#The urge to write it down has overcome me

[amaryllis-sagitta]

The writing the writing I need to rant about the writing

The issue with companion quests and rendezvous is that they're, to a great extent, conversational, with some very basic mechanical filler to give player the illusion that they're doing something. So the brunt of character development falls to conversations we have with them. This wouldn't be the problem if conversations themselves weren't sooo all over the place.

I wrote before that the beginning suffers from severe first draft syndrome and most conversations could have been singular lines. Early exchanges between Neve & Harding are just fluff, and taking note of their differences could have been a single line. It... gets a little better in Act 2, but it's still padded with generic conversation fillers and painfully repetitive about the only points that matter. I swear I've had so many conversations where the same expository sentence was said to me twice or thrice about 2 paragraphs apart.

It's like they want to say something, they are able to pepper in some genuinely touching moments, but then the dialogue wheel minces it all into the blandest mix of responses you've ever seen, or it unnecessarily polarizes issues that already have buildup into simplistic choices. Examples: we encourage Taash to embrace a syncretic, multicultural identity and BAM! A CHOICE APPEARS LATER that further polarizes it in a way that's totally uncalled for. We build Harding up to overcome her fawning tendencies, to embrace her anger and to let herself feel justified in it so she can handle the bond with the Stone, or we can make her feel weird and unaccepted with her new abilities - and BAM! CHOICE because what would we do without reminding survivors that compassion and forgiveness are the socially expectable ways to go? I fear Emmrich is going to feel the same, after lichdom is built up as the pinnacle of his expertise and his greatest dream, only thwarted by the terrifying risk of him permadying in the ritual (because the risk of corruption of character, like it happened to Johanna, is quickly dismissed as something OOC for Emmrich).

I thought I would begrudge UI explaining to me what my choices mean, but I started to need it at times, becuse the dialogue options by themselves fail to inform me what I'm about to do half the time. I'm in romance with Neve but the only input Rook has ever given in the Flirty options was "We have problems... but we are not alone..." I have genuinely no idea what the dynamic between characters is there. According to the Character tag line, Neve has "fallen unexpectedly".

Maybe it's because Rook feels completely disjointed from whatever is happening to them. The Zara/ Illario twist almost makes them stupid on purpose because the plot can't advance yet. My Shadow Rook had nothing to add when Zara almost uttered "amatus" once before Illario choked her, no, that exposition had to happen on Emmrich's dissection table.

I also don't understand this game's urge to summarize everything for the player after the proper conversation -- not just in the UI, not in the mission quest summaries, but also in the final cutscenes in Lighthouse after most our rendezvous. These are always the most awkward, low effort reiteration of the conversation that was held minutes ago. I feel like this was supposed to be the space to form some logical conclusions, but all they do is revert whatever poignant points have been made before to very superficial takes on the problem.

I also roll my eyes on the later Lighthouse "quests" where Rook is the HR department for companions' petty grievances that can be solved by minor communication adjustments. Only the Davrin/ Lucanis conflict feels like it has any meat because it involves ambitions tied to the main quest. Taash calling the old man Skullfucker is funny but it boils down to both parties needing to be better listeners. And why would Harding and Emmrich plan a trip to Ferelden that is being consumed and ravaged by the Blight to end all Blights in real time??? Did no-one proofread this???

My point is, I wouldn't be mad if companions were generally agreeable. I love hanging out with the girlies and nonbinaries because they get along so well. The banter heard throughout the map traversal is so, so, SO much better in this regard. It's structured like relational mini-arcs that feel really satisfying to witness. The Lighthouse mini-conflicts feel manufactured in comparison.

It's like the moments that matter occasionally poke their heads above a nondescript sea of grey goo and get dragged right back down by the ugly, eldritch tentacles of filler and redundancy.

It really, really, REALLY does not defeat the allegations that some points game wanted to make through that writing were explicitly prompted as a guideline... while everything else was left to a complex form of algorithm... that combines random generation... with imitation of holistically preserved states... of complex statistical operations... done on pre-collected source material...

[mountainficss]

idea: collegeboy!jeonghan type but it's minghao hoshi or shua instead

i’ve been thinking about this prompt and i can’t stop thinking about a collegeboy!minghao…

collegeboy!minghao who is very very quiet. he sits next to you in your biology class, but has never spoken a word to you. you can’t help but notice how pretty he is, glancing over every once in a while to admire his plump lips and pretty painted nails. every time you peek at him he’s always hyper focused on his work, his dark hair hanging like a curtain over his eyes. you’d do your best to distract yourself, ripping your longing gaze away from him to focus on your work. even though you’re trying your best to not think about the gorgeous boy next to you, you continue to wonder what it would be like to know everything about him.

meanwhile minghao wonders the same things about you. sitting next to you every day was the most heavenly torture he’d ever experienced. he gets to sneak glances at the pretty girl sitting next to him, studying every detail of your face and features. but he also has to deal with the jittery feelings he gets just by being in close proximity to you, trying his best to ignore the nervous sensations in the pits of his stomach. he also has to attempt to ignore the faint smell of your perfume, the sweetness only making his weak stomach twist more with anxiety, with nerves. he’s never even spoken to you, but he swears he’s memorized the shape of your lips, and he’s certain that he’s embedded the exact color of your irises into his brain. he almost feels your eyes on him every time you glance in his direction, and he tries to pretend it doesn’t get to him. he tries to act nonchalant, but his heart hammers in his chest and a wave of heat courses through his body solely from the thought of you. the urge to talk to you eats away at him with each passing day, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to overcome his hesitance. until then, he’ll just keep thinking about you.

·𖥸·

you were stumped. you’d stare at your work with your eyebrows furrowed, slightly nibbling on the end of your pen as you try to understand the mass of information in front of you. biology was never your strongest subject, but you had always figured out the bare minimum of the lessons on your own. unfortunately, your luck had run out up to this point. you had no idea what was going on. you’d absentmindedly peek at minghao, studying his features for the millionth time already, and then trailing your gaze down to his hand. your eyes would widen at the sight of his practically finished work, and you were surprised to see how quickly he was writing down his answers. how does he understand this? you had decided to never again ask your professor for help, because the answers they provided only confused you more. now, you have another option. “i’m sorry,” you’d start quietly, watching minghao slightly turn his head towards you. “but do you think you could help me, please? i don’t understand this.” after a beat of silence, he’d give you the smallest nod and begin explaining his work to you. you can barely pay attention to his explanations, allured by his quiet voice and his gentle expression. you’d do your best to listen though, finding that his explanations make way more sense than your professor’s. minghao seemed so certain and sure of himself, and you were astonished with the ease he grasped the concepts.

but of course, poor minghao is not certain or sure of himself. he’s overthinking every sentence, over analyzing every expression you make. he’d wonder if you understood his explanations, almost positive you thought he was stupid from the little stutters escaping him occasionally. you just make him so nervous, and his well-developed composure evaporates from his body every time he even looks at you. his heart is hammering in his chest once again, so harshly that it feels as if it might break through his ribcage. “ahhh,” you’d observe, finally understanding the lesson now after minghao’s thought out explanations. “i totally get it now.” you’d gaze back up at the pretty boy, shooting him your brightest smile. you were beyond grateful for his help. “thank you so much, minghao.” you’d grin, receiving a shy “you’re welcome” from him in return. as you both refocus on your work, minghao would be reeling. the way you said his name sent a whole new swarm of butterflies to the pit of his stomach. he couldn’t help but blush when his name left your lips in such a captivating way. and oh, the way you smiled at him? he felt like he was going insane. time had seemed to pass quicker than usual due to his stray thoughts, and just as he’s grabbing his things he hears your voice calling his name again. “hey, minghao?” you’d utter gently, watching him whip around towards you. you couldn’t help but think the dark blur of his form whirling around was cute in a way. “yes?” he’d answer timidly, hoping his voice didn’t sound too small and pathetic. he can’t control it when you say his name like that. “do you…think you can help me more with biology sometime? i’ll pay you, of course,” you’d propose, feeling a bit embarrassed to have to ask someone for extra help. you knew it was either that or risk failing, and you would much rather pass. “you just make it easy to understand. but if you don’t feel like it, it’s really no pressure. i totally understand.” of course your question would send minghao’s nerves through the roof. helping you with biology? alone? with you? he’s positive his heart would explode. he’d swallow anxiously, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly from the movement. “you don’t have to pay me,” he’d hesitate, opting to shove down his anxiousness and take a risk. he wouldn’t let himself pass up an opportunity to spend time with his biology crush. you were too pretty to turn down. “when do you want to meet again?” your eyes would widen a bit in surprise. you didn’t expect him to even consider it, let alone actually agree. “whenever you’re free. i’ll go by your schedule since you’re the one helping me,” you’d decide. “my dorm or yours?”

“y-yours,” minghao would falter. he wasn’t mentally prepared to be flung into your dorm, where you live and sleep every day, but seeing you in his dorm would be worse. imagining you seated prettily on his couch or sprawled out on his bed would just make his brain develop more detailed daydreams of you. he doesn’t need to make things harder for himself. you’d open your phone, giving it to minghao so he could put his number in. “let me know when you want to come over, okay? i’ll text you in a bit,” you’d smile at him as he responds with a tiny “okay.” poor minghao would be so distracted in his other classes, thinking of you and wondering when you’d text him. he can’t help but be eager when he knows that his number is nestled in your phone and that you could text him at any minute. hearing the ding from his phone while he’s in his dorm would make his heart stop. you had texted him.

unknown: hi! it’s (y/n)

unknown: when’s a good time for you to come over?

the thought of him coming over to your dorm made his stomach twist again. he couldn’t help but be excited, even if he was just coming over to help you with biology.

minghao: hi 👋 i’m free right now if you’re not busy.

you: sounds great! come over whenever you’re ready :)

after sending him directions to your dorm, minghao would waste no time making his way there. he’d be at your door in less than 10 minutes, knocking softly at the wood and waiting eagerly patiently for you to answer. you’d open the door for him, flashing him a pretty smile and moving aside to let him in. minghao could feel his face heating up already. he truly felt like he couldn’t breathe around you at times. you were dressed so comfortably, changing your clothes from earlier and throwing on a large hoodie. your shorts were proving to be trouble for him, slightly riding up your thighs when you moved and leaving little to his imagination. “wanna come to my room?” you’d ask sweetly, missing the way minghao gulped nervously at your wording. he’d respond with a slight nod, following you to your room and trying not to admire your exposed thighs.

you’d plop down on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs and patting the spot next to you. minghao would sit down cautiously next to you, clutching his biology notes in an attempt to ground himself. he had no idea why sitting on his crush’s bed felt so intimate to him, and he couldn’t help but blush a bit at the thought. “okay,” you’d begin, peeking at minghao’s notes. “where do you think we should start?”

you’d spend the next few hours with minghao going through all of his detailed biology notes. he’d help catch you up on the lessons you didn’t understand, explaining them in depth and answering all of your questions. no disrespect to your professor, but minghao explained all of the concepts way better than they ever could. you were thankful that you sat next to a pretty boy with such a strong understanding of biology. and minghao was thankful too! without biology being his strongest subject, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to get so close to his biology crush. (of course, he was only so good at the subject because he needed a distraction from his pretty seatmate. each class session he was invested in the lecture, solely because he needed a way to divert his attention away from you. you’d still find ways to sneak into his thoughts though, albeit without your knowledge <3) he was glad all of his hard work paid off, because now he has an excuse to meet with his biology crush :) he continued to hope that you would use only him for help, secretly wanting to get closer to you. now he finally had a chance!

writing a smutty continuation later of course, just want to start it off with a lil sweetness like i did with jeonghan’s <3

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[g0niki]

i keep thinking about leehan's hands & lips. they're soo pretty 😭🙏 how is everything about him gorgeous

leehan fingering smut pleaseee 💗 — 🍗

pairing: kim leehan x f! reader 

Word count: 681 

Contents: fingering, oral (f receiving), a little messy

a/n: I LOVE WRITING ORAL TEEHEE,, and i agree! leehan does have nice hands and lips he’s such a pretty boy 😵‍💫 i’m so excited to finally write this. also i didn't proof read so uhh...

leehan's lips trail along your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his soft skin presses against the sensitive area. you arch your back against him, a soft moan escaping your lips and echoing in his ears. his arousal grows, straining against the rough fabric of his jeans as he hovers above you.

the scent of leehan's cologne fills your nose, a mix of musk and pine that is intoxicating and alluring; longing and desire hang in the air, mingling with the scent of your arousal.

his hand glides down your body, leaving a trail of tingles until it reaches the waistband of your underwear. there, his touch comes to a gentle stop, sending shivers through your body. 

his smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he taunted, “mm, i bet you want me so bad, huh? can feel the heat radiating from your cunt and through your delicate underwear.” you bury your face into your elbow out of embarrassment. 

“oh, come on pretty, don’t hide from me.” he coaxes, his hand trailing down until it rests just above your core. through the thin fabric of your underwear, you can feel the warmth of his touch as he gently massages you. “tell me just how badly you want it.” 

you whimper softly, overcome with desire as leehan’s skilled fingers tease you through the damp fabric. your hips instinctively pushing up, seeking more friction. 

“please,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you.” 

“do you need me?” he whispers against your skin, pressing kisses down your body until they reach the area between your legs. his hot breath lingers against your throbbing core, inhaling the intoxicatingly sweet scent of your arousal before locking his eyes with yours, filled with a look of desire. 

his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he slowly inches towards your cunt, delicately licking at the fabric. 

leehan’s tongue glides over the damp material, tracing the shape of your most sensitive area. the warmth of his breath contrasting the coolness of his saliva, creating a sensation that has you shuddering with pleasure. he continues to tease and build the tension, bringing you closer and closer to losing yourself in the moment.

“leehani, please… more.” 

leehan’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, dark with desire. his lips curving into a mischievous smile as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. you lift your hips, allowing him to slide the small piece of clothing down your legs, exposing your glistening folds to the cool air. 

your fingers itch with the urge to touch him, to feel his silky strand of hair between your fingers. as if reading your mind, leehan leans forward. your hands immediately tangling themselves in his locs. 

he swipes his fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, holding the two digits to his mouth before wrapping his lips around them, humming in delight at the taste of you. 

the taste of you alone seems to drive him crazy, breaking what was left of his resolve. a low and deep groan leaving his lips before he buries his face in your pussy. 

his tongue laps at you hungrily, aiming to take in every bit of you. his index and middle finger meeting his tongue, tracing around the entrance of your cunt before sinking in slowly, contrasting the eagerness of his mouth. 

his slender fingers gliding into your cunt with ease, your wetness helping aid him. leehan pulls back and lets your slick drip down his chin, his mouth dropping down in awe as he takes a moment to appreciate your cunt clenching around his digits. curling up his fingers without warning, causing an immediate reaction in you. “mm, calm down pretty, i’ve barely gotten started.” rhythmically moving his fingers inside of you, letting your thighs close in around his hand. 

“fuck fuck fuck, think m’ about to cum.”

a feigned pout finds its way onto his lips, his tone slightly whiny in a teasing way. “so early? guess you don’t want me to fuck your cunny.”

ᯓ★

@g0niki all rights reserved. do not translate or post my work anywhere without permission.

[pumpkin-bats]

No Comparison - Sanji x Reader

a/n: This took me so long to write for literally no reason. I hope it turned out ok though! Plz enjoy our silly little blonde loverboy!

summary: Sanji’s habit of practically worshiping every woman he sees makes you anxious from time to time. He refuses to let you stay anxious about it.

contains: sfw topics, gender neutral terms for reader, fluff, comfort, mention of anxiety and insecurities.

wc: 1k+

Sanji was not somebody you fought with. Not because you never had anything to fight about, but because Sanji did his best not to give you a reason to be upset with him.

It wasn't as though you were upset with him now... but you weren't too happy either.

The thing is that he has this undying love and devotion towards all women. He'll fall at their feet and swoon and follow their every word, sometimes at his own expense. It bothered you, sure, but at this point in your relationship, you knew that didn't mean he loved or prioritized them over you. You were his partner, after all.

However, that didn't stop the occasional bout of anxiety that would overcome you when he was a little too close to someone than you were comfortable with.

You'd never ask him to change, since that was a big part of what made Sanji, Sanji. And, ultimately, he was mindful not to go too far since you started dating. You knew he didn't love them more or love you less, but it still... hurt. Just a little bit.

After all, no one likes the idea of seeing their boyfriend being overly friendly with someone who wasn't them. Unless they're into that, which you weren't.

It was after one of these incidents where he gave a look too flirty, a voice too enraptured, that had you out here now. Leaning against the railing, the time pushing close to midnight, as you watched a sky glittering with stars. You wouldn't cry, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to. It was one of those nights.

It wasn't cold, but a light brush of the late night breeze against your skin made a shiver run through you. As if on cue, a black suit jacket settled snugly across your shoulders. The smell of cigarette smoke and spices wafted up from the fabric and it did little to fend off the slight burning sensation in your eyes that you'd been fighting off.

"You're gonna catch a cold out here if you're not careful," Sanji spoke softly, moving to stand beside you and lightly press his arm against yours.

"No I won't, it's not even that cold out," you huff back, chuckling quietly. The slight quirk of your lips still felt a bit too bitter for your liking, but you tucked the jacket closer to you regardless.

You could tell his eyes were trailing over your face, sweeping over your features. He had a little frown as he leaned forward to see you better.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked, tone more serious than it was a second ago.

"Nothing..." You hesitated. 

A sudden urge prickled at the back of your skull to unload every one of your thoughts onto him. Ask if you're more important than the girls he fawns over, if you really meant that much to him. There's also the part of you that's too scared of the consequences of instigating that kind of conversation. Namely the look of pain you know would be there, as if he didn't make it obvious how much he cherished you on a daily basis.

Sanji waited patiently for you to speak, not rushing an answer but simply giving you the space to think. The fact that you knew he'd follow along with whatever you decided made this worse.

"What..." You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and nearly grimaced at the way it struggled to go down. "What made you want to date me?"

Sanji blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Huh?"

"It's... you always go along with whatever I say, and you do the same with all the girls you come across. A lot of things are the same. We don't even argue- I just... wanted to know what made me different... from them."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy. You refused to look over at him, almost ashamed of your insecurity. The ugly voices whispering about how you weren't good enough. Your doubt in him despite knowing how much he's done and is willing to do for you.

But it's hard not to. Not when his eyes still reflect hearts at any passing woman.

Almost a full minute passed when Sanji finally answered. His voice was quiet, almost strained.

"Have I been making you feel this way this entire time?"

"No, no of course not, I only-"

"No. There's no excuse." He placed gentle hands on your shoulders and lightly guided you to turn and face him. "Don't make an excuse for me when I'm hurting you."

You couldn't help but look into his eyes as he spoke. Maybe it's because he was missing the classic cigarette that dulled the lines of his face with plumes of smoke, his blue eyes seemed crystal clear under the moonlight. Clear and focused intently on you.

"I- I wasn't. You're not hurting me, it's just my own... it's me." With him holding your gaze, it was difficult to not expose your more truthful thoughts. The uglier ones.

You watch as his curled brow furrowed deeper, his lips pulling into a tight line. Then he slowly, gently, as if you were paper in his arms, pulled you closer until he had you pressed securely against his chest.

"It is you. It's because it's you that this is important. I don't pick fights with women, because I can't. I respect them, but it's different. If I upset them then that's a moment of regret. But if I were to ever upset you, I'd rather have that idiot moss head gut me with his swords. I can live without them. I can't breathe without you."

"What's a passing wildflower when compared to the sun? What's appreciating a moment of beauty to seeing the light of tomorrow? One is much easier to lose than the other." As he said this, you felt him squeeze you just a bit tighter.

"I can tone it down, whatever you need me to do, because you matter more to me. I'm with you because no one makes the world as colorful as you do. You chose me, and I will never take that for granted."

He pulled away only to hold your face in his hands, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone as he smiled at you. There was more affection and truth held in that expression than there were stars in the sky.

"Nothing and no one compares to you. And I'm not stupid enough to let anyone think otherwise."

[Fin~]

[writers-potion]

Plot Templates for Dark Fiction

MC hears about danger and mocks it as unreal, and ses out to prove that it's not real. He enlists the helps of a loyal but reluctant friend/servant/colleague/lover. -> Things get stranger and they fall into real danger -> MC fights the threat, narrowly getting away with his life. -> The danger gets even worse -> The threat is defeated, and the friend often pays a terrible price.

A danger threats the MC's community and he is the only one who can defeat it -> First Failure -> Second Failure -> She learns something important, and wins.

MC wants to belong to a community (secret society, gang, etc.) -> He works to convince the others that he is worthy of being a member -> He is granted initiation -> He works harder to be taken into the Inner Circle -> He realizes that the community is evil -> Will he go ahead or back out? (A) End with the realization (B) His conscience wins and he sacrifices himself (C) He decides to go ahead, enjoying the evil.

He devotes himself to fighting the evil -> She makes sacrifices for the good -> She realizes that what she has fought for is actually evil, and the people around her were right.

An innocent MC observes the actions of others -> The reader picks up on the subtext that there's something evil while the MC goes around, naive.

MC is urged by a friend not to pursue a dangerous venture -> The venture turns out to be harder than it seemed -> He barely escapes from the danger and seeks help -> Help does not arrive and the MC fights against the menace -> the friend/traitor falls into their own trap they've laid for the MC

Newly dead MC wakes undead as a ghost/zombie/vampire -> He has unfinished business to conclude and sets out for his mission -> He meets unexpected obstacles in the world of the undead -> He realizes something new and forfeits the initial mission

MC is obsessed hunting a monster/evil creature -> He nearly dies but prevails -> He takes a trophy home but realizes that the monster had got to his family first -> His triumph becomes meaningless

MC believes that an evil creature/monster is actually innocent -> She sets out to win its trust and tames it -> She succeeds and lets her guard down -> The monster attacks her

MC wants to overcome a personal fear -> He succeeds after many attempts -> He realizes that in this instance he should have listened to his instincts - he has become an easy victim

MC is a semi-sympathetic character whom the reader can understand, but not quite like -> He obsessively plots to get the justice/love he thinks he deserves -> He realies he has falledn into his won trap/walked into a rival's similar trap -> He tries desperately to escape -> MC dies knowing that he obsessions have brought his own demise.

MC is a righteous character -> She lands in a situation with only two options, which are immoral.

MC plots to bring the downfall of another character -> He is betrayed by his most trusted friend

MC schemes to trap another person -> She realizes too late that she has been outsmarted/fallen into her own trap

These are some common plot progressions, so feel free to explore with other types!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[hoffmanxfurthermore]

Right Now You're Feeling Helpless

(REVISED VERSION)

So I sent the story to my friend and he kinda rewrote it for me. He's a way better writer than I haha. Enjoy!!

Content warning: bondage/dominance,  rough sex, aftercare, sadism, masochism, teasing, cussing, dirty talk, pain, nsfw, 18+, mark hoffman x reader, p in v penetration, possible cnc??? Literally just straight up porn w little context bc i can't write anything else lmao.

Just another Thank-Hell- it's Friday night.. Laying alone on your bed, waiting on your partner to get home..it'll be late again. He's investigating the latest Jigsaw murder. It has become much more difficult to disguise his planning of this particular murder, hard for him to fly under the radar. You'd peeked in his drawer earlier in the day. The drawings of it made you feel some type of raw and savage way. There was something about how the person was suspended that was more than just slightly arousing. 

The thin tank top feels perfectly tight and totally matches with your sexy black underwear. You lay back on the bed, closing your eyes as your fingertips graze your already rock-hard nipples. 

Mark hated it when you pleased yourself without him there, but you figured he wouldn't be home for another hour or two. You are too excited for him right now to wait. Since he hates it, in a way, you love it because he will always respond by being so rough with you.. And he was so good at it. Anticipation of the punishment he will visit upon you makes the excitement grow to an unbearable level. The urge to touch yourself is unstoppable now.

Lifting your tank top with one hand, your other hand moves down your body and slips between your legs. You've just barely started to think about him, but you're already getting so wet..clear silky liquid is dripping down your pussy lips and the crack of your ass. Fuck, you need it so much right now!

Pulling off your panties, you drop them on the floor next to you. Then your tank top. Closing your eyes and moaning softly, yearning for him to pound you as you slide your fingers in between your soaking wet lips, you gasp for breath at the first touch of your wet hole. Completely absorbed in the thought of being filled by him, you don't even hear him come in or notice him standing at the foot of the bed, watching. 

"What the hell is this?" He demands. 

Your eyes snap open, and you gasp, quickly pulling your glistening wet hand from between your legs.

"Mark! I-" 

"You just couldnt wait for me to get home, could you?" 

His shoes, jacket, and tie were already off, and he's working on unbuttoning his shirt. 

"I wasn't expecting you for a couple more hours, and I just couldn't wait!" You stammered as he quickly finished getting undressed, his eyes piercing into your soul with the dark intensity that betrays the power he is about to unleash in you.

Like lightning, he climbs on top of you, pinning you down. You gasp in instinctual fear but are quickly overcome with exhilaration by his power and although you are momentarily scared, you also feel a sense of comfort as his weight bears down on you, his legs spreading out on top of yours, and his feet pushing your ankles into the mattress, making you fully unable to move. He was already rock hard and throbbing right against your sensitive clit, the pre-cum dripping out making it hard for the tip of his cock to stay still, it slips with pressure against your throbbing clit.

"I don't care, you wait for me," he said, sinking his thick cock deep inside you. As it fills you inch by inch, seeming to continue stretching deeper and deeper inside..you cry out in pleasure.

His hands are wrapped around your wrists tightly, holding them on either side of your head. His knees hold your thighs down. You are sure to have bruises later.. but dont care. His hips are resting against yours, and he is deep inside you. He's not moving at all, chuckilng as you struggle against him and whine, desperate for just a little friction. He just smiles down at you, absolutely loving observing you like this. As he bends down, pushing his bare chest against yours, his deep voice in your ear:

"Right now, you're feeling helpless."

Every one of your nerve endings is hypersensitive. Between the sharp pain in your wrists and thighs, his warm skin against yours, and let's not forget the feeling of his lips grazing your ear slightly, you can't help but let a moan escape your lips. In response, he nibbles your earlobe gently.

Mark isn't just teasing you, but himself as well. More than anything the man wanted to just fuck the hell out of you until you couldn't walk. But he is savoring how needy, desperate, and defenseless you are.

"Mark... please... I need to feel you..." You whine. Feeling him throbbing against your walls wasn't enough. He hasn't moved at all except to shove himself inside you, but you could already feel a pool of wetness collecting on the sheet as you continue trying desperately to writhe and wriggle for the slightest feel of his shaft moving inside of you.

He moves your arms over your head, crossing your wrists and holding them with one hand. His other hand made its way to your neck, his fingertips squeezing on the sides gently..but very firmly.

"How does this feel?," he asks softly, his deep voice in your ear making you shudder.

"Fuck.." You gasp for breath, overwhelmed by the symphony of sensation overtaking your soul. 

He leans into your chest again, tightening his grip on your wrists but letting your neck go as his other hand slowly travels down your body. Breathing heavily into your ear, his roughly calloused hand cups your right breast, squeezing it with pleasure for you both.

"You're so pretty," he whispers in your ear as he moves his knees off your legs. You breathe a sigh of relief because, though you didn't wanna say anything, it was actually pretty painful. You said nothing, not because you were scared of his reaction..you trust Mark with your life. You just love how he has you pinned like that. And you know he enjoys it too.

Gently releasing your wrists, he tells you to stay put and to close your eyes. You do, and let out a noise that sounded like a moan and a whine at the same time as he gets off the bed, pulling his dick out of your dripping hole. The sudden empty feeling leaves you feeling needy as you hear a metallic clicking noise. You feel him pulling you up the bed and more metallic clicking noises as you feel something hard and cold around your wrists. Opening your eyes, you realise he's handcuffed you to the metal bars of the bed frame.

You look at Mark, whose eyes are full of lust as he looks at you for a moment, just taking in the sight of you. Biting your lip and smiling, your eyes travel over his naked body. 

You aren't saying anything, but begging with your eyes. Taking advantage of that, he starts stroking his cock, still slick with your juices. Looking you in the eyes, he moans and bites his lip. 

You're struggling against the cuffs, moving your hips, and opening your legs. Wanting him so bad, hating how he's teasing you, but loving it at the same time. You feel like a bratty little spoiled fuckhole just waiting for it.

Another moan escapes his lips as you stare at him, your pussy is twitching watching him stroke his thick cock.

"Mark," you moan, pleading, "please..." 

"Mmmm y/n you sound so desperate.. I love it." He spits on his hand and jerks his cock faster, looking at you. 

Feeling your juices drip down between your ass cheeks, you pull so hard on the cuffs that you feel like they're going to cut you. Your nipples are still rock hard and your pussy is throbbing, aching for his cock. You rub your thighs together, desperate for just a little stimulation.

"Tell me what you want," he groans, his voice shaky, still stroking himself.

"I want you... to fuck me...." You say. 

"Yeah? Beg me."

"Please... please fuck me...." You whine, wigging your hips.

"Mmm," is all he says in response. 

"Fuck me hard.. please... I need your cock," you cry out, barely able to take any more teasing.

"Not good enough." He smirks at you, loving hearing you beg. 

"Give me your fucking cock, Mark!" You yell desperately, like you're going to die if he doesn't fuck you. 

"Fuuuuck," he groans, gripping his cock tight, drops of pre cum starting to leak from the tip.

"Fuck you Mark, you're doing this on purpose," you cry, closing your eyes, the throbbing in your pussy becoming too much to bare.

In the 2 seconds that your eyes are closed, Mark is on top of you, roughly shoving his cock deep inside your needy cunt. 

"FUCK!" You yell, surprised, "fuck me, please, fuck me!" 

His hands are spreading your thighs apart, his fingertips digging into your skin as he thrusts himself in and out. 

He fucks you hard and deep, low groans emitting from his lips as his balls slam against you. 

"Oh my fucking god... Mark... I'm gonna..." before you know it, an orgasm rips through your whole body. Mark had you really worked up, but you weren't aware of how much until he was actually inside you.

But he keeps the same pace, acting like he didn't even notice your whole body shaking or you screaming in pleasure or your pussy gripping his throbbing cock tightly. He just gripped your thighs harder and kept going.

"Fuck yeah y/n, cum on my fucking cock," he growled, not seeming to be the least bit tired. 

A hand released your thigh only to squeeze your left tit, causing you to cry out in pleasure. The hand slowly and firmly made its way to your throat again, as he slowed his pace. 

"Fuck," he moans, looking down at his cock, covered in your slick juices. Still pounding you, he leans over you kissing you deeply. You flex, tightening your pussy around his cock as your legs start to shake. 

"Goddamn!" He yells, pulling away from the kiss. Spitting into his fingers, he reaches down and rubs your clit. You moan loudly, feeling another orgasm approaching.

Pulling hard on the cuffs, you lose total control and scream as you cum, this orgasm more intense than the last one. Mark pinches your nipples hard. The pain mixed with the pleasure leaves you overwhelmed as you wrap your legs tight around him, trying to slow him down because you're too sensitive now. 

Reading your body language, he slows down. You know he would never do anything to hurt you, and he is great at reading you. He is a dominant sadist, but also quick to stop and comfort you the second you need it. 

He takes that chance to catch his breath as he slowly moves his hips back and forth. Your breath is shaky as you come down, your legs loosening from his waist and resting on either side of you.

"Do you want me to continue?" He asks after a few seconds, seeing that you've calmed down.  

You look at him, taking a few seconds to catch your breath, then nod. 

He leans forward and kisses you as he starts going a little faster, at first, then gradually picking up speed. 

"Fuck yes, mark don't stop!" You wail as he grabs your hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back. He's fucking you so hard now that the bed frame is banging against the wall. 

"I'm not fucking stopping," he groans in your ear. You wrap your legs around his thick waist, raising your hips, taking in as much of him as you can.

"God y/n you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.. fuck..." he moaned in your ear. Even his voice makes you feel so hot.

"Fuck yeah Mark.. it's all for you..."

He puts his hands on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back. Your hips are raised and you can see his cock moving in and out of you. 

"Watch me fuck your sweet pussy..." he whispers, looking you in the eyes.

You closed your eyes, drowning in the pleasure, and he quickly grabbed your hair, forcing you to look. 

"Fucking watch me pound your pussy!" He barked.

"Fuck.. mark..." You cried. 

"Cum for me one more time y/n.. you know you want to..."

He knows your one weakness, hearing him tell you to cum usually makes you cum. 

As he held your head with one hand and your leg next to you against the bed with the other, you felt the orgasm creeping up once again. 

"Oh my god.. cum with me Mark... please... fill me up," you whined.

"Beg me," he said harshly, "beg for cum."

"Please give me your fucking cum mark.. fill me up... please..."

He fucked you harder and deeper, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs, changing position ever so slightly so you could feel his balls with each deep stroke..

"Fuck yeah tight sexy hole.. squeeze like that... fuck!" He hollered out. 

Your whole body shook as you had an orgasm way more intense this time, as you felt his hot cum shooting inside you. His muscles tensed, and he pulled on your hair so hard it was a little more than you wanted.. for just a split second.

You scream his name followed by a string of cuss words as he thrusts deep a couple more times to get every last drop of his cum out, his eyes staring into yours as you become one with the pleasure that you gave created together. Breathing heavily, he finally releases your leg and hair, collapsing on top of you, his head laying on its side on your heaving breasts as he bites your nipple between his teeth and holds it there..

"Shit, you're amazing," he sighs, kissing you deeply before reaching for the key to undo your cuffs.

You groan as you stretch your arms out, and he rolls over off of you. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, rubbing your wrists and thighs where he held you down. His fingers tracing the deep indents from the handcuffs, "I didn't mean to make them so tight..."

"Yes," you reply, rolling over to face him, "you know I don't mind when you're rough with me."

"Then maybe next time, I'll put you in a trap," he chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear and kissing your lips, enjoying the pressure from your always hungry little mouth.

"Hey now," you playfully smack his arm, "...maybe later."

You both giggle as you pull the blankets over your sweaty bodies. 

You cuddle into his chest, and he kisses your forehead and slides his left hand down into your ass cheek, holding it firmly with enjoyment. Sighing happily, you wonder what he has in store for you tomorrow, as you both drift off to sleep.

[jobean12-blog]

Heart of Darkness

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Demon AU)

Word Count: 1.089

Summary: The time to run has finally come but you never expected to find the road to your safety paved in darkness.

Author's Note: This is my entry for my lovely friend @witchywithwhiskey writing/moodbard challenege Horror Movie Hoe-athon! Thank you for hosting sweets! 💕I used one of the quotes which I've bolded in the story and on my crappy moodboard lol! This is mostly super soft- I just can't seem to get away from it lately haha. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the awesome @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: some small angst in the beginning but lots of super soft sweetness mostly and flower talk :)

The sun is warm at your back as you approach your cottage, your basket of wildflowers swinging freely from your arm and the sweet aroma of the blooms carried on the breeze.

As you get closer you notice that the door is slightly ajar, and a chill emanates from within, slithering over your skin and stealing it’s warmth. Even though the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge, you’re pulled forward by a mysterious darkness, tempting and dangerous in it’s allure.

With tentative steps you move forward, pressing your shaky fingers to the door to push it open. The darkness instantly surrounds you and the chill seeps into your bones. Your mouth opens in a scream but it’s silenced by the cold press of a hand to your mouth.

Deliberate and steady steps have your back to the wall before you can register more than the large form in front of you and as your eyes adjust you can make out the silhouette of a man.

The darkness slowly starts to dissipate and a soft silvery glow fills the room, it’s light gradually revealing what holds you captive inch by inch.

His long, curved horns frame a face with eyes so blue they shine brighter than anything else in the room, and his wings, huge and black, circle around you as a voice, rich like silk, fills your ears.

“Do not scream,” he whispers as he gently removes his hand from your mouth.

Your lips tremble and his eyes drop to follow the movement, his thumb brushing over their outline before he cups your cheek.

“You are not safe,” he states. “You must come with me.”

You can’t find your voice, the terror of what he is overwhelming your senses and your eyes squeeze shut as you drop your chin, silently willing away this nightmare.

“Please,” he begs.

Your breathing becomes ragged and you can feel the scream bubbling up in your chest but then you feel something unexpected, something…oddly soothing.

Your eyes open slowly, lashes wet with unshed tears and you let out a shuddering breath.

“I…I don’t understand.”

He leans closer and his tail continues to wind itself gracefully along your body, the sinuous movements mesmerizing you. You relax into his touch, a feeling of safety overcoming your initial fear.

“I need you to come with me Angel.” 

Your eyes fall when you feel the edge of his tail graze the swell of your breasts, the strong appendage moving higher and higher. He pulls you against him, his body a wall of muscle pressed to your soft skin.

“We don’t have much time,” he warns.

“But...who are you…how do I know…”

Your words die on your parted lips as he dips his head, running his nose along the column of your neck with a deep inhale.

“I’ll protect you,” he murmurs, soft and cool lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You shiver in his arms, falling harder under his spell.

“How do I know I can trust you?” you whisper, wavering between the urge to try and flee or fall deeper.

“Even Hell has it’s heroes…and the thing that hunts you is far worse than I.”

His words send a skitter of fear down your spine, different from how you originally felt in his presence and it causes your breath to catch.

“Where will you take me?” you ask, feeling your body become more pliant the longer you’re in his arms.

“Far away from here where you’ll be safe,” he promises. “And there will be plenty of flowers for you to pick and land for you to wander.”

His lips are feather light as they slide from your ear and down along your jaw, hovering just above yours before he whispers, “but…there is a price.”

Your gaze meets his and you fight hard for release, pulling back slightly but finding it impossible to look away. He sees the war in your eyes and the tip of his tail settles just under your chin, bringing your lips back to his before he murmurs, “you’ll belong to me…”

Your eyelashes kiss your cheeks and you let out sigh, the feel of his lips making your body melt into his.

“Forever Angel.”

~Several months later~

The scene before you is awash with vibrant colors and the air is filled with scents of renewal. Beneath the shady canopy of a majestic old tree, the dappled sunlight filters through tender green leaves, casting playful shadows across your skin as his fingertips dance lazily along your curves.

“When can I open my eyes?” he asks, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m almost done,” you tell him, your fingers moving gently through the dew-covered grass in search of another flower.

His long fingers continue their wandering, every so often sliding beneath your skirt and causing you to giggle.

“James…” you admonish lightly. “I’ll never finish if you keep that up!”

He pouts, shifting his huge, dark wings, a stark contrast against the explosion of radiant color surrounding you, and waits.

“There,” you sigh, adjusting one last flower before you hold up your work. “Open your eyes.”

Blue eyes that match the color in the sky above open.

“Angel,” he croons as his face lights up. “It’s beautiful.”

You carefully lift the flower crown and place it between his horns, tending to anything out of place until it sits just perfectly atop his head. The bright blooms are a rainbow of color against his dark hair and you can’t help your wide grin.

“I think I like this one best,” you decide.

“You always say that Angel,” he teases as he pulls you into his embrace.

You rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes and breathing him in.

“You and the flowers are my favorite things.”

He tightens his grip, your name a whisper on his lips.

“You spoil me with your beautiful things. I don’t deserve them.”

With a soft kiss to his skin you sit up, straddling his waist and taking his face in your hands. Your fingertips lovingly trace along his jaw and then higher to each of his horns before they drop to his wings and you let the silky feathers slide between your hands.

“I love you James…for exactly who you are.”

He wraps you in his arms and buries his face in your neck. “As dark as I am, I will always find enough light to adore you to pieces, with all of my pieces. I love you Angel.”

@book-dragon-13 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @sebstanwhore

[buckevantommy]

yay writing game! 2 + i + 𓆟 for bucktommy? 🫶🫶

“what they said back there. is it true?” + confusion + the war room of a military blacksite

"Tommy, h-hey—" He's putting distance between himself and the base. Buck's long stride has him catching up in no time but Tommy doesn't stop, won't even look at him, just keeps going like he can outpace his past if he walks fast enough. Buck doesn't think that's possible, and he'd know. "Tommy!"

As Tommy pulls up at the foot of an outcrop, Buck hangs back a step.

"What they said back there.." He almost doesn't want to ask. It doesn't make sense. But he needs to know, needs to hear it from Tommy. "Is it true?"

Even by the light of a crescent moon shrouded in cloud, he can see the small shake of Tommy's head. "That's not who I am." He says it to the night vista stretching out before them and to himself more than to Buck.

Buck hears what he's not saying, and it's a gut punch. "Tommy.."

Tommy's shoulders hunch. Buck can hear him trying to calm his harsh breaths in the still night air. "It wasn't my call," he says firmly, but his voice is smaller, retreating into the memory. Buck cautiously steps forward, keeping space between them but needing to see Tommy's face. Tommy stares resolutely ahead. "It was Gerrard's op. We were given direct orders, and we disobeyed. Sal, Eli and me— we tried to stop it." His breath stutters. The clouds part enough to illuminate the telling wetness of Tommy's eyes. "But we were too late. Waited too long." He swallows back the rest. Tears glisten down his cheeks.

Buck's heart clenches painfully. The unease in the pit of his stomach that had opened like a gaping maw back in the compound doesn't disappear entirely, but it shrinks so it doesn't feel like it's about to swallow him whole from the inside. He may not know everything but he knows enough, and the urge to comfort Tommy overcomes everything else.

He moves in near enough to take Tommy's fist between his hands, gently prying his fingers open so he can slot his own between them. Tommy doesn't resist, allowing Buck's touch, his proximity.

Finally, he looks at Buck: quiet devastation, guilt, and remorse written all over his face. It's a familiar sight Buck's seen in the mirror.

He squeezes Tommy's hand. Tommy's breath hitches as he squeezes back on a shaky exhale. Buck eliminates more space between them, tipping forward so their foreheads touch. They stand like that, together under a sky of veiled starlight in the middle of nowhere, breathing each other in.

As the minutes float by like the clouds above them, Tommy leans a little of his weight on Buck; physically, emotionally. Buck gladly takes it, and reaches up to grasp Tommy's neck, holding him close, and presses lingering soft kisses to the salty tear tracks on his cheeks.

Buck's got him. And he knows tommy: whatever crap Gerrard's cronies try to dredge up from the past or throw at them in the present, it won't be enough to stop them from trying. They're in this together, and they can't be beaten so easily.

doing this thing

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, but fluff at the end, cussing, drinking, grinding, NOT PROOFRED, i don't think there's anything else but as always lmk if there is.

Note- the italics is a flashback, actually, Satoru's entire section is a flashback from pt 7.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: VFYVKD. Guys, I think this might be the last part to this series😭😭😔😔 This has been a journey, thank you so much for everyone who has read this far, I truly and deeply appreciate every single one of you❤️❤️ I don't want it to endddd, so lmk if you would like me to keep writing for this au bc I would LOOVE to.

(Requests open)

Satoru

He was beginning to feel like he was slipping. He hadn’t had a glass since the shot he took before Kaito came to spend the night with him. Although it was now night and hours since his son had left, he naively thought that he had overcome his addiction since he hadn’t felt the urge to drink the whole time he was with Kaito. 

Oh how wrong he was. He needed to get a drink and fast. He jumped into his car and began speeding to the nearest liquor store, only to find it with an eight-person line. He didn’t have the patience to wait that long and made his way to a bar. Any bar, honestly speaking, he had no idea where he even was. 

He quickly went over, ordered, and chugged five tequila shots consecutively. Once the alcohol finally kicked in, he finally began to feel like himself again. 

‘He is disgusting. What kind of pathetic, sorry excuse of a man can’t survive without drowning himself in alcohol? How was he supposed to win you back and be a father for Kaito in such a state?’ 

These were the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind as he ordered a glass of whiskey, this time much more relaxed, seated on his stool, staring lifelessly into the endless abyss. 

He was slowly sipping his drink when he felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders before slowly gliding down his arms. Because of his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to sense them approaching, however, he just chose to ignore, only seeming to amuse the stranger. He slowly turned his seat to face them. 

He was completely unamused when his eyes landed on a young woman clearly intent on getting into his pants. She evidently thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, therefore deserving a chance at him, but all he could think of was how ugly she looked in comparison to you. He just rolled his eyes, trying to go back to wallowing in self-pity. The lady just wouldn’t let up, turning around before she began grinding against him to the beat of the music. Foul, Satoru thought, feeling his patience run thin.

“Get away from me you fucking slut,” he hissed, venom lacing his words as he placed his hand on her waist, trying to push her away when next thing he knows, a palm is making contact with his cheek, landing a harsh slap across his face. It was only then that he finally sensed your cursed energy. He quickly turned to face you, heart plummeting when he saw tears streaming through your face. 

Shit, he can only imagine what this looked like to you. He tried to reach out to you but you just screamed at him and ran away from him. 

He began to panic. 

His heart was racing. 

The world around him was spinning and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a single inch. His vision was getting spotty and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to vomit. 

WHY! WHY HIM, WHY NOW! WHY COULDN’T HEJUST CONTROL HIMSELF AND STOP FUCKING DRINKING! He was absolutely torturing himself in his head as he spiraled. 

He finally mustered the strength to run after you, leaving the unnamed girl where she stood, utterly confused.

He ran as fast as his legs could take him but you were nowhere to be found. 

He leapt into his car and drove as fast as the vehicle could go. He was at Jujutsu tech in about five minutes but that was the longest five minutes of his entire life. He had to get to you. He needed to explain, he needed to make sure you know that it wasn't what it looked like.

Y/N

After crying your heart out on the sidewalk, you eventually made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. You texted Shoko and asked her if she could take care of Kaito for the rest of the night. You felt so guilty for staying away from him for two nights in a row but you just couldn’t bear to have him see you like this.

Just as you were about to close the dorm door behind you, you heard running and frantic breathing approach. You didn’t even bother trying to fight Gojo as he forced his way through the door you were trying to shut.

“Y/N p-please” he took a pause, slightly hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, “I pro- I promise it wasn’t what you looked like!” he tried to explain, clearly panicked. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s not what it looked like, Gojo.” you questioned, putting emphasis on how you said his name. It felt like you were continuously stabbing him with a jagged dagger and he felt his knees getting weak but he couldn’t let you go, not now.

“My love please! I swear on my life it wasn’t! I wasn’t trying to do anything with her fuck! I don’t even know her name!” “Then what was it Gojo! She was grinding on you and you were FUCKING ENJOYING IT, DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!” You yelled your throat raw.

“I was trying to get her away from me! Please, believe me, I promise,” He dropped on his knees, reaching for your hands with his own shaking ones. Tears began to trickle down his face as his breathing grew heavy.

A small part of you wanted to believe it, but you were struggling. Deep down, you were telling yourself that he was telling the truth. But that was a part of you you hadn’t seen since Gojo was sealed. You survived this long without listening to it, so why start now?

“Gojo… this is enough, let's get a divorce-”

“NO! NO! BABY PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE, MORE THAN BREATHING, MORE THAN MYSELF MORE THAN ANYTHING! DON’T LEAVE ME-”

“Gojo you were gone for years! I LIVED WITHOUT A HUSBAND FOR YEARS! And from what it looks like, you CLEARLY didn’t feel my or Kaito’s absence! It seems pretty obvious that you’ve moved on-”

“BUT I HAVEN’T! I HAVEN’T! I GO TO BED HOLDING A PICTURE OF YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I HAVE NEVER TAKEN OFF YOUR RING SINCE THE DAY I GOT BACK AND FOUND YOU GONE!” He cried, showing you your ring, which laid on his finger. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice it, but you just assumed that was due to how expensive it was. It would’ve been a waste to let it collect dust in a drawer.

“Y/N, you and our baby boy are the only fucking reason I wake up every day. You two are the light of my life and when I lost you. I was so distraught I even started drinking and you know better than anyone how much I hate that shit, but it’s the only thing that takes my mind off of everything!”

You were now crying too, touched by what he was saying. You could see in his eyes that he meant every word and it shook you to your core. 

You stayed anchored where you stood, sobbing now as Satoru got up off his knees and took you into his arms. Hugging you as tightly as he could without breaking your ribs.

You couldn't even move. You just stood there and cried with him, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired over the past couple of years wash away.

All that grief, suffering, and pain over the past few years was washing away in your tears.

You love him.

You had pushed down your feelings for him so deep that for a moment, you forgot they were even there. But you love him, and he you, and you knew that there was know way either of you could live without each other any longer.

You love him, and he loves you, and nothing was going to change that. 

Not now, not ever.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The End...?

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here, @starlightanyaaa

© gojos-fr-bae

[sodobabe]

Choke me, Please [Swiss/AFAB reader] (18+ Minors, DNI!!)

A/N: Felt the urge to write just a quick little Swiss fic. For all you h word people out there, enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. Just straight smut. No plot. Just porn. Choking, squirting, Soft Dom Swiss, Needy reader. Male oral receiving, fingering, slight mention of tail play (if you squint), fluffy aftercare.

Summary: Reader has a choking kink and our favorite multi-ghoul has the perfect hands for it. Eat up.

You could feel the sensation between your legs. The need for his hand around your neck. You knew that he would oblige to any kink you were into, choking seemed to be most mild. You stood in the doorway of his room as you watched his veiny hands strum away at the acoustic guitar that he adored so much. You wanted to be able to enjoy the music but you had one thing on your mind. You needed his hand around your innocent throat as his cock pounded relentlessly into your now soaked core.

You stood there for a few moments longer, waiting to see if he would notice you or not. After what felt like eternity, he finally looked up and locked eyes with you. The strumming stopped. He knew what you needed. Your eyes said it all. Fuck me. Choke me. Use me.

”Hey there, pet,” Swiss spoke up, pulling you out of your trance. ”What can I do you for?” He continued.

”Was just admiring your playing. Music sounded good,” you lied, well partially. You were definitely admiring his playing but you had no idea what the music sounded like.

Swiss sat the guitar back into its stand and motioned for you to come over to him on the black leather couch he had in his room. You wasted no time before you moseyed your way over to the multi-ghoul. You sat down next to him and he started asking you questions about the music. He was the type of ghoul to talk with his hands, one would think he was Italian in his past life. You couldn’t help but stare at them as they moved around while he talked about the new song he was writing. You were in a trance when you were suddenly snapped out by one his hands colliding with your throat, forcing you backwards onto the couch.

”You like it when my hand is around your neck, pet?” Swiss teased.

”Mhmm,” was all you could mutter out as your core became increasingly wet.

“Would’ve never pegged an innocent introvert like you to want to be choked,” he mulled, his grip getting tighter.

”What else do you want from me?” He said as his tail made his way between your legs, gently teasing you through your pants.

“Your cock, please,” you begged.

”As you wish, pet. Strip and bend over the armrest,” he instructed as he pulled you up off of the couch.

You did as you were told, throwing your clothes to the side and leaning over the armrest, the cold leather sending chills through your body and pulling a gasp from your lungs.

”Satanas, you look so fucking hot bent over my couch. Such a good pet,” he moaned as he got rid of his clothes.

He came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he slowly slid into you, causing him to moan in ecstasy.

“Fucking Satanas, pet, feel so tight around my cock,” he whimpered.

He began to pick up the pace as he pumped his cock in and out of you, pulling sweet moans from your lips.

“Choke me, please,” you begged. You needed the sensation of his large, muscular hands wrapped around your throat to help bring you over the edge. He obliged.

Swiss’ hand wrapped around your throat pulling your head back slightly as he pounded into you. The faster he pounded into you, the tighter his grip got on his neck. You were overcome by pleasure. You felt that familiar feeling in your lower belly as your orgasm was approaching.

“Fuck, Swiss, gonna cum,” you moaned out with what little air you had left in your lungs.

At that very moment, Swiss pulled out of you and released your neck. Air swarmed back into your lungs as you gasped at the loss of any contact.

”Sit on the couch, legs spread like a good slut. Gonna make you squirt while I choke you,” he said in a sadistic tone.

You once again, did as you were told. You sunk into the couch, your back resting on the armrest as you spread your legs. Swiss knelt down next to you and immediately began rubbing your clit as his free hand made its way back to your neck. He was choking you again as his fingers got to work, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. It felt like you had to pee but he had made you squirt before so you knew the sensation.

“Gonna cum, Fuck, Swiss, please keep going. Choke me harder, please,” you begged as you were reaching your breaking point.

Swiss’ grip tightened around your neck but his movement on your clit did not change, as he knew what he was doing was the reason you were close. That was it. You were tipping over the edge.

”Fuck, Swiss, fuck, M’cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasped out as you felt yourself squirt all over the leather beneath you. You were the reason he had this leather couch. Cloth was too hard to get cum stains out of.

Swiss loosened his grip on your throat and turned your head as you were still riding out your high.

”Such a good pet, cumming for me. My turn now, open wide,” he instructed as he stood up, suggesting he wanted his dick sucked.

You opened your mouth and Swiss slid his dick in, throwing his head back at the pleasure. He knew you were running out of energy so he just slowly throat fucked you as he continued lightly choking you. You were a sight to behold, taking his cock in your mouth like the good cockwhore you are. After a few more thrusts, Swiss’ knees buckled as he was blowing his load down your throat, and you didn’t even care because you were blissed out. He got you off, and you were able to get him off.

He pulled out of your mouth and scooped you up, carrying you over to his bed and gently placing you. He wandered into the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess of the couch, himself, and you. After everyone and everything was clean, he crawled into his bed with you, pulled you close to his warm chest, and pulled the blanket up.

“Rest up, pet. We are definitely doing that again,” he said, before placing a kiss on your forehead.

[mamaspeckles]

Mama do you think you could make John dory NSFW headcanons?

Oh absolutely my lovely! I do apologize if I took my time on this! Mama has been slacking recently! But I can catch up on everything:3!

John Dory NSFW Headcanons

CHARACTER IS 30+

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

-John Dory is a very rough but slow man when it comes to sex, he usually takes his frustrations out on you(not abuse btw because some of you misunderstand). -He loves holding you down as he’s ramming into your tight little hole. “That’s right baby say my name..you take me so well.” And as he’s fucking you he’ll make sure you’re saying his name and staring at him. He wants to see all your lewd faces and hear your cries.

-John definitely likes wax play..And if you’re down for it, he’ll try wax play… Just seeing your face scrunch up as the hot wax drips onto your pussy/dick. “You look so hot when you squirm in pain~” - he loves watching it drip down and go solid

-He’d have a breeding kink- after all While fucking you he’s just overcome with the indescribable urge to pump you full of his cum, to breed you, and see your tummy round with his child

-JD groans and growls loudly when he is pumping into you/ when you’re sucking him off or riding him. “Fucckkk~.. you feel so perfect around me..mmgfhh!~ May daddy cum baby~”

- as you just saw the last line above..this man has a daddy kink.. and he Loves hearing you call him daddy in bed or when he refers himself as daddy.

- There’s times were JD can be gentle and slow with you- if he’s really tired or really needy for you, he’ll slow down and intertwine his hair with yours leaving kisses on your lips, neck, and chest. He definitely goes on to praise you and compliment you. “God you are so handsome/beautiful.. my beautiful boy/girl~..you fit me so well..”

-John dory keeps a naughty polaroid of you in his wallet and a bunch more around his trailer.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This gave me chest pains writing this😭 his face scares me ngl

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Discipline

Series masterlist Part three Summary: Jake is sent to teach you discipline within the rules of the Omaticaya, from which you are constantly rebelling. Except...he finds unorthodox methods that get you to behave. Warnings: SMUT!!! (because what else am I gonna write??) DEGRADATION. Squirting. Dacryphilia (in case you don't know, it's arousal from—in this series—tears). A little bit of praise. Jake using your body. Again, DEGRADATION because he fr treats you like a whore. Fear play, maybe? Creampie ;) Dub-con. And, uh, SLIGHT SPOILER: light aftercare :) Did I already mention Jake treats you like a fucking toy? Cuz he does. Sorry for any errors! This wasn't proofread, only pure inspiration from watching Avatar 1 for the millionth time and Raye's song Escapism.

It's late at night and you're surrounded by the wilderness, your eyes focused on a creature as it wanders through the foliage not far from where you stand. Your bow is at the ready, your eyes making an effort to see in the dark even though the bioluminescent plants all around you aid with the lighting.

"Focus on it," Jake whispers in your ear. This is his new technique to teach you: training in the dark, under the cover of night, when you hunt and are being hunted.

"It's good practice," Jake had told you, but he had every intention of using his nights as an excuse to fuck you both during the day and after eclipse.

"Watch it carefully," Jake said, eyes trailing over your delicate fingers as you grasped onto your bow, on your flattened ears, on your swishing tail. "Shoot when you're sure you won't miss," he instructs.

Moments later, he hears your arrow whistling through the air, and he hears the animal as it cries out, the sound drowned as the arrow finishes piercing its heart and kills it, right on the spot.

"There we go," Jake hums, content. "Your aim's getting better," he comments, but he knows it's only because he's not touching you while you attempt to focus.

"Should we take it back to the Hometree?" you ask, nodding at the creature.

Jake smirks, raising an eyebrow. "What d'you propose we do instead?" he asks, even though he already knows.

You smile coyly before lowering yourself to your knees, your big eyes staring into his as you lift your hands to his loincloth.

You are not surprised when you remove the item to find that Jake's cock is hard and wet with precum; he's always hard when he's around you, even if he hasn't done anything but watch you.

Your fingers trace the underside of his cock, drawing over the veins and stripes on the sensitive skin, your mouth watering at the feel of him, thick and heavy in your hand.

Jake groans lowly, grabbing your hair in his hand, tugging at it softly. "Atta girl," he praises. "I love how much of a slut you are, girl. Love how desperate you are to have my cock in any of your holes."

You can feel your arousal gathering within you, dripping down your thighs as you lick over the head of his cock, tracing the tip, drawing little circles on it before slowly taking him deep.

Jake watches you from above, his eyes mesmerized by the way your plump lips stretch around his thick cock, how your eyes water the deeper he goes, how you try to fight your gag reflex as he touches the back of your throat. He loves it when you cry, loves it when you're scared, loves it when you're so overcome with pleasure, that you can't do anything but beg him to stop.

Jake has the incessant urge to fuck your mouth, to bruise the back of your throat, to see you sob as he uses your lips, but he decides not to. He decides he'll let you give him head however you want, and if you do a good job, he'll reward you.

"You gonna let me come in your mouth, girl?" he asks, even though he's aware that it's what you want. "You gonna let me fill up your mouth and then your greedy cunt?"

You hum and nod softly, swirling your tongue around his girth. You suck in your cheeks, feeling the way he twitches as you do.

"Fuck," Jake groans, watching you, little pricks of pleasure tickling across his skin. "My good slut."

You moan against him, the sound of him calling you his anything makes you wetter.

And Jake can tell.

He raises an eyebrow, half-curious, and asks, "You like that? You like the idea 'f being my slut?"

You whine, giving Jake your wordless yes, and he chuckles. "Yeah, I shoulda known. You don't only like being a slut, but you like being mine, girl. You like that I put you in your place, and you like that I'm fucking mean about it, don't you."

You mewl, bobbing your head on his cock, licking and sucking, your pussy throbbing to have him inside you.

"Yeah, you could be a slut, just a common whore for any guy that comes 'round. But you're mine now," he hisses as you squeeze his balls, your spit coating them. "You're mine, and you won't ever be anyone else's. You belong to me. My slut. Your mouth is mine. Your ass is mine. Your tits are mine. Your cunt is mine. Mine, you hear me, girl?"

You whine again, gagging on his cock, tears trailing down your cheeks. Jake groans. He wants to make you cry. He wants to fuck you while you sob. He wants to make you beg for his mercy, and then deprive you of it.

"You're fuckin' disgusting," he tells you through clenched teeth. "My cumslut."

You slide one of your hands under your loincloth, hastily pushing it aside before rubbing on your desperate clit. Jake watches you, studying the way you touch herself; that, combined with the way you look up at him as you suck his cock, makes his orgasm rush to the surface.

"Fuuuuuck, 'm gonna fill you up," he groans. "Gonna mark you as mine. My personal fucktoy. My slut." He inhales sharply as he reaches the edge. "You fuckin' whore."

His cock twitches, his load spilling into your mouth, coating your tongue and your throat and the inside of your cheeks. Jake's fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging you closer as he pushes himself deeper down your throat, groaning and gasping, his eyes rolling back, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

"Fuck, I love those lips, baby," he hisses as he pulls out of you. He grabs himself by the base, slapping his cock against your lips and your cheeks. "Open up, I wanna see my cum in you."

You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out and showing him his load. Jake grins. "Yeah, s'good, isn't it? Swallow, baby."

Obediently, you swallow his come, your cunt still pulsating, your body alight with desire.

"Yeah, y'did good, girl," he admits. "Did real good. And for that, you get a reward. C'mere."

He kneels on the ground in front of you and pulls you to him, pulling you onto his lap. He rests your legs on either side of one of his huge thighs as he kisses you, his tongue trailing over your lips, his canines biting into your plush lower lip.

Jake's large, rough hands hold onto your hips, and he begins rocking you back and forth, against the muscle of his thigh, allowing your slick to coat over his skin as your clit rubs against his thigh.

You wrap your arms around his neck, throwing your head back, exposing your throat to his mouth. He licks a stripe over your pulse, dragging his teeth across your skin before biting down, making you gasp. He sucks on the spot harshly, knowing it'll give you a hickey, hoping everyone will see it in the morning.

"Fuck yourself, yeah?" he says, guiding your hips. "If you do it well, I'll give my cock. If you don't, I'll have to spank you again, brat."

"Mhmm," you hum, nodding as you rub yourself against his thigh. "I'll be good," you promise, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'll be good, sir."

He chuckles lowly, feeling your arousal drip against his skin, his cock beginning to harden again. "You'll do anything for my cock, won't ya, whore?"

You nod mindlessly, moaning softly.

He slaps your thigh sharply, sending a shiver of pain through you, making you gasp. "Use words, girl," he orders. "Y'know I like to hear you."

Your pussy clenches around nothing. "Yes, sir. I'll do anything for your cock."

"Much better," he says, his hands caressing up your waist, sliding under your beaded top, playing with your nipples. He watches your face as he leans down to your chest, licking your breasts, nibbling on them harshly, squeezing them harder than necessary.

You gasp, the sensations growing taut in your lower stomach, making you jerk as the pressure increases. You whine, body trembling slightly as the pleasure grows.

"Already?" Jake questions, chuckling. "We're barely starting, girl, and you're already gonna come on me?"

You shake your head. ""m-'m tryin' not to," you mumble, hips not ceasing their movements.

"Don't come yet," Jake orders.

You mewl, "I wanna—fuck!"

"I know you wanna," Jake tells you mockingly, his teeth biting across your jaw. "But you're not goin' to, y'hear me? Otherwise I can't fuck you. And I want to stick it in you, girl. You hear? If you misbehave and I can't fuck you, I'll find someone else to help me."

It's not true, of course. Jake knows it's not true; he won't go out and look for someone else because, although he could, he doesn't want to. He likes fucking you, likes the challenge, likes knowing that he's the only one who can get you to bend to his will.

But the threat has you biting your lower lip, fighting your orgasm, keeping the pleasure at bay. Jake smirks at himself. You're such a slut for him, and that's what gets him. He loves how you know that if it's not him, it won't be anyone else.

"When—ah—when can I come, sir?" you ask, voice wavering as your moans interrupt you.

"When I say so," he answers, chuckling darkly when you whine in complaint.

One of Jake's hands slithers down to your clit, adding pressure against it, rubbing circles on it, making you whine and gasp, your nails dragging against his shoulders.

"Think you can squirt for me, girl?" he questions.

You moan softly. "I-I need it inside me."

Jake slides his middle and ring fingers into you without warning, making you groan, and he allows his thumb to fall against your clit. "New deal, kid. If you squirt f'r me, I'll fuck ya, yeah?"

You nod. "Yes, sir. Yes."

Jake curls his fingers up against that spongey spot inside of you that has you jerking, ensuring to be patient as he touches you, starting out slow and gradually speeding up.

"Jake," you beg, voice high-pitched and uneven. "Jake, I-I can't 'nymore. 's too much. Please."

He tsks. "You want my cock, don't ya?"

"Mhmm."

"Then take it. I don't care if it's too much," he tells you. "You're a whore and a brat, only for me to use. Y'understand that? I decide when you've had too much."

And he is true to his word. He makes you come once, twice, three times on his fingers, and he keeps going, seeing how far you can go.

"Jake, please!" you whine, tears falling from your face and staining your cheeks. "Too much!"

"You gotta squirt, girl," he retaliates, licking your neck. "I won't stop until you squirt."

You don't know if you can do it. You're seeing stars, your ears are ringing, your body is shaking, and you're on the verge of passing out.

But then you feel it, another orgasm, rushing toward you, ready to wreck over your body. And even as it builds, you can tell this one's different; stronger, faster, more intense.

Jake can tell you're close. He can feel the way you clench around him, and he can see the way your eyes flutter shut.

"C'mon, girl," he urges. "Squirt for me."

Your orgasm approaches, pushes you to the edge, and suddenly you're falling again, rattled by another one, your body growing limp. And then it happens. A bout of your juices gushes, soaking over Jake's arm and torso and thigh, and it drips down your legs.

"Goddamn," Jake groans, feeling your slick coating his skin, his cock quivering in excitement. "That's what I'm talkin' about."

He pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before lowering your weak frame to the ground.

"Are y'gonna fuck me?" you ask, breathless.

Grinning, he flips you over until you're on all fours and he's kneeling behind you. "I told you you'd get cock if you were good, didn't I, girl?" he says. "I'm a man of my word, baby. You don't gotta worry 'bout that."

Jake pushes your thighs apart and forces your back to arch so that he can see your puffy cunt, soaked and desperate for him. He uses his fingers to spread your folds and watches how wet you are, how you clench around nothing.

You're wet enough that Jake's cock, for all its length and girth, slides in with ease, the tip finding your cervix without meeting much resistance. "So fuckin' tight, g'damn."

He doesn't give you time to adjust; he's ruthless in the way his hips smack into yours, how the thrusts into you, truly using your body and not caring about much else.

Your nails dig into the ground, filling with soil, as Jake pounds you. His cock bruises your insides, his groans filling your ears as you hiss, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He's so rough, so fucking amazing at this...He knows just how to make you think of nothing, how to fuck you dumb. You love it.

You whine, your back arching like a cat's, thighs trembling. Jake's balls slap against your sensitive folds with each thrust, his hands clutching onto your hips as he uses your cunt.

"Fuck, I could get used t' this, girl," he grunts, pushing you down, forcing your face against the ground. "Used to this pussy 'round my cock, used to you cryin' f'r me."

"Please," you whimper, trying to bounce your hips against Jake's, attempting to match his rhythm. "Please, sir—come in me."

Jake chuckles through a low moan. "Y'want me to fill ya up?"

"Mhm! Yes!" you gasp in response.

"Wanna go back to bed full 'f my come? Huh, slut?"

"Mmm! Yes, sir! Please!" you beg.

Jake keeps fucking you, ensuring to be rough with each thrust, making sure he fills you to the brim each time, makes sure he stretches your cunt to the shape of his fat cock. You wanted him to fill you? He'd fill you, alright. He'd come in you as many times as he pleased, making sure that his cum would drip out of you as you walked back to the Hometree. He would make sure to leave you unable to walk, make sure to be as harsh with you as he could. And he was determined to make you come until you were a blubbering, sobbing mess because, fuck, he loves the way you look and sound when you cry.

As your body trembles and your pussy clenches, Jake realizes you're on the verge of another orgasm, so he keeps his thrusts steady and deep, dragging your pleasure out.

"Y'gonna come for me again," he orders. "You're gonna come f'r me until I decide you've done well enough for me to fill your pussy with my cum, y'hear me?"

You nod, desperate, as your orgasm grows within you. "Y-yes, sir. Ah, yes, please."

Jake finds that he likes how pathetic you are. He likes how willing you are to give up everything else just for his cock, for him to be mean to you, for him to use you like the whore you are. And it makes him ravenous.

"Slut," he groans, slipping one hand under your body to find and play with your clit.

When you feel his calloused fingers on your clit, you moan, the pleasure coiling tightly low in your stomach, feeling like ropes knotting around each other, threatening to tear you in half.

"There!" you gasp, your entire body quivering. "Right there! Fuck! Fuck me! Jake–sir, please!"

You're so tight around him, so good for him, so perfect for him to fuck. How is he not going to take his anger out on you? All that hatred he had towards your effortless belonging in the clan, all of the ire that it caused him, he can fuck out of himself; out of his system and right into your puffy cunt.

Jake feels the way you come around him, feels your arousal drip out of you and down his balls, to the ground. "That's it, girl," he hums. "All over my cock."

You shudder, your body falling limp even though Jake keeps thrusting, his hips crashing into you.

"N-no," you gasp, trying to move away from him even though you can barely keep yourself up. "Too much! 's too—Sir, please, no!"

"Shut up," Jake growls. "Take it. You wanted this, now take it."

You mewl but stop complaining, allowing the pleasure to overcome you and wreck you, make your body shake and shudder, your nerves going into a tumultuous mess.

Jake can feel your cunt, hot and swollen, around his cock. He continues to bask in the feeling, enjoying how your muscles suck him in, how you whine and how your back bends. He's cruel, chuckling darkly as he feels your body shaking, as he sees tears start to fall down your cheeks, your face red from too much pleasure and from crying.

It makes him harder, turns him on to see you struggle to handle his cock. It's something to do with how helpless you are in front of him and his will. He can do anything to you, and you, like the whore you are, would let him; and not only can he get away with anything he does to you, you'll beg him for it. You beg for him to disrespect you, to treat you like nothing but an object, and he loves how shameless you are about it; how you get pleasure from it.

Before long, you're tightening around him once more, sobbing through the pleasure, your face against the floor.

"Again?" Jake asks, mocking you, and he hisses when you clench around him. "Mhmm, figures. Such a whore."

"J-Jake, please!" you cry, body weak and pliable, nothing but a rag doll for Jake to toss around after each use.

"Go on," he says. "No one's stopping you from coming, girl."

It's not what you were going to beg for. You were going to beg him to stop even though you don't really want him to. You don't want this to be over; you just want a little break to breathe before continuing the mind-blowing sex.

"Please," you whine, unsure if you want him to go harder or to stop. "Please..."

"Sluts don't get anything unless they ask using full sentences," Jake tells you.

"Jake, please, I—Fuck me harder. Please, Jake!" you manage, your voice wavering as you sob.

"Much better," Jake allows as he increases his strength, his cock pounding your cervix each time, making you cry out, your stomach bulging from his long, girthy cock.

You come again, squirting once more all over Jake and all over yourself, making him groan as his own orgasm crawls closer.

Your body falls against the ground, boneless, your hips against Jake's only because he's holding you up.

You try to push him away, placing a hand on his forearm, a futile attempt at begging him to ease up his pace. He pushes your hand away.

"'m almost done, girl," he grunts. "You can take it. I know y'can."

You shake your head weakly, the pleasure too much, the orgasms too many, your body too sensitive, the pain and ecstasy blurring together and making your field of vision go black around the edges.

You're sobbing, tears and spit staining your face, your delicate skin flushed and shiny with sweat. He loves seeing you this weak for him, this vulnerable, this useless...

"God—fuck!" Jake groans as his cock stiffens and twitches inside of you, his orgasm finally crashing over him, making him shudder and grunt. His thrusts grow sloppy, the sound of his hips smacking against yours stopping as he slows his pace. His come shoots inside of you, coating your inner walls, painting your insides, dripping out of your stuffed cunt and down your thighs.

Jake stays where he is, gasping for breath for a moment, before pulling out of you. He leans back on his haunches and watches his come drip out of you, admires how puffy and sore your cunt is.

"Goddamn," he groans, satisfied and content.

You sit up with effort, still sobbing, and wipe the dirt and tears off your face hastily.

Something within Jake flinches at the sight.

Maybe I was too harsh, he thinks as he approaches you. He grabs you by the wrists, gently, and you flinch.

"Shh, it's okay," he coos, pulling you toward him. He pulls you onto his lap, his eyes studying over your body, finding all the bruises he left on you. "It's okay." He carefully cleans the dirt and tears from your face, ensuring to be as gentle as he can.

Then, he softly kisses your neck in all the red spots that have been left from his bites, and he massages your hips where the shape of his hands were imprinted from his harsh grip on them.

"'m sorry if I was too rough," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. "But you still did so well f'r me, baby. You were so good, y'know? The best I've ever had. You took my cock s' well. You perfect little thing."

You allow yourself to fall into his embrace, allow him to hold and coo you, allow him to caress the pain from all the sore spots he left on your body. And if he keeps you in his arms for longer than necessary, you don't say anything. And if you let him hold you for longer than necessary, he doesn't say anything.

By the time you finally return to the village, the creature you hunted is long since cold. But if anyone notices that instead of noticing how willing you are to behave around the others, they don't mention it.

And if they see the way Jake is now looking at you as you eat with the others, they don't mention that either.

@who-is-ej

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga chapters 193-4 Review

Introduction

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and before you know it, a year has gone by.

I have been putting off writing reviews about One Punch Man, and currently, I believe my last review was Heroes, which was chapter 192. That was a while ago. I have been waiting to see how this now intricate story was going to develop, and it has not disappointed me. However, I need to start or be forever buried, so while it isn't perfect, I am starting with chapters 193, and 194, 'Worlds I know nothing about' and 'Right away', respectively.

Summary

In brief, it starts with Saitama dealing with the sort of situation only he can: a dire, potentially world-ending threat that would take the greatest of heroes many sacrifices to counter. And he does it without breaking a sweat. Indeed, then he gets out of it to have a bit of fun chasing after artefacts as if he is in an Anime series.

While recounting the story to King, a knock at the door interrupted him. The knocker turned out to be Flashy Flash, and Saitama shut the door on him, remarking to King that the visitor seemed annoying.

Flashy Flash had mentioned the magic word disciple, and this word quickly brought Genus out of his apartment. He challenged Flashy to explain why he was at Saitama's door, and when the latter refused, a fight broke out. Saitama rushed out and asked Genos to desist before he broke his new apartment, much to Flashy Flash's disdain and amusement. Flashy was much less amused when it turned out that Saitama didn't remember his name, calling him Shoulder Blade Crush after much mind-racking.

Or Clavicle Smash. Close enough.

Nevertheless, he invited himself into the apartment and started to explain his business. He wanted Saitama to join him in finding Manako and to become his disciple, as he saw the bald man as a person full of potential in need of training. Genos wasn't done, though: he had been listening through a tunnel that he had dug between their apartments. He refused to permit Saitama to become Flash's disciple and invited himself in, stating that he knew all about the God affair, which was true.

Saitama tricked Flash into leaving the apartment by pretending to follow him, and an enraged Flash kicked down the door and challenged Saitama to a fight.

The next chapter carries on where the last one left off. We find ourselves in a training room where Flash explains the terms of the bout. If Saitama can land a blow on him within 30 minutes, then he will leave him alone. No sooner does he say 'begin' than Saitama is already in his face. Realizing that he has no hope of winning if he holds back, Flash unleashes his best moves only to fight himself, quickly cornered and about to see his light knocked out.

He is rescued by Genos, who has been checking his phone while this bout has been going on. There's been a monster alert, and he'd interrupted to let Saitama know that it was close by, so they might as well attend to it. A shaken Flashy Flash tags along, trying to cover up his fear with bravado.

Over in E-City, the situation turns out to be quite The Party. We see three heroes try to do their best against three Monsters but they assume overcome and kicked away. Sonic is first to the party. He urges the monsters to ignore him as he is waiting for the guest of honour. The monsters do not like this but before they can attack, Saitama, Genos, and Flashy Flash arrive. Saitama Sonic expected, but Flash he did not. Before he can digest this, more partygoers arrive: Gale Wind and Hellfire Flame. They urge Sonic to join them in eliminating Flashy, to which he refuses, saying that the cell that they gave him was rotten.

Getting crowded...

While all this backchat is going on, the monsters get increasingly impatient at being ignored and try to attack all: a lethal mistake as they are shortly killed. Sonic goes to attack Saitama, Flash goes to attack the ninjas, and Genos ends the monsters, punching them to pieces and then burning their corpses up before the pieces have finished hitting the ground. The ninjas flee after leaving a decoy for Flash to dismember, and we see that Sonic has been smacked into a hole in the ground.

After all the excitement, Saitama asks to be left in peace to find Manako on his own. He says that he does not want to be a teacher, disciple, or a rival to anyone. Unfortunately, the trio misunderstand him and try to encourage him to have confidence in himself in their own ways. Saitama texts King to come over and play video games. While playing, he asks King if he has seen a monster that looks like the sketch Flashy Flash showed him, and King says that it looks familiar. They head to the place where King had seen Manako earlier and successfully trap her using a plate of curry rice. She is all too glad to be brought back to civilization and fed, much to both Genos's and Flash's surprises.

Flash, realising that she doesn't actually know much about 'God', decides that it's probably best if they consult Blast. He, Saitama, and Manako head off to see Sicchi about seeking an audience with Blast, only to find that the great man himself is already there.

Meta

Small things

Saitama really is a misplaced One Piece character: the world of fantastic adventures, treasures to collect, monsters to summon, and companions to travel with that he desperately wants to inhabit is all around him. He's just so strong that it all bounces off his head. Literally, in some cases.

Nice to see that some heroes have been rewarded with promotions. Heavy Kong has been promoted from A-Class Rank 34 to 33, and Peach Terry from A Rank 30 to 29. Bone has had the best bump: he's gone from B-Class 77 to 57. Guess that full-body fracture wasn't in vain! [Also, damn, how fast do heroes HEAL?]

It's interesting that Genos hasn't spammed rocket-boosted anything since his return. Today, he's practising his punches, and for once, he's not solely head-hunting! Progress at last.

Saitama being able to stop Genos at a single word: neat but not surprising. Genos being able to stop Saitama with a single well-timed 'Sensei!': more surprising. Those two have each other's ear.

The number of defeats Sonic has suffered at Saitama's hands. Three is right if you're counting what we've seen on screen. Six if you're also accounting for bonus material, that time Sonic slipped on dogshit, and audio books. Fourteen? Well, Sonic can't be faulted for lack of determination!

Manako is indeed not a regular monster: she nearly starved out there. Her dependence on cooked food is pretty human -- like termites and some species of ants, humans are unable to sustain themselves off raw food and need to process it to extract enough energy from food to survive.

More substantial things

This is where the first set of our major long-running threads starts to twist together to form a rope. I had wondered back in chapter 173 (Secret Intel) if the payoff for seeing the heroes sharing what intelligence they had on 'God' would be so long paying off that we'd need a major flashback to recall it. I needn't have feared! The links between the cubes Blast collected, the Ninja Village, and 'God' start to become clearer.

Like a name almost recalled, something had been nagging at Flashy Flash since the discussion at the secret meeting. He'd tried to recruit Saitama to help him find Manako, who he hoped would help him piece together the story. That wasn't too useful, but the ninja duo helped him place where he'd seen the cube before, and now things are falling into place. With Blast having conveniently shown up, he's now in a position to clarify things.

Yeah, yeah, the 'God' character in the webcomic appears rather indolent, content to wait his turn as the end-of-story villain. The guy in the manga is much more impatient. Gotta problem with that? Tough. He's in a hurry to deal with the problem of Saitama.

Hehe, the ninja duo truly never had a chance. I start to understand why they took monster cells in hopes of slaying Flashy Flash. Poor turkeys.

Now that I'm reading this with the benefit of time passing, I'm looking forward to rereading and reviewing the next couple of chapters. This is coming together nicely.

[eveenstar]

So in your soft Hoodie hc, you mentioned you had an urge to write a one-shot about the nightmare part right? Well then allow me to request for a one-shot of that :)

Please feel free to decline of you've moved on from that...

So terribly sorry this took so long and is short, the ending is a bit meh cuz i lost myself midway. Hope you still like it!

Hush now | Brian Thomas/Hoodie

Summary: A nightmare aroses you from your slumber, and for the third time in his life, Brian feels hopeless.

TW: Reader's gender and pronouns are not mentioned.

It came to you during the night, that feeling of feigned conformity, that it is alright - that you're safe - but you aren't. The blinds of the room have all been shut to prevent any light, be it from the Sun or the Moon, and you can't make the shape of your own hands as they come to meet your chest, resting over your racing heart, feeling the pulse.

You're panicking.

Why are you panicking?

Nothing happened.

Everything is fine. You're fine.

Something else is amiss. You don't feel the heavy presence of Brian - or Hoodie - next to you. Relutanctly reaching a hand out, your suspicions are confirmed. Sometime during the night, he left the bed, but that does not come as a surprise. He comes and goes.

But this crippling anxiety doesn't seem to go. It has set its teeth and claws on your heart, its poison running through your veins. You're frozen in place, battling a war inside your mind. Focus, you repeat, focus!

Flashes come to your mind, but not of sweet orchards and butterflies. No, darker images of the torments that linger in the back of your mind. A feeling of deja vu settles in, and you realise the nemesis behind your panic - a nightmare. A child's nightmare, even. Not being able to scream, being away from mommy and daddy, no one coming to help-

Oh, gods, the dread that overwhelms you is too much to bear. You're no stranger to nightmares - you two are well acquainted by now. After all, are you not the one living with a serial stalker and murderer in the middle of the woods, in the territory of a long-limbed entity with no face?

But you had found ways to overcome them. Brian was never around when they happened, but in the rarer occasions that he was, a mere hand lingering over your back was all that you'd receive. Or pills. This was different, however. This nightmare was bolder than the others - challenging you into a whole new perspective, because this time your tormentor was not the shadow in the forest or its followers, or something else entire. No, the being - person - on the other end of the knife was the one with the tired, blue eyes you've come to love.

But Brian would never harm you. Not intentionally. He would never-

Answer: He was watching you.

Not the answer you wanted, but needed. The light cleared a path amidst the darkness, illuminating the bed in a bright flash. There you sat, shaking like a leaf, holding yourself as if your body would evaporate at any moment. Brian stood in the doorway, as still as a rock, watching you. You couldn't see the look in his eyes. You refuse to see it, in fact. You were too embarrassed to meet his gaze and see what lays behind them.

Seconds, minutes, hell centuries could've passed as you two remained as you were. It was too quiet, apart from the rapid sound of your breathing. You clenched your sweaty hands, trying to convince yourself this was just another nightmare.

It wasn't.

Brian crossed the room with slow, methodical steps. The dirt in his boots created a trail that led to the bed, to you, and stopped just on the edge of it. Even if you weren't looking at him, you could feel his gaze on you and it made you feel small. You hated it. You hated the feeling of danger that came with it as the flashbacks of your nightmare came flooding back to you.

Had it been a nightmare, your mind whispered, or a haunting premonition?

It took a pregnant pause for Brian to sit down in front of you, at a considerably safe distance. He studied you first, what was wrong, what he couldn't fix. A feeling of deja vu ran through him, but for different reasons.

You flinch from his hand when it comes in contact with your arm, and he withdraws it as if he's been burnt. Without a second glance, Brian abruptly comes to his feet and rummages through the dressers and cabinets in the room. You feel as if he's angry or nervous, but neither are shown through the invisible armour he wears. He's as fast as he is quiet, you don't see or hear him before he's there, standing in front of you with the familiar bottle of pills in his hand.

You've come to become familiarised with the different pills in the house. There's some for emergencies, others for pain, antidepressants... A whole rainbow of them. You can't lie and say they have never come in handy before. Especially when anxiety was at its pike.

Tonight, you feared you'd need more than a simple bottle of pills.

"Brian." The name slipped from your lips with a sob, the lump in your throat threatening to explode at any moment. "Please."

You saw the way his hand clenched around the pill bottle, and you feared your words had triggered something in him. Something bad. Something like what happened in your dream.

A hand came to pet the top of your head, and seeing as you didn't flinch this time, Brian sat down again. Closer, so close your shoulders were almost touching. You took a deep breath - inhaling, exhaling - and your shoulders shook. You were too frustrated with your mind to feel embarrassment, but you knew it would hit you sooner or later. You had never broken down like this, not in front of him.

To your non-surprise, Brian remained still, blue eyes narrowed and watching you. You could see how tense he was, yet you still couldn't figure out the quiet storm in his eyes.

Against your better judgement, you find yourself leaning against him, hiding your sobbing face in the crook of his neck. For a moment, you think he will push you away. But he doesn't, as he never has when you were in...such a state.

One hand comes to rest on your back, awkwardly running circles. He said nothing, hell, you couldn't even feel if he was breathing. His chin came to rest on top of your head and remained there. It was the most Brian had ever done for you.

By the time morning came, you had fallen asleep in Brian's arms. The deepest sleep you had in a long time, but a dreamless one. Somehow, you could still feel him there, holding you as if he was some sort of pillar. In a way, he was. Holding you on top of the world.

You know Brian would if he could. There's still a man underneath all his bloody armour. That man came to you last night.

[mimisempai]

Dear Crowley…

Summary

A sudden gust of wind blew a sheet of paper written by Aziraphale into Crowley's hands as a word suddenly caught his eye. His own name. 

Impossible, of course, for him to resist the urge to read it.

Notes

Not much time for today's story, but I hope it will be just as enjoyable.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1165 words

"Angel, I'm back! It's windy out there!"

As if to illustrate his point, a gust of wind rushed through the still-open door, and by the time the demon had closed it, the wind had blown away a few sheets of paper that twirled around before falling to the carpet in the middle of the bookshop.

Crowley picked them up and stopped when he saw his name in Aziraphale's elegant handwriting on one of the sheets.

Curiosity got the better of him and he began to read what was written.

Dear Diary,

Or should I say, 

Dear Crowley,

Crowley figured since it was addressed to him, it wouldn't hurt if he read it, so he continued.

Dear Crowley, because what I'm going to write today concerns you.

As do many of my diary entries, but this is the first time I'm addressing it to you.

I have so much to say to you.

When I met you, Crowley, nothing prepared me for you. 

So beautiful, so colorful, so bright in a sky that didn't yet sparkle. So full of life and passion.

How could I not have been immediately enchanted?

Circumstances should have made us sworn enemies after your fall, but they didn't. 

For you and I never really fit the mold. Though it took me much longer than you to realize it.

I have been like a moth drawn to the flame, but I have so often rejected that draw out of blindness and fear.

But you never stopped being there, a constant warm flame that never went out.

Thank you for always being patient with me. For letting me go my own way at my own pace, even the times when I stopped moving forward or went backward.

I'm going to get even sappier, but after all, only I will read his words, so I can indulge myself, can't I?

Crowley, my love.

I call you my love here until one day I have the courage to call you that out loud.

Crowley gasped and felt his cheeks redden slightly at the thought of hearing Aziraphale call him that one day.

My love.

Overcome with emotion, he sat down on the sofa and resumed reading.

I love that you're the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning.

I love walking through the bookshop and seeing pieces of you everywhere, reminding me that this has become our home. That this is not just my bookshop, but the place where we are now building our life together.

I love what we've become. This us.

You're strong, you're my safe place, I can lean on you, but I also know your weaknesses. I know when you're hurting, when you're afraid, when you doubt. Because you trust me enough to show me and allow me to be your safe place too.

Thank you for letting me be your strength, your support, your comfort in these moments.

I could go on telling you how much I adore you, but it would take me at least ten pages to tell you how much I love you and why, and now that I'm at this point, I realize how silly that idea is. 

I'm going to throw away this piece of paper and tell you all of this in person as soon as I have the courage. Because you deserve to hear it from me. 

Until then, please know that I love you more than anything.

Crowley dropped the hand holding the letter and let his head fall back as a soft smile played on his lips.

Aziraphale...

Only someone like him could write something like that and make it so adorable. His sweet angel.

The demon stood up and carefully folded the sheet of paper before tucking it into his pocket. He wouldn't let the angel throw away such a treasure.

Seeing Aziraphale's coat hanging, he realized the angel was home and suddenly wondered why he hadn't answered when he had called him.

Seeing no sign of the angel on the ground floor, he climbed the stairs.

He called softly, "Angel?"

Still no answer.

He approached the bedroom, and there, on the doorstep, he couldn't help but smile, a smile filled with both affection and wonder.

Aziraphale slept on the bed, the book he was reading open on his chest.

The demon realized it was the first time the angel had slept anywhere but in his arms or at his side.

Crowley couldn't help but smile warmly as the words he'd just read danced before his eyes.

He approached cautiously and nestled close to Aziraphale's head. He moved his hand forward and gently ran his fingers through the angel's soft curls. Aziraphale smiled in response and awoke gently. He turned his head toward Crowley and leaned into the demon's hand as it stroked his hair.

He opened his eyes and his smile widened as his gaze met Crowley's, now very close.

"Crowley, my l-dear?"

The demon, who had clearly heard the slip of the tongue, said softly, "Shhh..." and put a finger to Aziraphale's mouth, who kissed him playfully.

Then Crowley began to speak, his eyes in Aziraphale's, "Dear Aziraphale, I received your letter.  I know I may not have had the right to read it, but I don't regret it and I will be happy to answer it."

"Cr-"

Crowley shook his head, "Let me finish, will you?"

He kissed his forehead gently and continued, "You gave me hope when I thought I had none. When you, an angel, spread your wing to protect me, a demon. You made me forget the loneliness of being a demon of another kind when you showed me that you were an angel of another kind as well, making our two loneliness the first we."

Crowley paused for a moment as he saw a tear roll down Aziraphale's cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, kissed him gently and continued, "You make me laugh, Aziraphale, you make me smile when sometimes I just can't. I'm not afraid to fail because I know you'll catch me. When I don't feel like going on, you're the one who keeps me going. I love that we take care of each other, that we lean on each other. And finally, I'm going to be as sappy as you, I also love that you're the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. And I like the idea of that being forever."

Crowley moved even closer and whispered against Aziraphale's lips, "I love you too..." He placed a light kiss on his lips and continued, "More than anything.

The angel, his eyes shining, whispered, "My love..." before pulling the demon to him and pressing his lips to his in a long, tender kiss.

Because sometimes words, whether on paper or spoken aloud, weren't enough to express what you felt.

Because sometimes happiness was speechless, you just had to know it was there.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[floralpowders]

In Routine - Gepard x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Gepard have been well acquainted now for a while, and Gepard wants to find the courage to ask you on a date. 

I don’t really remember how I started writing this. I’m pretty sure it was while I was going through Serval’s companion quest and while sobbing over Serval, I somehow started this so…here it is! As my second x reader lol

All fluff!

Word Count: 817

It’s fair to say that Gepard was…beyond nervous. The two of you have been getting along well with one another, and he couldn’t help but grow fonder and fonder over you by the minute until what was once manageable conversations became a test of endurance to see how long he could talk to you without growing red in the face or stammering through his words.

So, it was very clear in his face that he had something or someone on his mind. If you ask him about it, he’ll argue it must be that the two of you were so close to one of the local heaters that reside all across Belobog (even if you really weren’t, but perhaps all those layers of armor was finally getting to Gepard). 

However, if you don’t ask him about it, Serval would be quick to pick up the task to tease him: pinch his cheek and tease her little baby brother about his newfound crush and urge him to just confess already. She even goes so far as to try and offer Gepard some help in how to ask out whoever the cutie that stole Gepard’s heart is, which Gepard has to turn down because no way would he allow his sister to have more reasons to tease him. 

After some time of practicing — on his own, not with Serval — he finally settles on a plan. The next time he would see you, that will be when he finally asks you out.

He approaches you, his face as stoic as usual, but if you take a closer look, the corner of his lip twitches, his brows curtly furrowing for only a second — little signs of his nervousness when it comes to you. 

He had planned. He had practiced…and yet— 

“If you have the time, would you, uh…. How would you…Would you be able to accompany me with…” 

Then he blanks. The Captain of the Silvermane Guards blanks, and his face bursts red.

But he needs to say something because now you’re staring at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

“Would you… be able to accompany me on patrol?” He forces out at the speed of wind. 

That? He was going with that? Oh, he can imagine Serval laughing at him now. This was his chance to make this special, and he chose to do something so…mundane. Something he’d always ask you to do. 

But because it’s something he always asks of you, you agree to come along (though his stuttering may have gotten your attention. He has been stuttering a lot more lately, though).

So the two of you go on your way, following the same patrol route that Gepard always takes you…but something is different. 

It would be silent from time to time between the two of you when Gepard was focused on being vigilant to his surroundings, but it wouldn’t be so silent that the two of you just never spoke.

You find yourself in this unfamiliar silence between Gepard as though the walls of Belobog came down between the two of you as you walked on. 

In actuality, Gepard had no idea what he was doing from here on. He was aware of how eerily silent it was between the two of you. He was trying to think of a way to make it better but not make it awkward because this was what the two of you usually did anyways, and yet he intended this to be more. If only he hadn’t gotten his tongue tied…

Eventually, the guilt catches up with him; he needs to be honest with you. He stops the two of you in the middle of your walk and apologizes. 

“I…didn’t actually require your company with me during this patrol….The truth is I had wanted to ask you if you’d accompany me for a date…but I failed to overcome my fear. I apologize.” 

It was so stiff, even for Gepard. He knew that, and he felt a little ashamed of that. 

“I understand if you have better things to do. I won’t fault you if you must go after this.” 

But little did he know that you also had feelings for him — long, unspoken feelings for him, and now it was your turn to confess your feelings back. 

He’ll look at you, both flustered and mildly distraught that you love him despite such a blundering attempt to court you, but more than anything, he was so happy that you returned feelings. 

“If that’s the case,” Gepard clears his throat, “Then let me ask you out properly some time.” 

You agree to wait for him then, but you can’t help but smile at him and assure him, “For the record, Gepard, I also like being on patrol with you.”  

Give him a while after that; he needs some time to recover before he tries to ask you out. Properly, this time.