#but i feel like i've worked on it to much not to shade it now

[lured-into-wonderland]

Both. Truth to be told, Nunnally didn’t expect he’d care so much about the mug to be used 'here and now'. But it still felt…nice. So, she chatted. What she liked. What she enjoyed. What she hoped to get. Not that Nunnally had too many preferences. She, indeed, didn't like the edges her mug being too thick (or too thin), but otherwise all was a fair game. Though – and again – she found herself immensely enjoying the (mundane) conversation and (mundane) activities of these moments. Well, she did not find them mundane, although she assumed that many would. Not that it mattered.

Still humming that melody (and still only half aware of doing so), Nunnally looked at the red mug presented to her. Her lips formed a cheerful smile, and she nodded: --

“It’s perfect, Rav. I really like the colour.” – the redness of it was beautiful. The shade she really liked. And would wear. Sometimes. Though her usual style was different. More toned down. Less cheerful? – “I’ve liked wearing red…” – she continued babbling – “…but they say red is not the best colour for the cold blondes like myself…not that I really care, but nowadays I am less…well, less courageous to wear colours... than I used to be…” – she laughed as she was finding her way around the kitchen – “…maybe I am just too old for some things…” – she laughed again – “Oh, don’t oppose me, Rav! I know I am not old at all, but just sometimes I feel like… I guess you’re not really familiar with the social pressures…the kind I am submitted to…it's to tiring...” – even if it might have looked like a difficult (or even sad) topic, it was not one for Nunnally. Social pressure was something she was pretty used to, and nothing too worried about.

Though probably the pressure Ravein was submitted to was more of a kind to be worried about.

Humming, talking, finding her way around, laughing…all that made her almost missed Ravein’s next question.

“Yes…that’s what I hope for…” – she said, somewhat, disturbed with that question of his. Why was he surprised? Oh! This time it took Nunnally only a few moments to realize why he wasn’t willing to go. Or rather why it might be difficult to do so.

“But no worries. We don’t actually have to go out. We could simply shop on-line. Not as fun as regular shopping…” – no! Nunnally did not sound discouraged. She was still in that babbly mood and given Ravein was an observant man, he could easily tell that – “…but good enough. We might even design something together and have it printed on the mug… I did something similar…long time ago, but it might still be an option.”

“…I used to create things more often that I do now…” – she stopped for a moment wondering why she had said that, and then again she started to move around the kitchen looking at the spices she had prepared to use (now neatly seated on the counter together with three cups) . It seemed she had everything. She did create some mess (probably more mess than this kitchen had not seen for some time), but she was still happy. It was not as bad as it might have been.

“Don’t worry.” – Nunnally reassured Ravein – “I have everything under control… The kitchen will be left as clean as it was when…” – she laughed – “…when you let me in.”

And then she touched his hair (how forgetful of her!), but luckily Ravein didn't take it too bad (could that be called a p r o g r e s s?), and then she was back to humming, when Roberto returned. She smiled to the older man: --

“Absolutely not.” – she replied just for the sake of saying something; it was clear Roberto didn't need her permission to do anything, and she was aware serving the customers was a priority. And yes, although it might have been better for her to actually work in silence, she couldn't force herself to do it – “If anyone I should be the one not to look. I am sure you know more secret recipes than I do… I don’t think I've invented many innovative recipes…”

“…though I did experiment in the past…with the taste of tea and coffee...”

“The water is freshly boiled…” – she added busy with her drinks. They would soon be ready. But she wanted to delay it a bit so that Roberto can attend to the customers and then have his drink with the both of them.

Ravein would concur with Nunnally’s thoughts that the kitchen here was very warm and had an inviting atmosphere. Though, there was an element of being intimidating to someone who didn’t know their way around making coffee or tea, but aside from that, it was clear that the kitchen was designed and decorated with comfort and homeliness in mind. It really was nice here, and it spoke volumes to how quickly he acclimated and found this place to be ‘home’.

Ravein pauses to think about her question before he flips through a few pages in his notebook.

[Both]

It was good to know her preferences so he could try finding a mug that would be suitable for now and it would serve as a guideline to help find a personal mug for her use later. He would consult with Roberto on the matter and they could both keep their eye out for a mug that she may like.

Thin edges, shades of blues, oranges, or reds. Birds or intense colors… they didn’t have any with birds on them. Ravein logged the information in his mind for future reference and he cross-referenced with some of the mugs they currently had. He rummaged through one of the cupboards, remembering there was a plain red mug in the back. It didn’t have thin edges, but they weren’t too thick either. It was probably the best fit for now. He presents her the mug and waits for her approval or rejection.

Her comment about getting it together with him stuck out in his mind. Perhaps she wanted the opportunity to go shopping for a mug together? That way they could ensure that the mug she got was something of her tastes- which was the most efficient way of going about it, even if it did require some planning ahead of time around their schedules.

[Go together?]

It couldn’t be too dangerous to go looking for some mugs together. Who would ever expect that a guy on the run (and in disguise) would be shopping around for cute mugs? No one would suspect such bold behavior- so it was like reverse-psychology, almost. Besides, unless they wished to get in trouble with the local law enforcement, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to cause a scene in such an enclosed public space.

Nunnally did remember that he felt unnerved by the approach of others, especially given his history and his circumstances. Though late, she did belatedly recall this fact and apologize. A small thing, but he appreciated it all the same. He nods his head to show that he accepted her apology. He wasn’t totally put off by it, so it was fine. It would just take some time for him to truly accept her touch without first inwardly panicking first.

Something in his gut told him that it would happen eventually, in time. Even with him and Roberto, there was a sense of distance because the older man was being considerate towards Ravein. It didn’t mean that he always kept a strict distance, however. It was important for Ravein to slowly become acclimated to the touch of others if he wanted to become a part of normal society. Exposure therapy with someone he trusted was important- even if it made Ravein uncomfortable for a while.

The bunny man watched as Nunnally was preparing the drinks, curious to see what she had planned for them. His ears were also paying attention to what was going on behind him. He could hear that Roberto was handling customers, taking a few orders. Once he finished taking all the orders, he’d come into the back to start making the beverages.

In a matter of minutes, the older man came back into the kitchen, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you, Miss Nunnally. I have a few drinks to prepare for customers.” He gives Ravein a look and motions for the younger to stay seated. He could handle this small order of drinks himself. “I promise I won’t sneak a peak at what you’re making.” He cracks a small joke towards Nunnally, who was still preparing the drinks.

[puffyphantom-v2]

I've really been wanting to clean/finish this one, but the writing gods have forsaken me and left me without guidance on how to proceed 😔

Rated:

Danny dug his numb fingers into the plush blanket wrapped around him, scooting across the expensive Persian rug to sit closer to the open fireplace. Even if he was able to feel the warmth emanating from the flames, it wasn’t nearly enough to calm his annoyingly persistent shivering. “So, b-basically, you’re saying that I have ice p-powers?”

“That would be an adequate summary, yes,” Vlad answered from where he was standing some feet away, turning a page from the large purple book he was cradling in one arm. “I’ve learned of a peculiar bunch that reside in the Ghost Zone who are apparently quite knowledgeable in the subject. Though we have no choice but to wait before we can go and make our inquiries. My ghost portal won’t be up and running again until tomorrow.”

“Right. Just m-my luck.”

“It’s unfortunate that your father’s portal is also out of commission at the moment.” Vlad shut the book and sighed. “Let this be a lesson, little badger. Never ignore the responsibility of changing out the Ecto-filtrator,” he said as he walked to the nearby bookshelf and slid the book back into place.

Danny scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again why your portal needed to be f-f-fixed?”

Vlad turned around as he tsked with a condescending wave of his finger. “Let’s not change the subject, now.”

“Hmph.” Danny shifted so that he could sit with his arms wrapped around his knees. “What else is there to say anyway? Besides the f-fact that I’m apparently going through g-g-ghost p-puberty.” He frowned. As if teenage puberty wasn’t enough. And just when he’d thought finally gotten ahold of all his latent powers, too.

Even worse, why did it have to be ice of all things? It reminded him of winter, which reminded him of Christmas—plus everything else relating to that awful holiday. And that was the last thing he wanted on his mind when it was the middle of summer.

“Luckily for you, if this really is what I think it is, then this ‘ghost puberty’ phase shouldn’t be nearly as much trouble,” Vlad said. “For now, you only need to put up with your symptoms until the portal is ready.”

Danny shot Vlad a look. “Easier s-said than done.” He extended his arms with his palms facing the fireplace, unable to hold back a violent shudder as he did so. “I can’t even tell if any of this is working. It’s like my body isn’t able to retain any heat. I’m almost tempted to throw myself in the fire and see if that does anything.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Returning your charred remains to your parents isn’t exactly on my bucket list.”

“Good to know.”

Vlad hummed, remaining silent for a moment afterwards. “Maybe I can be of some help. I have an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Danny mumbled.

“Phase your clothes off and lay on your back.”

“Huh?” Danny whipped head around, staring wide-eyed at Vlad as he watched him get on his knees beside him. Even with the cold cutting off his blood flow, he had no doubt that his cheeks had turned a faint shade of red. “Uh. I’m not sure t-that’s gonna help. Well, I mean, it might. But, um—”

Vlad interrupted with a chuckle. “Trust me, dear boy, it’s nothing like that,” he said as he rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

Still wary, Danny looked down at Vlad’s hands as he set them on his thighs before looking back up to meet his gentle gaze. His intention to help appeared genuine enough. And at this point Danny welcomed anything that could stop him from possibly freezing over.

He followed Vlad’s instructions, taking the blanket and laying it flat on the rug. Then, he phased his pajamas off, opting to keep his boxers on for the sake of saving at least some decency. His body immediately noticed the lack of clothes. He couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering or himself from shivering. “Is t-t-this really n-necessary? Seems c-counterproductive,” he struggled to say as he laid face up on the blanket and wrapped his arms around himself.

Vlad smiled, shifting forward to remove the space between them. He remained on his knees with his legs parallel to Danny’s body, sitting so close that they were touching. “Very much necessary,” he answered, gently prying Danny’s arms away from himself and guiding them to his sides in a silent demand to keep them there.

Danny let out another shudder as the cold continued to nip at his skin, and he wondered if he should’ve listened to Vlad after all. His skepticism doubled when Vlad placed his large hands on his chest, palms flat against him. Danny peered up at him. “H-hey, you s-said—”

“Shh,” Vlad hushed.

Danny was about to protest again when he was ultimately silenced by his surprise from a strange but familiar sensation. His wide eyes shifted back down to Vlad’s hands.

“Feeling less like you just walked out of a blizzard?” Vlad asked.

“Yeah.” Danny kept his eyes on Vlad’s hands, feeling the cold within him quickly dissipate as a pleasant warmth bloomed from the center of his chest. “What is this? What’re you doing?” he asked, looking up at Vlad.

“Nothing, really. I’m simply using my unique ability to your advantage.”

“Huh?”

“Do you recall our conversation from earlier?”

Danny thought for a moment. “The one about your fire powers?”

“Precisely.”

“So, are you saying you’re using your fire powers to… warm me up?”

“Hm, your poor grades have given me the wrong impression of you. Looks like you’re not as dull-witted as I’d thought,” Vlad taunted with a smile. “But, yes, you are correct.”

Danny held his tongue, tempted to push Vlad away with a little help from his own powers. If only he wasn’t doing such a great job at keeping him warm. He looked back down at Vlad’s hands together with his near-naked form. “Weird. Using your powers for something like this, I mean. But I guess that explains why I needed to take my clothes off. It works better with direct contact, huh?”

“Oh, no. You didn’t need to be bare for this.”

Danny gave Vlad a deadpanned look.

“What? If I’m going to be sitting here, then I at least deserve something nice to look at, don’t you think?”

“Perverted old man,” Danny muttered, shifting slightly to get a little more comfortable—even if being half naked with two large hands on him made that a bit hard to do. “Uh, I appreciate the help, but does this mean we’re gonna have to stay like this until the morning?”

“As appealing as it sounds to have my hands on you all night long, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m hoping I only need to warm you up enough for you to be able to pull through the night. Perhaps half an hour of this will be enough.”

“I hope so. Um, thanks,” Danny said quietly.

Vlad only offered another smile in response.

Suddenly more aware of how awkward the situation truly was, Danny turned his head away, staring at the fireplace as it continued to crackle and burn. He blamed the heat creeping up his neck on the steady rise of his body temperature. Why was he so embarrassed anyway? It’s not like it’s the first time Vlad has seen him without any clothes on. And even more than that.

Maybe it was the fact that Vlad was helping him—especially while he’s in such a vulnerable state. Now that was something he definitely wasn’t used to. After all the violent encounters they’ve had in the past, having Vlad look after him seemed like such a foreign concept. Heck, sometimes Danny still had trouble believing that they could be in the same room together without a fight breaking out.

It’s because they’re the only ones of their kind and it didn’t make sense for them to be going after each other’s throats. That’s what Vlad had told him anyway—along with a lengthy apology for all his mistakes. And, yeah, it was hard to believe him at first, but it was even harder to deny the truth behind his words. Thinking about it now, Danny couldn’t imagine going through something like this alone, where the only person who would be able to help him is…

“Are you feeling all right?”

Danny blinked. He looked up at Vlad before quickly turning away again. “Yeah. Uh. I was just thinking that—well, I guess we don’t need the fireplace anymore.”

“I suppose not. Though it helps make the setting more romantic, doesn’t it?”

Danny couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Sure. Me lying here in my underwear while you help me not freeze to death. So romantic.”

Vlad laughed quietly, and then the room fell silent again. The fireplace crackled and pop. More heat rose to Danny’s cheeks as he felt Vlad’s gaze on him, and he shifted his legs, keeping his knees together as a different kind of warmth gathered below his navel. He swallowed.

“Actually, you might’ve had the right idea earlier.”

“Huh?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to meet Vlad’s eyes, Danny didn’t dare look up.

He tensed a bit when Vlad moved his hands. Thumbs ran over his nipples, rubbing them just enough to tease. “A good amount of physical activity does indeed heat up the body quite well.”

[gouinisme]

girl help idk how to shade i am in distress

[plutonious]

experimentation is forever and ever and emmet is guinea pig

[amberbalcom14]

Holy shoot, @guilty-pleasures21, Thank you! 🤗Been following this trend, & this reblog thread-line of it, for the past day or so on here and was not expecting to suddenly get the mentioned alert ping bout being tagged in this too! ✨😊 and really showing my age with the realization it's been years since i've done one of these to boot. Let's get into this then✨

Last Song: On Spotify, Annpantsu's cover of "I'm Still Standing"

Favorite Color: hmm, kinda tied between purple and green (as this reblog and my blog's main/mobile app view theme shows XD), so guess it depends on the shade of either (prefer either a lighter or darker green than this txt option & typically a darker closer to violet than the purple txt color option - which happens to also be my current hair color!)

Last Book/Fic: Been mostly doing online reading lately, but do still purchase physical versions (recently got a newly opened B&N closer to where i live that's now my new home-store that's a LOT closer than the previous one XD Hubby is already joking bout the 'wallet pain' of him coming home from work to find me with more new books XD) so physical book wise, it would have to be 'The Modern Herbal Dispensary' that i recently got form Barnes & Noble ^^ and online Fic wise, it's hands down @greensagephase/Alondra's Spiderverse 'Nonviolent Communication', full re-read after reading the newest released Chap 22 ^^ (any spiderverse fans, if ya haven't checked NC out yet, i highly recommend it ^^)

Last Movie: Transformers One

Last Show: all 3 Seasons of Marvel's 'What if' on New Years Eve since the tidbit was with my folks for the week and i was resting up from feeling sick a few days prior XD got to Season 3 at the midnight Ball drop, so it worked out pretty well on my end XD

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: hmm, this is a tough one, since it depends what type of food we're talking about. ✨desserts wise, sweet all the way. ✨snacks are mix of sweet and savory (like i prefer sweet for popcorn with kettle corn or caramel corn, but savory for stuff like crackers/pretzels like with white cheddar cheeze-its) ✨main dish wise, mix of savory or spicy, depending on the kind of dish. served in a bowl dishes for example, i lean more a mix of both as a Southerner born and raised growing up with 'southern cold weather comfort food' like Creole dishes jambalaya and red beans & rice, as well as Texas style chili (which growing up got spicier when my dad was the one to make it as us 3 siblings got a higher spice tolerance) Also for main dish wise on the other end is, savory dishes like all day slow cooker pot roasts or shepard's pie ^^ long story short - I'm a foodie, and like little bit of everything to an extent and have tried a wide variety of ethnic style food since it's unfortunately dependent on where i am/local area is mostly tex-mex with some authentic Mexican and Asian (mostly Japanese & Chinese, with one Korean grill place) restaurants in my area (stopped having spicy food during my pregnancy and now unfortunately my spice tolerance has taken a major hit and i have to work it back up to where it was back in College😭like used to be able to eat wasabi by itself and use Sriracha with not much issue)

Relationship: Happily Married 9 years with this yr/2025's Dec being the 10 yr/1st Decade mark ^^ (married wise. been together 13 yrs since Nov 2011 ^^ - and Yes I admittedly love making both my hubby and myself 'feel old' at reminding him we're already a fair bit past the decade mark technically with marriage getting close to the decade mark due to the tidbit being close to turning 10 from being born the following year XD)

Last thing I googled: legitimately full on google searched, (& not counting typing in the name of a site in the search bar to get it pulled up from being half-assed lazy or too tired to recall the actual website's spelling/type out from google being my default/home browser XD) would have to be over the weekend looking up search/location tips for the stripeshell snail from the game Palia to get help finding it to finish one of the Vault of the Waves beach bundle XD (highly recommend Palia as a fun cozy game to play ^^)

Current Obsession: oh, geeze this one is a call out XD. um, depends what you mean by obsession i guess XD. since one of my special interests is musicals (mainly broadway, specially Hamilton, Les Mes, and Wicked ),while my current hyperfixation for musicals is sorta a musical - it's the 'Epic: The Musical' concept album series by Jorge Rivera-Herrans about Homer's “Odyssey" ^^ i have been playing the Ithaca and the Troy saga albums the most for like the past month and a half, mainly the song 'Warrior of the Mind' from the Troy saga and 'The Challenge' from the Ithaca one (i can go on about how it shows the relationship of Odysseus and Penelope as one of my favorite greatest love stories told. i mean the Oddy's old bow to shoot thru the axes challenge to the suitors with the song's line 'Cause I'd rather die, Than grow old without the best of you' ?!✨🥰🤩🤌🏼) Characters/Fandom wise, i will admit that lately it's been a bit hyperfocus with Marvel mostly XD mainly Spiderverse's Miguel, X-men (nearly of the animated series and the OG cinematic verse/Earth-10005 movies line, and a fair bit of the comics verses with some exceptions) Dr. Henry 'Hank' McCoy [I'm well aware of how far off the deep end Earth-616 Krakoa era 'Beast Prime' went off his rocker out of descending into madness post legacy virus arc], MCU/TFATWS James 'Bucky' Barnes, & MCU/Comics Dr. Stephan Strange ^^

I look forward to telling you: You all have been traumatized enough this decade, you deserve a hug and happiness may the rest of this decade be far better for you than the first half.

Tags: @bluesidez, @lyrate-lifeform-approximation, @voxxgrimly, @thespider-witch, @theorphicangel

10 people I’d like to get to know better

10 people I’d like to get to know better

Since I had two separate tags in this, @spaceyjessa and @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog I decided I would make a separate post.

Last song:  with lyrics: Beautiful Boy by The Last Dinner Party (I found out about this band like two weeks ago and now I’m going through a phase I’m obsessed)

Without lyrics: I am ready by Kevin Kiner & Sean Kiner: from the bad batch season three soundtrack. Been listening to it a lot lately, as it feels pretty prevalent to the time of my life that I’m at

Favourite color: light pinks and baby blues

Last book/fic: the last book I finished was defy the storm, by Tessa Gratton (I’m getting closer and closer to being caught up on THR)

Fic: Mace Windu fixes the timeline (You should read it, it’s wonderful) 

Last movie: the rise of Skywalker (yes, I love the sequel trilogy and what about it 💅)

Last show: the bad batch... I’m re-watching, again... how predictable 🙄

Sweet/spicy/savory: I have a big sweet tooth, especially when it comes to chocolate

Relationship: single real life, but in love with countless fictional characters inside my head🤩

Last thing I googled: what does the quest cookies and cream protein bar taste like? (look, I have arfid. I can’t just buy new things to try without knowing exactly what I’m getting into first)

Current obsession: Star Wars, duh! Specifically clones and TBB, the Mandalorian and the high republic

I look forward to telling you: that if you’re reading this you’re wonderful

No pressure tags (and I’m sorry if you’re being tagged again)  @clonethirstingisreal @eobe @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream and anyone else who would like to.

[child-of-the-cosmos]

TW for epilepsy- (bright colors were used, and I just want everyone to be safe.)

[mysicklove]

CW: reader sucking nanamis dick lol, me playing up nanamis old manness bc i am picturing him as a middle aged man, no power dynamics, nanami cums on your face n realizes he may have a kink, reader is ":3" coded, unedited for now bc i need sleep

a/n: wrote this cause im down bad. not written well tho LOL

"Are you sure you like this? I dont want your jaw to hurt..." Nanami questions, furrowed browed as he gently traces the skin near your temple.

You were kneeling in front of him, hands placed on his thighs and grinning at him. "I want to. I really, really want to. Been thinking about it all day."

"You are quite eager."

"Arent you?" Your eyes trail to cock in your hand, completely hard and flushing a shade of red. His work attire was still on, and you just unbuttoned his pants enough so that only his dick was free. You had a thing for the work attire - you couldnt help it, he looked incredibly good in a suit.

In return, Nanami just rubs at his mouth, not denying it. Then he pets your hair, settling in his chair. "Okay, but I wont be mad if you grow uncomfortable."

You rolls your eyes at him, pressing your cheek against his cock. "You coddle me too much. I will not die from sucking dick, Kento."

He stays quiet at this, just silently brushing your hair back into his palms, holding it away from your face. It was polite, all things considering. You smile at him, while your tongue drags from the base of his cock to the tip.

You continue to prep yourself, licking and gently kissing the shaft, while Nanami watches in silence. Then, you put your mouth over him and begin to suckle the tip. A sigh is let out from the man, and he resists the urge to shut his eyes, wanting to watch the lewd sight.

Your head find a steady motion - bobbing up and down until you gag and pull off. He pretends that the sound doesnt turn him on, feeling bad that something uncomfortable for you sends blood rushing to his groin.

When you pull away, slightly panting, he rubs at your lips, now coated in saliva. "Are you okay?"

"You're doing it again, Kento. I am not a child - I've sucked other mens dick before."

He blinks at this, before frowning and forcing you back on his cock by your hair. But, when he heard your giggles from below, he realized quickly that you only said that to tease him. He sighs at that, shaking his head. "Do you like making me upset?"

You hum around his cock, letting drool purposefully fall from your mouth and down till it reached his balls - it was always bettter when it was sloppier, or so you have heard. But, you pull away quickly to answer him, tilting your head to the side so that you can continue to lick his shaft.

"Kinda fun to - you get this look in your eyes. Its weirdly sexy seeing you mad."

His non dominant hand goes back to caressing the skin on your face and his eyes soften. "I would never actually be mad at you."

You make eyecontact with him as you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the redden tip, ignoring the salty taste of pre. Then you give the head another kiss, pressing your nose against it. "I know. You're too soft around me. Its cute, I dont mind it."

"I'm glad," he breathes, and then he pauses, gulping, and looking away, "Then if you dont mind, can you go a little farther down? If its not too uncomfortable, of course."

You obey with little hesistation, mouth coming closer to the dark patch of hair on his lower abdomen. This time he groans out, and cant help but shut his eyes at the warm feeling of your throat. You try your best to focus, but seeing your lovers face contort with pleasure was too pretty to not watch.

His hips move from his chair, slightly bucking into your mouth like he couldnt control them. It makes a lewd noise in the back of your throat, and he groans hearing it. You continue your movements, and with each moment, his cock gets wetter from the amount of saliva coated on it.

Large, callused finger tips run over your neck, feeling the way his dick creates a small bulge, and he lets out a shaky breathe. "Fuck. Wow, you are something. Doing so well, thank you, thank you, fuck."

Tears are beggining to prick at your eyes from the lack of air, but still you try your best to nod at him, even if the action sends him groaning out again.

He was growing overheated from the whole thing, and you watch as he removes his tie and unbuttons the top part of his shirt. The sight makes you slightly moan, and it sends a vibration up Nanami's spine.

When you pull away for another breathe, he lets out a noise close to a whine, and you hold back a chuckle. "Looks whose the one eager now." You tease, and his cheeks pinken slightly as he looks away.

"You really treat me so well."

"You think I am good at sucking dick?"

A lewd way to put it, and Nanami wouldnt phrase it like that, but alas, he nods his head, before guiding you back onto his cock. You in return laugh, and immediately go back to work.

With each bob of your head, he gets more into it, now slightly pushing you down farther by your hair. You don't mind it, and Nanami begins to pant from the pleasure, deep and breathlessly. The sound only spurs you on.

It doesnt take much longer for his abdomen to tighten up, and the feeling of his orgasm to approach. You could tell he was close to coming, even without a warning from the way his grunts seem to grow louder. So you continue your pace, trying your best to hold out without a breathe until he cums down your throat.

But, to much of your suprise, he pulls you off from him by your hair. You try to protest, wanting him to cum in your mouth, but he simply grabs at his cock with his other hand and pumps it a couple of times before aiming it at your face.

Cum shoots out of the wet head, and you are forced to shut one of your eyes as the white liquid lands on your upper cheek and eyelid. The rest lands on a multitude of places on your face, causing you to squint your one opened eye. He groans the entirity of it, and so you let him cum all over your face, finding the noise cute.

But when he is done, you simply wipe off your eyes, leaving the rest for now, and blink up at him with a small frown. "You know it would be alot cleaner if you would have came down my throat."

Nanami just stares at you, eyes scanning your face. Then, you notice the tint of red that danced on his cheeks and ears. Your face lights up at the realization. "I knew you had some sort of kink. You're not as vanilla as I thought, Kento! Who would have thought cumming on my face would do it for you."

"You just look...so pretty like this." A laugh falls from your lips, as your eyes travel back to his cock that was beginning to harden again. Now, it was time for the real deal - you almost squeal in excitement as you drag him to the bedroom.

[reidishh]

001

↳ Loss of Virginity with Aaron Hotchner

"Gonna give you all my love, boy, my fear is fading fast. Been saving it all for you, 'cause only love can last." - Madonna, Like a Virgin.

CONTENT/WARNINGS. Prelude to Smut (18+ mdni); Slight Dom/Sub Dynamics.

WC. 0.6K

AUTHORS NOTE. A light start to kinkmas. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written, but I want it out of the way, so enjoy.

kinkmas '24 masterlist

Aaron was beginning to believe there was no view more beautiful than you perched on his lap, skin flushed, lips kiss-bitten. You were a work of art - painted by Monet, sculpted by Conova. You belonged in a museum, put on display to be adored and revered for centuries to come. 

You were positively bewitching.

You wore Aaron’s navy GWU Law sweatshirt, something you had found shoved in the back of his wardrobe, discarded and forgotten. He wore it often during his time as a law student - it was one of his favorites, though he’d wager that it wouldn’t fit his filled out frame anymore. Aaron loved the way it looked on you, he loved the way seeing you in it made him feel.

Aaron’s hands rested against your thighs, his fingertips teasing against your soft skin, his cock hard and straining against the front of his pants as you unwittingly pushed yourself further against him. He needed you with a fierce desperation, inhibitions be damned. He needed to taste you and to feel you and to hear you. He needed to worship you. Aaron needed to know that you needed him, that you wanted him - he needed to know you were sure. 

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, the ghost of a kiss. Aaron could hear you whimper, could feel you grind your clothed pussy against him in response. His hands moved to grasp your hips, halting your tantalizing movements. “You have to say it; I have to hear you say it.”

Your skin flushed a deeper shade of red at the prospect of voicing your desire, of telling Aaron all the places you wanted him to touch you, all the ways you wanted him to take you. 

“Aaron…” you murmured, your heart racing - a ceaseless, unrelenting cadence against your ribcage. You were sure - one hundred percent certain - that you wanted this, that you wanted him to be your first. But, then, there it was… that small, nettlesome flicker of hesitation that kept you from speaking your wants and needs into existence. 

Aaron - damn him and his profiling abilities - caught your hesitation, his grip on you relaxing, his brows furrowing in rumination. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to,” the man affirmed, his eyes boring into yours. “If this is too much, too soon… if you want to stop, just say the word. Nothing has to happen tonight.”

“And if I don’t want to stop?”

“We’ll move at your pace,” Aaron promised, face relaxing. “Whatever you want, whenever you want it - it’s yours.” 

His words - the confirmation that this moment was yours, that every passing second and miniscule action would be tailored to your wants and needs… it smothered that flicker of hesitation. 

His words were your green light. 

You bent down, capturing Aaron’s lips in a heated kiss. He tasted like the cheap red wine you had picked up from the convenience store - the wine itself was far too bitter for your liking, though it tasted satisfyingly sweet on his tongue. 

You were an addict. You could kiss him forever, you could lose yourself in everything that was him. 

Your hands left his shoulders, trailing over his chest and stopping at the waistband of his slacks. Your fingertips dipped beneath the waistband as you flirted with the idea of freeing his cock from its confines, delighting in the feeling of Aaron’s teasing smile against your lips.

“I want you,” you admitted, quiet, pleading. “Now. Please.”

Aaron gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your bare flesh as he pulled you further against him. “Take what you want,” he implored. “You’re in control.”

[comicaurora]

A bit of a strange question, but if there were any of your videos you were to "remake" today for any reason (ex: you feel like you misrepresented the original text or spread misinformation), which would it be and why? None of them is a perfectly valid answer

Again: bit of a strange question, but I've been thinking about my own creations and how I could have done so much better with some of them, but I also know that is a sign of my growth and constantly chasing "what if I did this instead" isn't always healthy for nurturing a creative mindset, and I was wondering what your opinion might be as a Creator of Things with a bit more experience than I

There's been a few trope talks where I've thought later of other angles I could've explored that might warrant sequels or part 2s, but I don't dislike any of the summaries enough to justify a rework.

I always find "I could've done this better if I made it now" to be a bit of a fallacy. I'm only better at making things now because I made all those earlier things. If I knew everything I'd learn from making a project before I started the project, it wouldn't come out the same.

I think when it comes to the "rework remake perfect" instinct, it helps to zero in on what the impulse is really grounded in. In my experience, more often than not, it's not actually about making the art better, except incidentally. It's usually about showing that you are better. It's demonstrating your competence and your higher standards and your skills, and more importantly it's overwriting the proof that you were once less than perfect. If people look at your old work and think that's all you're capable of, they'll be judging you poorly!

If that's the motivator, it's a very unhelpful one. You can't control for being harshly or incorrectly judged. It's a fruitless effort to stave off potentially upsetting outdated criticism, and it's not even going to work. Fear of critique is an unreliable and untrustworthy motivator.

If it really is about making the art itself better, perfecting your magnum opus with your newly leveled-up skills, that's a little more solid. But from where I'm standing, it's always better to use those skills to make something new instead of polishing something old. The older, unpolished work has already acquired its audience that finds it appealing for reasons that might never occur to you. Trying to bury or overwrite it just deprives that audience of the thing they like, and maybe makes them feel bad for having liked it in the first place. Also, usually when you look back on the older work, you'll conclude that the problem is everything and it'll need to be torn down and started from scratch. I know when I revisited the first three chapters of the comic, when I let my critic brain spin up, it wasn't shading or lineart I wanted to fix - it was panel composition, overall pacing, the entire structure of the chapters as a whole. I would've had to make them all over again to be happy with them, and they wouldn't be the same story by the end.

I've been thinking a lot about the Discworld through this lens lately. It ended up over 40 books long, but everyone agrees that the first two are not what you should start with, because they're the worst ones. They're entirely parodic, purely referential of at-the-time major fantasy series, and borderline mean-spirited in places. If you haven't read Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser and Dragonriders of Pern, you're not gonna understand like a full 50% of The Colour Of Magic.

It's clear that when he started in on them, Pratchett was entirely focused on taking the piss out of a genre he found mostly shallow and unimpressive. But the Discworld wouldn't leave his head, and everything he made fun of he clearly eventually found himself overthinking. He'd make little one-off jokes in the early books about Dwarves having no women and a hundred words for gold, and then twenty books later he'd have a Dwarf gender revolution make waves across the Disc, and then he'd write Thud!, a book that delves deeper into the nuances of Dwarf societal structure than Tolkien ever did.

If you look for them, there are continuity errors everywhere in Discworld. In his introductory book, Carrot defused a dwarf bar full of rowdy brawlers by guilting them all into writing to their poor lonely mothers back home. Shortly thereafter, Carrot will be outraged at the mere concept of an openly female dwarf. Pratchett even eventually wrote Thief of Time, a book that loosely explains that the Disc makes no sense because history has been broken and put back together incorrectly twice, and therefore any continuity errors are because of that.

He's the writer. He could've gone back and fixed it, edited the reprints to be less disruptively discontinuous with the later books. Instead he continuously moved forward and allowed the world he made to grow without cutting it off from its roots. And because he didn't bury his older, far worse work, we have the privilege of following the Disc's evolution from the very start, and seeing how this shallow, stock fantasy world parody became something incredibly rich and complex without ever pretending like its early installments never happened.

Anyway, that's why I think it's better to move forward. You make more good stuff that way.

[u3pxx]

“Thanks a bunch, Trucy,” Apollo muttered through chomps of his bagel. Her bounciness jolted to a stop, her stare locking onto Apollo. It was as if Apollo had grown another head. At this point, anything was possible. “You called me Trucy,” she plainly stated. “Yes, is that not your name?” He smiled the best he could at her, though Klavier could see the sweat pooling at his forehead. “It’s not that,” she continued. “You always call me Frau Wright, or Frau Magician. I’ve never heard you use my first name.”

new chapter update for @strawberricakeandpie's fic, turnabout on a friday! last time @taxkha drew the chapter art and now it's my turn once again! don't mind that the style changed from the first spot art i drew haha don't mind th

extra stuff under read more ;^P | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

i can't think of much to say about drawing this, so many things have happened since this piece that i kind of, don't remember much of the drawing process ASKSKS

i did remember that i used a new pen for inking this one! watch out for that in future spot art made by me because i shrimply can't help myself. sometimes i draw with a pen for months and months and suddenly i hate how it feels, i'll have to not use it for a long time before my brain decides that that pen is okay again, it's weird pftt

i do enjoy the color's for this one!!!!! i'm so enamored with that shade of purple i used on klav and the light blue i used on trucy. apollo!klavier nervously eating his bagel in the background was so funny to me pftt

and a lil bonus thing, as you may or may not have noticed, i usually draw apollo with a yellow pupil, and since he's in klavier's body...

klavier!apollo also has a yellow pupil! i usually give klav a blue one so teehees :^]

i think giving body-swapped characters little traits of each other is pretty fun! i've been doing it with klav!apollo's two strands of hair that keep sticking up and apollo!klav's bottom lashes pftt

if you managed to read this far and still have not read the fic, what're you doing man!!!

[poseiben]

i like the idea of change

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 31. gangbangs

summary: a very self-indulgent chapter/pseudo-oneshot. **naoya’s ex-wife becomes toji’s girl. everybody wants a taste, and why not have the younger cousin watch the show?** alternatively, a gangbang with tattooed dilfs and dilf-adjacents.

chapter tags/warnings: five-some, gangbang, sex on tape, gun play (becoming a gun slut), cum play, breeding, creampies, exhibitionism, edging, degradation, praising, mentions of violence (murder, knives, guns), multiple orgasms.

word count: 5.5k

notes: happy kinktober and thank you for waiting! this started off as a concept (in my mind for a year-plus) and evolved into…a monster. too many men, too many hands, too many cocks. got lost in the sauce. despite being a smut chapter in a long fic, this update is borderline porn-without-plot. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“I love getting gangbanged."

Naoya woke up in a dark room and to a throbbing headache.

Where…?

He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings slowly, blinking past his grogginess to register what almost looked like a crime movie’s interrogation room and groaning when the wrong angle to his head caused a sharp pain in his shoulder.

All around was an ominous and gloomy shade of gray—the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and heck even the door. How long had he been out for? Without windows, he could not take a wild guess at the time. Not to mention that the room also had no lighting, no pictures, and no décor.

Only him and this...random dinky chair he found himself tied up to.

Wait.

Tied up to?

Right. From what Naoya could last recall, he had been stopped by two men who took him out with a single strike.

In a vain attempt to set himself free, Naoya tugged at his limbs which were fastened behind him with sturdy cords. He twisted and turned, then twisted harder and turned even harder, until an unexpected voice startled him.

“You’re awake.”

Naoya went still.

Having zero visual stimuli sharpened Naoya’s other senses a little. He could feel the labored huffs in his breathing, hear the heavy footsteps that began in the chamber, and even taste the smoke that lingered in the hazy air.

Leering towards the door, Naoya quickly recognized his captors as they approached.

"Don’t give us that foul look, sleepyhead," the taller one whom he remembered as Eso announced as he slowly stopped in front of the scowling blonde. He had on him a wide and nefarious grin. "You had passed out for the last few hours. During that time, you could've been beaten. Or better yet, dead." He glanced up. "Right, Kechizu?"

His accomplice, who stopped on the opposite side, replied with a firm nod. From seemingly nowhere, he had pulled out a pocket knife and grazed the icy blade against Naoya's neck. "Ya feel that? I've been wanting to slit your throat, but I haven't. Lucky, lucky duck. Not everyone is this fortunate. All because our big bro Choso is being super nice to you."

Aware that a wrong move would cost him a jugular vein, Naoya listened intently. Since he worked with the other sex therapists before, he indeed recalled how his former colleague led a tightly-knit assassin ring, in which the members deemed each other 'brothers.'

Kechizu prodded Naoya again with his blade. "Big bro's the only reason you're still alive. Although, I don't know why you'd want to still be breathing now that the whole world knows you've been bumping uglies with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Eso hummed in agreement. "Well, at least for now," he began and he gestured around in vague motions, “you're already in paradise!” Then, he paused. “Well, correction. Here is where we send people to paradise. Or, more likely, hell.”

Noticing how Naoya uncharacteristically froze, the two snickered. In fact, they likely would've continued snickering if not for a shrill tone that pierced the air. The laughter stopped.

Eso's charcoal eyes flicked downwards.

"Left pocket, Kechizu."

The other man obeyed, lowering his knife (and thus giving Naoya an actual chance to breathe) before grabbing the phone from Naoya's blazer. A notification lit up the screen—a message, from you.

“She sent a video.”

Eso and Kechizu intentionally held the screen away, and their face quickly lit up with a sinister smile when they previewed the file. “Oh, yeah. Let's watch.”

“Come join us, sweetheart.”

You thought you were discreet.

Lingering at the doorway, you had been peering into the Zenin Corporation’s CEO Suite like a lost duck. This past afternoon, news about the leadership changes within Japan’s largest conglomerate had spread like wildfire across business and politics networks across the globe, announcing that Naoya Zenin had been forced to resign with Toji Fushiguro reclaiming his position as head of the company.

For the latter, you had questions—many questions. However, an inundated Toji was difficult to approach as he spent his entire afternoon in the office with his also-reinstated directors Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. From your observations, the men had been milling around the table, speaking to each other in hushed but decisive voices in conversations that must remind them of their days managing the Zenin Corporation before Naoya’s takeover.

They all appeared ridiculously handsome with their expensive custom-tailored suits that emphasized their muscular physiques and complemented their towering heights. Surrounded by legal documents and business reports, they carried themselves differently, too. More mature, organized, and serious, especially after hectic meetings with the Chairman Naobito Zenin, your COO father, and internal and external stakeholders had left etches on their calculating faces.

Now, however, Toji Fushiguro had caught sight of your quivering form at the entrance, and soon enough, all eyes turned to you. When you didn’t respond to his first invitation, the executive approached you in confident strides.

“Why do you look so shy?”

At the unanticipated attention, you averted your gaze onto the floor and tried to slink away into the hall slowly. “You all seemed occupied, and I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You're not interrupting anything," he clarified. "We have some time now.”

He tugged your wrist softly, which was all that you needed to follow him like a fawn into the room and crumble onto his lap once he sat down. Despite his dress pants, the warmth from his thighs heated your skin, and Toji nuzzled his face into your neck. His gravelly huffs sounded like all the other times you had heard him rasp, moments followed by endless endearment.

"About Naoya," the older man brought up from seemingly nowhere. You tensed at the name while Toji's cordial lips assuaged you. "Choso’s brothers are making sure he’s not going to do anything funny. We can't have him around as we are transitioning the company. As for you...knowing my cousin, he's going to keep claiming you as his property unless you get through his dense head," and his viridescent pupils flicked upward, "and the only way to do that is to show him.”

Although you didn’t know exactly what he meant, Toji hoisted you in one fluid motion onto his desk and sprawled you across the surface. He pushed your thighs apart, prompting sharp breaths that echoed in the room as onlookers raked their eyes down your figure. Some (namely, Sukuna and Geto) peered down shamelessly, while others (just Choso, really) tried to come off as cool and observed quietly. Nonetheless, the message in their perverted gazes was clear: what they wouldn't give to kiss you, bite you, and mark you right then and there.

Just as you shrank a little from the overwhelming attention, Toji reached for your phone and pressed the device firmly into your palm.

“Let’s send him a message.” Toji’s eyes locked onto yours, unflinching and sharp.

You blinked, raising an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Leaning forward, Toji offered a clear view of the ink scrolling down his neck, his exhales warm against the beading cold sweat on your forehead. “Open up the camera. Let's send Naoya Zenin a surprise.” He gently pinched you. "Like I said, that idiot wouldn't understand shit unless you slam the idea into his dumb skull.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the phone in your hand.

“A photo won't be enough, by the way. We need a video. He won't get the fucking idea unless he sees and hears the proof.” When you complied, Toji turned to the colleague closest to him. "Wanna do the honors, Suguru?"

The said man came forward eagerly, the obsidian in his eyes sparkling. "'No' is never my answer to you, sir." Given your compromising position, he had the easy option to tear your lacy panties and stuff himself into your core except he wanted to take his time.

"I heard a lot about you." His compliments were all purrs that sent hot shivers shooting through your veins. "Mind if I take a go at you, too?"

After being passed between his three other colleagues, you must admit that you had at least thought about what sex with Geto was like, too. "Please."

At the permission, the man smiled and bunched your underwear to one side. The cold air hitting your drenched cunt made you shiver, but the collective groan in the room rumbled even louder, a reminder of the many men around you. Men who were being patient for you. Men who could not stop thinking about you. Men who, because of your ex-husband, had been holding grudges against you.

Geto pulled down his boxers just until the waistband fitted snugly under his balls. His cock stood proud with precum dribbling down his length as he positioned himself in the comfy spot between your thighs. He pressed against the table until his knuckles turned white, aligning himself with your entrance.

Without extra stimulation, your saturated folds welcomed him easily and you gasped loudly at the intrusion.

"Shit, you’re soaking," Geto sighed softly as you clenched around him, swarming his veins with gratification. He tipped his head forward, his loose strands framing his face. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He was so sweet, so kind. You nodded and hazily recognized that this was what making love was supposed to feel like: tender, gentle, and loving. This was Suguru Geto's charm.

Before you could say more, an opportunistic Sukuna took his place above you. He moved quickly, undoing his belt and tugging hastily at his trousers, humming loudly with relief when he pulled his pants down and his massive cock sprang free. Despite being jostled by another man, you swabbed at the bubbling precum before pushing your thumb into your mouth, relishing his clean and salty tinge on your tongue.

Amused, Sukuna chuckled darkly. "What a fucking tease," he crowed, then patting your cheek. "C'mon. Open up, baby. Let me get to the back of your throat."

With little resistance, he popped your jaw open and sank his massive girth into your mouth. Gradually, you bobbed your head back and forth, letting your tongue lick every millimeter to him. He, likewise, pushed his hips forward, bringing your nose flushed against his well-trimmed patch of pink hair. He plucked the recording phone from your hands, and you sensed him tapping on the screen to focus on the erotic display where your bodies connected, your sinful lips accepting his fat cock with ease.

"You are such a good girl." Sukuna Ryomen confirmed, his movements mind-numbing as though he wanted to breed your esophagus. He wrapped a hand around your windpipe, constricting your airflow and causing you to gag. "Brat looks like a goddamn goddess sucking dick. Isn't that right, Choso?"

No response.

Curious, your pupils rolled to the side.

The assassin's the man you feared the most.

He was quiet, always guarded, his mysterious eyes pulling you in like two black holes. You could never know what he’s thinking about, although you lucidly remember his crooked obsession with 'disciplining' you.

"Hey, honey.” Geto's deft fingers suddenly gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to return to him. “Pay attention to us, m'kay?"

You hummed in response, Sukuna’s dick still bulging visibly in your throat.

"I don’t want you to lose focus," an overly aroused Suguru went on to explain. He breathed heavily. Shaking. Or maybe that was you? He clutched your love handles harshly before he pulled out and stepped to the side, making you stroke himself with your delicate hands instead. Briefly, you assumed that Geto preferred handjobs and wanted to ejaculate onto your breasts, only to get your answer when your puffy clit came into contact with the sharp coolness from…metal?

"Choso," Toji's harsh voice warned.

Brought back to your senses, you looked down to see Choso using the fluids to lubricate...his gun. You recognized the weapon, the same one you had seen in his car. The same one he would use to kill. All air in your lungs left swiftly. What the actual fuck. Sheer mortification was the only reason you didn't have the guts to do anything (because, if Choso became irritated enough, he could pull the trigger and then you would have no guts at all), and your silence only gave him a reason to continue defiling you into his personal gun slut.

He stared at his boss with an unperturbed frown. "You know I like her too much to hurt her."

A squeal tumbled past your lips when the pistol's freezing barrel pressed past your tight hole. Although you partially expected Toji to warn the weapon-wielding man again, Toji instead leaned forward in his chair, jaw resting on his fist. He could seem more concerned, but the mirthful glimmer in his emerald eyes said otherwise.

Meanwhile, Choso's piercing gaze alone made you sweaty, your forehead turned glossy with a sheen. He lazily massaged your inner walls, your warm arousal coating his cool metal before leaking onto the table, the only struggle now was how your body involuntarily twitched. To your fascination (and horror), pleasure began to build with each too-hard pass of his barrel. There were just too many sensations going on. Messy mouth deepthroating one cock, slicked hands stroking another, and sloppy cunt taking in a gun. You did your best to give everybody equal attention because you were a desperate crowd-pleaser, not wanting anyone to feel left out.

With your back arched from the table, you became increasingly frantic, demonstrating through feverish movements that all you were was their obedient little bitch. All these hands on your body, skin on your skin. You felt them all, the senses exhilarating and fascinating.

Toji sternly interrupted from seemingly nowhere. “I can tell from your movements that you want to cum, don’t you?” Maybe, but you were too overwhelmed to focus solely on your pleasure. Nothing that your therapists couldn't help with. Leaning over, Toji snaked an arm around your body to press tight circles at your engorged clit. "Be selfish for a little bit," he coaxed. "Cum for us."

His permission sent you immediately vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as an orgasm tore through you. Your lips parted, but you didn't scream. Your eyes shut slowly and rolled to the back of your head as every millimeter in your fragile body unraveled completely—fluttering, cramping, and shuddering.

Your ears became blessed with chorused laughter and praise.

Choso inspected your copious juices that suddenly coated his gun, a translucent thread trailing from the barrel to your now-exposed cunt. Reaching over, Sukuna wrapped his hand around Choso's forearm. He leaned into the pistol and parted his lips, swirling his tongue slowly around the barrel. His maroon eyes were half-lidded, giving him an almost lazy yet focused look as he dragged his tongue along the metal, lapping up your precious essences—the syrups rich and just a bit tangy. Drooling and sucking like a little kid with a lollipop, Sukuna didn't care that his spit trailed from the metal down to the other man's wrist and flipped the camera to selfie mode to capture the action.

Towards the end, his tongue swiped over his lips, leaving a luster from your elixir that coated his mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

After another generous lick, he swished the concoction in his mouth before pinching your chin, and your mouth propped open. Pleased, he hummed when you stuck your tongue out, showcasing just how naughty you were. He drooled the spittle into your mouth, the saline taste blossoming on your taste buds, a thread of spit connecting your chin and his.

"Sharing," Sukuna chuckled darkly into your phone's microphone, "is absolutely fucking caring."

Nearby, Suguru groaned. He hurriedly clambered to the comfy space between your plush thighs, shoving a grumbling Choso aside. "I'm so fucking close."

He buried his dick into your tunnel, the veins on his cock pulsating. Call him selfish or masochistic, but as much as he wanted to reach his high, Geto denied his orgasm to stay longer inside and prevented himself from fucking bursting.

“Don't hold back, Suguru,” you urged.

Geto furrowed his brows, sweat gathering on his forehead as he tried his best to hold out. He admitted earnestly, "I don't want to give you up, baby.”

“I want you to cum,” you said, all whiny with puppy eyes. Free hand slithering down, you cupped his aching balls and gently squeezed his heavy testes. "Besides,” you glanced over at the camera, “show Naoya how you can breed me…daddy."

Sugaru’s eyes widened at the unexpected nickname that he loved so much. That’s it. He’s done for. His handsome features crumpled from an over-the-top pleasure as he gave his snapping hips one final push and pumped you full, coating your cervix white with his thick essence as he rested his head against your forehed, panting into your ear and moaning into your skin.

Pressing one last kiss on your cheekbone, he pulled himself out of your hot cunt, allowing others to have their way with you.

Sukuna got behind you eagerly. He repositioned your shaking body, his calloused hands tossing you over and leaving you panting on your hands and knees. His harsh squeeze at your sides made you squeal just as he pulled your legs apart for easier access, exposing your cute hole.

"Shit, she's making a mess, dripping onto the desk." The same desk that belonged to Naoya merely several hours ago. Adjusting your phone camera, Sukuna thumbed through your folds like they were pages in a book, scoffing at the viscous dallops that slid out. The tattoos on his wrists gleamed pitch black under the glossy mixed juices.

"Suguru's cock did you well, but this pretty lady isn't finished yet, eh? She can take more. I know she can." His hands weaved into your hair and tugged harshly. "Tell us, missy. You can handle more, correct?"

The threat in his menacing tone only suggested there was one answer. You whimpered pathetically, "Yes."

With a crooked smile, Sukuna pressed his muscular form against your back. That man was starving. After all, he had been waiting to have your pussy properly wrapped around his painful erection when he could've greedily taken you for himself first.

"Stop moving so I can angle myself correctly," Sukuna reprimanded when you wobbled on all fours.

Hardly any time was given to let you register the warning before the man plunged into your sensitive socket. He ignored your desperate wail, amazed at how he plugged you all the way. His pace started off sensual and languid. Each snug press against your battered cervix at first made you squeak, but you became too far caught up in the moment that the discomfort disappeared as promptly as the sensation came.

"Mhm," Sukuna hummed, a squelch ringing through the room each time he would bottom out. He didn't need to say anything for him to feel how wet you were, fluids trickling out from your puffy hole and creating what looked like the Nile River running down your thighs.

"Holy fuck," Choso swore to the side, his emotions a rare display.

Blissful waves rushed to your head, one after another. Arousal flooded into your tummy, your cunt twitching uncontrollably as a second climax started to sneak up on you.

Sukuna groaned—or at least attempted to groan—through the exertion of his forceful movements. How he had missed playing with you. A few trickles of sweat on his forehead glided over the ink on his forehead before dripping onto your back. He pumped himself faster, his balls smacking against your clit harder—savoring how you squirmed underneath his direct influence.

He could not resist peering down at the sacred space where your bodies connected and ensured that the camera, too, had an unobscured view. The problem was he had become so agonizingly turned on that his hold on your phone began shaking. He rasped, back straightening. “Goddamn, your cunny does me good.”

Not long after, he reached his release snarling and grunting like a dog as white ropes shot from his cock and into your uterus, with him nearly dropping your device onto your ass from his sheer ecstasy.

"No!" you protested loudly when Sukuna pulled out abruptly, hissing as your empty hole clenched around nothing. "I..." You balled your fists, thumping the desk in frustration. "I was so fucking close."

"Don't worry." The strawberry-haired man tenderly brushed away the tears by your jaw. Like he hoped to comfort you somehow. "Nothing Choso can't help with. He'll take great care of you." He looked over at the said colleague. “Isn’t that right?”

Gulping, you followed his gaze to the other man who had stopped behind you.

"You look nervous," Choso commented matter-of-factly. "Why?"

As if he didn’t already know the answer. You rolled your eyes and snorted like a true brat, indeed. "None of your business."

Besides, you had enough encounters with Choso Kamo, each incident more indecent than the last. This time, he naturally noticed your eyes drift to the gun tucked into his back pocket, the saps from earlier creating an ample moist patch on his pants.

“So, tell me, bimbo," Choso spoke again. He didn't care to announce himself as he unbuckled and pressed in, stretching you with his thickness, aided by your copious reserve containing both arousal and cum, hitting that sweet spot that he had no problem finding over and over. "Did you think I had been done with you already?"

Holding in whimpers from his repeated thrusts, you let out a soft groan.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes."

“But, do you want me?”

Silence.

“I am not going to repeat my—”

"I want you s’ badly..."

A demon must have possessed you. There was no other way to explain yourself. But those remarks were all Choso needed before he began to move impossibly fast within you. He didn’t care that he pounded into you like a beast, creating a commotion that perhaps the floor below could hear your wetness reverberate around the room.

"This is for being a fucking tease." Choso raised his hand high and then delivered an unforgiving blow against your ass. Unprepared, you yelped from the sheer force, which had been enough to leave a handprint on your unblemished cheeks.

"I didn't—!" Your attempt to defend proved futile as Choso spanked you again with little regard for your feelings.

"This is for giving me an attitude," he continued, gruff. And again. "For forgetting how to behave, shit." And again, and again, and again. For this, for that, his listed grievances going on and on and on, his punishments making you cry and squirm and wail.

Choso knew he was selfish. If his boss Toji wasn't involved, he would want nothing more than to keep you forever, making you his little gun slut and teaching you to cum all over him. He couldn’t help it. As if the roles were reversed. Like he was the inexperienced one, unaware of his partner's feelings and only caring for his pleasure. He remained relentless as he continued his abuse, the tendons along his hands and arms flexing with his efforts, like the crazed killer he was being out for blood.

The distressed expression written all over your face only made him want to go harder. He loved making it hurt, his sadistic personality entirely to blame. With every pump, his testes smacked onto your clit repeatedly, feeling him sink deeper and deeper inside.

“F-Fuck—S’ too much, Choso!” A sob wracked your trembling figure amidst his assault. In distress, you tugged at his wrists to get him to ease up on you. That didn't matter. He was too strong, especially when compared to you.

"I thought you wanted to cum."

"I do!" But you didn't think you would be able to cum like this. "This...This is too painful!"

As if he cared.

"Oh, please," Choso scoffed, even rolling his inky eyes in dismissal. "This isn't painful. You're just being dramatic. If you think this is painful...how do you think I felt, hm? Watching Geto and Sukuna take turns defiling you. Hearing you blubber their names without shame. Did you think that I—with my cock stiff in my pants—that I didn't feel pain? Listen to yourself. God, turns out you're just another selfish slut."

Scorching tears streamed down your face, and you searched around desperately.

"No one here's going to save you," Choso announced, reading right through you. He pressed his face against your earlobe, a hot puff of air fanning out across your delicate skin. "Because it's too obvious. You fucking like this, pup."

Did you?

Even if that wasn't the case, you guess you did now, the unwavering conviction in Choso's tone spurring a change of heart. It’s sick, you realized, he’s manipulating me.

Yet, sure enough, you soon started to feel lighter, giddier. Your pupils dilated from stimulation and your muscles tingled with excitement. Choso felt so good. You felt so good, and the coil from deep within your cervix compressed tighter and tighter as a pressure built from within.

"I'm close...again." This time, it's a little embarrassing to admit, especially when you were complaining like a puppy just minutes ago.

"What did I tell you, pet," Choso growled, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a rare grin. He made you feel glorious. Consequently, you writhed underneath his body, fully submissive under his control. You wanted nothing more than to be a pliant baby girl for him, let him use you in any way he wants. "Cum and squeeze my cock."

“Make me.”

“Oh?”

One final blow to your ass was what hurled your body over the edge.

“I—” you choked on your spit. "I'm coming!"

You shrieked the moment you felt your body disintegrate, your shoulder blades caving in as sweat fell like raindrops from your skin. Elbows giving up, your head hit the table, leaving your temples pulsing with dizziness, bliss, and pain; your eyes staring at the wood finishing; your chest rising up and down, exasperated from the intensity of your release.

And oh, your pussy squeezed Choso good. Before he could hold himself back, Choso dug his nails into your ass. "Fuck, you are incredible," was the last thing he muttered before he came as well in one long grunt, splattering your womb with his creamy semen. He made you tremble when he pulled out, releasing the mess inside and leaving you feeling oddly empty and cold. Glob after glob of cum oozed out, semen from multiple perpetrators painting over your labia, which made the surrounding men grin at the sight, knowing that you held all their seed inside.

Nothing except their breeding hole, that was what you had become. There was something they adored about labeling you as their personal whore.

Not long afterward, a warm hand took yours into his own. Toji caressed the skin of your palm before pulling you right onto his lap again. In the end, he was whom you belonged to. If anybody wanted to do anything to you, they had to talk to him first.

Toji helped you straddle him, tucking one leg onto his either side, except you were so fucked out that you didn’t know who you were or where you were from.

"C'mon, honey. Don't lose yourself just yet," he murmured gently, brushing a few free strands from your forehead. Otherwise, you would've gone limp and lost all senses completely.

Toji had been waiting for you. He considered this a sign of his maturity, allowing the younger and more impatient men to make a mess with you first. Now, though, was his turn, fair and square.

His exposed length pressed up against his abdomen with fantastic girth and length such that—despite your current state—your pupils went heart-eyed and your mouth drooled from sight alone. He loved when you made that expression, one he had seen countless times in his dreams; a guilty pleasure in reality. He chortled at your sharp gasps, finding you adorable even after being stuffed by several men.

However, just when you didn't think you could handle more, his red-flushed head brushed over your clit and jolted your veins with the familiar wave of arousal. You shifted, the sticky mess between your legs uncomfortable. In a brief moment of lucidity, you had an epiphany. With one hand resting on Toji's shoulder, you reached down with the other to spread your folds, biting your lip as you clamped down on your sensitive walls hard.

Sure enough, a generous amount of cum trickled out of your used cunt, oozing onto Toji’s cockhead and sliding down gradually to his balls.

"Holy shit."

Eyes grew wide with surprise, jaws dropped in reaction to your nasty actions. Since when did you learn to become so dirty? Flushed cheeks betrayed their interest as they continued their lustful staring. Generous was what you were, letting them ogle like schoolchildren for a few moments longer before you scooped up the slick and began to suck on your fingers. Softly, you hummed at the succulent flavors concocted by you, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso combined.

"Next up is you."

“So fuckin’ filthy," Toji praised with utter adoration.

As you continued, you made sure not to break eye contact as you subtly rutted your sopping cunt against his tip. You coyly batted your long lashes in his direction, making sure he could feel the liquids running down his cock and the throbbing pussy that awaited him.

You smiled. "All yours, Dr. Fushiguro."

He suddenly grew smitten at how polite you could be, and using his hands as a guide, he helped you sink into him slowly. “Goddamn.” The sound that emerged from him was wholly obscene, a carnal desperation only matched by your movements, your thighs constricting his hips and your eyes rolling backward. How cozy, you discovered yourself to be, snug at his hilt. Toji had filled you all the way but a few centimeters of his cock remain, his tip already kissing against your spent uterus.

Something about knowing that his little cousin would watch this made Toji want to do everything to push deeper into you. He started by rocking your waist against a rhythm, and a near-pornographic mewl escaped your lips when his shaft ran over an especially sensitive spot, the ridges rubbing against your cavern and sending pleasure through your every limb. He hummed at the way you squealed and loved how expressive you were with your body and feelings.

His tongue laved across your shoulder before stopping over your collarbone. "You'll still go back to Naoya after this?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled with sincerity. "I would hate myself if I did."

“Excellent,” he slurred, his spit drooling down your back from where his mouth had latched onto your neck. “That’s…exactly what I wanted to hear, baby.”

Baby. Your eyes squeezed shut, responding with a whine. Although the overstimulation was originally uncomfortable, you began to feel satisfaction cut through the soreness once again as your body prepared for one more climax. You rocked your hips in need, like an animal in heat, a sight that would certainly drive your ex-husband crazy. “F-Feels,” you paused to pant, “Feels good.”

“Fuck.” Toji gritted out, breaking through his cacophony of crude moaning and effectively searing your skin. He continued steering your body in the rhythm he learned you liked, his nails nearly piercing your skin despite their bluntness. He cupped your jaw harshly. “What are you to us, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” You laughed a little, clearly delirious, and then replied. “'M your cumdump.”

“Say that again.”

“I—”

“Louder.” The emeralds in his heavy-lidded eyes skated briefly to the phone. “I want everyone to hear.”

So, you mustered all your energy to give your final answer—and the correct answer. "I am your cum dumpster!"

Toji started saying something, chuckling maybe, but his words weren’t clear even as he tossed his head back. His breathing was deep, wet, and sexy, and he was no doubt blistering hot in his business blazer, his slicked-back hair soaked with sweat and hanging limply in front of his flushed face. His expression, on the other hand, was what got you the most; his eyes drawn shut, his brows slightly pinched, his mouth just barely parted.

He panted, raising his head to lock lips with yours, moaning into your mouth lewdly before pulling back, and admiring your fucked out expression, face heated and sweating.

“Shit, you’re too good to me,” was the last thing Toji sighed before he added to your womb with his hot cum, his grip on your body tightening as his balls twitched and lodged his precious seed into the sacred cavern. Pussy clamping down, you milked him, not willing to let a single drop go to waste, gasping when the explosive warmth made you shatter with him, leaving you hiccuping and spasming until you were just jolting and crying out from the stretched muscles in your body.

Overheated, you slumped forward. Sweat rolled uncomfortably down your back, spit smeared across your neck and shoulders and chin.

But you looked up and giggled at your latest discovery.

“I love getting gangbanged."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I spent way more time preparing this chapter than I expected, writing, rewriting, and editing. Adding, shortening, then adding again. (At some point, this was nearly 7K words.) This is far from perfect, but I must relinquish myself. Thank you again for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[romanticoms]

EAT MY HEART OUT WHEN NO ONE'S WATCHIN'!

turbo!okarun x ayase!reader, 2.3k. MDNI

song rec; house of cards, bts

explicitly implied that both reader and okarun are well over 18, supposed exorcism? no intro though, ropes used, uncomfortable positioning, okarun is his usual bleak self just much less, afab reader, not proofread.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, shit makes me sad." Okarun whispers behind you, his voice is groggy and intimate, it makes you wonder if this would ever die down after the first round of attempt. 

"What gives you the idea that I'm not?" You're so cocky and adamant it pisses even yourself off. 

"If you really needed my assistance, I woulda expected a thank you at least, y'know?" you start.

"I know, and I'm sorry, really, I am," He sounds so pent up you're sorry for him again. "It's just, I can't stop, 's like I don't even realize it."

"I've got an idea, it might not work, but it's well worth a try," You flip the switch on, the light is dim but it gives you a clear image on what you're working with now.

Somehow Okarun looks much worse, like he's been put through and denied for centuries, maybe.

"Granny mentioned something about warding off spirits with ropes internally,"

"This fucking sucks," He growls out of desperation. "Just gimme a sec, I'm sure it's somewhere in here." You grab at a thick wad of the rope that was scattered around the room, a few yards of red might do the trick.

"What are you even planning on doing? Looks dumb," He sounds dumbfounded as you bring him to his knees, cuffing both wrists, you decide to let him stay free to an extent by letting his hands rest in the front, you tie a knot secure enough it might just cut his blood circulation off.

"This looks.. awfully familiar," He stares from the sidelines of his view. "Too bad you're gonna have to put up with it," You wrap the rope around his neck, tight enough he's got room to breathe and bark around more.

"That should do the trick," You ponder at the years of helping Okarun maintain his composure, it's a stretch to say that he hasn't thanked you enough, but now seems like the best time to get a rise out of him, it's no risk either, when it's someone like Okarun, you've known him since he's donned what could be titled the worst haircut since the dawn of time.

"Y'know, Okarun, don't you ever feel an ounce of pity for me?" You start, it's obviously a joke but it overwhelms him, all those years of having been saved by you, vice versa.

"Of course I have, I mean, it might sound a lil' stupid but I've always wanted to show you how appreciative I am, sounds cheesy so I figured you'd hate it anyways." There's always a catch to his words, stringing depressingly, but it fits his character.

"Oh, not at all, Okarun, if I were you, I would've done something a whole lot long ago." You murmur and smile down at him, he looks so pretty on his knees you're praying this happens biweekly, any more and you'd end up paralyzed accordingly. 

"And what might you be talkin' about?" His cocky attitude flares up for each and every second you keep him waiting at the edge. 

"You know, all those times you've at least thought about me," You pine on, dragging him closer to the corner of the bed by the rope.

He crawls, he follows obediently and he doesn't ever seem to take his eyes off of you. 

 "I know how badly you need it," Now you're facing him, he still stares up into your eyes in desperation, you watch as his eyes darken to a deep shade of scarlet as he shys away. 

"Don't even think about it, sweetheart, He leans into your space. "Not like this, ain't ideal, ain't a good way to leave a nice impression," 

"Then what is? You know you've been leading me on for years on end," Cuffing his face, you trace along his sternum. 

"Such a pain in the ass," He croons into your neck, resting at your chest, "Lemme feel you," He brings both hands to unbutton your jeans, despite being restrained, he does it with ease. 

"Show me what I'm workin' with, will ya?" He eases right in between your thighs, like he fits right there. 

You question it for a second before he glides a finger through your wet heat without skipping a beat, "That's more like it," his brash manner isn't a deal breaker anymore, if anything, it adds on to the situation. 

"That's what being good gets you, but you haven't exactly been good, haven't you?" At this rate he doesn't want to continue playing dumb just to get into your pants, he breaks past the barrier, Okarun tosses the remnants of the rope to the floor, the part that's still wrapped around his neck remains intact, by control of your hands, your wish.

"Mind games until you made me resort to this, y'know I ain't that typa guy," He adds on. "One to have things my way, but you, you're a completely different case." 

"Always wanted to know what that sweet cunt feels like, too much f'me to handle, figured I'll make things easier for you."

"The rope too, how flattering," He grabs one end of the rope, traces it from your shoulder blades down to the flesh of your cunt. 

His fingers are squeamishly long and slender, watching it feel the mound while he continues to tease you. "Fuck," You whisper, your breath is hot, dense as the air as you watch Okarun continue to glide the rope around either sides of your thighs. 

"Hurry up, can't wait any longer," You whine. 

"What gives you the idea that I'm being patient? If we both had things our way, we'd be at the end of the bed right now, you'd be crying for more," He sketches a wide picture and you're eager to paint it complete for him. 

"You're mean," Your hands grasp for the bedsheets. "I can get worse," he binds your thighs complete, now you're unable to move your arms, your legs are free to roam but he's certain you'd never run away, he grants you the right to speak, wants to hear you scream his name, he says. 

"That good for you? Needed me to keep you bound from giving me what I want." His fingers ghost over your pussy, his fingers slip upwards from your sweet spot, then downwards, you groan over the way he mocks you. 

Just as you least expect it, he brings his fingers to your mouth, coats his fingers wet with your spit before sliding a finger through your slit. 

"So fucking wet," He murmurs, curling the digits where you feel it best. "all of this f'me? Too kind," He digresses, he could never do anything like this, but now it's different, he's been keeping you in check for too long. 

You mewl and toss around just as he brings his free hand to hold you down, he jostles you back in place, resting your thighs around his shoulders. "That's too much, please, Okarun, 's too much," you squeal, feeling yourself go numb for a little over a minute, your very core being played with past your orgasm. 

"Messy, too bad." Okarun hums, he's pleased with the girl he's always wanted to see. To become. If he can evolve into a tale of corruption then sure can you. 

"Okarun— Ken, Ken, 'm gonna cum again," you wail and it slips past your mind voice. Within a split second, he pulls back, the fucking audacity. 

Ken.

Lot's of new firsts tonight, this one defied all odds in his mind. 

It's a lingering thought but you wonder if this is even his first time, you dared not to question it at the start out of what could've been labelled as fear. 

"Say that again," 

"Ken," 

"Fuck." 

He lines his swollen tip over your nub, teasing you where it hurts the most before bottoming out inside you. 

You angle your head to face him, watching as he attempts to ease his cock into you. It's big, there's no way it would fit. He notices as you slowly push away. 

"Hey, no sweat, just the tip, how's that for ya?" He soothes, you hum keenly in response. 

"That feel good?" He whispers. 

"Uh huh, feels too good," You nod and babble, eyes shut, head tilted back, the whole nine yards. 

"I got another thing I wanna try," He interrupts, pulling the tip of his cock to feel your mound, he pushes it slightly down and you watch as it shifts in size for each thrust Okarun gives. 

You feel Okarun as he picks up his pace, followed by you garnering what little energy you've got left to spare. 

"Fuck, can't—" He pulls out in a flash, his eyes are half lidded as he watches his cum sputter onto your lower abdomen.

Now he's slightly embarrassed and his movements are ever-so-slightly rigid, a wave of regret and satisfaction washes over him.

"Again, I'm sorry for that, but I gave you a forewarning," He settles by you in bed.

"Anytime," You retort languidly, undoing the rope around Okarun's wrists. 

"Plus, I still owe you one," It's odd, but as friends, you two are bound to retain an even tally of orgasms. 

"Don't put it like that, dude," He groans.

"You're right though, maybe not now." He murmurs, burying his face by your neck, he hums before drifting off. 

[solxamber]

Hi! I've been thinking abt hanahaki lately, so I wanna see your thoughts on how OB boys handle hanahaki?

Idk I've feel like I've been thinking too much lately.

Overblot Gang x Reader (Hanahaki)

hi! thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Red roses are a traditional symbol of love and passion, but also perfectionism.

It started with a cough. Just a small, insignificant cough. But Riddle Rosehearts, ever the rule follower and disciplinarian, dismissed it as a minor inconvenience, despite the occasional stray petal that would land on his perfectly polished shoes. He didn’t dare look too closely at the flower. He knew the bloom too well—the telltale sign of unspoken love: red roses.

Riddle spent weeks trying to suppress the symptoms. He even scheduled extra tea sessions, convinced that a well-brewed Earl Grey would soothe his throat. But nothing worked. Every time he caught sight of you helping Ace with his homework or smiling brightly at Deuce, another rose would bloom in his chest, sending petals into his lungs until his coughing fits became more frequent.

One day, as you were organizing some papers in the Heartslabyul common room, you heard Riddle let out an uncharacteristically loud cough followed by the clinking of ceramic.

"Are you okay, Riddle?" you asked, peeking over your shoulder.

"I-I'm fine!" he spluttered, quickly shoving something into his pocket. His face was flushed, though whether it was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen was unclear. But as you moved closer, you noticed a bright red rose petal caught in his hair.

"You’ve got something in your hair—wait… is that a rose petal?" you asked, eyes widening in realization.

Riddle froze, his hand instinctively reaching up to where the petal had been. He sighed, clearly defeated. "I… may have developed a small case of hanahaki."

You raised an eyebrow. "Small? You’re practically growing a garden!"

Riddle’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. "W-Well, it’s because of you…"

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. "Wait. Me? You like me?"

Riddle looked down, nervously twiddling his fingers. "Yes. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. But I never had the courage to say anything."

You smiled softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Riddle, I like you too. You didn’t have to choke on roses to get my attention."

His eyes widened, and the redness of his face softened into something warmer—hopeful. "Really?"

"Really." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Now, let’s work on getting rid of those flowers, shall we?"

Leona Kingscholar

Sunflowers represent adoration, loyalty, and longevity.

Leona Kingscholar thought he could out-stubborn his hanahaki. After all, he was the second prince of the Sunset Savanna. What were a few flowers compared to his iron will? But as soon as the bright yellow sunflowers began to sprout in his lungs, even he couldn’t ignore the constant tickle in his throat.

Every time you visited Savanaclaw to drop off some notes for Jack or just to say hi, Leona would immediately turn away, trying to suppress the blooming in his chest. He figured if he just kept avoiding you, the flowers would go away on their own. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.

One day, you found Leona lying under his favorite tree, seemingly asleep. Except for the fact that his face was slightly scrunched up, and he was… holding a bouquet of sunflowers?

"Leona, are you okay? Why are you holding a bunch of—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Leona sneezed, sending a spray of sunflower petals flying everywhere.

"Seriously?" you said, crossing your arms. "You’re allergic to flowers now?"

Leona groaned, sitting up and glaring at the petals scattered around him. "It’s not allergies, herbivore."

"Oh. Ohhhh. This is hanahaki, isn’t it?"

Leona’s ears flattened against his head, his tail flicking irritably. "Tch. Yeah, whatever. So I’ve got hanahaki. Big deal."

You smirked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "So, who’s the lucky person that’s got you coughing up sunflowers?"

He shot you a look that could melt steel. "Don’t make me say it."

"Say what?" you teased, grinning. "That you have a crush on me?"

Leona’s lips curled into a frustrated snarl, but he didn’t deny it. You, however, found it oddly endearing. You sat down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. "You know, if you just said something sooner, you wouldn’t have to deal with all this floral drama."

Leona sighed, finally letting his pride crumble. "Yeah, well… I guess I didn’t think you’d actually like me back."

You smiled, slipping your hand into his. "Looks like you were wrong, prince."

Azul Ashengrotto

Forget-me-nots symbolize true love, remembrance, and the desire to be unforgettable.

Azul thought he could handle it. After all, he was a master of contracts, deals, and manipulation. Surely he could manage a little thing like hanahaki, right? Wrong. The moment forget-me-nots began flooding his lungs, he knew he was in trouble.

He had tried everything. Eating seaweed soup, drinking warm tea, even avoiding you for a while. But every time you walked into the Monstro Lounge with that infectious smile, another batch of petals threatened to spill from his lips.

One day, you walked into the VIP room only to find Azul coughing into a napkin, looking suspiciously flustered.

"Azul, are you okay? You sound awful."

"I’m fine," he said, though his voice was hoarse. You noticed the blue petal sticking to the corner of his mouth, and your eyes widened.

"Wait… are you coughing up flowers? Is that… hanahaki?"

Azul stiffened, quickly stuffing the napkin into his pocket. "I… I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You raised an eyebrow. "Azul, I know a petal when I see one. Is there something you want to tell me?"

He looked away, clearly embarrassed. "I… may have developed feelings for someone," he muttered, his face turning a shade that almost matched the hydrangeas.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. "Really? And who might that be?"

Azul hesitated, his confidence wavering for the first time in a long while. "It’s… you."

Your smile widened as you leaned forward, gently brushing a petal from his cheek. "You could have just told me, you know. I like you too, Azul."

Azul blinked, clearly caught off guard by your confession. "You… do?"

"Of course I do," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Now, let’s work on getting rid of those flowers before you drown in petals, okay?"

Jamil Viper

White gardenias represent purity, humility, and attachment.

Jamil had always prided himself on his self-control. But when white gardenias started blossoming in his chest, that control was tested like never before. It didn’t help that every time you walked into Scarabia with that bright, infectious energy, another flower seemed to bloom.

Jamil tried to avoid you as much as possible, focusing on his duties as Kalim's right-hand man. But one day, while preparing tea in the kitchen, you walked in unexpectedly, catching him mid-cough as a cluster of white petals floated to the ground.

"Jamil, are you okay?" you asked, moving closer. "You’ve been coughing a lot lately."

"I’m fine," he said quickly, wiping away the evidence. But it was too late—you had already noticed the petals.

"Jamil… are those gardenias?" you asked, eyes widening.

Jamil froze, realizing there was no way to hide it now. "I… yes," he admitted reluctantly.

You tilted your head, confused. "Wait… who do you have a crush on?"

Jamil looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment. "It’s… you."

You blinked, completely caught off guard. "Me?"

He nodded, clearly mortified. "I’ve been trying to keep it under control, but…"

You laughed softly, stepping closer and gently touching his arm. "You could’ve just told me, you know. I like you too, Jamil."

Jamil’s eyes widened, a look of pure relief washing over his face. "You… do?"

"Of course," you said, smiling warmly. "Now, let’s get rid of those flowers, okay?"

Vil Schoenheit

Purple lilacs signify the first emotions of love and pride.

Vil Schoenheit, perfection incarnate, found himself undone by the one thing he couldn't control: love. The moment purple lilacs started blooming in his chest, he knew he was in trouble. But, ever the professional, Vil tried to maintain his composure, even as the flowers threatened to spill from his lips every time you were near.

He spent weeks trying to cover it up, using his beauty products and makeup to hide the occasional petal that escaped. But one day, while rehearsing a scene with you in the Pomefiore dorm, he let out a cough that sent a cascade of purple petals fluttering to the ground.

"Vil?" you asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Vil sighed, knowing he couldn’t hide it anymore. "I’ve developed a… condition."

"Condition?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You mean hanahaki?"

He nodded, his usual confidence faltering. "Yes. And it’s because of you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Vil looked away, his voice softening as his usual poised demeanor faltered. "Yes, it’s because of you. The lilacs—" He gestured at the fallen petals, a touch of frustration and vulnerability in his eyes. "—are a sign of feelings I’ve been suppressing. I thought I could control them, but apparently, even I am not immune to such trivial things as unspoken love."

You blinked, utterly stunned. "Vil, you mean… you like me?"

His gaze met yours, golden and intense, and for once, Vil didn’t hide behind his mask of perfection. "Of course I do. You have this… light about you that pulls me in, even though I know I should stay composed. I’ve tried to ignore it, to keep things professional, but—" He coughed again, more petals spilling out. "Clearly, it didn’t work."

You couldn’t help but smile softly. "Vil, you don’t have to hide how you feel. I like you too."

His eyes widened, the surprise evident on his usually composed face. "You… do?"

You nodded, stepping closer. "You’ve always had this aura of untouchable beauty, but I’ve always admired more than just your looks. You’re passionate, driven, and underneath it all, incredibly kind. How could I not fall for you?"

Vil’s lips quirked into a small, relieved smile, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You certainly have a way with words. Thank you… for not making me feel foolish."

You smiled back and took his hand gently. "There’s nothing foolish about love, Vil. Let’s work on getting rid of these flowers, okay?"

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Vil felt truly at peace. The lilacs could bloom no more, now that his heart was finally unburdened.

Idia Shroud

Black daisies are a symbol of mystery, depth, and the unknown, often associated with secrecy and unspoken feelings.

Idia had always assumed he’d die alone, surrounded by his beloved games and tech, without the messiness of real-life emotions. But life, it seemed, had other plans, and those plans came in the form of black daisies—thick and suffocating, crawling up his throat every time he saw you.

For someone who preferred the solitude of his room, the thought of interacting with you was terrifying enough, but dealing with hanahaki? That was a nightmare. So, Idia did what he did best—he avoided you like the plague.

Unfortunately, his plan backfired one day when you burst into his room unannounced, holding a takeout bag and cheerfully asking if he wanted to eat lunch together. Idia spun around in his chair, trying to hide the fact that his hoodie pocket was stuffed full of crumpled napkins—each one littered with black daisy petals.

"S-Sure! I’d love to!" he stammered, though his voice cracked slightly. You gave him a strange look, noticing the sweat beading on his forehead.

"You okay, Idia? You’ve been acting really weird lately."

Before he could reply, he let out a loud cough, sending a flurry of black daisy petals across his desk. Idia froze, his eyes widening in horror.

"Oh no," he whispered under his breath. "No, no, no, not now…"

You stared at the petals, then at him. "Wait a second… is this… hanahaki?"

Idia turned about fifteen shades of red. "N-N-NO! I mean, y-yes, but…"

"But?" you pressed, stepping closer. "Who gave you hanahaki, Idia?"

He buried his face in his hands, mortified beyond belief. "Y-You! It’s because of you! I know it’s impossible and I’m an idiot for even thinking about it, but I—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You like me?"

Idia peeked through his fingers, his hair flaring blue in embarrassment. "Y-Yes…?"

You chuckled softly, finding his awkwardness endearing. "Idia, you don’t have to be so nervous. I like you too."

He blinked, processing your words as if they didn’t compute. "Wait… what? Y-You do?"

You nodded, smiling at him. "Yeah, I think you’re really sweet. And your nerdy side is kind of adorable."

Idia’s face went from pale to bright pink in record time, his hair turning a neon shade of pink. "I-I think I’m gonna die."

You laughed, handing him a napkin. "How about we avoid that, okay?"

Malleus Draconia

Nightshade flowers represent danger, mystery, and passionate, dangerous love but also healing and protection.

Malleus wasn’t particularly bothered by the concept of hanahaki. After all, he was a powerful fae prince, one who had lived for centuries. But when the dark, velvety petals of nightshade began to fill his lungs every time he thought about you, he knew that even he wasn’t immune to the whims of the heart.

At first, he tried to rationalize it. He would stare at the nightshade petals, wondering if his fae biology was reacting to something. But deep down, he knew the truth. He had fallen for you—hard. And while Malleus wasn’t one to shy away from emotions, he hadn’t quite figured out how to express them yet.

One evening, you found him sitting in the courtyard of Diasomnia, looking unusually thoughtful. As you approached, he turned to greet you with a smile, but his voice was interrupted by a soft cough.

"Are you alright, Malleus?" you asked, concerned. "You’ve been coughing a lot lately."

He hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to tell you the truth. Then, with a soft sigh, he opened his hand to reveal a single, dark nightshade petal.

You blinked in surprise. "Wait… is that hanahaki?"

Malleus nodded slowly, his expression serious. "It is."

Your heart skipped a beat. "So… who’s the lucky person?"

He gazed at you, his eyes filled with an unspoken depth of emotion. "It’s you," he said simply.

You stared at him, stunned. "M-Me?"

Malleus nodded, his voice as gentle as the breeze. "I have cared for you for quite some time, but I did not wish to burden you with my feelings."

You felt your cheeks heat up as you stepped closer to him. "Malleus, I… I care about you too."

His eyes lit up with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected your confession. "You do?"

You nodded, smiling warmly. "I do. I didn’t realize you felt the same way."

Malleus smiled, the nightshade petals slowly fading from his chest. "Then perhaps we can face this together."

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his magic flow through your fingers. "I’d like that."

Masterlist

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[drefear]

Imagine reader artist, who loves to draw Miguel. And the other day she's just drawing naked Miguel's body. He saw it and just smirks and say: "I've got bigger than that" or "I could show/pose for accuracy"

TW: raunchy smut, Dom!miguel, fem reader, smut with no plot.

A/N: I wrote half of this while at work and a little drunk. So here ya go. Also currently in the process of writing a part two.

Miguel’s face filled your sketchbook, his back in his spider suit, his mask, every angle you could find him at. You often sat in his office for hours while he did reports, sketching him and drawing him. You loved using different mediums and colors, giving him new features and styles. You specifically loved practicing drawing his broad body and sculpted as-

Ahem. Legs.

Yes, ok, fine, you had a small crush on your boss, whatever, no big deal.

You would purposefully finish all of your work as fast as possible so you could sit back and draw him. And because you weren’t loud or annoying, and everything was always done on time and orderly, he let you.

But one mission in particular made him stressed out, and as you watched him filling out data about the anomaly he’d just captured, he glitched his suit down his torso and injected himself with that mysterious green liquid, entrancing you for those glorious few seconds.

It was very obvious he had a nice body, duh. But you never let your mind go too far in imagining him out of his suit, scared to go into a territory you couldn’t back out of.

And now you did, drawing his torso and pecks, shading his abs, and this got you curious about more.

Lower.

Biting your lip, you sat in the cafeteria a few days later. You purposefully sat with your back to a wall, making sure no one could sneak up on you and see what you were drawing, as you drew him laying down. His arms splayed behind his head, face relaxed, as you defined his leg muscles. As you finished the piece of art, the only area you’d avoided was his groin.

And now you stared at the empty area of art, knee bouncing from anxiety about how you were supposed to draw this. You had no reference for him. Yes, you’d seen dicks before, obviously. You lived in a universe with unrestricted internet access, so it’s not like you’d never been around the block, but here you were, blushing like a 15 year old just because of a dick.

Drawing and then erasing and drawing, you repeated the process a few times before you heard someone click their tongue in front of you. You’d been so consumed by what you were doing, you didn’t even feel your spider senses or hear them come close.

Miguel stood with an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so jumpy?” He asked and you snatched the book in front of you to your chest, stuttering some bullshit answer about too much caffeine. He just nodded and continued giving you a new order.

You got up from your seat and moved to follow him to his cold, dark lair area. As you were about to step onto his platform, you tripped and your hands flew out to stabilize your fall. As you did, the notebook flew across the floor and slid as your vision blurred from how fast you’d collapsed, getting up slowly and rolling your shoulders. You reached to where the sketch book had fallen, but it was no longer there.

No.

NO.

It was between his fingers, as he flipped through the pages slowly, eyeing your work with his brows furrowed, focused. You jumped towards him and he just turned his back, making you feel like you ran into a wall. You reached around him and he webbed your wrist to the table beside you, still not tearing his eyes from your work.

“Stop, that’s private! Give it back!” You shouted and he rolled his eyes briefly.

“It’s all drawings of me, I think I’m allowed to see-“ and his words stopped as he flipped to the newest page.

The nude drawing of him.

You gulped as his expression became unreadable, stoic, and your eyes flashed between the art and him. “I-I was just practicing forms and poses-“

“It’s… inaccurate.” He spoke lowly before your eyes blinked for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He walked to you and stood tall, bending down slightly to stare directly into your eyes. His mouth turned up at the ends and his eyes glittered with something you’d never seen in him before.

Turning the book back to you and showing you your own drawing, he smirked deeper.

“I’m much bigger.” His eyes were almost challenging you, making your blood run ice cold, and you felt his hands yank your body against his. “Do you want to see for reference?”

And then his watch made a loud sound, Lyla popping up to explain some anomaly on earth number whatever. He groaned and turned to walk out. “I’ll be back once this is done. Don’t go anywhere because When I do return, we’re continuing where we left off.”

Then he was gone and you stood, mouth agape from the whole exchange. You thought it might take a while for him to capture this anomaly, so You’d decided to go back to your own universe in preparation, showering and fixing yourself up. You bit your nail nervously as you thought about it all. Was he serious? No way, right…?

As you stood in the bathroom mirror, the sound of a portal opening cut through your mind like a knife, making your body rush into your living room. You gripped the towel tight around your torso as you saw Miguel walk out of the colorful dimension behind him and into yours. The portal closed and with that, his mask disintegrated so you could see his face. A bit tired, he still had a less-than-enthusiastic expression on.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere.” He repeated and you stood stuff as a board, now a bit scared. He took slow, calculated steps towards you as your head tilted back to continue watching him. “Inaccurate and disobedient. I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” His index finger hooked under your chin as he smirked and grabbed your hand with his free one, pulling you into your bathroom. He looked around for a second before hitting a button on his watch and letting the fabric disappear.

You bit your lip as your eyes took full advantage of his exposed skin. “You- it-“

“Yeah. I know.” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, bending you over your counter with your hand breached against your back. “Now I want you to really study how I fuck you, so that you get a good look at how big I am, and how easy I can maneuver this body.” He whispered into your damp hair and pushed down, then ripping the towel away and throwing it out of the bathroom completely.

His eyes stared down at your weeping cunt and he licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you another time. Today, I want you to really feel my size.” He was cocky, and he had a right to be. His dick was huge, almost alarmingly big.

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you clenched your jaw. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow. That way you can feel good and still learn.” He cooed in a teasing tone and your eyes found his in the mirror, watching intently as he began to push into you. The sudden width he was stretching you to was mind numbing and your knees began to buckle, but he just held you up with one hand, the other still guiding himself into you.

“Coño, your sucking me in so nicely, might not even need to slow down.” He spoke and your eyes were rolling back from his words, to which you snapped out of once his hand that was holding you up held your face harshly towards the mirror. “No slacking, little girl. You better keep your eyes on my cock.”

Halfway inside, and you were already fluttering around him, on the verge of orgasm. “That’s it, sucia, cum on my cock. It’ll be the first time of many.” You shivered at his words, feeling him sink in further and immediately orgasming. The rolls of pleasure washing through you made him grunt as his hips couldn’t help but rut into you harshly. The lack of prep had you feeling everything he was giving you, hyper aware of your insides wrapping around him.

“Mm, wanna fuck me back? Grind back onto my cock? Paciencia, Nena.” He instructed as you kept trying to get him in further. Wrapping a hand around your torso, he tweeked at your nipples and made you gasp from the sensation. “That’s it,” he mumbled.

Finally, smirked, he chuckled darkly as you tried once more to thrust backwards. “Fine, you asked for it.” He met your eyes in the mirror, now blood red and swirling with the threat as he snapped his hips forward and forced the rest of him into you, making you gargle out a strained sound in shock and pleasure. The pain was beautiful, and began to subside quickly as you felt him twitch. He hit every spot and more, feeling new depths and points of pleasure.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he started a slightly faster pace. Your body jiggled from the movements and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your apartment, your mouth hanging open as your eyes never left were his dick was buried into you. He smiled, enjoying the way you watched his cock disappear into you over and over, and you felt the pressure building once more. How he bullied your cunt and grinned while doing it made you burst, tears breaking free and a scream ripping through you as your pussy squeezed him.

“Fuck, so tight.” He groaned, head now falling back and he kept going, beginning to chase his own high. Your mind had shut off now, fucked practically stupid on his cock and he rocking into you mercilessly. His speed was unmatched and he moved to pick up your hips to meet his, closing the gap your height difference had created, and finally having him slam into you until his hips met your ass, making you choke on your own oxygen from the absolute brutal beating he was giving your cervix.

He slid one hand to the back of your neck and pressed you further into the counter top of your sink, forcing your pert nipples to meet the cold marble and you cried out more, barely able to push back against him now as you were trapped between his body and your bathroom’s confinements with only your top toes touching the floor. Your face was streaked with tears as he grunted and let out ragged breaths.

“The perfect little pussy, so perfect for my cock. You can take it, little artist. You wanted to draw my cock so badly, now you have the perfect image to do it. Fucked deep inside of you. Draw us like this for me, yeah? I wanna see it everyday. Or should I just fuck you every day instead?” His words tumbled from his mouth like an avalanche and you could feel his cock about to burst, making you teeter over that cliff as well. “That’s it, strangle my cock. Cum all over me, niña, paint me with your cute cunt.” He demanded and you obliged, feeling a shooting electric sensation rip out of you. Suddenly, you were both a bit wet between the thighs and he was mesmerized by what he saw. Your juices squirt all over him and he came instantly after seeing that, pounding into you as far as he could and forcing his cum the deepest it could be inside of you.

Both of you were unmoving as you caught your breath, a layer of sweat covering you both as you stared at each other in the mirror. No words could describe what had just happened and Miguel smiled once more, which prompted you to ask.

“What?”

“You need to get a mirror by your bed. Because I want to do this to you every day.” He watched your eyes widen in the mirror in front of you both as he licked your neck from behind and sinking his fangs into your soft skin, jutting his hips once more and making you realize he was still hard.

“For art purposes.”

Part two is out!