised (and narrowed in on your mouth), his lips parted in a look of near comical astonishment. His hand scrambles to grip around the base of his cock, squeezing painfully. “You—you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

“Way more than I thought I would,” you admit. “An obscene amount, honestly—I’m so wet—“

Ghost releases his death grip around his balls and strokes his cock, once, twice, thrice, quick little strokes as his face crumples, as he gives up on the whole fucking thing. You can see it in his face, the defeat, the submission. He’s going to jerk himself off to a quick, unsatisfying release—but it doesn’t seem fair. 

“Stop,” you hiss, reaching out to grip his wrist. He lets go of himself like he’s been burned, immediately obedient even as his face twists with fury. He pulls away from your touch but watches as you shift until just one of his thick thighs is between your own. 

You give a soft, gentle sway of your hips against him. His face is so fucking expressive, his eyes and brows and mouth telegraphing his every little thought and feeling. He watches you with something like tortured awe, eyes flickering towards where your clothed pussy rubs against his bare thigh. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” you breathe, pleasure zipping up your spine at the friction against your cunt. “I want to see if you can cum like this.”

“Came went you spat in your fucking hand,” he breathes, abs tensing, cock twitching as precum pools in his happy trail, watching as you get yourself off against his thigh. “Can cum like this no fucking problem.” 

“You’re not as sensitive now,” you pant, planting a hand against his tensed chest to gain the leverage you need to lengthen the rolling of your hips. 

“Am too.”

“We’ll see.”

His face twists. “Will you—keep going? Even if I do?”

You consider for a moment and then shake your head, breaths too shallow to make words properly. You feel saturated, swollen and sensitive. Every drag of your hips sends muted pleasure up your spine. Normally this would take you ages to cum, but you haven’t been this worked up in a long time. Watching Ghost’s cock turn shades of red and plum is like live pornography, obscene and arousing. Feeling a little cruel, you tell him: “Gotta hold it.”

He tenses his thighs, heels digging into the bed. It does something to the muscle pressed against your cunt and makes your nails dig into his chest. 

He’s shaking his head. “No. Negative. Can’t.”

“Hafta.” 

“Can’t—fuck, I—“

“Goddamnit Ghost,” you whine, hips working feverishly against him. “Hold it and let me cum.”

He really can’t—really and truly. His cock spurts against his belly, a pitiful amount of pearly cum as he groans low and long, moan forming half-hearted, breathy apologies: sorry, ‘m sorry, couldn’t hold it—

You groan, a sound more frustrated than aroused. Your hips slow and stop, and your mouth fights to make a pout. You will it away. It really isn’t his fault. 

“You…you don’t have to stop,” he says, a little shyly. 

You shift off of him and swallow your own sigh, feeling sticky and unsatisfied. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “Maybe next time I’ll get my pants off.” 

His cock, spent, still twitches against his belly. 

[sukunasweetheart]

kimi ni todoke inspired, but with a twist?? except sukuna is suuuuper into your whole scary/creepy vibes (strange fetish) this is more just rambling, not a proper fic sorry, its a little smutty, scratching and knifeplay involved (he's quite submissive), sukuna's a whole FRREAK

sukuna in college au, where he has a strange infatuation with the horror genre-- has a deep appreciation for scary films, and is a huge nerd in this area, and many of his favourite celebrities are actors and actresses that starred in one of his favourite films. his brother yuuji is also a huge cinema nerd but he's not as obsessed with horror as sukuna is. and frankly, yuuji thinks he's a slight weirdo for being able to analyse them in a very detailed manner, whether it's the jumpscares or how realistic a gore scene looks.

and now this horror nerd discovers someone very noteworthy in his area. there's this semi-famous haunted house that operates year-round nearby his university, which he decides to visit alone, out of boredom.

...the atmosphere is alright. the decoration could use some work. the bloody sheets don't look convincing enough. it's too pink and tacky. the "ghosts" give an effort to try and scare him, but he gives them a deadpan look.

"can you try any harder?" sukuna keeps walking.

next, a man dressed like a typical serial killer walks in holding a real chainsaw. oh, boy. the "killer" walks up real close to him, to his annoyance. he takes the chance to inspect the mask on his face. he flicks it lightly with a finger.

"shit's made out of plastic. do better."

the man revs up his chainsaw.

"ha - that's the spirit." he continues walking.

there's suddenly eerie silence, now that he's almost at the exit of the haunted house. what, did they run out of ideas?

he thinks he catches a glimpse of someone in the corner of his eye. sukuna stops and turns back, but there's no one in sight. that gets the hairs on the back of his neck rising, ever so slightly. he likes that.

he feigns ignorance and keeps heading to the exit, wanting something to jump out at him. he hears little footsteps behind him, this time. he whips around again, but there's nobody.

"you're edging me, are you?" he says sarcastically with a chuckle.

you're hiding in a little pocket area out of view, when you hear the man mention something about edging. great. another fucking weirdo. sometimes, you feel like you should just get a new job.

the third time, you actually reveal yourself and stand still in view when he turns around. the weirdo just stands there and grins at you. the fuck??

oh, sukuna loves this one. you look terrifying. like you came directly from a horror film set. you give him the creeps.

"look at you... a diamond in the rough."

the fuck is this man talking about? you want to tell him to just leave already. but he just continues observing you silently, like someone analysing an artifact. you move stiffly towards him, even while knowing that it probably wouldn't be enough to scare him off.

"your makeup looks too real... do you do that yourself?"

you glare at him. it's part of the script anyway. sukuna chuckles, because something tells him that the disdain in your eyes are real.

"i know, i know. i'll get going. any chance i could get your number before i go?" he asks boldly, hands in his pockets. it's a half-hearted attempt, but he felt the need to really try at least once.

he must be joking. what kind of perverted man sees a woman looking like this and asks for her number? well, he probably isn't being serious anyway. silence permeates the area as you backtrack away from him, deciding you've done enough for your pay's worth.

"running away? a shame..."

you feel odd. many men have seen you and ended up running out screaming. none has ever tried flirting with you while you were in this getup. what a weirdo.

sukuna walks out feeling better than expected. that last section really saved it. not a totally worthless experience. maybe he'll swing by again, just to see you.

except, he doesn't really need to. because the next day you bump into him at uni - and he recognises you instantly, like the freak he is. you try to brush him off casually, but he can't be shaken off so easily. and then sukuna pestering you wherever you hid around on campus became part of your schedule.

"what's your deal? why do you keep following me around?" you eye him suspiciously, when he sits down next to you on the bench, unprompted.

"well, i'm interested in you, for one," he says casually, shrugging.

"listen... if this is because you have some weird horror fetish, then i'm not interested..." you tell him truthfully, shuffling yourself away.

sukuna laughs out loudly in response, which makes you jump.

"i won't deny having unusual tastes, but my interest isn't that shallow. if it were the case, i could probably seduce any other girl and dress her up instead of chasing after you."

well, you guess he's correct about that. you've received a couple of stink eyes from a number of girls after being seen with sukuna so often.

he's an annoying guy - when you ask other peers about him, they tell you he's stoic, mean, and rude as fuck. well, you understand the last two a little bit, but stoic? every time he sees you, he seems like the opposite. he's rather loud and overbearing.

"i'm telling you - you have a talent. why not make use of it?"

he's referring to your future acting career, apparently.

"and i'm telling you - stop with the nonsense! i can't be fooling around with a silly idea like becoming an actor. seriously."

you only started working at the haunted house for some cash. you're not even that into the genre itself. what's with this guy?

"why would it be fooling around? at least give it a try before dismissing it."

this back and forth continues, for quite a while. he even forces you to watch his favourite horror films, "for future reference".

and then he proposes a deal to you. that you try and audition for a small role as a ghost in a film. he guarantees you'll get picked, even though you doubt it. and if you don't he promises he'll never bring the idea up to you again. you decide to go with it, just to shut him up.

but guess what? you're selected for the role.

sukuna shrugs at you with a smug smile on his face.

"see? i'm always right."

he pisses you off.

and he somehow pushes his way into becoming your personal "trainer". sukuna revises your script with you, and gives you feedback on your acting. he sits you down and watches classic horror flicks with you, analysing every scene down to every frame. many things happen the more you spend time with him..... you find yourself getting more and more attracted to this weirdo. this horror nerd.

"are you paying attention? this part is important."

the film gets paused, and you very swiftly, dart your eyes away from admiring his jawline.

"i'm trying... i just can't concentrate. i'm hungry," you lie fervently.

"hungry for what? me?" sukuna grabs your face and makes you turn your head towards him.

"...no? whatever gave you that idea?" you ask, heart hammering in your chest.

"how is it that an aspiring actor can't even lie properly? maybe we need to go back and revise some of your acting lessons."

you know that he's studying to become a film director, and honestly you feel sorry for the future actors that'll be working with him.

"whatever. let go of my face, you ass." you swat his hand away.

sukuna chuckles deeply at you, eyes softening.

"you're lucky that you're cute. how about i give you a kiss? will you concentrate better then?"

"yeah... wait, what-?"

too late though, he's already on your lips. and damn, he's a good kisser. anyways, that embarks the start of your relationship with him. shortly after, the filming process for the short film begins, and it becomes a decent success. you're a little ecstatic. maybe more than a little. you get the feeling that a whole new life is awaiting you.

and your boyfriend is so endlessly cocky about it. "all thanks to me," he says, which is technically correct, but you don't want to openly admit it in front of him sometimes.

and...

occasionally...you do dress up scarily before sex as well. at first, you were quite reluctant and awkward with roleplaying in bed, but after you got used to it, you found that it's hot as hell to see sukuna beneath you, squirming as you press a knife close to his throat, grinding your clothed cunt against his boner, dressed as a terrifying ghoul.

a safe word was established beforehand, of course, just in case either of you suddenly feel like backing out.

you want to keep yourself immersed into the role as much as possible, but it's difficult when sukuna's cock is so big, hitting all the right spots. this time, you're choking him with one hand as you ride him like he's a toy.

sukuna's hands are guiding your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, his dick aching from the soft pressure you apply to his throat. you look so utterly scary, it turns him on. he'd let you kill him, if you wanted. he fucks into your cervix, looking up into your eyes with a blush on his face, groaning openly at the insane look in your eyes.

choke me harder. scratch me. bite me. he provokes you through his gaze.

you do grip his throat harder. and then you dig your fingernails into his chest, and scrape them down slowly, leaving a trail of red marks down him. sukuna shudders under you and curses under his breath.

"just like that... fuck, baby," he moans, cock throbbing inside of you. your walls squeeze him so good.

he cums the hardest he's ever cum in his life that night - thighs trembling and sweat rolling down his temples, and it doesn't help that you lean down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck while he orgasms.

aftercare consists of him cleaning you up and helping you de-costume. when he's wiping all that dark makeup off your face, he tells you that you're pretty with his soft voice, flustering you.

and of course, vanilla sex also occurs regularly, to get away from that freaky stuff sometimes, with the gentle kisses and tender hand holding, in a missionary position, exchanging sweet, sweet gazes with each other. giving you the princess treatment you deserve for being so good to him.

in the future, you run around and play bigger roles until one of your films become a huge hit, and sukuna finishes his degree to become a famous film director... no surprises there! the best horror actress + the best horror film director goes hard... the two of you are already married at this point.

when the both of you finally get together to make the ultimate film, the internet explodes... sukuna is surprisingly bad at being professional. he's seen often taking care of you rather affectionately around the filming area, personally making sure your makeup is done perfectly, and bringing you food and water as if he's bragging to everyone else about his marriage. and it shows in the way he sugar coats his critique for you, when he has never done that for any other actor/actress he's worked with previously.

if there are some snooty coworkers that try to speak with him about the gap in treatment, he would simply scoff at them and say 'and? she's my damn wife.'

when he's working with you, it's all like:

"cut! honey, that was great, but i think this part can be done a bit better."

but when it comes to other actors:

"cut! what the fuck was that? sounded like you were reading off the damn script. get your shit together."

he's notorious for being relentless, but nobody has anything to say because all of his films climbed to the top of the industry. everyone is dying to score a line or two in his films.

and i'd like to think that sukuna himself dabbles into acting a little as well. there's probably one film where he stars as the killer, and it becomes a classic :) but the one featuring you and him probably becomes both of your biggest hits ✨

oh, and on days where you two finish filming together, he takes you home with his own car, but before that, some freaky car sex probably occurs around some corner with his windows tinted... (he's been hot and bothered the whole time filming, watching you act)

the end <3

Masterlist

[nanaslutt]

i feel like choso probably wouldn’t have been with many people (maybe anyone) before with him being half-cursed spirit.

what would be be like getting head for the first time?

I’m so glad you asked :3

contains: fem reader, inexperienced!Choso, so much praise, dirty talk, teasing, insecurity, comfort, choso has a crush on reader, first orgasm, he cries from pleasure, soft as hell

MDNI

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

“You gotta sit still Choso, don’t you know how big you are?” You asked seductively, jerking his hard on while you sat on your knees on the floor in front of him, “You might seriously hurt someone with this thing.. you don’t want that right?” You questioned again. He shook his head, he didn’t wanna hurt anyone, especially not you.

“Good boy, just keep your ass on the bed and i’ll take care of everything.” You reassured, rubbing your hands along his thick thighs soothingly.

—

Choso had no idea how things escalated this quickly, the two of you had gotten dragged into a conversation about your sexual experiences with Gojo, and suddenly here you were, in his room between his legs after he confessed that he had never been touched before.

This situation was something he didn’t even dare dream of, he never thought he was allowed to think of you this way. Choso had talked to Yuuji about how he felt about you, but nothing of this manner, just how cute he thought you looked in your uniform, how nervous you made him whenever you looked his way, the ball of warmth in his stomach whenever you touched him.

He always stopped his thoughts whenever the warm feeling started to drop lower in his pelvis when he saw you stretch your arms above your head before sparing, your stomach rising to reveal your soft looking tummy. Looking away when it had rained during a mission together, the liquid soaking through your shirt, making it see through, where he sometimes got a glimpse of the black bra you wore underneath your clothes.

So when you dragged him aside after the conversation and asked if he wanted you to show him what a blow job felt like, who was he to deny his long-term crush?

—

Your fingers rubbed along his dripping slit, collecting his pre before you stroked the wetness down the length of his cock, making his breath hitch. You had only been touching him for a couple minutes maybe, and he already felt like something was going to come out.

"I- I think I'm ready." He said, his knee bouncing under the weight of your hand, trying to ease his nerves. "Tap my head twice if its too much for you Choso," you smiled sweetly up at him, making him suck in a breath at how beautiful you looked between his thighs combined with the use of his name.

He watched with bated breath as you opened your mouth, your pretty pink tongue darting out and licking the slit of his cock, making his body jerk forward at the contact, "You okay?" you asked in between kitten licks on his head. He nodded, not being able to take his dark eyes off the scene in front of him, "Just feels s-sensitive." He explained.

You giggled before taking his mushroom tip into your mouth and suckling gently, using your tongue to expertly draw circles around it. Choso's breath hitched above you, his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his cock. This sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He started getting dizzy when you started bobbing your head slowly, taking more and more of his length into your mouth as you did so.

Was it supposed to feel this intense? Did it always feel like this? He felt like he was losing his mind, like he had taken some drug that made his brain feel like mush, and his body feel like lava.

"I-its so warm, shit.." He cursed, his cock twitching strongly against your tongue as you took him even deeper. He swore he saw stars when he felt you hum around his length, sending delicious vibrations through his balls.

He was unsure of what to do with his hands, they were just digging into the sheets behind him, but every neuron in his brain was telling him to pet your hair. He wanted to touch you so bad, but he didn't know if he was allowed to.

You popped your lips off his cock, replacing it with your hand as you stroked him quicker, nuzzling your head against his thigh and peppering kisses into the skin there. "I, I want to touch you, can I?" He asked shyly, maintaining eye contact with you through his hooded eyes.

"Of course, you can do anything you want Choso." You said smiling, "As long as your hips stay on the bed." You added, going back to taking his cock into your mouth. His hand immediately came to place itself on your head, not putting any pressure on you, instead just resting it there.

His groans increased in volume when you took his cock to the hilt, his fat tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, the feeling of your throat constricting around his dick made his eyes roll back in his head. "S-so good- feels so good," He moaned out, his jaw had gone slack and his eyes were trying their best to stay open and watch the show you were putting on for him.

Choso had to fight his hips to not buck up into your mouth when your throat repeatedly took him in, over and over again he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and it was almost too much to take. He started feeling that semi familiar warmth coil in his stomach, the feeling being more intense this time around as he panted and heaved loudly, squirming against the sheets.

"A-ah wait s-stop please, p-please," He begged, sighing in relief when you popped your lips off his cock. Choso’s his hand came down to squeeze the base of his cock harshly, to prevent himself from cuming so fast and embarrassing himself in front of you. "Why'd you stop me? Are you okay?" You ask concerned, the hoarseness of your voice being very prevalent from the abuse your throat had taken.

"I uh.. I think I was about to cum." He admitted, giving the base of his cock one last squeeze before he let go of it, letting it twitch in the air between the two of you. “Ohh, Choso,” you laughed lightly, making his face heat up, “I want you to cum, that’s why i’m doing this.” Your beautiful voice rang in his ears.

Although you had just given him permission, he still shook his head, “No?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, confused. “I don’t..” He paused, gathering all the courage in his body before he spoke again, “I don’t wanna cum too quick.” He said, “I’m sure other people you’ve been with have.. lasted l-longer.” he stuttered out.

His words made you bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smile at how cute he could be. You had no idea he was insecure about this kind of thing. “Choso, this is your first time ever being touched, right?” You ask, rubbing comforting patterns into his thigh with one hand while you wrapped your other around his dick again, starting up a slow pace.

He nodded, body jerking at the sudden pleasure starting up again. “Exactly, so your not as used to this kind of this like someone else might be.” You explained, “But this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you and me.” Your words were doing wonders on his self esteem. “I have no expectations from you, i’m not comparing you to a single other soul.” You reassured, stroking him faster now, his eyes fluttered as he soaked in your words.

“O-okay.” He eventually said, making you smile as you repeated the word back to him, before licking his tip once more, “If you feel like you’re gonna cum, just let it out, I got you.” you comforted, taking him back into your throat again.

He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt, (it was) as he slapped a big hand over his mouth to conceal his groans and heavy breathing when your bobbing picked up.

There were strings of spit connecting from the base of his cock to your lips, the sight was so erotic. He almost passed out when he felt your fingers expertly massage his wet balls in your soft hands, squeezing them just right, and steadily working him back up to his orgasm.

“Shit- I- Im close again.” He said, his hand dropping from his mouth as he placed it back on your head and gripped it for stability. You moaned out an ‘mhm mhm’ around him in acknowledgment, trying to let him know it was alright. “It f-feels weird.. I think it’s coming-“ He whined, his thighs shaking and abs clenching at his impending high.

You popped off his dick, sticking out your tongue and stroking him quickly, still massaging his heavy balls, “Yesyesyes good boy Choso, let it out, cum for me.” You whined, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt anything so intense, he fought to keep his eyes open as he released his load all over your face and tongue, feeling your hot breath pant against his length. Tears he didn’t know had been forming dripped down his face as his body curled in on itself, not being able to take such intense pleasure.

“F-fuck ngggh- ffffuck!!” Curses of your name fell from the dark haired man’s lips as his orgasm seemingly went on forever. His body shook and shook with pleasure even after the ropes of cum stopped, you swallowed up everything he gave you, wiping up the cum that landed on your cheeks you popped your finger into your mouth, sucking it off.

You leaned your head forward to leave a soft kiss on his sensitive cockhead, making him whine, before you stood to your feet in front of him.

“Good fucking boy Choso, how did that feel?” You asked, taking his face in your hands and wiping away his tears, his eyes glassed over, his soul still finding his way back into his body as he took in your words.

He just nodded at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he swallowed air into his lungs greedily, “Thank you, t-thank you.” he repeated, wrapping his strong arms around your body. You took the opportunity to sit on his thighs, careful to avoid sitting on his still sensitive but softening cock.

You held his heavy head against your chest, “Thank you~” you giggled, pulling his head away from you and making him look into your eyes, “Felt so good.” he said, shaking his head.

You held his soft cheeks in your hands, before you brought your lips to his head and left a soft kiss against his forehead. “And this is just the beginning.” You replied.

[venus-maneater]

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

x

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

x

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

x

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

x

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

x

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

[2-dsimp]

Any of the guys with a pregnancy kink?

On the father, the spirit, and the son, pregnant people are fine as fuck. I always be looking respectfully.

- 🤰

【The H.S.M Scenarios; Pregnancy kink edition】

—————;———-;———

Cw: MDNI NSFW 🔞 Fem reader, pregnancy kink

————;—-;————

“Atta girl, taking in every single drop like a good mommy~ Just lay back on me wife. I wanna get that cute tummy of yours all plump n full of me again and again—Fuck!”

Nokka the husband, this guys a no brainer. He’s so confident in his seed that he doesn’t even need a pregnancy test to check if he had knocked you up with his baby. But Your husband will let you do so if only to prove that his elite sperm had done its job well. in making his wife’s belly swell up beautifully with his potential son. And hence the moment you started showing a baby bump, your meager time alone at home would diminish. As this man is constantly on you like white on rice. He’s rubbing your belly possessively with his big hand. Watching football while having you warm his cock. Of which he complained got so rock hard that it was borderline uncomfortable for him to even sit wearing his baggy sweats. All because of how his wife was lookin too damn irresistible in that pregnancy glow. (And just in general… this man’s a bonifide caveman simp for his wife)

“Awe my poor player 2~ is our little player 3 acting up too much? Don’t worry! I’ll tell em to take it easy on you mkay mamma? Just spread them legs wide for me so that lil bugger can get the message”

Soma the Zombie, always dreamed of having a team of professional gamers to carry on his legacy of being number one in the world. He often joked around saying that 3 kids wouldn’t be enough. Since he’d never get enough of seeing that radiant glow you’d possess when you’re heavy with his child. And ever since he got infected his obsession with keeping you full got even more demanding. The Zombie had his tentacles that sprouted from him squeezed and kneaded your breasts for any source of milk to suckle on. while his thick gelatinous tendril cock squirmed itself inside your well used cunt. His suckers messaged against your love cannal trying to cease the baby’s incessant kicking by giving them a taste of their own medicine.

“B-but sunshine won’t this u-upset our little starshine? N-no? Then I guess it’ll be f-fine. Just don’t p-push yourself too hard, I only w-want you to f-feel good my love”

Moros the Torturer, would be considering himself blessed to even be able to have such happiness in raising a child with you. He’d always make sure to cater to your every need during your pregnancy. You’ve got a craving for baked goods? He’ll bake enough for a whole football team. Need a deep tissue massage? The Torturer’s on the case, after consulting with Koji the medic what would be the best spots to soothe for his pregnant darling. You’d have to be the one to try and initiate any sort of intimacy to get his gears going. Since he’s a timid gentle giant who’d cry if under the impression that he somehow hurt you. By delving his thick uncircumcised cock so deep inside your wet snatch that its fat tip was kissing languidly against your cervix. With each gentle but jerky buck of his semi inexperienced hips. His scarred hands would always subconsciously find themselves on your stomach. As he’s just so grateful at how now he’s got two stunning guiding lights that’ll brighten up his day.

[nightingale-prompts]

Loving Spirits - Beholder AU- DC x DP (Tim X Danny)

The rest of the series

So Tim and Danny are at an impasse. Life was comfortable. But they weren't progressing.

It wasn't stale, no never. Every day Tim could only guess what was waiting for him when he got home. If Danny was distracted with his blueprints or pouring over star charts. He could be laughing over a mythology book.

Danny had a habit of redecorating, not that Tim minded. The apartment was kind of bare before. Now it felt like he walked into the wrong house everything he came back. Boho, retro-futurism, and maximalism. Each style blended haphazardly. Tim was just glad it wasn't black everywhere. He was cool to let Danny take over the space.

There was currently one little problem. Well, several but one was more glaring than the others. He didn't know how he managed this but Danny didn't know he was a Wayne. He knew who the Waynes were but he spent so much time focused on his job, school, and hobbies he didn't care about gossip. Add that no one could casually approach him without losing their nerves and no one could tell him.

This was working out great for Tim until-

"Tim...you know I've never met your family. You've met mine and I kinda want to know what I'm getting into." Danny half laughed as he moved his rook on the chess board.

Tim panicked. He could tell Danny he was an orphan so he had no family but Danny was dense, not stupid, and knew damn well that Tim had a family. How else would Tim vent about his brothers and praise what siblings he did like? (Duke and Cassandra)

But right now Danny knew that Tim got a great position at Wayne Industries due to nepotism and brains. He also knew that said position meant a lot of late nights and overwork due to how underprepared he was. The latter was a lie to cover up his Red Robin identity

All these things he could use to get at least some sympathy from Danny and only a few compliments.

Tim didn't like lying but it's expected. Who in this family liked lying about their secret identity besides Dick who probably gets off on that sort of thing deep down. Okay, so Tim liked having a secret identity too but that didn't mean he liked lying to Danny. Okay, he would totally be okay with lying if it was easier and had no consequences but there would totally be consequences on a long enough timeline just look at Bruce's relationships.

Well Tim had to bite the bullet this time.

"I don't know. My family can be so busy. And well... I had a bit of a fallout a few years ago with my brothers. I was practically abandoned. That's why I moved out. Sorry...I don't really talk about it. Family dinner night is the most I can stand."

Timothy Drake you absolute fucking coward! That's so cheap! You manipulative little shit!

"Oh...you poor thing. I didn't know it was like that. I promise I won't bring it up unless you want to talk about it." Danny frowned sympathetically bringing up a hand to cradle Tims cheek soothingly.

Like I said, you're a genius, Tim! Greatest plan you've ever come up with! Absolutely flawless!

***

Danny guessed that Tim side of the family won't be present at the wedding. That's okay but not ideal. That allows Danny to fill up the roles with his side. Youngblood was going to be the ring bearer. Clockwork is the officiate but did Tim want a specific denomination? Danny was sure he could ask any diety to show up for the ceremony.

There was so much planning for these events, years even if he didn't just elope.

Danny just felt bad that they were this deep into their relationship but its really Tim putting in so much effort.

Tim invited Danny into his nest of all things and they are sharing a space.

Nocturne was scandalized when he heard.

"But you're so young! Even Clockwork and I don't share our nests every night!" Nocturne said dramatically pulling out a fan and cooling himself like he heard that Danny was now a fallen woman in Victorian England.

He wasn't wrong though. Ghosts don't often share a nest. It's a sacred and off-limits place of their haunts. Even ancients like Clockwork and Nocturne whose original haunts have long since been lost to time (ehehe) had their own domains in the infinite realms and were careful about crossing into them carelessly so they don't muddle them.

Nests are charged with so much of your own energy, that letting them be tainted by another's energy was an uncomfortable idea. There was so much vulnerability in feeling exposed like that.

Thankfully, Tim hasn't asked them to share a room. Danny wasn't quite sure he could handle it without panicking.

Clockwork wasn't happy either witht he news.

"Moving into his nest is one thing. I respect the boldness but he hasn't even bonded with you." Clockwork was traditional at his heart but it all came from a good place. "When I claimed Nocturne as mine I at least -"

Danny nodded but tuned out the rest of the lecture.

"The future is now old man!" That was all Danny could think.

Seriously Danny was not listening. All he could hear were the butterflies in his stomach and sappy love songs.

But now Tim had proposed! That changed everything.

He asked Danny to stay by his side forever! It was a promise at that. There was nothing more binding. All they needed now was to make it official legally and get bonded.

But still, Danny would like to announce it to both their families. Although Danny hasn't told Vlad because he'd try to chase Tim off again. Seriously, ever since Danny "accidentally switched his original insane and corrupted Vlad for the alternate future non-ghost side redeemed Vlad he had been the ideal godfather. But the new Vlad was overbearing in his own way. How Dani survived is a mystery with a dad like that. Vlad was too ambitious right now and was discussing bringing Dan back to hopefully fix him. Vlad's ghost half made from his hate, anger, isolation, and obsession was to blame along with Danny's unresolved grief and fear of himself. That created Dan.

If the plan goes through Danny has to worry about more then just the wedding planning.

Danny already had so much on his plate. He needed to resolve the issue with the ecto pits soon. He had been getting complaints from the Infinite Realm residents. Being the high prince meant plumbing issues like this fall on him to resolve.

It's all so exhausting. But Danny can't help.but feel like he forgot something.

...Must not be important then.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Make me

Sirius Black x fem!reader

in which James planned you a blind date with your nemesis

requests are open!

word count: 2,1k

warnings: language, drinking

...

"I'm so tired of all the boys. I swear, there is not even one normal man here in Hogwarts." you grumbled despairingly as you landed on the couch in the common room next to James.

"Oh sweetheart, so I take it the date didn't go as planned?" he chuckled.

You covered your face with your hands and loudly exhaled.

"Well, we did go to Hogsmeade but instead of Honeydukes he took me to Scrivenshaft's quill shop. Stop laughing, this isn't even the worst part. He then kept blabbering on about some new type of rainbow ink that he, in his own words, just has to buy."

At least James tried to not laugh as much as he desired to, though you wouldn't blame him - because what the actual fuck.

"Oh, I just love hearing of your escapades, Y/N. Such a shame, though; me and Lily are desperate to find another couple to go on double dates with." he smiled while pouting his lips mockingly. You punched his arm with surprising strenght.

"Just no more guys like Mr. Rainbow Ink, please." you laughed.

James looked as if he wasthinking of something and after a moment of silence, his whole face lit up and you knew that whatever he thought of was no good.

"Just leave it to me, 'kay? I'll find the perfect guy for you and arrange a blind date."

"Fuck no." you said immediately, knowing that James would singlehandedly mess up.

"No, no, just hear me out, okay? I will take this job seriously, in my own interest. I promise not to make a joke out of it."

You rolled your eyes in answer but didn't argue further.

"Plus, I think I have the perfect candidate."

At that moment, you should've already known that something will go really, really wrong.

...

Three days later, James already had everything planned out and was nearly jumping with excitement. Well, you didn't really share that feeling. But for some reason, seeing your childhood bestfriend so invested in finding you the best match made you soften and not argue that much.

"You know that this Friday is the Celestial ball, right? So, your date will pick you up at five and please, dress nicely so he doesn’t change his mind. Yeah, that's probably all you need to know." he gave you a wicked grin.

"Why the secrecy?" you raised an eyebrow at your friend.

"Nothing, just making sure it's an unfiltered experience for you."

“At least if he turns out to be another idiot, I have an excuse to get hammered.” you grinned.

“That’s the spirit!” James bumped your shoulder excitedly and you couldn’t help but smile at his childish happiness.

But when you tried to think of even a single person with whom he would set you up, your mind went blank.

Who are you gonna be, stranger?

…

In preparation of the upcoming ball, Lily and Dorcas braided your hair into a sort of messy half-up-half-down hairstyle and you girls shared quite a laugh when they tried to get you into your very - very - tight dress.

With your black high-heels on, you examined yourself in the mirror. Your Y/H/C hair looked so sexy tied liked that and you decided to go with the same messy vibe regarding your whole look. From the smudged black kohl lining your eyes and the bold dark-red lipstick to your floor length burgundy dress with black lace adoring its edges. Oh, it might have been just a bit too slutty for such an occasion, but you didn't mind at all. You and Marlene always enjoyed wearing things just a smudge out of pocket.

You also liked shy boys stuttering when they looked at you. You hoped your escort would be one of those. You grinned at the thought and left your room with a light step.

"I see you take this date seriously." James nodded at you approvingly as he watched you approach him in front of the Great Hall.

"Yeah, yeah, dream all you want." you rolled your eyes. "Where is he?"

"Darling, getting all pretty and dressed up for me today, aren't you?" a voice purred behind you and it affected you in the same way a bucket of icy water would.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

"Are you fucking serious?" you gritted your teeth at James and he paled when he saw the murderous look on your face. He better.

"Darling, he’s with Lily, remember? He wouldn’t be fucking me. But you, on the other hand… You know how my usual dates go."

You turned to face that ridiculously handsome face of Sirius Black. That fucker was you nemesis since the moment he saw you on the Hogwarts Express sharing a booth with James. It didn’t matter to you that James found a guy bestfriend – you were okay with sharing the same pedestal with another – but Sirius, on the other hand, just purely despised you for it. So after two yers of trying to settle this tension between you two, you gave up and started to treat him the same way he did.

And that nickname, that god-forsaken nickname; it drove you crazy and you both knew it.  

”I’m not spending even a second of my time on this… existence.” You spat at James instead, wisely ignoring that egoistic shit and silencing all your witty retorts. In your fourth year, you once wrote an entire list of those retorts, spending all your nights sitting crouched over that one piece of paper with anger flowing freely in your veins.

Obsessed much? a small voice in your head whispered.

“I think that if you give this a chance-“

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Angry already, darling?” Sirius purred and your knuckles turned white from you trying so hard not to break his perfect nose.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face before I do it for you.” You have been such a fool for trusting James to do just one thing right. Now you would do anything to be here with any of the guys you were previously complaining about. But instead, you were left with the only person you truly hated. So much for an unfiltered experience.

“Oh, are you gonna kiss me, Y/N?” Sirius smiled even wider.

“This was probably not a good idea.” proclaimed Lily as she approached you three.

“Probably not.” James nervously tugged at his hair.

You and Sirius were just staring daggers at each other. And after deciding this staring contest was fucking ridiculous, you just turned on your heel and began walking back up the stairs.

“Oh, darling, leaving so soon?” Sirius shouted at you and every head in the hallway turned your way. You turned around and bared your teeth at him, not caring that you probably looked like a wild animal.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Your voice was cold as you took the tree steps it took to reach him. Even though Sirius was towering over you, you felt as if you were looking down your nose at him.

“What, darling?” he puffed, one corner of his lips turning up. He was toying with you, you knew it. And you hated that he knew it, too.

“Yes.”

“Or what?” Sirius stepped closer and you felt the tips of your shoes touching his. With every rise of your chest you could feel the fabric of his shirt.

Before you could say anything back (which would be hard because, apparently, your mind just went blank at Sirius’ closeness), James tugged at your elbow and walked you to an alcove nearby.

“What the fuck, James?” you spat at his accusingly. He winced at your words as if you had hit him.

“I just- Well, I don’t have to justify my gut feeling to you, but I think you guys should get over your hating phase and start acknowledging the chemistry between you two,” he whisled slowly at that, “So please, hate me all you want tomorrow. But tonight, just give him a chance.”

You looked over his shoulder back to Sirius. He was talking to Lily and it wasn’t a smirk on his face but a soft smile that has not even once been aimed at you. That fact made you queasy. You knew he wasn’t always an asshole – it was only in your presence that he got so riled up. But, you thought, it would be nice to be smiled at just like that.

“Okay. But just tonight.” You were surprised by your own words. Were you an idiot for saying that? You didn’t know.

“Thanks,” James sighed, relief lacing his words. He took your elbow again and brought you back to the group.

“I’m gonna get myself a drink. Maybe two.”

Lily giggled at James’ words and grabbed onto his arm and the two of them hurriedly left. That meant you and Sirius were left alone, which was very, very dangerous. You started walking to the bar without looking back at your escort, because all you really needed at that moment was a strong ass drink.

“Firewhiskey, right?” Sirius asked you when he caught up to you. No matter how fast you tried to go, he infuriatingly and casually kept his pace next to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. In answer, he shrugged. “I just know.”

You tried to shake off the feeling that embraced you after realizing he somehow knew your favourite hard liquor.

 You also didn’t know how to react to the fact that Sirius paid for his and your drinks that some students smuggled into the party for a laughably ridiculous price.

As he handed the cold glass to you, your fingers touched, just barely. You told yourself your heartbeat was quick because of your temper, no other reasons.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me.” You smirked ironically at Sirius, the alcohol already burning sweetly in your throat.

“I have that much of an effect on you? I should be flattered.” Sirius retorted. But it was not an angry answer, just…. A playful one. And you had no idea what to do with that.

“Don’t think you’re all that, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. “Should I ckeck for a poisoned drink? Or a love potion?”

You knew you were dancing on the edge of a very sharp knife. But somehow, that made it much more fun.

“Don’t think of me so poorly, darling. As if I needed a love potion to get you on your knees and beg.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

“Yes, in my dreams, darling.”

You froze at that. Was he actually impying he dreamt about you being on your knees, begging before him? But of course he did, that arrogant prick. He always had to feel superior.

But that didn’t stop the blood from seeping into your cheeks - but you blamed your blush on the firewhiskey.

So in answer you just took another sip of your drink. Were you an idiot for flirting with him? But were all those quarells of your shared pasts actually any different from flirting? You’ve never been so confused.

“You really aren’t making this any easier.” Sirius mumbled but instead of your eyes he looked around the room. Thank Merlin the music was so loud that any awkward silences were swallowed up by it.

“As if you are?” His eyes met yours and you had to fight the instinct to fight with him, to get closer to yell at him - or get closer to kiss him?

Instead you got yourself another drink, just so you could do something with your hands.

“Slow down, tiger. Didn’t think you actually hated my presence so much you would rather get hammered.” Sirius mockingly frowned and before you could react, he snatched the glass from your hand.

“Give it back, you little fucker.” You growled and tried clawing at his raised arm. But he was a lot taller than you and to be honest, your attempts were just meaningless.

“Make me.” And maybe it was that crooked smile of his, or how good he looked in his suit or how soft his hair looked in the dim lights, that made you reach on your toes and kiss his infuriating dirty mouth that made you want to combust most of the time.

How was it possible that his lips were so intoxicating but the words that usually came out of it were so infurating?

But you forbid yourself to think of all those things. Instead you now easily reached for his hand and grasped your glass, snatching it from Sirius’ weakening grip.

“Made you.” You smiled. The bewildered look on his face was worth it. “I didn’t fluster you, did I?”

Sirius gave a startled laugh. “You clever little vicious thing.”

And he leaned into you, his nose touching yours, your breaths mingling. “Now do it again.”

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Malevolent, TMA, and Dracula Daily fans! Lend me your ears!

Are you looking for a new spooky horror podcast? Then might I recommend, The Holmwood Foundation?

Malevolent fans, do you like possession and co-dependency? How about traveling on a cross country road trip over the English countryside with a decayed magical possessed severed head? Do you like fighting the Horrors™️ with impractical weapons like a stolen camping stake? Then you’ll love Holmwood!

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For the Dracula Daily and Re:Dracula fans out there, this one is for you at heart! The story takes place 130 years after the events of Dracula with the main characters Madeline Townsend and Jeremy Larkin getting possessed by the spirits of Mina and Jonathan Harker after Dracula’s skull is uncovered in an archaeological dig and something dark and dangerous is released into the world trying to claw its way back. Follow Maddie and Jeremy under the guidance of Mina and Jonathan as they attempt to end the threat of Dracula coming back once and for all.

The Holmwood Foundation is currently being kickstarted with about 4 days left in their campaign as of writing this (10:30pm CST, November 9, 2024) and they are about 76.5% of the way towards their goal. I really want to see this podcast come to fruition and see where the story goes, so if you are interested, listen to the first episode that’s already out now on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Acast, or anywhere you can listen to podcasts, and if you like it, consider donating to the campaign!

You can find the kickstarter here and the first episode for the podcast here!

The Holmwood’s original posts can be found linked here and here

And a list of the episode titles can be found here!

Just to clarify, I'm not being paid to promote this or anything, I just have an unhealthy obsession with Dracula content and a desire for More that I can't get if the story doesn't come out :(

But it's so good guys, I promise it's so good, please listen to it I love it so much 💕