#had me weeping ngl

[tytangfei]

"I wish A'Jin would never be as sad as he was just now.”

The Last Immortal (2023) - Episode 6

[peatchoune]

grief recognises grief

[dawning-skye]

memories of rain.

[raiain]

"You were good to me."

[wulfhalls]

.

[dangaer]

YOU CAME / YOU CALLED. is such a godtier dynamic i will not elaborate.

[kkoraki]

btw ultimately I can never take any Deep Serious Critical Thoughtful worldbuilding/worldbuilding related meta seriously in this fandom bc no one seems to comprehend that in actual real life human history, the wheel was invented 6000 years ago. THE WHEEL

[dilftaroooo]

Uraume who only does anything with you after getting permission from Sukuna + he demands to watch 😒

Omg this is my first ask with uraume?? Im stunned, they r fine tho im ngl. can’t say too much with them since im not all that familiar with their character but i’ll try my best!

wrote this with true form sukuna and afab reader in mind ;)

If you’re Sukuna’s little plaything, his property, then Uraume most definitely needs to ask for permission to touch you with lust-ridden fingers. And I know their wishes will 101% be granted because their voice easily coaxes Sukuna into acceptance. Their tone is just embraced by the sweetest of chocolates when they implore their lord for access to touch your weeping pussy.

"I do not ask much from you, Sukuna-sama, but my innermost carnal desires have overpowered me. If you could be so thoughtful and let me touch your plaything, just this once. As long as you grant me your word."

They've had enough of watching and Sukuna had enough of entertaining. Thinking of his decision wasn't hard because he was already shoving you off his meaty lap and watching you collide with the floor--one of the hands out of the four rests idly on his cheek.

"Have her your way." But not before saying that he must be present during your session.

And ofc Uraume is pleased by this! Their fingers already protruding through your damp folds as the smell of soft jasmine caresses your nose when kissing you deeply. Your tongue already tastes so good with the remains of Sukuna's tangy cum still lingering on the slimy appendage.

They're even more thrilled that the person they revere is watching them both with aggressive libido!!!

[xxsabitoxx]

Sanemi's Hands.

A/N: just me rambling about Sanemi's hands and fingers, Reader is female in this! Hehehe enjoy my scrambled thoughts about scar boy

Warnings: this is just hand p0rn I’m ngl

~ Sanemi’s hands are rough but not the uncomfortable kind. Not in the sense that they are dry and in need of care but in the sense that they have callouses from the hard work he has put into his training and his body.

~ And still, they are somehow soft and warm at the same time. It’s an addicting feeling really, when his large hands are sliding down your sides and settling on your hips. The way his fingers dig into your skin slightly, just enough to keep you in place but not enough to hurt.

~ The way you can feel the tension as his fingertips twitch, kneading the flesh of your hips slightly as his lips press to yours over and over again.

~ His hands are on the thicker side, both his palms and fingers have some weight and size to them. His fingers are long but they are not slim, you could hold two of his fingers with your whole hand, your grip doesn’t even wrap around his wrist all the way.

~ Sanemi loves the feeling of your hand in his, his much larger one easily encompassing your smaller one

~ Sanemi is mindful of his hygiene, keeping his hands clean and nails trimmed. He’s mindful because he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way, especially when touching your most delicate bits. He files his nails with no shame, making sure they are clean and smooth for you.

~ He’s slow when it comes to touching your pretty cunt, using one finger to dip between your slick folds and collect your sticky arousal on his digit. He’ll pull away slowly, pushing his finger past his own lips to swirl his tongue around it, tasting your sweetness.

~ He’s all about teasing you, sucking his finger clean of your arousal before pushing two of his fingers past your own lips. You struggle a bit, tongue lapping at his warm fingers until they are slick with his spit. “Atta girl.” Soft and seductive as he moves his hand back down.

~ You squirm beneath him, two slick fingers circling your clit leisurely before sinking even lower. He’ll push and prod your entrance but not quite enter, just watching as more shiny arousal weeps from your entrance and collects on his skin.

~ Sanemi is gentle with you though, only pushing one of his fingers past your entrance and moving it slowly. He thrusts slowly, relishing in the feeling of your velvety walls against the pad of his finger as he massages various points before slowly introducing a second.

~ Sanemi’s tempo speeds up the wetter you get, addicted to the slick squelches that emit every time his fingers plunge into your tight heat. Two of Sanemi’s fingers alone are bigger than some of the dicks you had experienced. And fuck was he aware of it.

~ One of Sanemi’s favorite things is to touch your body after you’ve ruined his hand. He’ll grope at your breasts just to see your arousal smear across them, pinching and tugging at your pebbling nipples just to see them shine with your cum.

~ One of his hands can encompass your entire breast, allowing him to squeeze and knead the flesh as he pleases while you whimper beneath him.

Idk man brain going brrrrrrrr

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter four || the proxies

tw: stalker hoodie, hoodies a bit gross in this one ngl, i think this is a fair warning, paranoia, blood, some fluffy shit w tim

i am proud to announce that hitchhiker now has a masterlist with a link to wattpad! find it here!! thank you to everyone who has helped me navigate using other platforms <3

<— previous chapter

Hoodie could understand your appeal.

What he couldn’t understand, was why Tim and Toby had picked you specifically.

Sure, your skin was soft and glowy. Your big innocent doe eyes were doll like. Hoodie’s darker urges craving to see them weep tears under his hand. Although you had overlooked their original odd behavior, was that enough? Were your looks and obliviousness enough to keep you alive?

Hoodie couldn’t understand Toby and Tim’s infatuation with you. It was becoming truly nauseating, sitting through them yapping about you all day long. You were the hottest topic of conversation, the rants about Jeff’s sloppy murders long discarded. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he figured he’d have to do his research.

And every good research session begins the same way: observation.

Hoodie had no issue watching you. He watched as you scrambled to get ready for work, showering so quickly he hardly had time to watch you dry off. He sat perched in an old oak tree across from your building, the overgrown branches and leafs concealing his presence. He noted you truly were oblivious, all of your curtains wide open. Maybe you thought being on the fourth floor saved you from having a peeping tom. In which case, you were terribly wrong.

He watched as you chatted with (who he assumed to be) Nova while running around, his eyes narrowing. Your friend seemed put together, a navy blazer and slacks dressing her thin frame. His eyes flickered back over to you, watching you get ready for work. You did have a nice figure. Your apron only emphasizing the fact. Hoodie had watched Nova slide on the blazer, her upper arms toned with muscle. Huh. So much for a lazy overweight detective. Those targets were easy to get rid of. Toby, in the mist of his yapping about his delightful walk home with you, mentioned Nova. He mentioned the vanilla folder and the case she was working on. Hoodie believed he was the first of the three to have the suspicion she took Winston’s place.

Usually task forces would lay off of the investigation once their colleagues began getting killed. But every so often, there would be a feisty motherfucker who only wanted to indulge in the case deeper. He watched as you darted out of your apartment, Nova grabbing her things and following you. His eyes searched for the vanilla folder. He watched her pack her beat up satchel, random white papers and pens being thrown inside. Yet, no vanilla folder. He grinned devilishly as Nova exited your apartment. Toby would be keeping a close eye on her investigation as she studied the Winston case. They had eyes everywhere, your date with Tim proving to be useful. It gave Hoodie enough time to truly snoop around.

His mind circled back to the vanilla folder, the bane of his existence in your best friends possession. Nova hadn’t left with the documents, the vanilla folder not on her person. Her not leaving with the folder meant one thing and one thing only: it was in your apartment. What did that mean? That Hoodie was going to be able to steal it with ease.

\/

You felt like you were becoming paranoid. Your shift at Olive Garden was the same stressful experience it always was. Screaming children. Argumentative customers. Loud laughter. However, you felt like you were watched. You couldn’t figure out how or why. Your paranoia made you check on your tables faster. Your eyes constantly flickered around the restaurant, searching for the culprit. But all you found were families or couples eating their pasta and bread. By the end of your shift you were beat, shuffling into the bathroom to change clothes.

Davidson park was practically a straight shot from your work, there was no sense in dropping by your apartment. You briefly glanced at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to acknowledge how terrible you felt you looked. You were sure your lips were cracked and your eyes had dark circles decorating them. You shuffled into a bathroom stall, slipping out of your work uniform. You wondered if your perfume could truly mask the nauseating smell of pasta sauce. You began to put on deodorant, the light in the bathroom flickering.

You blinked a few times, trying to ensure you weren’t just sleep deprived. You looked up, a large bug caught in the ceiling light. It was bouncing between the light stick and the glass, creating the smallest sound of movement. You could see its shell, as well as its leggings thrashing around. You shoved it off, resuming changing into your normal clothes. You shoved on your boots, the unsettling feeling of you being watched falling over you again. This time you looked at the bottom gap of the stall door and the floor, a large set of black business shoes standing outside of your stall door. You blinked a few times, as if to double check what you were seeing was really there. “Hello?” You croaked, your mouth seemingly running dry. When was the last time you had drank water?

A gust of wind rushed past you, your head snapping behind you. You were in a tiny bathroom stall, what the actual fuck was creating wind? You turned back to the front of the stall, the pair of shoes now disappeared. Shoving your shirt over your head you exited the stall, looking around the bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, an eerie silence ensuing. Looking up you noticing the bug was no longer moving. Logically you should’ve been fine with it, the small creatures demise caused by the electricity. But the sight of the smallest pool of blood from the bugs corpse made your stomach churn, your face growing pale. How was that possible? The bug was a beetle, not a mosquito or anything with a handfuls worth of blood.

You ripped away your horrified gaze, forcing yourself to look at the floor instead. You shuffled out of the bathroom in a rush, the door hitting the wall as you flung it open. Ignoring the weird looks and questions from your coworkers you left the restaurant. You felt unsteady as you got in the car, your hands planting themselves firmly on the steering wheel. You felt like you had just seen a ghost, the crimson paint staining your mind. You swallowed and attempted to even out your breathing as you put the key into your ignition. You needed to get your shit together. You took a deep breath, putting your car in reverse and heading to see Tim.

\/

Hoodie took his time inspecting your apartment, trying to see what he could find out about you. His curiosity as to what made you so interesting nagging him mid mission. With his partners not around, it gave him the freewill to be as nosy as he wanted to be without repercussions. Your apartment was tiny and cluttered, but he determined your clutteredness was from the lack of space more than being messy. Hoodie’s opinion shifted slightly at the sight of your last outfit on the bathroom floor. Your red lacey underwear caught his eye, the blonde smirking under his mask.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He squatted down, picking up the fabric with his ring finger. Hoodie could just imagine your round ass in these, the red complementing your skin tone. He lifted his ski mask just above his nose, inhaling the crotch material of your dirty panties. His face flushed red with lust. His cock was slowly beginning to grow in his jeans, the proxy pulling himself away from the fabric. He took a deep breath, imagining his tongue in between your folds as you pleaded for more.

Ahh yes, Hoodie would do anything to see you beg.

Regaining his focus he wadded up the panties, shoving them in his back pocket. He needed to focus. He left your bathroom, rounding over to your bedroom. Your dresser was covered in various perfumes and jewelry. Did you have more money than you were letting on? He picked up a large necklace, the fake jewels shining back at him in the moonlight. Thankfully you left your lamp on, the blonde beginning to rummage through your belongings more unhinged. He lifted up your mattress, looked under your bed, in your pillow cases, in your nightstands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a trace that it was here.

Hoodie gritted his teeth as he pulled open your dresser drawers. His anger temporarily subsided as he eyed the first drawers contents. Rows of undergarments and bras nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He rummaged through your drawers, the folder no where in sight. He stomped into the kitchen, the living room empty besides a couch, old wooden coffee table, matching with a the same wooden TV stand, and an ancient television. His eyes wondered around your kitchen, landing on a stack of bills with large red OVERDUE stamps plastered on the front. Hoodie picked up the one on top, examining it.

Huh. Not necessarily poor, just poor spending habits. He tossed the envelope aside, continuing his search for the vanilla bane of his existence. And he wouldn’t be leaving until he found it.

\/

You walked beside Tim down the sidewalk path, cool breezes rushing past the two of you. “So how was work?” He asked, starting conversation. Your shift was unnotable, if you took away the feeling of being watched and blood bug. “The usual. My table five had a lot of screaming children but it ended up being fine,” You answer as honestly as you could. You didn’t want to sound crazy, your paranoia getting the best of you. “What about you?” You added. You shoved your hands in your army green jacket, Tim’s hands shoved in his own mustard coat. For a brief second you saw a look of shock flash across Tim’s face, before he resumed his usual expression.

“The usual,” He answered truthfully. He shoved off the uncanny feeling of the Operators static depriving his senses. It wasn’t a usual punishment, the Operator more angry he had to send Kate than anything else. He always had a soft spot for the girl. “We both hate our jobs huh? You look like you just had a ptsd episode,” You chuckled, playfully elbowing him. Your innocence made Tim’s heart flutter, even with the deeper meaning your words unknowingly had. “You’re one to talk about ptsd episodes. You looked scarred when talking about screaming children,” Tim teased. He playfully poked your side, causing you to giggle. The moon hung in the sky, in seemingly a creepy smile. You made Tim feel normal, even if his life was no where near it.

“Oh please anything involving children provokes that face. I can’t imagine having them,” You say. The two of you strolled in unison, the street lights illuminating your path. “Really? Not even down the line?” Tim asked curiously. Of course it was impossible for him to have kids. He would never allow you to get pregnant, not from him or Brian or Toby. There was always the chance the Operator would be interested in the child. He couldn’t risk it. “Maybe. I’d always be afraid I let the wrong guy get me pregnant though,” You admitted. You felt your face go pale with embarrassment. “Oh fuck I said too much huh?” You laughed nervously. Tim couldn’t help but smile at your nervousness. You had no idea how cute you were.

“Not at all. You don’t have to worry around me. I’ve seen and i’ve done weirder things,” Tim told you. You both walked to the towns lake, the watery murky black as the moonlight reflected off of the glassy surface. “I’m really glad I met you Tim. I feel like you get it,” You say honestly. Tim raised an eyebrow, an owl hooting in the distance. “Get what?” He asked curiously. You flashed a nervous smile, tucking some hair behind your ears. “Like you get me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit in everywhere I went. Yet I feel at home with you three. It’s such an odd comforting feeling,” You explain softly. Tim took a step towards you, gently grasping your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, your breath hitching as his hot breath danced across your cool skin.

His chapped lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead, his touch soft and sweet. And most importantly, purposefully gentle. Tim pulled away slowly, holding your face in his gloved hands. You looked up at him, mesmerized by his chocolate orbs. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, soaking in your touch. You wanted to kiss him, his lips just out of reach. Tim wanted nothing more than to kiss you, his core yearning to taste your sweet plump lips. But he was trying to restrain himself. He knew he couldn’t have you. None of them could.

Slowly he pulled away from you, turning his gaze back to the black lake. You could feel the heat still dancing across your cheeks. Dumbfounded you turned towards the lake as well, standing side by side with the man you yearned for. There was an unsettling silence, one you decided to break.

“Hey Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Your mouth ran dry, your nerves getting the best of you. “Nothing never mind,” You babbled. You wanted to tell him about the bug. The shoes. The paranoia. But you didn’t want to scare him away. Tim raised an eyebrow, digging in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beat up box of cigarettes, the red and white box shining in the moonlight. “Cig? It would help you loosen up a bit,” He offered. You had never considered touching a cigarette a day in your life. But the box sitting in Tim’s hand couldn’t look more intriguing even if it tried. Slowly you pulled one out of the box, looking at it. Tim did the same, immediately putting the stick to his lips. “You’ve never smoked before huh?” He asked. Shooting him an anxious smile you chuckled. His bluntness relaxed your nerves, your shoulders relaxing.

“What gave it away?” You asked him. Tim began digging around in his pocket, searching for a lighter. “You mean besides the fact that you’re eyeing it like it’s poison?” Tim chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the brunette flicking the lighter. He gave it a few flicks, the lighter finally producing a small flame. He inhaled sharply, the end of the cigarette lighting. “Haha very funny,” You replied dryly. Tim grinned as he exhaled the tobacco smoke out of his nose. You blinked, your morals seemingly nose diving out of the window at the sight of him. “You’re holding it like a nerd, go ahead and place it in between your lips for me pretty girl,” Tim instructed. Your cheeks turned pink as you placed the cigarette in between your lips. “Great now keep it there. When I tell you to, inhale for me,” He said. His words were getting to you, from his praise to referring to do things for him.

It made your core throb with an ache you had ignored for a long time.

He brought the lighter to the end of your cigarette, sparks flying as he tried to ignite it. The lighter refused to ignite, Tim’s eyes narrowing. “While I figure this out, you wanna tell me what you were going to a moment ago?” He asked. He took a step closer to you, attempting to block the wind from extinguishing the flame. “I uh, it’s hard to explain,” You said, your cigarette still dangling from your lips. Tim shook the lighter, growing increasingly annoyed. “I have terrible insomnia, nothing you can say will scare me away,” Tim told you. He said it so nonchalantly.

“You have-?”

“Yes, now it’s your turn.”

You stood dumbfounded. Another fast breeze blew past the two of you, your hair flying in the wind. “Well I just, um, I feel like i’m being watched. All the time,” You explain slowly. Tim tried to ignite your cigarette again, the lighter very clearly out of fluid. “Considering you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, I can believe that,” Tim chuckled. He took another large inhale of his cigarette, the foul stench flooding your nostrils. You felt like a ball of warmth, your mouth running dry. “You don’t mean that,” You say quietly. Tim raised an eyebrow, tossing the empty lighter aside. “I’m a lot of things, but i’m not a liar,” He whispered. Tim easily towered over you, your eyes meeting his, cigarette dangling from your lips.

Tim’s large hand guided you to hold your cigarette in between your index and middle finger, the orange end still on the edge of your lips. Quietly he moved closer to you, the two of you watching as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours. With each passing second you grew more flustered, his face an inch away from yours. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, Tim made you feel an indescribable warmth. The kind that blossomed from inside of your chest and made your heart throb. “Inhale for me,” Tim murmured. You did as instructed, ignoring the feeling of flames engulfing your throat. You wanted to stay this close to him forever.

You felt the tobacco swirl around your lungs, your gaze landing on Tim’s. You removed the cigarette from your lips, allowing the wind to guide the smoke out of your mouth. “Feel better?” Tim asked. You began to cough, giving him a thumbs up as you looked away from him. Tim grinned as you bent over slightly, trying to clear your lungs and inhale oxygen. As his large hand patted your back you realized that you’d willingly throw yourself into his warm flames. No matter how much they threatened to burn you.

—> next chapter

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 11 ⬅ch.10

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | sexual assault implications/ptsd. blood. wc 4.1k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this ch gave me butterflies ngl /:

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“now, let’s get you outta here.” ghost said softly as he carried you out of the enemy building. his gentle tone made you want to weep—to forget everything that had happened between the two of you, but you knew you couldn’t. you could, however, forget it for the time being. 

ghost held you as he loaded you up in one of the trucks. you didn’t pay much attention to the person driving or your surroundings, all you could focus on was the terrible doom that was lingering in your chest when your thoughts went back to that feeling of abandonment. when you felt like they’d never reach you in time and you were left to the hands of the enemy.

ghost sat beside you in the truck, the side of his body against yours. you would have told him that it was okay and he didn’t have to watch over you, but you didn’t have the energy to voice anything. and you had a feeling ghost wouldn’t have obliged anyway. 

after being in the vehicle for a few minutes of silence, you finally felt the weight of your situation. your emotions weighed on your chest like a boulder. you sank into your seat and leaned against ghost on instinct, your head resting on his shoulder. he didn’t seem to mind. his gloved hand came out and rested on your knee, reminding you that you were safe and no longer alone. it was a physical reminder that he was there. 

ghost insisted on carrying you aboard the plane too. you could have argued, but you didn’t exactly trust your legs. 

soap was at your side the second ghost set you down in a seat of the plane. “jesus, thank god you’re okay,” he whispered. soap’s voice was far more erratic than usual. he held your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “how are ya feeling?” he asked, looking you up and down.

ghost sat across from you and tentatively watched the way you and johnny interacted. “i think i’ll be fine.” you attempted a halfhearted smile, but with the way soap’s face sank, you wondered what you actually looked like. 

“iaso,” laswell said making you look up. 

“kate, thank god,” you said unsteadily. a temporary feeling of guilt entered your system. you hadn’t even asked about laswell since being rescued.

you appraised her. she looked well. she still looked like herself. she didn’t appear to have any injuries at all. a despicable part of you was envious. 

“what did they do to you?” she asked, kneeling in front of you. 

“i…” your words faded. you knew you’d have to talk about it. and really, nothing they did was that bad, but your adrenaline was wearing thin and you knew your voice was going to shake if you spoke. 

“i think she just needs some time to come back to us,” soap said lightly to laswell. laswell nodded before putting a hand on your shoulder and giving you a warm look. “you did good out there, sergeant.” a small sense of relief filtered in through your thoughts at her praise—even though you didn’t think she meant it.

it didn’t take long for the plane to land back at base, johnny talking to you the entire time, making sure you were truly okay. he didn't ask you to respond to anything he was saying, he simply filled the void with his soothing accent. you even felt your lips form a smile at one point. 

when you started to unbuckle and push yourself to stand, ghost’s hands were on you, scooping you back up into his arms. his hand rested on your lower back and the other under your knees. 

“you don’t have to carry me,” you said without much conviction. 

soap glanced over at the two of you then ducked his head and finished gathering his things before exiting on the ramp. you felt your face warm, wondering what soap was thinking about seeing your lieutenant carry you like this, especially after your pitiful confession to soap.

ghost didn’t reply to you as he walked down the loading dock and brought you in through the entrance closest to the infirmary. 

“no, please,” you said in panic, seeing where he was taking you. ghost’s eyes flickered down to look at you for the first time since he picked you up. his attention made your throat close. “can you just take me to my room?”

“you don’t wanna be examined?” his voice was rough as he spoke like he had been shouting. being a medic yourself, of course, you knew you should be examined. even though your injuries weren’t that bad, you could still have internal damage.

you shook your head. “no. i just want to lie down in peace. i don’t want to answer anyone else’s questions. at least not yet.”

ghost hesitated for a moment before he resignedly obliged. 

“god,” you groaned. “i hope my roommate isn’t back yet,” you mumbled absentmindedly. ghost could hear the whimper in your words. if she was back, that meant she was sure to hound you with questions and make you go to the infirmary. 

“hmm,” you heard ghost hum in reply. 

a few moments later, ghost placed you down on your bed— no, wait. this wasn’t your bed. “this isn’t my room,” you said dumbly, looking around. 

“i know. it’s mine,” he replied darkly. 

you felt your face heat. “w-why would you take me to your room?” you sat awkwardly on his bed as ghost clicked the light on. 

“no one will bother you this way,” he said matter-of-factly as if this was simply something he did all the time. 

“but–but where will you sleep?”

he shrugged. “doesn’t matter. not tired anyways.” he was still strung up on adrenaline, but he was definitely lying when he said he wasn’t tired. ghost felt beaten down. exhausted. like he would never catch a fucking break. 

he rubbed the back of his neck, his mask itching. ghost gave you one last look over before turning to leave the room, to give you your privacy to sleep, or do whatever else you needed to in order to recuperate. 

“wait, don’t leave me!” you said quietly but with clear panic laced in your voice. you had leaned over to grab ghost’s hand and you grunted in pain. you sat back on the bed to quickly disguise the anguish that covered your face at the sharp pain in your ribs. “don’t leave me with my own thoughts.” you twisted your hands on your lap, too embarrassed to look at him. 

ghost’s eyes traced your silhouette, clearly annoyed with the way you groaned in pain as you reached for him. he wanted desperately to drop you off in the infirmary.

“what kinda thoughts?” he asked, his tone stoic but with a hint of concern. 

it felt like that night you had a nightmare and ghost stayed with you even though he probably didn’t want to—but that couldn’t be further from the truth. the memory sent a wave of bashfulness through you. 

“oh, uhm.” you looked up as he approached you, standing right before you on the side of his bed. “i guess i’m just blaming myself.”

even though ghost still had his mask on, you could tell he raised an eyebrow. “it’s not your fault you n’ laswell got captured. no one—”

“no. not that. i guess i just… i feel like i don’t belong here.” you looked away from ghost, trying to will the tears to stay put. you were so sick of crying. “you, and soap—and even gaz—spent so long training me, and it’s like it all went out the door the moment i was put in any real danger. i should have been able to escape. to fight them off.” your eyes betrayed you and you quickly wiped the tears away “i should have been able to fight him—”

it was ghost’s turn to cut you off. he sat on the edge of your bed where your feet were, making the mattress dip in. “iaso,” he said, gaining your attention. his fingers itched to reach out and wipe away your tears.

“i like it better when you use my real name,” you said shyly. 

when ghost didn’t respond, you looked up. his eyes were pouring into yours; the way he was staring at you made you shift uncomfortably. “what?”

“nothin’,” he finally said. he had been debating telling you he preferred it when you called him simon too, but it got lost in his throat. 

“no one thinks less of you for what happened,” he said. 

you gave him a skeptical look, expecting him to laugh. “you don’t know that.”

“if any of ‘em do, i’ll be sure t’knock some sense into ‘em.”

you softly laughed, then winced in pain from the movement of your ribs. 

“you’re hurt,” he said tersely. 

“i’m fine.”

ghost stood from the bed. “i’m gonna go get someone t’take a look. i can ask soap—”

“no, wait. please don’t go.” you felt your body retract in on itself feeling so vulnerable in front of someone you had respected so much. that you still respected so much.

something behind ghost’s eyes sharpened as he looked back at you. he walked over to the side of the bed, inches away from you. “then you gotta let me look.” his words were deep and smokey.

you gave him a hesitant nod. he sat on the bed beside you, making the mattress sink down. his hands came to the hem of his shirt you were wearing and he slowly pulled it up over your head. you whimpered in discomfort as you extended your arms up. your ribs didn’t hurt quite this bad earlier, that’s how you knew the adrenaline was wearing thin. 

you were immediately flustered as you sat in your ripped shirt and tank top. reminders of what had happened— what had almost happened —fled back to you. 

ghost saw your apprehension and nudged you to take the ripped shirt off. he threw it to the floor and looked back at you. you now sat in only your black tank top, and you were glad for it. the shredded shirt just haunted you, reminding you of the way his knife felt cool against your skin and the ripping noise it made as he dragged it down the front of your shirt. 

ghost fingers gently gripped the hem of your tank top and edged it up, bringing you back to reality and out of your dark thoughts. his eyes flickered to yours to make sure you were okay with this. you were glad he had his gloves on—and so was he. if his skin had made contact with yours…

he shook the thoughts away and focused on what he was doing. you squinted in pain as he lifted your top up to your bra and breathed your name. your real name . if it wasn’t for the situation in which he said it, you would have swooned. 

ghost’s hands clenched where they gripped your shirt, making fists as he looked at your bruised rib cage. the bruising stretched across your whole abdomen, deep purple and red. “is it bad?” you asked. 

ghost took a breath in before lowering your shirt. “i’m gonna go back for that son of a bitch,” he growled. 

“what? no! you can’t go back. didn’t you say you killed everyone?”

ghost tried to calm himself by looking away from you, unable to focus as he looked at your cut-up face. “a couple got away. and if the man who did this to you was one of them… i don’t know if i can live with that.”

his eyes danced over to yours before he looked back down at his lap. “simon,” you breathed. you were exhausted. your eyes felt like they were burning the longer you kept them open. 

“i need you to wait here a second.” you gave him a worried look. “i’m jus’ gonna go get ya some ice. i’ll be right back.” he wanted to add ‘ i promise ’ at the end of his sentence but thought better of it. 

when ghost returned with an ice pack, you had slid under his blankets. he noticed you put his shirt back on and his chest tightened at the sight. 

“comfy now, are we?” 

“i was going to fight you on staying in your room. had all the talking points ready in my head and everything. but i can’t keep my eyes open,” you said through a yawn. your eyes drooped. 

he passed you the ice pack and you gave him a small smile. you bit your lip as you rested it over your ribs. it hurt at first, but the coldness was immediate relief. “thank you.”

you watched silently as ghost shifted on his feet, observing you for a moment, before uniting his boots and kicking them off. next was his tactical vest that he dropped on his desk. the metal of his belt clanked as he undid it. your eyes went wide. “what’re you doing?”

ghost smirked under his mask. “you told me not t’leave. you don’t think i wear all this to bed, now do ya?”

you swallowed and looked away. ghost removed his belt, gloves, and helmet. “care if i…” his words trailed away but his head gestured forward, implying he was asking permission to sit beside you on the bed.

of course, you two had shared a bed before, so how would this be any different? and you were the one making him stay. and it was his bed. you really had no room to say no.

you nodded and ghost clicked off the light, sending you both into darkness. you heard the ruffling of clothes and realized he was taking his mask off. the light from the hallway shone in through the crack of the door and illuminated a sliver of his face as he turned to you. he slid into the bed, above the covers, beside you and you desperately wished he’d turn the light back on. 

it was quiet for a few minutes and you were surprised it didn’t feel uncomfortable. “at least i have a reason for my nightmares now,” you joked. 

you could hear simon’s head turn on the pillow, his face now looking towards you. he didn’t say anything, but you got a feeling he was telepathically reprimanding you for saying that about yourself. 

“aren’t you hurt, too?” you whispered. even though you didn’t have to talk quietly, the darkness of the room made you anyway. 

“i’ll worry ‘bout it in the mornin’.”

you wanted to fight him on this but you didn’t have the energy. 

it couldn’t have been earlier than six at night and yet you fought to keep your eyes awake. finally, you fell into a restless sleep, simon’s arm warm where it rested against yours. 

you awoke hours later and pried your eyes open. the room was still dark—it must have been one or two in the morning—and you could still sense simon beside you, his smell surrounding you: gunsmoke and mint. that’s when you tensed. simon must have shifted in his sleep because now he was on his side, his arm draped across your waist. your cheeks went red hot. 

you debated between pretending like you never woke up, letting him keep his arm on you, or asking him to move—you really had to pee. finally, you slowly sat up, his grip on you tightening. “s-simon,” you stuttered. he groaned in his sleep and you felt his hand that was draped across you grip your shirt protectively. your heartbeat kicked up speed. “simon,” you said again. 

that last attempt finally woke him from his slumber because he shifted his head to look up at you. he must have realized his arm was wrapped around you, but he made no effort to move it. you swallowed hard. “what is it?” he asked. your breath hitched in your throat at the deep baritone and rasp of his sleepy voice. holy shit , you didn’t think his voice could get any deeper than it already was, but you were wrong.

“i have to use the bathroom,” you said embarrassed. simon breathed in before rolling away from you, taking his arm with him. you felt your heartbeat steady, but you also pouted at the loss of contact. 

being a lieutenant had its perks. simon had his own bathroom. it was small and simple, but still, it was a private bathroom. you would have killed for a bathroom of your own. 

you slipped off the bed and scurried to the toilet, all too aware of his gaze following you. 

once you were finished, you stared at yourself in his dirty mirror. you gently lifted your— his —shirt and looked at your rib cage. even with the faint light in the bathroom, you could tell it was pretty bad. 

you startled at a soft knock at the door. obviously, it couldn’t be anyone but simon. you gulped before opening it, trying to step around him, assuming he had to use the bathroom next. but to your surprise, his arm stretched across the doorframe, caging you in. 

you looked up at him, your lips parted in shock, and he backed you up against his small sink. his hands were on your hips before you could say anything and he heaved you up and sat you on the counter of the sink.

you watched him in silent astonishment as he pulled out his first aid kit. he began digging through the bag and you saw him crack a very faint smile. “like what ya see?” he teased, his voice still groggy from sleep. 

your fists clenched as you looked at him. looked at him . his mask was off. you knew he had taken it off earlier, but you couldn’t really see him in the dark of his room. but now, in the bathroom, regardless of the poor lighting, you could really see his face. 

simon pulled out an antiseptic from the bag and looked directly at you. even though you were propped on the sink, he still towered above you. he ignored the way your eyes watched him, widened in shock. his hands softly stroked the side of your face where he began to clean the cut that sliced down your cheek. “shoulda taken care of this earlier,” he mumbled, annoyed with himself for letting you not only skip a visit to the infirmary but to let you go to bed with your face still sticky with dried blood.

you let him clean your face, his eyes obviously avoiding contact with your own. after he was done, he set the bag away. “you should let me look you over,” you said quietly. 

he shook his head as he looked at you. and jesus christ, every time he looked at you he took your breath away. he was so handsome. his hair was rather short, but still stuck up in odd places from sleep. he had scruff that covered some of the scars on his jaw. there was a clear scar that slit through his lip, you remember feeling it when he kissed you that night that felt so long ago. his eyes were a dark brown and his lashes were soft and light against the charcoal face paint he still had yet to wash off. 

“m’ not hurt,” he said. 

you jumped off the sink, making him take a step back, and your hands found his chest. he swallowed and his lips parted ever so slightly at your contact. “no? so this doesn’t hurt?” you asked knowingly as you pressed your hands up his chest. your small boost of confidence came from being a medical professional and wanting to mend simon, knowing he was hurt. and also a bit of sleep deprivation.

you studied his face, unable to look away, and knew he was holding back on wincing. “simon, just let me look,” you said defeated. 

he surprised you when he tore his short-sleeved shirt from his top half and let it hang in his hand. his torso was exposed to you in all its glory. you tried not to think about how toned he was as you examined his chest, the small amount of hair trailing down beneath his pants. you could see the way he was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling in rigorous patterns. 

you saw old, faded scars marring his chest. then your eyes found the one lower on his torso, a scar from where you had sown him up weeks ago. then your eyes traced up higher and you saw fresh, bright red blood. there was a clear cut on his side, higher up towards his armpit. it wasn’t deep and had stopped bleeding, but he needed it cleaned. 

you grabbed for his med back and pulled out what you needed before ordering him to lift his arm so you could clean his cut. his eyes watched you intensely the entire time you worked. you felt your fingers waver momentarily—the combination of him shirtless, staring at you, and maskless was leaving you starstruck. 

you finally set everything back away and looked up at him, a bit awkward about what to do next. simon looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the way you were swimming in his long-sleeved shirt. he took a step towards you and you mirrored him, backing into the sink. the light in the bathroom flickered. your hands gripped the counter on either side of you as you let simon edge in closer. he hunched over slightly, his head tilted, his eyes locked with yours. 

you held your breath as he moved, somewhere between wanting him to continue and wanting him to stop. simon’s hand reached up, desiring nothing more than to cup your face and pull your lips to meet his. but he refrained. he stretched his fingers in phantom pain and settled on tucking a stray hair behind your ear. he watched your throat bob as you gulped and fire blazed behind his eyes. 

he wanted to lean into you. to say he was sorry. to have both his hands all over you. to kiss you until you both lost your breath. 

you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, waiting for something to happen. “i was right,” he grunted. you raised an eyebrow at him. “it fuckin’ sucks lettin’ people get close, jus’ for them t’leave you.”

you matched his firey gaze. “simon…” you breathed, at a loss of what to say. so he let you in? he listened to you, at least somewhat, when you told him it was worth having people in your life who care about you. how it hurts like hell losing them, but you would gladly take all the pain that comes with loss if it means not being alone.  

and then he thought he lost you. and every fear he ever had, every attempt to keep people out so this specific situation wouldn’t happen, came to fruition. 

finally, simon stepped back and gave you a sideways look. you wished he wasn’t so beautiful under his mask, maybe then this would have been easier. 

you followed him back into his small quarters and obliged when his hand found the small of your back and pushed you towards his bed. he was only slightly worried you might have wanted to leave after this. 

you crawled back into your spot and watched as simon sat on top of the covers, his back against the wall, propped up as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

“you’re not going back to sleep?” you asked quietly. 

he didn’t look down at you as he spoke. “close your eyes,” was all he could muster. 

you tried to hold back any sense of rejection as your eyes fluttered closed, desperate for sleep.

after several minutes, you heard simon shift. he looked down at you finally, curled up in his bed, thinking you had fallen back to sleep already. you could feel his gaze on you, burning holes through you. he sighed before sinking down so his head was on his pillow and crossed his hands across his torso. his head turned sideways on the pillow and he couldn’t stop the half-hearted grin as he looked at you beside him. 

he hated that he was already on the verge of falling asleep again. this would be the second time he slept in a bed beside you. the first time being in your own bed after you had nightmares. and he hated— absolutely despised —the fact that this was going to also be the second time he slept peacefully and would wake fully rested. 

chapter 12 ➡

[coriolantha]

‧˚₊•୨ Patience ୧•‧₊˚⊹

mike schmidt x GN! reader

summary: mike comforts you after you've had a long day₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆���୧˚

tags: fluff, mike being a sweetheart (as always), anxiety, reader has bad self image, insecurities, reader is overwhelmed and needs a break (so real), hugging, cuddling, comfort

wc: 1.1k

notes: hii this is my first fic i've posted on here. ngl i'm... scared. im not proud of this but i can't scrap it this time otherwise i'm never gonna get anything posted LMAO. please leave any criticism in the comments if you'd like, feel free to share any opinions, i want to improve the quality of my writing! thank you sm for reading! 🫶

today has been punishing.

rain trickled down the foggy window, making soft tapping sounds as they hit and fell, reluctantly racing down to gather in the weep holes. the rough, scratchy carpet beneath you beginning to burn as you shuffled around your desolate home.

exhausted, you gave up trying to distract yourself from your main task; your bedroom.

your eyes darted around your cluttered room, glossing over as you noticed every individual piece of clothing that wasn't hung up, organized, and neatly put away. you began to have a headache thinking about where to even begin. you felt like a filthy slob, your surroundings perfectly reflecting how you've felt all day.

you flicked the lights off, the warmly lit room now becoming pitch black, except for the small gleam of light that came through the open door. you sat on your bed, absentmindedly kicking your various pants and t-shirts away from you to give yourself some room to lay down.

mike wouldn't be back home for a while now. it was only 12:45am, which gave you 5 hours and 25 minutes to attempt to sleep before having to get ready for your office job... which would leave little to no time to spend with mike.

fuck mondays.

turning over to your side, you hugged your knees, shivering. no amount of blankets could fix how cold you felt. the truth was, you missed your boyfriend; longing for his cozy hugs and soft, gentle kisses he'd press against your cheek as he consoled you.

you missed him more than anything in the world.

with a blink, the tears that have been collecting in your eyes came down your flushed face at once. laying there, you accepted your pitiful reality, slowly drifting off into unwanted slumber, in solitude.

the time was around 2am when you felt a dip into the bed. panicking, you quickly awoke, shuffling to sit up as fast as possible. although you didn't know of the time, something felt off. mike wasn't supposed to be home yet, that's for sure.

panic turned into confusion as you heard mike, obviously feeling guilty for having jumpscaring you so badly.

"oh, shit- baby, it's me," he whispered apologetically, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek. turning on the dim lamp, he quickly turned back to face you. his eyes bore into yours, scanning to make sure you were going to be alright.

all day he was desperate to see your face, even after his shorter-than-usual-shift. mike couldn't get enough of your perfection, although you always brushed him off whenever he ever mentioned this to you.

he noticed your terrified expression which started to wear off, beginning to blend into relief.

"it's just me... you don't need to worry about anything, okay? i'm right here, no one's gonna hurt you," he muttered, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on your lips, lingering longer than usual.

weight lifted off your shoulders as you began to put pieces together. now, all you needed was an answer to your burning question.

"mike, why did you come home so early? did something happen?" you asked anxiously, looking right back at your boyfriends affectionate, adoring eyes.

"oh, sweetheart..." he soothed, "i got let out early today. nothing worth worrying about. i guess they didn't need me as much as i thought they did," he let out a quick, dry laugh, shaking his head dismissively.

"fuck, i've missed you all day, i'm so damn glad i could leave that job early. anything to see you, my love," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, delicately tucking it behind your ear

you were in awe; it was a miracle he came home early, especially today. you were fighting to hold your tears back, mouth quivering as you bit your bottom lip. mike noticed your change in emotion immediately.

"hey hey hey," he whispered urgently, quickly grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "what's wrong?" his voice drowned in concern.

"i did nothing all day. the only thing i've done is just stand around and... thought of doing something, but i couldn't. i was so tired, but of what? like, why didn't i clean our room? and the worst part is, you have to come home, tired as hell, ready to go to sleep, only to see your messy room and your partner who still hasn't done anything about it," you quavered, sniffling softly as warm tears fell from your eyes.

mike said nothing, but you could sense how hurt he felt after you talked so badly about yourself. he sighed, laying down on the plush mattress. he patted his chest, inviting you to rest your head there. you did so immediately, closing your eyes as you listened closely to his heart beat.

"you know i love you, right?" he asked gently. you stayed quiet, knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.

"i love everything about about you. but the only thing i don't love is how badly you talk of yourself. i hate it. it doesn't make any sense to me," he stressed, stroking your hair soothingly.

"so what if our room is messy? i don't think about that when i come home. all i think about is how i can finally be with you. i'm not going to let some clothes on the floor get in the way of us, ever. or anything, in fact."

you nodded in agreement silently, your tears dry on your cheeks.

"we can tackle this room together. we can do this however you want- i can pick up your clothes while you organize them into whichever area they go to, and i'll pick up my clothes too, but you won't have to organize that, i'll take care of it. how does that sound?" he asked delicately.

you instantly felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

"thank you so much, mike. you don't know how much i needed you today," you exhaled, "really."

he looked down lovingly at you, curled up beside him. he kissed your head tenderly, rubbing up and down your back.

goosebumps spread across your arms. you felt so loved and safe.

"the real question is," you suddenly asked, "how are you so perfect? were you made in a factory or something?"

"says you," he laughed, holding you tighter.

the two of you basked in the love you had for one another for a while. no words were exchanged, only him occasionally rubbing his thumb against your arm, while you began to doze off, which caught his attention.

"want me to turn the light off?"

you nodded, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

he turned over once more, pulling the cord of the lamp light, the room now pitch black.

"i love you," he whispered, turning to his side a little more so he could be pressed closer against you.

"i love you too, mike. always," you mumbled back, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊୨୧₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊

dividers by @f-loqweres 🫶

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] Kinktober Day 17: "Collaring"

Summary: Originally, you were just a petty thief looking to steal some jewels but, much to your surprise, you've managed to steal something far more valuable.

Warning(s): Sub!Seth / Dom!Reader, Collaring, Pet-Play, Reader is a tease, Ma'am kink(?), (Possibly more warnings but I can't think of them rn)

Side Note(s): Ngl chat, I hate the trope of cat girls/cat boys but Seth's super cute so I had to dedicate this fic to him 😔

"M-Ma'am...! Please—" Your newest good mewed so sweetly as he kneeled at your feet.

You've seemed to have struck gold. Fortune shined upon you and delivered you something—well...someone far more valuable than any smuggled good outside the walls of New Eridu! An adorable little kitty who just happened to be a part of the Criminal Investigation Forces of New Eridu.

And you'd admit, you weren't expecting to happen upon such a rare find in a shady part of an alleyway. The heavy scent of sex on the air originally making you think that it was just some couple that couldn't make it all the way home until...you saw him, a dutiful worker of the force desperately fisting his cock as if there wouldn't be a tomorrow. He didn't have the audacity to show shame when he finally took notice of your shocked presence!

He could only whine so sweetly for you to help him.

And that's exactly what you did.

"Cutie...are you sure you're a cat? You're panting like a dog in heat." You teased the cop as you gently rubbed your shoe against his exposed length, the way he moaned and slowly rutted back against your shoe make you smirk.

Your eyes then went to his nametag. "Seth?" You questioned. "Like the Seth Lowell from the Criminal Investigation Forces?"

Oh, this was just too good!

You were definitely using this to your advantage. "Now that's a shame...what if I used this as blackmail against the forces?" You cooed. Seth's breath caught in his throat when you applied more pressure to his weeping dick, his pupils blown to the point you could've sworn you saw hearts within. "That they have a needy slut of a kitty within their ranks? No one would ever trust you all again!"

His already red cheeks darkened, his head coming to nuzzle against your knee. "W-What if I do something to make you change your mind...?"

Your brow rose. "Oh? Like what~?" Silently, his eyes went to your crotch, where your wetness was beginning to seep through your pants.

You smirked. "Let's see how you do then kitty, make sure to please me well or I'll start singing to the newspress." As you widened your legs, Seth wasted no time to throw your legs over his shoulders, your heels digging into his back as he started to press kisses on the insides of your thighs, trailing down a little before making his way to your covered pussy. You chuckled cockily as you lifted your ass a little to aid him when he tugged on your pants a little, but, your cockiness quickly vanished out the window when he pressed his lips to your aching clit.

"E-Experienced...a-aren't you?" You moaned at the feeling as you scooted back a little on the box you were currently perched on, trying to get an even better view of the man currently teasing your poor cunt.

He groaned as you brought your fingers to push his hair out of the way, the featherlight feeling making him nearly cum on the spot before his eyes looked up at you through his lashes. "May I...?" He asked so cutely before pressing a kiss to your clit, licking it for good measure. "I wanna taste you so badly ma'am, please..." His mouth watered at the smell of your sex.

A part of you wanted to tease him but...you didn't think you had the patience with how cute he was at begging. "Go ahead—F-Fuck!" You whined when Seth suddenly darted his tongue out, a groan escaping his lips at the taste of your slick on his tongue. His head felt dizzy, his grip on your thighs tightening to further ground himself in your cunt as he dug his face further into your pussy. Desperately, Seth's hips began to hump at the air, desperate for any type of friction as he continued to pleasure your pussy, his eyes glued to your face whilst his eyebrows begun to scrunch, reading your face as easily as one would do to an open book.

Every time you cried out affirmations and praises of how well he was eating you out, his eyes threatened to roll to the back of his skull. Or when you'd curse at how strong his tongue would press just right against your clit, he had to stop himself from cumming against the crate.

He hoped that, with how well he was pleasing you...that you'd allow him to fuck your pussy next.

"God kitty...you're so good with your tongue," You moaned, your hands tightening their grip on his hair as you tried to pull him closer to your weeping pussy. He moaned at the pain, the vibration of his moan making you whine.

"Right here?" He mewed before the tip of his tongue began to draw circles against your clit, all before he sucked the bud into his mouth, flicking it side to side as he kept intense eye contact with you.

You struggled to catch your breath, spit accumulating in your mouth rapidly with how good you felt. "Y-Yeah kitty...s-so good..." You stuttered as you started to grind your hips against Seth's mouth, seeking out more of his tongue against your clit. The cop allows you to handle him roughly, your praises encouraging him to flatten his tongue against your cunt even further as he struggled to ignore his dripping cock.

"D-Don't stop cutie..." You moaned. "N-Nearly there..." You gasped.

Luckily for you, Seth didn't have the slightest intention of stopping as his hand slowly left your thigh to begin desperately rubbing his throbbing cock, the combined pleasure of eating you out and finally getting some much-needed relief for his dick making him nearly choke on his breath as he ate you out with more intensity. You cried out at the increased speed of his tongue, Seth's moans becoming more high-pitched as he felt himself near his orgasm.

You tightened your grip on his hair even more as you began to ride his face, your moans increasing in pitch as well as Seth focused more on sucking your clit. "With h-how good you're eating me o-out kitty...I'll have to keep you for myself, huh?" You blabbered mindlessly, more of your slick oozing out at the thought of having such a cute catboy waiting for you at home every day.

And to reward his patience? You'd let him tend to your pussy.

"Would you like that c-cutie? You'd make a realllyyy good pet with how w-well you're taking care of my pussy~" Seth tried to nod, his moans of confirmation severely muffled as he fucked his tongue deep into your hole, nearly making out with your cunt as he felt your thighs begin to crush his head. His own rutting against the air matched that or your thrusts against his head, the image of your pussy squeezing around his dick only making him approach his orgasm even faster as all sorts of questions ran through his mind. Would you be meaner or more of a tease like now? Oh...he really hoped you'd ride him, let him suck on your fingers whilst your grinded your hips against again. As his brain overflowed, his eyes suddenly rolled to the back of his head as he whined into your cunt, using his remaining brainpower to lap up your juices that suddenly overflowed from your pussy each time you jerked forward against him.

His cock spurted out long ropes of cum against the crate, hot tears of pleasure building up behind his eyes before eventually overflowing. Seth hadn't even realized that he was still lapping at your pussy desperately until you weakly shoved his head away from your overstimulated sex. "Sensitive baby," You whined, your chest heaving up and down as your breath rapidly fell and rose.

"Sorry..." He whispered. On shakey limbs, you sat up even more until you froze at the sight of Seth's cock quickly hardening back up, his eyes not even following your movement but instead being glued to your glistening sex, the sight of his neediness making you smirk.

"Oh?" You giggled. "Do you want more~?"

He couldn't nod his head fast enough.

[pocoyo-yo]

'𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'

SUMMARY: when toji anime concept art dropped millions of panties dropped around the globe

WARNINGS: smut, fem!bodied reader, slight daddy kink, praise kink, degradtion, breeding kink, slight breath play/slight choking, fingering, mating press (pos.), unprotected sex, creampie, slight lactation, mentions of preganacy, sorta.. kinda baby trapping, petnames (baby, ma, pretty girl, daddy) toji is a toxic, manipulitive baby daddy ngl

────────────────────

BABY-DADDY TOJI who knows you can't live without him. who knows he's the only one who can keep you satisfied.

you complain about him and yet you let him in. everytime he uses the same excuse as to why he's there 'just wanna see the baby, nothing more'.

he finds himself playing with the one year old daughter you two shared, catching you giving him glances here or there. you may not have even known it yet, but he could tell you were needy. your breathing pattern, the fact you had your thighs pressed so tightly together, it was so obvious you wanted him to fuck another baby in to you.

"megumi 'nd tsumiki miss you," he tells you while playing patty-cake with his baby girl. it wasn't a lie either, the two did prefer you compared to toji's previous girlfriends (if you could call them that)— shit, tsumiki preferred you over her own mother. "they keep askin' about lyric.. they wanna spend time with their lil sister.."

you attempted to make a point, "they can see her when it's your days," you added. "but i do miss them too.. they're very sweet kids, nothin' like you."

toji scoffed, "yeah? but i still made megumi just like i made lyric.. they're somethin' like me, and besides,"

he held up lyric and placed her face next to his own.. a smug smirk on his scarred lips.

"doesn't she look just like daddy.."

────────────────────

BABY-DADDY TOJI who sloppily makes-out with you on the couch after you put the baby for a nap. one hand squeezing your jaw and the other cupping your pussy while he thrusts two thick fingers inside of your weeping hole.

"talk to me, ma," his fingers curled, pressing firmly into that spongey spot within your walls while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "talk to me.." he huffed in between kisses.

your hips jumped as you rolled yourself on his fingers, trying to apply more pressure to that spot.

"feels s'good toj'.." you whimpered and dug your heels into his shoulder blades. he forced your face back from his, making sure you could lock eyes with him. those same emerald eyes your daughter had inherited.

"mhm i know, pretty girl," his strong hands squeezed your cheeks together, your lips were swollen from the kissing, and tears clung to your lashes. you were just too fuckin cute. "nobody can please this spoiled lil pussy like i can, yeah? .. not even you, ma.." he chuckled as your eyes flicked back in your head, his movements had become faster and his fingers pushed deeper than before.

your hips bucked erratically, trying to chase your approaching high. you babbled on moans as your arousal rolled down his knuckles. your pathetically wet pussy was all you could hear besides your own whimpers.

"nobody," you cried. "nobody but you daddy.."

you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to supress your moans and not wake the baby while you squirmed from the overwhelming pleasure.

"did ya miss me as much as i missed ya? fuck.. how bad was it─ not bein' able to make yourself cum like i do─ like daddy does?" he asked, groaning at the sight of your puffy pussy growing bruised from how hard he was fingering you.

"soo bad.. so so bad," you moaned, his grip on your face loosening. "you reach so fuckin' deep.. make me feel so good, toji.. missed you so much.."

your voice quivered, "toji.. i need it bad.."

"need what, ma?" he asked you.

"need," you sniffled. "need your dick, toj'.."

he scoffed, "i know but i gotta prep you," he chewed on his inner cheek as you slid your hand under your tanktop and began playing with your sensitive tits. "just cum on my fingers and i'll give it to you.. i know how needy you've been without me, ma. my poor baby's been sufferin without this dick, yeah?"

you whined, "that's it..?"

"that's it," he kissed your nose. "that's all daddy wants.."

────────────────────

BABY-DADDY TOJI who has you so cock drunk that he had to cover your mouth 'cause at that point you didn't even consider the fact you'd wake the baby.

but he couldn't blame you.

it had been about five months since he fucked you and right now it seemed like, even with prep, he was splitting your lil cunt in two.

it was a sloppy mess down there, you had forgotten how many times you had creamed around his cock.. but it was enough that it made each thrust make a wet, gushy squech-like noise.

only he had you like this.. so pathetic and desperate for a man's dick.

but it wasn't just that alone, of course he was blessed with a big ass dick, but toji actually knew how to fuck. he knew where to touch, what to tease, how fast or how slow he should go to get the ideal reaction from you.

"so fuckin messy," he grinned, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin as his heavy balls slapped repeatedly against your ass. toji found himself slipping out of you and he rubbed the tip of his cock over your clit. ".. so fuckin sensitive.."

you whined and bucked your hips against him til he finally pushed his cock back into the warmth of your gummy walls.

"you love this dick don't you, ma?" toji grunted, pulling his hand down so that you could speak.

his tip kissed your cervix and you gasped, "love it so much, toji!"

"ya can't live without this dick, can ya? just gotta fuckin' have it like a lil addict," toji chuckles, his thrusts grew harsher and more precise by the second. "what? you addicted to this dick, baby?"

you sobbed, "m─ mhm!"

"at that point then," his hand snaked around your throat. your thighs were now pressed firmly against your leaking breasts.. your pussy spread open and getting fucked 'til it was turning red. "might as well call this my fuckin cunt.. 'cause you can't please it properly without me.." toji huffed, squeezing your throat just a bit.

"it's," you whimpered. "it's your cunt, toji.. only yours!"

you could feel yourself coming to another orgasm.. your entire body was feeling it─ feeling him. that was his effect. every nerve, fiber, and ounce of your being could feel him when he fucked you. shit, even when he wasn't fucking you. lyric was an perfect example of the fact that toji was never going to be out of your life for good.

"missed you so much.. oh m'gonna cum! m'gonna cum again toji.." you warned him, clawing at his chest as your tits bounced with the newfound speed of his thrusts.

"fuck, just wait a sec, ma.." he rasped.

"can't," you whined. "gotta cum now.. please!"

he squeezed your throat tightly and groaned, "listen to me," you gasped for air as tears rolled down your hot cheeks. "do ya love me, baby?"

you blinked tears away as air filled your lungs once again..

"y.. yes, I love you too much toji.." you admitted.

"love ya too, ma," he smirked. "let me cum inside this pussy, yeah? let me make sure every man who looks at you knows i've been inside this pretty pussy.."

you let out one final gasp as you gushed around toji's cock for maybe the fourth time already, and in response to your cunt spasming around him he buried his cock deep inside you, shuddering as he let his jaw hang low and thick ropes of cum painted your inner walls.

toji kissed your calves while kneading your bare tits as you tried to collect your thoughts.

but only one echoed throughout your mind

everything hurts.

────────────────────

BABY-DADDY TOJI who laid next to you in your bed, letting you rest on his chest. his lips pressed into your forehead while holding you close, softened cock nestled in your walls.

"toji.." you mumbled, voice hoarse.

"yeah, ma?"

"i'm not on bc.." you confessed shyly.

────────────────────

BABY-DADDY TOJI who fucks you to sleep raw after hearing those words, making sure he claimed you on on every surface of your apartment before your daughter finally sturrs awake. he mumbles something about you resting.. and that he'll take care of her til you wake.

that familiar smug look on his face as he watches globs of his cum drip from your hole.

he knows good and well that he finally had you.. he finally caught you with your gaurd down..

now you were for sure stuck with him 'cause after all that, baby number two was definitely guaranteed.

────────────────────

[jesterwriting]

Hello!! So excited to be mutuals!! I’m ngl I’m about to blog crawl your posts so if you see me in your fics 🌝 hehe no you don’t!!

I was hoping maybe you’d be interested in writing some Sanji comforting his partner after they’ve had a really bad day? 🥹💕 thank you so much for considering and I hope you have a lovely day!!

pairing: sanji x reader

contents: fluff, comfort, slight sensory distress, sanji gets flustered easily

word count: 1.1k words

note: HI OMG! so excited to be mutuals too <33 and to celebrate i hope you enjoy this little sanji morsel :3

playlist: sweet chamomile - ruth b

You’ve had bad days before, but this one took the cake.

First, you woke up late and your breakfast was cold. Not bad, could be worse, you could handle cold breakfast. Sure, your boyfriend would happily heat it up for you, but you didn’t want to bother him over something so trivial. You were an adult, you could handle a bit of congealed egg.

Then, you got rained on after you went into town to explore. It was sunny when you left, not a cloud in the sky, how were you supposed to know to bring an umbrella? In your hurry to get back to the ship, you tripped and fell right into a mud puddle, completely ruining your favorite outfit. All at once, everything was getting to be too much. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to go right. It was days like this that left you exhausted and crying into your pillow, desperate for some way to unleash the emotional maelstrom that had made its home inside of you.

Your mud encrusted shirt felt sticky against your skin and you fought the urge to shake. From rage or disgust, you weren’t sure, all you knew is you wanted to be clean. You hated the way the clumps of dirt weighed down your shirt against your shoulders, or the way the fabric clung to you uncomfortably. You loved this shirt, and now it was ruined. It would be hard to find a similar replacement, though you could always try to hand wash it yourself.

Yes. Right. You could always wash it. This wasn’t the end of the world. With a deep breath, you clenched your fists to ground yourself, and marched into your room to get a change of clothes. Once you were finally clean again, you hauled your dirty clothes into the laundry room. With a brush in one hand, your shirt in the other, you unleashed all of your rage at how the day had gone onto whatever flecks of dirt you could get your hands on.

“Take that!” You cackled, watching the soapy water turn brown. “Die by my hand you wretched stain.”

Too focused on your one-man war, you didn’t realize how much force you were putting into your motions until a loud ripping sound filled the small room, and you were left staring dumbly at what was now half of your shirt. Your favorite shirt. The one you’d had for years. Nothing in your wardrobe was both as comfy or as warm, and now, it was ruined. Forever.

You couldn’t help it. Fat tears plopped into the basin as your breathing hitched. You felt ridiculous crying over an article of clothing, but now that the waterworks began, you couldn’t stop them. Weeping, you threw the torn fabric into the basin and tried not to focus on how the water splashed onto your front, soaking yet another outfit. With your hands over your face, and your clothes stuck to your skin, you muffled your cries into your palms.

Hopefully no one would walk in on your little temper tantrum. That would make a horrible day only that much worse.

As if on cue, the door squeaked open and you were left frantically trying to wipe your cheeks dry. Before you could blink, Sanji was within your field of vision, concern drawing his curly eyebrows together. With your cheek cupped in his hand, his thumb drew gentle circles into your skin. The gesture was so comforting, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Sweetheart, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Remembering what you’d been upset about, you gave an embarrassed jerk and tried to rub the redness from your eyes. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing.” When Sanji didn’t seem convinced, you gave him a watery smile. “Really, don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I’ll always worry when it comes to you, my love.” Instead of helping you to your feet, he sat down next to you, one leg outstretched, the other drawn up so he could rest his elbow on his knee. With his free arm, Sanji wrapped you into a side hug, tugging you closer to him until your head rested on his shoulder. You hummed and stared at his blush. Even the smallest acts of affection could make your boyfriend flush bright red. It was cute. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“It’s stupid,” You muttered.

“It obviously isn’t if you’re this upset,” Sanji countered, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve. You could tell he wanted a cigarette but would rather not smoke with you in such a small space. The second hand smoke would fill the room in seconds.

With a sigh, you gestured to the muddy basin, the remnants of your shirt sunk to the bottom. “Today has sucked.” Sanji hummed and nodded. You took that as your cue to continue, “I got rained on, fell in the mud, ripped my favorite shirt, and my breakfast was cold because I got up so late.”

“Why didn’t you come find me? I would have reheated your breakfast for you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going to go bother you over something so trivial. I’m an adult, I can eat my cold food. It was just that… coupled with everything else.”

“Come here.” Without another word, Sanji wrapped you in a warm embrace, his chin settled on the top of your head. You buried your face into his shirt and inhaled his scent: cigarettes and spices. Gently, Sanji began running his hands through your hair, playing with a loose strand every so often. In his arms, it felt like every weight that made its home on your shoulders disappeared. You slumped into him, your own hands home between Sanji’s shoulder blades.

“I feel better, thank you.”

“I knew a hug would help you, my love.” Even with his voice rumbling against your ear, he sounded smug. You glanced up, noticing that he was blushing so deep, the redness disappeared underneath the collar of his dress shirt. When you snuggled into him, his flush only got darker. Smug indeed. You smirked to yourself, the heaviness in your heart replaced with a light, fluttery feeling.

“Can we stay like this for a little while longer,” You asked

“As long as you need,” Sanji replied.

The two of you remained, tied tightly together on the wet floor of the laundry room, for hours. It wasn’t until Luffy found the two of you, wondering when dinner was going to be ready, did Sanji untangle himself from you.

By then, you felt like the day wasn’t as bad as you thought.

[namazunomegami]

Atonement

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: How can you cleanse yourself from the sin that has been tainting you since your attempt to escape? The answer is easy: walk on barefoot for him, suffer some misery, risk your health for him, open yourself up for him and you can earn his forgiveness.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, toxic and complicated dynamics, religious symbolism, porn with feelings, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising, gaslighting, m!receiving oral, fingering, non-consensual edging, good old unprotected sex + creampie

WC: 5.3k

Credits: my lovely @notveryrussian who worked so hard to get this fic proofreaded. Ngl they deserve all the praise and respect because we lost literal pages from the already edited draft because windows is crap and they had to start over again. Take one big break darl, you deserve it 💕

Song rec: mythical creature by pregnant whale pain was my main inspiration during writing but i think tumblr dot com is not ready yet to listen to an unknown hungarian avantgarde metal band while reading porn lmao. Maybe i'll drop the acoustic version later.

A/N: Here is part 1 in case if you missed it. I think you need to know what happened to completely understand the buildup and have a general idea about their relationship. This fic is probably my fave I’ve written so far, a special lil brainchild of mine. These two are living in my mind rent free with all their lore and they'll never let me go.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

Minors don't interact unless you want me to stand outside your house at 3 am with a pitchfork

It was very hard to explain to your family what happened to you. The worry which they approached you with, especially Mimiko and Nanako just stirred a weird sense of guilt in your chest. The twins even offered to help you out with chores, eagerly telling you to rest, let your body heal. Your heart shattered to pieces in that moment, weeping endlessly with fat, salty tears. Your precious darling girls, so considerate of you, so caring, their hearts filled with everlasting gratitude. And you wanted to leave them. You felt like a piece of shit of a parental figure, obviously.

Days passed as if nothing had ever happened. Even in your private moments with Geto, the issue was never brought up. He took care of your wounds, of course, but your escape attempt wasn’t a topic of conversation at all. You swept it under the rug.

Which means it was only a question of time until he was going to wield it against you.

“Leave the scabs alone.” he reprimands you softly, dragging your wrist away from them. The hot water softened your scars, making them itchy, easy to pick away at them. But Geto is so thoughtful for looking after you like some kind of crazy mother hen, right? Even sitting in the tub behind you.

He takes hold of the edge, stepping out of the tub swiftly. The water suddenly drops around you, goosebumps dot your skin from the sudden touch of the moistened air as he hides that broad, sun-kissed form of his beneath a bathrobe. You ache for a bit of peace, a bit of me-time, but since the so-called “accident”, he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on you constantly.

Your hand dances along the surface of the water, bunching the bubbles together into various shapes, like they’re islands. Like you’re a young god, decorating the plane you’ve created. But his outstretched palm appearing in your vision disturbs your creative process.

“Come, I’ll take the stitches out.”

Compared to when your wound was sutured, cutting out the thread is a relatively quick process. Especially with his competency. The tweezer lifts and holds the knot, as he severs the thread with a pair of scissors and pulls it from your flesh before he moving on to the next. It’s uncomfortable, not in a way that it hurts, but it makes your skin crawl and your bones bend. An overall disgusting feeling. But when it’s over, it does feel better. And knowing him, you wonder if it’s purposeful or not.

“Must you make it painful?” you complain, thumb pressing down on the closed, marred skin. For the wrong reasons though, but you can freely complain.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” his voice is soft like silk, but not without a sharp edge in it, slowly unfurling, like the jaws of a venus flytrap. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

You glare at him, your eyes piercing him like a dagger.

“Me? I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

This… was a bit too far, you must admit.

You storm out of the bathroom, like you could get away from the conversation.

“Go on, speak.” his words echo through the walls of the bedroom, making your movements halt immediately. You glance up at the window, faced with his reflection as he leans against the doorframe. “What should I learn from you? That you’re not afraid to run? To put your life in unnecessary danger?”

A long sigh leaves through your nostrils.

“If it comforts you, then yes, I realized that I had made a dumb decision.”

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind you. Looming over you, shrouding you like an evil trickster spirit.

“I must admit I enjoyed your little attempt…” his palms are heavy on your shoulders, just like his words echoing close to shell of your ear. “Catching you, watching your resolves crumble, the raw terror plastered on your face…” the way his voice caresses you is just like the way he would hold a blade right against your throat, pressing down on the pulsing veins that could be cut open so easily. Like needles slowly being inserted into your ear canals. Eventually it softens, getting more serious and chiding. “But you did scare me. Have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if I didn’t go after you?”

You’d die, you would definitely die. Bleeding out amidst the leaves and grass, letting the frosty night bite you tense and weak. All alone in the dark.

Hold on…

You wouldn’t be injured if he hadn’t frightened you in the first place.

Did he just… no, it can’t be.

He slowly walks away from you, and you hear the bed creak under his weight. The choking feeling finally lifts from your throat. You turn towards one of the incense burners, already filled, it merely needs to be lit. But you do it slowly, just for the sake of appearing busy, to not feel obligated to carry on with the conversation.

But you should make peace with him before he does. He’ll make you face all of your mistakes and their consequences, if not outright making you suffer because of them. Rub all of them into your face until you have no choice but to plead for forgiveness.

It’s not easy, but you open your mouth. The scent of sandalwood lowers your guards, helping you be honest and brings forth the thoughts you’ve been trying to hide for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. And I wonder even more about that if we’ll fail before reaching our goal. Fail spectacularly. Because we want to do the impossible.”

“What is exactly the right thing? Being selfless? Forgetting all about our grudges and letting the world trample all over us? Or being selfish and crushing anyone under our feet to keep each other safe?”

Like an elastic band being strained for far too long, you snap. Luckily, the bronze lid of the incense burner holds out under your grasp.

“It’s too fucking late for moral arguments! Can’t you speak to me more directly for once? Instead of hiding behind your… carefully crafted scenarios that only prove your point.”

You should have avoided looking at him. At your serpent, who made you sin, who was cursed alongside you, your serpent who devoured your beloved Adam. You yearned for the remains, sitting in the bottomless pit of his stomach.

But you swore those remains spoke to you, through layers of flesh, scales, and deception. Soft and calm like a light summer breeze.

“Do you have doubts about me, darling? Are you giving up on me?”

The question breaks you, evaporating all of your anger and resentment in a flash. Devoid of any playful tone or hidden meanings, so raw that it takes hold of your heart and squeezes it so tight that it couldn’t possibly beat anymore.

You know how he twists the truth, striking right into the softest parts of you. He feeds you poison – yet you swallow it right down every single time.

“Faith has no zenith, my dear.” you answer, low and sweet, like you wanted to comfort him. The lid on the incense burner closes, giving you enough time to build up the courage to approach him. You weave your words carefully, in such fashion that it can be interpreted in multiple ways. If he switched just one little word, he’d immediately gain more insight into what’s really been weighing on your heart. “There’s no such peak we can reach on which we can stagnate forever. Faith sometimes wavers, sometimes we question our beliefs. Sometimes we’re unsure if our prayers are heard.” you get down on your knees before him, taking his hand into yours, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But I do want to have faith in you.”

His features visibly soften. Heavy lids close in relief, and you feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

This is your chance! Go on, there’s no time more perfect than this to try to convince him.

“We should really get away from the temple.” you start with an almost resigned sigh, but your excitement soon starts to show. “Just for a few days. Manami will handle the followers while we leave for the countryside, or an island. We can bring the girls even.”

A faint glimmer in his eyes tells you his answer is going to disappoint you.

“They don’t know about the girls, but they certainly know about you.” he reminds you sternly. “The higher ups want us dead and the last time I offered to protect someone, they ended up getting killed.”

His voice is faint, almost shaky. He rarely talks about the death of Riko. And if he ever brings her up in a conversation, you know he means it.

The heavy lid above his eyes drops, violet irises hiding behind his lashes, averted from you. The words coming out of him are barely above a whisper, like his lips are made from lead, like forming the words is a tiring task because they’re so heavy, and filled with something violently torturing him.

“This is a risk I’m not willing to take again. Not even for you. Especially for you.”

You feel something pooling on your waterline. Translucent pearls of tears appear so involuntarily when you see him like this. Sometimes you do want to hurt him, but when you see him in pain, it torments you even worse.

“I’m not asking you to take risks for me. I never did. But you should take some for you. You could use some respite.” you lace your fingers with his. It brings you a strange kind of comfort how your hand just loses itself in his, but it’s yours that looks more lively and powerful. Like it’s you what keeps him together. As if without you he would shatter into pieces. “You take on an awful lot of responsibilities, I think sometimes more than you’re capable of handling.”

Affection sweeps through his features as he caresses your head, from the roots of your strands to the thick bone of your jaw. A lonely thumb brushing along from your cheekbone to the lobe of your ear. And there’s nothing you can do, only stare at him, wide-eyed with reverence, like he’s an ethereal being.

“This is not your cross to bear.”

He wanted to ease your concerns, but you’re much more stubborn than that. You won’t stand there, at a safe distance, watching him drag himself to his Calvary, whipped and crowned with thorns. You’ll push through the crowd, smash them to bits just to reach him and offer your veil to wipe his face. A thousand times, as many times as he needs.

“Of course it is, what do you expect from me? Unlike…” No, don’t say names, do not compare yourself to certain figures in your past and the way they treated him. “I’m worried about you, for no other reason than I genuinely care about you. That’s why I want you to put our plans to aside - let’s unwind a little, recharge. Before all of this drives us insane.”

He deliberately avoids answering, your concern grows and grows like vicious vine. Is this too much to ask for? A small moment of normalcy can’t be granted to you? What are the two of you really? Idols of worship, if not gods at this point because your sheep do regard you as such. But can’t gods long for a visit amongst mortals? Can’t they shed their divine status? You could, but maybe, before he’d let you leave, he’ll feed you pomegranate seeds.

Would you eat them again? Of course you would. Even if you fight and snarl a little beforehand. Because love is the death of duty, and of a peaceful mind, of comprehensive decisions. Love is so mystified, shrouded in the illusion of an immortalized existence, just like death. Love is, indeed, death.

Your palms cup his face, his skin radiates warmth through you. The warmth of the evening sun that makes the sky bleed with the prettiest colors you can imagine. Your touch slowly encourages him to look into your eyes, finding a strange kind of determination and care mixed with your obvious worry. A Magdalene dwells within your gaze, who already washed her prophet’s feet with tears and dried them with her hair before he starts his last journey to Golgotha.

“I told you a million times, if you fall too deep into your misery, when you feel like you can’t come back to the surface on your own, let me know, so I can pull you out. Or let me know so I can go after you. And we’ll drown together.”

All those little pacts and vows you made during the years echo through you. Even the first one, the most ancient of them all, when it was still easy to hide your concerns behind your techniques.

I’ll keep an eye on you.

It’ll keep an eye on you.

You lean closer, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching. Eyes closing in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Promise me, Suguru. Promise me again.”

You wait and wait, until his warm breath brushes your skin like fine silk, like a feather.

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief. It hurts, it hurts so much. There’s so much place in your heart for him to dwell in. He owns it and he won’t give it back. Ever.

You only wanted a chaste kiss, but a special type of hunger wakes deep below your navel. You taste his words, you swallow them down, nipping them from his lips. You look for the rest of them, his thoughts that hadn’t been formed into words yet, the rest of the sentence, you search for it with your tongue inside his mouth.

You grab onto the sheets, trying to push yourself up. Like you could overpower him, like you could battle against him. To have him laid out on the mattress, defeated. But he stops your advances with a palm resting on your shoulder, gently pushing you away.

“You’re not healed yet.” he whispers, truly concerned.

“Then I’ll be on top, I don’t care.” you oppose breathily, your fingers trying to pry his robe open.

“The cut on your hand could re-open if we’re not careful.”

Oh, how you adore him when he’s so tender with you, but now, this is the last thing you want. You want to bare your teeth and go right for the throat.

“Then you’ll stitch me up again.” There’s a playful edge in your voice, and you kiss him again with the same curve of a smile while he lets you crawl on top of him.

And he smiles against you too, delighted by your eagerness. You, trying to eat him up, digest him - he’s just enjoying you and the feast you’re having. Taking everything from you. He only wants to capture you, to cage you in his hold. He’s kneading your flesh leisurely and humming into your mouth contently, almost lazily.

In the crooks of his body, you find your religion.

The sharp line of his jaw, the tendons of his neck, the hollow caverns around his collarbone. But your mouth carefully avoids the scars slashing through his chest, after all those years, it still pains him when the lightly coloured, textured skin gets touched. As if these lips of yours and your aimlessly trailing fingers were the same blades, penetrating the flesh again and again.

There’s not a morsel of him that you weren’t intimately familiar with. In a way that rivals how much you know about yourself. And what you know even better is that how can you venerate them, dote on them, adore, and idolize with such devotion you could anger all deities created by man and make them scream blasphemy on you.

You take his cock in your hand, teasingly working your palms around him. Pumping it, stroking your thumb along the underside to make his breath hitch. His dick grows beneath your hands, getting harder and heavier. The first beads of precum get smeared along the length by your skillful fingers.

“You know you don’t have to- “but you cut him off while settling between his legs.

“Just relax and let me do all the work.” your response comes out a bit more deadpan than planned. “You deserve it once in a while.”

And with that, you wrap your lips around him, enveloping him in warmth and wetness, your tongue slowly swirling around the head. His thighs twitch, more precum oozes into your waiting mouth as the muscle between your teeth works eagerly. You give him a few, gentle sucks, slurping up the mixture of your own saliva and his arousal. Between ragged breaths, he reminds you to breathe through your nose as you take more and more of his length. You relax your jaw, your fingers tense around the base of his cock and you’re trying as hard as you can to defeat the urge to gag. When you fit all of him inside your mouth, you empty your lungs and give him a harder suck, hard enough to make you cheeks hollow and his chest heave. As your free hand is occupied with kneading his balls between your fingers and knuckles, a moan bursts out of him.

The sound boosts your confidence, filling you with a wicked kind of playfulness. The kind of wicked that makes you pull back your tongue a little, as to not keep your teeth hidden. You drag them along his sensitive, pulsing underside, balancing the pressure between pleasure and pain. Like you could prove to him that you’re ready to bite back, that this is the only moment when he can’t control you, that he shouldn’t underestimate you.

And just as if he could read your thoughts, his hand goes for your head, fingers getting lost between your strands. But he’s not as cruel as to push you down on him, instead he guides you, increases the rhythm that you’re working with. Steady and firm, but not too fast. You earn yourself his praises, soft curses pitched higher than his normal voice.

This is what real worship looks like.

When you feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensing up, you stop. You emerge from the space between his legs, wiping your lips clean and admiring your work. All that flushed skin blooming in pink on his chest and face. You move, trying to get into a new position, settling your calves right next to hips. You start aligning yourself with his cock to finally start grinding on him.

He sits up and traps you with an arm coiling around your waist.

“Since when were you so reckless?”

His hand creeps around the apex of your thighs. A finger barely brushes along your slit. By adding another digit, he spreads your folds, finding hot, smooth, slippery flesh.

“I would’ve prepped myself.” that’s all you can say in your defense.

Fingertips circle your hole, applying a bit of pressure, checking how much you’ve loosened up. He invades you slowly as your lungs empty, the hardened skin on his fingers stroking and massaging your sweet spots before he starts working you open.

You wrap your arms around him, slowly undoing his bun to have something to grab onto as you jolt, as your bones melt, as your brows furrow in bliss. The moans coming from you are breathy and tender, and you hide them in his strands. He twists his fingers inside you, stretching your warm muscles further, making your back arch and you press your hardened nipples to his chest. Your essence engulfs his knuckles, clear and sticky like honey.

The heel of his palm settles right against your clit and you shamelessly grind on it. Your mewls pass over his ears as he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin of a faint scar. But you resist giving in, you stop him, telling him that’s enough, but in reality you just want your control back. Take back the lead and revel in it.

And somehow he obeys, laying back into the sheets.

You slip out of your robe, showing yourself fully. The bruises on your skin can finally bathe in the dim lamplight, painting the complexion of your sides, shoulders, and upper arm in different shades of blue and purple, like paint on bare canvas. Like the night sky carrying storm clouds, like you’re rotting, decomposing. You find a twisted, perverted joy in the fact that he must be seeing them for the whole time.

“Slowly, slowly.” he murmurs softly as you’re pushing the head of his cock inside you. “There’s no need to rush.” Trimmed nails trail up and down from the flesh of your thighs to your bruised sides. Tender and slow like a ghost, goosebumps pepper your skin from the tickling feeling. “I’m already yours.” He purrs and your heart flutters.

And there’s so, so much pride in you that only you can render him to this state. Too powerful for the world to bear him, capable to burn this plane to ruins, defying the barriers between a mortal and a god - or something way worse than that. Maybe you should receive twice the respect from your herd, for being the only person who can enslave him in this way, that only you can have this sort of power over him. Only you can overthrow him. Because you’re just too dear to him, too close to his burning heart.

Maybe it’s your time to warn him. Tame him like the monster he is.

You move with your own rhythm. His hand caged between your fingers and pressed down against the sheets. You give him no other choice but to venerate you back and he does, with pleased, low rumbles coming from his throat. Only a singular hand is allowed to roam your form freely. On your back tracing the shallow line where your spine lies beneath skin and flesh, wandering towards the inner part of your thighs, then to your stomach and chest. And you reward him with a prayer of your own, encapsulated in deep, long sighs.

But you’re too trusting of him. You let your guard down too easily.

You’re holding onto his kneecaps, leaning towards them a little, allowing every inch of you to be seen. You want to give him a show, but your knees are too worn and tired.

He takes hold of your hips, helping you guide yourself along his length. His pelvis moves along with you in synced rhythm. Your teeth are pressing down on the soft skin of your lips, but you can’t keep your whimpers in. You’re getting close, your muscles and nerves are st tight and pulsing, your walls are pressing down on his length. His name mindlessly slips out of your mouth.

Maybe you can say you love him before you shatter.

But his fingers clench around you, strong and firm, stopping your movements. Lifting your hips up so high that his cock is barely inside, robbing you from your incoming orgasm.

You’re shocked, eyes staring into the nothingness, open wide. Your stomach drops, stirring up all kinds of feelings dwelling in you. A chill races down your vertebrae as you glance down at him.

“Suguru..?” Your voice is weak, shaky.

Fear courses through your being, primordial and all-consuming.

And when he speaks to you it’s all dark, shrouded in malevolence.

“You forgot one thing, darling. After I brought you back from the forest.”

No, no, no, he can’t do this to you! He can’t hold your orgasm hostage for the sake of toying with you! You should puncture his flesh your nails, scratch him, tear him up, but you can only grit your teeth. Your features twist from bliss to rage.

“You…” boiling anger swims through your voice. It’s like it’s not even your voice - more like a hiss, a growl.

There’s an undecipherable mixture of pity and amusement in his eyes. He twitches inside you but you’re too upset to notice.

“Apologize.” he sneers - almost commands.

His words cause anger to bubble up in you.

“Oh, you piece of shit…!” you seethe, but sob and moan when he slams you back on his cock, stretching you around his length again. Wanting to quench your rage with the sensation you crave the most right now.

“I hope, for your sake, I don’t have to repeat myself.”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squirm, fuss and wriggle, he forces you still. His behaviour frustrates you to no end when you’re so desperate for a bit of friction, the horribly hollow and burning feeling of your lost peak torturing you seemingly endlessly. To the point where you’re too tired to put up a fight, when you’re teetering on the edge of breaking. You know you must swallow your pride, you have let him have it his way.

“I… I’m sorry.” you apologize meekly, teary-eyed, your voice a pathetic mewl. He finally starts lifting you up and easing you down, building you up slowly. But it’s not enough. You need more but he won’t give it to you just yet.

“You do?” he asks you in a way that it cuts deep into your marrow. It’s not even close to a loving tease – no, he’s outright mocking you.

Vicious bastard. You should grab his throat and squeeze the air out of him.

“Yes, I do!” you cry out without thinking. “I’m sorry for running away from you.” you push the words out through your whimpers. He increases the pace, making you yelp and shake, you end up closing your eyes reflexively. He robbed you from the sensation for so long that you became sensitive, it’s easier to make a mess out of you. Your face is red with shame, so much so you can’t look him in the eyes. The humiliation is like an invisible rope tightening around your neck.

“Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

He pushes your hips further along his length this time, shifting you a bit towards his thighs. Creating a perfect angle, he uncovers a sweet spot inside you that makes you almost incapable of forming coherent words. And he eats the sight right up.

“…I promise… I promise...” you manage to get your answer out in the form of a choked hiccup. Your vision blurs. Everything is too intense for you to handle. You swear that the very shape of you could dissolve at any given moment.

Faith is desperate. Gods are hungry for despair. So they deliberately make you suffer and only then reveal themselves to you.

His fingers dig into your waist so hard it burns. You feel the world shift with you and then you collide with the sheets. Your bruised back ripples with pain. You’re unsure if he did it out of spite or not. You don’t know if he’ll completely shatter your dignity, or if he’s fine with just enforcing the feeling that you can never be above him, that you can never defeat him.

His weight on top of you is overwhelming. The midnight dark locks of his hair spread around you like spilled ink. And through the thick fog of your mind, too far gone in twisted, masochistic pleasure, you lock your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to go away. You might as well cease to exist if he does.

“And what do we say when we apologize?”

The soft plea coming from you is more instinctual rather than deliberate.

“Forgive me.”

You ache for him to move, you’re starved for the incoming high. Like a ravenous beast, all devouring. When he finally gives it to you, his thrusts make you feel possessed, make your back arch, your head falls back into the pillow as if you were offering your neck to him (maybe one day he won’t be able to resist the urge and will bite down on the jugular, through your trachea, putting you out of your misery) - you don’t dare to beg for anything else.

Maybe just for a little blood. A mark he can wear, just like you wear your bruises. Your nails somehow acquire a will of their own, your scratches have him excited and pleased.

His fingers meander around your jaw, gently coaxing you into letting him guide your gazes to meet again.

He’s imitating you, admiring his work like you did with him. And what he sees is a being stripped from any likeness of a dignified human being. With eyes so blown he can see the bottommost pits of Hell in them.

And he’s satisfied, rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

“I forgive you.”

Your release crashes over you like a tide, submerging you, burning you to cinders on the inside. Tearing you apart. And when he collapses on top you after filling you to the brim, you feel like a festering wound.

He’s a disease, miasma, a flesh-eating parasite crawling inside you.

“You’re…” you huff. “You’re awful.”

“I know. But you love me all the same.”

You wonder what you should have done to earn a different outcome, but you give up soon. Looks like he already had plans for your atonement in mind. After all, gods are impatient creatures. They’re dependent on your reverence and servitude. And you’ve waited for too long to make things right.

Why, why, why - it echoes inside your head.

But if you think about it… he’s your serpent. The vilest, most horrendous creature created by God. The one who charmed you, tempted you with sin and has now sunken his fangs into you. Of course he did, and instead of trying to heal from his venomous bite, you want to catch him - to find out his reasons, to prove to him that you didn’t deserve that.

And yet you could never, ever prove him wrong. Your serpent will always think it was right to bite. It’s in his nature afterall.

“Is your hand alright?”

He makes it up to you with spoiling you again. He cleans your wounds so sweetly, so thoughtfully, looks after you in a way that nobody could, which confuses you even further.

He cherishes you, destroys himself for the sake of keeping you safe - not like it’s a choice, but a must - just like a mother would. He scolds you, reminds you not to make the same mistake again, collars you, keeps you on a tight leash, only loosening it (just a little) when he succeeded at making you play by his rules, just like a father would.

And somehow, he excels at both. Way better than those two ever did when it came to you.

You wish your glare could pierce right through his skull when you hand the empty glass back to him. You don’t have it in you to play nice. You don’t even attempt hide that you’re sulking, he probably finds it funny - adorable even.

“Go to hell.” you spit and lay back into the sheets, your bruised back facing him.

“Oh, darling…” he coos, but the surface level sweetness of his tone hides a sharp edge of condescendence. He crawls into bed, right behind you, caging you in his embrace, forcing you to feel the warmth of his body. The warmth that you’re so used to, the one you can’t sleep without it. Nobody has ever made you feel this safe, and the fact makes your heart ache and your stomach twist.

“If there’s a Hell, I’ll see you there.”