#hand veins. cool stuff :D

[keeps-ache]

okay, cool cool cool

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Pt. 2)

Part 2 is here! :) Here you can read part 1.

Just a little angst before we get to the good stuff.

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony, of turmoil and regret and anger - so much anger. I’m the only third year left. I’m expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. I can’t help but seek comfort from Rathnait, my only anchor since the moment we left Basgiath. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. Graduation day. I would be assigned to my outpost today, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Bagaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my way towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” He grins at me, almost maniacally as if the post is a joke. Rathanit snarls in my mind, rage igniting the very blood in my veins but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement. 

Where are you, Ray? My hands tremble, crushing the papers beneath my hold as I make my way quickly towards my room. 

I’ll be there soon, flare. Unless you need me now? 

I halt in the middle of the empty hall, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone. 

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. 

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. I wouldn’t see Garrick. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation,” I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Bagaith are under a different impression as to what it is. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and questing it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” I question him, dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathanit’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment,” I murmur, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. I didn’t bother to look at my squad, not being able to look at their questioning looks. I was known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. “Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own.

[qqtxt]

i was thinking… what if yeonjun or beomgyu x fashion student s/o who mainly uses(idk if this is the right word😭) him as their muse and makes all projects and stuff based on their bf,,?

ahhh this is so cute!!! the way i jumped at this bc it made me giggly :") i explored a little for both, so hopefully that's okay! >:D enjoy!

✿ pairing: beomgyu x reader, yeonjun x reader (both separate scenarios!) / non.idol!au / college!au / reader is a fashion major / fluff / minor cursing (none with ill-intention!) / word count: 242 words (beomgyu's), 284 words (yeonjun's) ✿ in which your favourite person is your muse for your creations and he's a little more than "okay" with helping you out... [masterlist 🌸] / yeonjun's is below the cut!

[🐯] accurate depiction

beomgyu adores being by your side whenever you're in your creative zone of doing sketches for upcoming designs. by no means is he a fashion student but he admires it all the more considering it's you. he had offered his lap as your seat a while ago and he's quietly watching you sketch the designs. 

paper after paper, sketch after sketch, it's the current one that you're working on quirks a smile on beomgyu's face when he notices the hairstyle, the silhouette and features of this one looks oddly like someone he knows that he suggests–"the arm should be a little shorter than that,"

with a raised brow, you lift the pencil from the paper to look at beomgyu, "hm?"

"i mean if you want it to be more accurate. my arm's shorter than that."

beomgyu watches as his words sink into your brain; clicking in your mind that you know he knows you're probably going to ask him to model for this new set of designs. (as if you hadn't asked him for the previous sets before that)

"it's okay, as long as it'll fit me properly when it's made," he snickers, resting his chin on your shoulder. you look back down on your sketch and don't intend on changing anything but the decision to add a small scribble of slightly shorter arm length made beomgyu chuckle as he presses a kiss to your neck and resumes being a quiet watcher.

[🦊] got it

"what's it going to look like this time?" yeonjun asks, trying to look at you despite the fact you're trying to take his back measurements. 

"it's going to look like the wrong size if you don't stop moving." you quip back and he quietly follows suit to stay still so that you can take the numbers to his body figure properly. when you've got all the details you need from him, you go back to the table only to have yeonjun's arms slide around your waist to get a peek at–"c'mon! i'm the model! shouldn't i get to look at what it looks like?"

you intend to cover it up with your hands but... with the way he's pleading with his best puppy eyes and a jutted-out bottom lip, you sigh and move your hands from the sketch for him to get a look. initially, you were feeling a little antsy about the design but the way yeonjun's eyes light up and the gasp he lets out is more than enough to reassure you that–"it looks amazing! i can't believe i get to wear it!"

"you think it's cool?"

"cool?! i think it's fantastic!" he exclaims–excitement buzzing his veins–but after a couple of beats, he notices the small smile on your face that settles on your lips. it was uncertainty, the anxiety lingering in your veins. he focuses on you now, gently turning you around so he can get a good look at you.

"it's as amazing as you are. and you should feel confident and proud," his hands cup your cheeks, giving your head a light shake, "got it?" 

gingerly, your hands reach up to lap over his with a grin, "got it."

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Ler!Sapnap Week Day 5 - Tease/Ghost Tickles

hello everyone :D i am back with another (very very very late) fic for @sleepy--anon ‘s ler!sapnap week!!!! wooooo!!!

this is for day 5’s prompt which is teases/ghost tickles!! make sure you check out the original post here, and make sure you show sleepy your love and support for putting this week together in the first place!!!

this one isn’t too crazy or anything, but i experimented a little bit with the formatting in docs and then had to try something different here, and i’ve never done anything quite like this before so i think it’s pretty cool :D hope everyone enjoys!!

orange text is sapnap’s messages, green text is dream’s messages

lee!dream, ler!sapnap, 1.8k words

enjoy :)

--

Dream’s phone screen lit up from where it laid flat on his nightstand, catching his eye as he turned away from the mini fridge he’d walked across the room to grab a bottle of water from. He twisted the lid off the bottle, picking up the phone as he took a sip, seeing that the notification had been a text from Sapnap.

hey

are you super crazy busy rn

Dream smiled, always endeared by Sapnap’s word choice, taking another sip before putting the bottle down and typing out a response.

not rly

i put all the video stuff in files but it’s too late to start editing so i’m just gonna do it tomorrow

why?

Dream sat down on the edge of his bed, placing his phone on the pillow beside him and twisting to his left, then to his right, stretching his back. He watched a new text come in, followed by more typing bubbles.

i just had a really dumb stressful meeting and i’m fucking frustrated

not like mad i just feel like i have so much pent up energy

and i really wanna come tickle you

Dream felt his stomach flip as he read the words, cold water bottle resting against his thigh and sending a chill up his spine. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, and he blinked in disbelief at his phone screen as he read the message over and over again. After almost a full minute, he formed a response.

……what

Very eloquent, if you ask him.

i want to tickle you

you should let me

Dream felt his stomach flip again, warmth spreading through his chest and nerves settling in his throat. He swallowed harshly, taking in a breath and drinking more of his water as he quickly tapped out another text.

why???

to get the energy out

???????

Dream stared at his phone, in complete disbelief and confusion at the words before him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, unable to tell if it was from fear, anticipation, excitement, or embarrassment. He chuckled to himself, nerves sending electric shocks through his veins, making the tips of his fingers tingle as he shook the feeling out. He watched those three bubbles pop up again, and he pushed himself back further on his bed to sit cross-legged as a response came in.

cmoooonnnn

you know you love it

i do not!

shut up!!

don’t lie

i’m sure you’re loving this too

i’m sure you’re already getting goosebumps

sapnap

and you can feel the excitement already running through you

sapnap.

and the nerves too huh

oh i’m sure you already have those nervous giggles don’t you aww :((

sapnap!

Dream took in a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling above him and exhaling slowly. His chest felt tight, and he shook out his tingling hands before pressing his knuckles against his cheeks to check their temperature– to his dismay, they were already burning hot, though he could feel that before he even touched them. A surge of warmth quickly spread through his whole body, the tingles in his hands growing stronger with the quickly forming butterflies in his stomach.

yes cutie?

stop it

please

but i don’t wanna :(

Dream couldn’t help but chuckle at the response, always entertained by Sapnap’s form of teasing, biting his lip to stop more giggles from falling, a soft whine escaping instead.

you can’t just

god sap

you can’t do that

but it’s so funnnn to mess with you

and you’re so cute :((

shut UP oh my god

so can i please come tickle you??

pleeeease :(

Dream would be lying if he said he didn’t hesitate.

He scoffed, squirming where he sat, uncrossing his legs just to cross them the other way, rubbing his palm over his knee and pressing his fingertips into the material of his pajama pants. His toes curled underneath him, and he switched between sitting straight up and leaning over to look down at his phone screen.

no!!

shut up no you cannot

fuck off

dreamie :(

wait

i know how to convince you :)

Dream watched in fear as the three bubbles disappeared, waiting approximately three seconds in stunned silence before he realized what that implied.

what

what are you doing

what does that mean what are you gonna do

sap please

whatever it is just

don’t do it

“Fuck…” He whispered to himself when he received no response, looking around anxiously, his entire body tense as he waited to hear the tell-tale sounds of footsteps approaching his bedroom door. He waited, and waited… and waited…

But they never came.

He glanced down at his phone, just as a new message came in.

A voice memo. It was a voice memo.

He was fucked.

no

i’m not listening to that

yes you are

sapnap.

play it <3

Dream whined again, breaking off into a groan as he shook his head and rubbed his palms against his thighs. He took in another breath, falling into the nervous giggles that Sapnap predicted so accurately, dropping his head into his hands and peeking through his fingers as he shakily pressed play. He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hand, lowering his phone volume and holding the speaker up close to his ear so he could hear.

“Alright, handsome, here’s how this is gonna work,” Sapnap’s voice played through the audio, nonchalant as he spoke, but his tone was still stern and matter of fact.

“Oh, god,” Dream groaned, curling in on himself more, biting his lip as he pulled his knees up to hide his face there instead.

“I’m gonna send you this, and then I’m gonna head up to your room, and by the time I get up there, I can promise you’ll be begging me to tickle you.”

“Oh my god…” Dream said with a gasp, covering his mouth with his hand, his entire body buzzing with anticipation, curling his toes against the sheets below him once more. His phone went silent, after a small chuckle from Sapnap came through, and he turned it around to see that the audio had ended. His hands shook as he went to type out another response, his fingers unsure of their own words.

this is stupid

i hate you

leave me alone

Just as he sent those, another voice memo came through, slightly longer this time. Dream whimpered, a pout spreading across his face against his own will, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling above him. He could feel the tingling sensation spreading further through his body, through his chest and arms and legs, making it nearly impossible to bite his lip hard enough to hold in his giggles. He covered his face with his hands and threw his head back, trying to regulate his breathing enough to calm his nerves down.

Needless to say, it didn’t work very well.

no more

please

you can’t do this

listen to it dreamie

it’s okay

Dream groaned again, assuming the same hiding position as he hit play on the new voice memo.

“I’m sure you’re already feeling those ghost tickles too,” Sapnap teased through the audio, and Dream gasped and shook his head at how well Sapnap knew how he felt, curls swaying against his forehead. “I’m sure they’re swirling all around your tummy right now, that’s where they always get you most, huh?”

“St–“ Dream stuttered to himself, turning his head away from his phone as if Sapnap was already in the room with him, teasing him in person instead.

“Now, like I said before, I’m gonna come to your room, and– y’know what? I’ll actually be nice, because I really do just wanna wind down and get all cozy and giggly with you, and I know you love that stuff too–“

“Fuck,” Dream whispered as Sapnap spoke, feeling the warmth spread through his chest and across his face once again, the fluttery feeling in his tummy growing even stronger.

He had to admit, it did sound nice after all this.

“–so I won’t even make you ask… I am gonna tease you to no end still, though, but you knew that already,” Sapnap said with a small giggle, and Dream couldn’t help but giggle as well. “Anyway, hope you’re prepared, because by the time you’re done listening to this I’m probably already on my way.”

“Wh–!” Dream yelped, whipping his phone around to see the audio end, and he stared at his bedroom door for a few seconds in fear. He scoffed in fake offense, rolling his eyes and typing out a message.

you’re ridiculous

you know that, right?

Instead of a response, the top Dream’s phone screen lit up with Sapnap’s contact information, the photo of Sapnap and Patches he had set as his photo staring back at him.

Sapnap was calling him now.

He let it ring for a few seconds, tapping the banner to bring the call full screen, before hitting accept and slowly raising the phone to his ear.

“…Hello?” Dream began, voice quiet and nervous.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Sapnap said, voice overly chipper and enthusiastic. Dream swallowed against the lump in his throat when he heard a door close on the other end of the call. “How are you feeling?”

“Sapnap…” Dream mumbled, anxiously twirling the drawstring of his pajama pants around his pointer finger, looking off to the side to try to compose himself.

“What’s wrong, Dreamie?” Sapnap asked softly, as if he was speaking to a scared animal, and Dream would be lying if he said the tone didn’t help him relax, at least a tiny bit.

“You know…”

“Awww, honey,” Sapnap cooed, making Dream groan and cover his face with his free hand. “Are you nervous?”

“Mhm…” Dream nodded, even though no one was there to see it.

“Aw, Dream,” Sapnap cooed more, and Dream could practically hear the pout on his face, making him groan again. “It’ll be okay, you know I’ll be nice to you, right?”

“I do, but still,” Dream explained, switching his focus to picking at a thread on his comforter that had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

“Yeah, I know, you’re just wound up, huh?”

“Mhm,” Dream replied without thinking, making Sapnap chuckle on the other end.

“It’s okay, Dream. You don’t have to wait much longer.

“Wh…” Dream began, looking up at his door as he heard the long awaited footsteps growing closer and closer. “Why– why do you say that?”

“Take a wild guess,” Sapnap replied, and before Dream had the chance to entertain the idea, there was a knock at his bedroom door, making him gasp and squeal and the pit in his stomach feel like it had dropped ten stories. He couldn’t hold in his giggles anymore, gripping his phone tighter as the door opened and Sapnap walked in, a thrilled smile on his face as he continued laughing along with Dream. “There’s my baby boy.”

“Noho, go away!” Dream shook his head, placing one hand over his stomach as he felt the ghost tickles running rampant over his skin. He watched as Sapnap smiled sweetly at him, ending their call and placing his phone in his pocket.

“Alright,” He began. “Let’s get started.”

[chronotsr]

No. 7.5 - 1978 Reflections, and the Halls of Mystery

Welcome back to the end-of-the-year recaps! This is technically the first TSR iteration of it!

1. Coolest ideas

It's a lot of stuff from D2. The big ticket item is "neutral-ground hostile shrine" -- any time you can muck about with otherwise hostile people without drawing swords immediately is a big win. I know that the reaction table is supposed to mitigate that some but, cmon. Sometimes you just can't think of a good reason that the 9th goblin pack tonight is not immediately hostile. This is a way more natural way to handle it. And it lets you talk and such and experience their culture from their perspective!

2. Coolest Module You Haven't Heard Of

This is honestly a hard one because all of these modules are intensely well known. Gun to my head, I would probably vote for G1. The D-series is cool but frankly there have been more better and more interesting iterations of subterranean hexcrawls -- Veins of the Earth being the currently famous one. But the thing about G1 is, G1 is a surprisingly natural and fun location. Unlike the others in the GDQ series, G1 is genuinely an adventure you could slot anywhere with no context. It is simply a fun raid on a fortress, which I never get tired of. The twists of "they're piss drunk" and "there's a slave revolt in the basement" are really good (albeit in 2024 a little stale) twists on the classic raid-on-fortress formula.

3. The Growth of Module Design

Honestly 1978 represents a rather stagnant year for module design. The most innovative design feature I see is how D1-D3 feeds into one another in a much more naturalistic way than its predecessors, and all through that deeply useful combination of hexmap and random tables with a handful of pre-programmed setpieces. I am eager to see hexmap technology get much better going forward.

…

Surprisingly, 1978 wasn't too much to talk about? I don't generally think of Gary as an "innovator" in module design space. His main contribution is taking things that already exist and making them feel more natural. Which is not to say that I now buy into Gygaxian Naturalism as this great feat, more than a lot of his competition at the time was seemingly intentionally anti-Naturalism. Their work feels like the reaction to me, Gary is just staying the course of "this should make an amount of sense". Although, his random dungeon monsters mishmash still feels as nonsensical as all hell.

The Halls of Mystery (From Dragon 21, December 1978)

And as threatened, we're going to have a very brief section on The Halls of Mystery, which holds the dubious honor of 1st Dragon Magazine dungeon. I would throw the full header at you, but everything is by Don Turnbull. You may recognize his name, at publication time he works for Games Workshop and he will be heading up TSR, Inc.'s UK branch starting in 1980, leading to the much-beloved Fiend Folio.

So. Not much to say about this, actually, It's a very large room with some branches. The main schtick of the Halls is that the main chamber contains several mirrors, some of which are magical. There's a big riddle on the desk on the south side, the riddle solution is actually quite obvious (say Excalibur three times -- and hey, Don told us the answer and rationale of the puzzle! Thanks Don!). When you move the central cylinder, it teleports you to the corresponding position in the dungeon. The rest is a lightweight stocking of the dungeon with monsters, treasure, et c. If you're keeping score, this is a Zelda puzzle. It's very cute and lightweight and honestly it's so neutrally written (no statistics are given and it would be trivially easy to restock it at any level) that you could genuinely use it in 2024 with very little effort. It's adorable! It is also wonderfully lean, clocking in at two total pages and frankly it's super refreshing to have such a light read of a module here.

Happily, next time we will be covering B1 - In Search of the Unknown, which is the second Basic D&D adventure we will be reviewing in this series (The adventure printed in the Basic rulebook, Tower of Zenopus, was first. This is our first lettered Basic adventure.) And, funnily, the first TSR module in this lineup I've never read before. See you then!

[harliennes-hangout]

my scattershot thoughts about the gnosia anime under the cut (spoilers for the game ahead)

ok so i've been braining for like a day about "how would you even turn gnosia into a tv show?" because the story is so intrinsically tied to the gameplay loop, there are 4th wall breaks you cant really translate into an anime, the main character basically is not a character at all because its just the player, etc.

and honestly i feel like its not as big of a jump as it sounds? like it is definitely possible to translate this to a show. i'm still not setting my expectations *too* too high because everything has the potential to be fumbled, but i think its very possible to make a short anime made up largely of one-episode-long games of werewolf.

and yes i absolutely do not believe this will be longer than like 12-ish episodes because the game really doesnt demand longer than that. the plot of the game apart from the gameplay is a good 70-80% character tableu. i wouldnt be surprised if this show favored a more plot-focused story which is more narrowly focused on learning about/breaking out of the time loop.

this means that we should probably prepare for a lot of things getting cut for time. i really doubt theyll cut any entire characters, but they'll probably cut any scenes that are purely about filling out the silver key. id imagine they cut most if not all of raqio's quizzes and several of the scenes that give the player a new skill. this might be a hot take but i also kinda wouldnt be surprised if they cut the a/c follower role entirely, since even though its a cool bit of worldbuilding its the only role that doesnt really further either a character arc or the timeloop plotline

on the other hand, i wouldnt be surprised if they fleshed out some stuff more, like they explained more about yuriko, maybe some more about jonas and why he's still alive after 1000 years, and a bit more setup for manan. maybe at least a shot of her in a flashback to give her a design. not saying i'd want that per se but i wouldnt be surprised. in that vein i kinda hope remnan has more to do? i have complicated feelings about his role in the game and part of me wishes he got to play a bigger role in the ending? idk i could make an entire seperate post about remnan if i wanted

finally (for now) the new main character! there is no way in hell the shot at the end of the trailer isnt of their stand-in for the player character. and thank god its not just a generic anime boy. my pipe dream is that this character is also nonbinary, here's hoping! as far as design goes i'm interested in seeing the ramifications of designing a new character to be animated next to a bunch of pre-existing characters with very over-the-top designs which need to be simplified for animation (you'll notice in the poster that setsu's jacket has none of its gradients and the inside is no longer holographic, their eyes are just red with no cyan, etc). and yes i'm absolutely gonna talk more about the artstyle/animation when we get to see more of it. but personality-wise theres a lot of directions you could go with this character. i kinda get the feeling theyre gonna be at least a bit generic but i have no idea with what theyve given us so far. just gonna wait for more information and see

i'll probably add more things if i think of them but id love to hear your thoughts :D

[talenlee]

4e: Having A (Weapon) Type

Surely I’ve written about this already.

The 4e weapon system is one of its strongest points and it’s strength is directly linked to the ongoing attempt to make ‘person who uses a weapon’ as someone who can do cool or good things and not just being there to hold the wizard’s bags. The fundamental design of melee weapon-wielding characters’ powers is that the powers tend towards a generic set of effects, doing damage, pushing people around, pulling them, repositioning you – all that kinda jazz. But then, through feats, the powers that checked for weapons would be able to check the weapon you were using and add on special effects.

What this meant is that the weapon system of 4e is one of the most interesting I’ve seen in D&D where weapon choice is not a simple matter of mathematical superiorities. Back in 3e and 2e D&D there were just weapons that were the best in show. 2e went a step further than 3e did by making it so that some classes were simply not allowed to use the best weapons and this was a point of balance for them, which is how you know that the 2e wizard was so weak, since it only got to use the longsword when it was a bladesinger.

That’s a joke, and the only people who are going to get it are older than me.

4e weapons had basically four things that could be used to distinguish one weapon from any another:

A weapon category. All the hammers were listed as hammers. All the axes were axes. All the spears are spears. This sounds simple, but don’t worry about it for now.

A proficiency bonus. This represents the bonus you get to attacks made with this weapon if you’re trained in how to use it. This makes weapons beneficial to use if you’re trained in them and also represents the level of effect you can get out of being an expert in them.

Damage dice! This represents the scale of damage the weapon can do – multiple smaller dice being more even and capable of doing reliable damage, and single larger dice having more variance between high and low numbers.

Keywords. These are the key spice to this whole soupy mess, which means that suddenly you have a lot of standardised ways to make weapon groups relate to one another.

The keywords that a weapon can have isn’t even that long:

Brutal (reroll low numbers, sick as hell, used by the coolest and hottest heroes)

Defensive (gives you a defense bonus, good for people with shield envy)

Heavy Thrown (a huckable item you can use with strength)

High Crit (when you crit, you really crit)

Light Thrown (a huckable item you can use with dexterity)

Load Free (something to do with crossbows, who cares)

Load Minor (oh no more crossbow stuff)

Off-hand (ranger stuff)

Small (it’s small)

Stout (it’s not small)

Versatile (it can be small)

Every one of these factors can be fine tuned and there are trends within a category. For example, most light blades, in the vein of swords (you know, sword, smaller sword, bigger sword, much bigger sword, much smaller sword) tend to have no keywords that change their damage output, and instead their keywords relate to being usable and flexible. To compensate for this, they have the highest proficiency bonus (typically) for their damage dice, and swing at +3.

But that’s swords, that’s the cisgender white boy who listens to podcasts of the weapon sets. Sure, that’s the one that somehow mathematically winds up on top but that’s just because of fundamental biases from the people who designed the system. And in the context of the weapon system of 4e D&D, there are things you want to be able to do that aren’t necessarily damage (and hush up, CharOp board veterans since there are actually better things than dead and shaving fractions of turns only matters when dealing with spherical goblins in a vacuum).

Polearms and spears tend to be reach based! Axes and hammers tend to be heavy! Flails are chainy and daggers are stabby! But for most part, when you pick up one of these items, most of these traits aren’t immediately evident. Instead, you can invest in feats for proficiency with fancy weapons, or feats that support the way those weapons work. Every single weapon expertise feat, representing skill with that weapon, brings with it a special benefit that changes how those weapons relate to the powers that use weapons.

What this means is that when you play a character who uses weapons, what weapon you choose to use can be a part of how you relate to your powers. If your feats are in demand for something else, you can look at the support your weapon gives a small number of things. Just as an example, one of the most poached parts of the game in Character Optimisation is what I summarise as ‘Polearm Malarkey,’ which when fully developed, lets a defender of some variety interrupt an enemy attack, even against themselves sometimes, and push an enemy mid-attack a square away, then knock them prone – which can be their whole turn, since they were already in the middle of an attack. That’s really powerful but it needs a lot of feats. On the other hand, if you like being able to knock people prone and deprive them of actions and only have one feat or two to invest in it, you could try and wield a flail instead, and use Flail Expertise, then choose your powers in a way that let you impose slides on people. All that malarkey the defender with a fully mature polearm build can do, a level 1 Avenger or Swordmage can do with Flail Expertise…

But there’s not a lot more the flail expertise can do with that.

And that means there’s not just the matter of what a weapon can do but what it can grow into. Crucially though, and this is very important, at every step along the way these weapons are pretty good and offer rewards for what you’ve invested. It’s not like the 3e feat chain design where players take feats that suck pants in exchange for the promise of one day being able to Whirlwind Attack and then have nothing more for their build to look forward to.

Great system. I love when I see a coherent, sensible system like this built into a TTRPG from the baseline. Realism and historicity are not that important when the weapons designed in the game are game objects that players are meant to interact with! Make it so nobody has to make bad choices to get to better choices! You don’t get anything by putting traps in front of your players!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

Shadow shakes his head. “You’re doing perfectly. I just don’t want this to be a bad memory for you.” Dreaming Vio startles at the comment. Is this a bad memory? He doesn’t think so, but his definition of ‘bad’ is far from conventional. That’s what months of corruption does to a person, he supposes. Shadow runs his hands down Vio’s waist and hips as the blonde pushes him against the headboard. Vio kisses him deep, almost as if sucking poison from a wound. Shadow’s eye widen as he watches strange patterns appear on his own skin. Dark purple veins run down his arms and neck, almost resembling the complex root system of a tree. They seem to almost be alive, the lines pulsing as Shadow kisses Vio harder. Vio whimpers, but doesn’t let go. The lines transfer from one body to another, tendrils of gloom creeping their way beneath the thin fabric of his blouse. It appears to weaken him further at first, and he loses the energy to kiss Shadow hard. He falls into the other man’s arms, his body jerking around every three seconds as if taking prolonged damage from the direct exposure.

— —

I think one of my favorite things about your writing is how you take so many concepts from other games in the Zelda series (like the gloom or the addition of the Hero’s Shade in this fic specifically) and use the elements given through canon but also add your own twist. I’m mostly curious what inspires you to use those things, and also how much more complex the systems might be than what we get from reading the character’s perspectives. I also just really like this scene and the concept of this fic as a whole; it’s definitely one of my most favorite things I’ve read :D (Also I’ve been meaning to ask if there’s any specific songs you’d tie to scenes in any of your fics or music you listen to while writing in general).

Anyways thank you! Hope you're having a good day!

thank you so much! i always appreciate your comments.

with other zelda things, it’s really kind of connected to my overall experience with the series. loz was an iceberg for me, like i started with botw, got really into it, started watching other people play the other games, read the twilight princess manga, got a wii u to play the oldies, and eventually just kinda randomly picked up the four swords manga almost a year ago. so i already had a lot of love for this series before writing four swords fic, and a lot of thoughts about the games. esp bc it’s not a nostalgia thing for me, i’ve approached zelda as an adult, i think my analysis of and connection to the media has been pretty “deep” or whatever. these stories mean a lot to me, and i’ve always been someone to take stories and their importance in my life seriously. botw in particular was a very healing experience for me at the time that i played it. that game holds a lot of philosophical and emotional meaning to me, and i get why others may not enjoy it, but as someone who has now played the other games, i still think it’s a master piece. my favorite game of all time, honestly, and totk was such a gift. it did so much right for me. it’s been delightful experiencing the series how i have.

i don’t love all of the choices made in terms of story and themes in loz, but there is a LOT to play with in fic. esp bc it’s a reincarnation type series, i don’t give a shit about the timeline, i just want to draw parallels and do clever interesting things. so a lot of the time i’ll have a vague idea of what i want to do with a story, and there will be a way to make connections, if only for my own enjoyment. i’m a strong believer that all art is derivative, but like, if you know the author loves it and is having fun, that only makes it better. it’s hard to pinpoint what i thought of and what was put in my mind by other things in the series, and honestly, i’m totally cool with that :)

i want to tread lightly talking about the gloom and corruption stuff in that specific fic because spoilers buuuuut the core concept of that part was just for it to be vaguely toxic and kinda … yknow… and i liked the idea of gloom/gloom hands being this confused force of harm and affection. honestly this whole fic is just me putting some very personal feelings and experiences on blast, and it’s been exhausting to write. i actually scrapped the final chapter and i’m rewriting it now, for the best!

hmmm i do connect my writing a lot to music but i think (?) you’ve seen my vidow playlist already! for the final chapter i’m doing a little bit of a tone shift and i’ve been listening a ton to the bottoms (movie) soundtrack. going for something more lively and active and cinematic, instead of two people being miserable. inserting a little dark humor too, closer to the og corruption but it’s chill au. while working on earlier chapters of corruption but it’s unchill i associated it with “eyes half open” by cinders, and (TOTK SPOILERS) i listened to the totk memory ost of rauru sealing ganon pretty much the entire time i wrote the chapter where vio kills green. been listening a lot to “pain” by king princess (also in bottoms, that movie is living rent free in my brain rn) while working on the final chapter.

hope this answers your questions! thanks so much for reading <3

[cupopencils]

I enjoyed your answers to the random questions about your OCs, thank you. I had no idea what to expect, your blog just told me to ask about them, so I figured I'd give you the excuse to talk :D

More questions, I'm invested now: are elves vegan/vegetarian in your universe (or potentially just Nima)? Or is there some other reason Nima is actively into fruit but not much else? Do they use swords and bows, or is this a guns kinda universe? Magic? Is Nima a drow/dark elf, or do elves in your universe just come in various skin colours instead of stereotypical pale? What's the deal with Isaac's hands? And since soda doesn't exist, what's their favourite drinks in the vein of red wine, beer, mead, etc?

Also, both look of them so cool<3

Hey thank you!! I appreciate it :] (Though I am suspicious, who are you what do you want mystery person - -)

As for the questions:

Elves definitely don't have a huge access to meat in the region they're from, but I wouldn't say they're like, vegan. The entire world is technically in a huge resource drought, so everyone is just sort of on a diet of "whatever comes my way"

Nima just likes fruit lol

I'd say there is some amount of tech in this world but everything is sort of. old timey mid-western. There's enough advancement for audio recording but not video recording. And there are guns, just not anything modern

Elves are a huge mindfuck of a topic I'll be honest. Here they're a lot less like their own species and more of just. Human+ if that makes sense. I don't really want to spill their lore but do note that the usual elf sub-categories in DND and stuff don't apply here

Isaac. is. also tough to explain LMAO. He has a good deal of darkening all over him including the tips of his fingers, toes, teeth and mouth. His insides are completely black. The reason WHY is a bit complicated, just know he's a magic little man

For drinks there's like, juice. With the resource scarcity I'm assuming they're whipping up alcohol from whatever they have on hand lol. The usual drinks like wine, beer and stuff do exist, but the quality stuff is expensive and hard to get.

[blahblahblahoohrottmnt]

Nightmare Jack AU (Last Kids on Earth)

J: Jack

Q: Quint

JN: June

D: Dirk

Chapter 1: Origins

J: ugh

Q: Hey Jack, you ok? We have some soda’s in the box…if you want

J: uh yeah..just some stings

Q: good thing we kinda got the town back…with the monsters….and the destruction…except for all that it seems that our town is exactly the same!

J: yeah, really proud about tha- HNG!

Q: JACK! JUNE, DIRK, COME HELP!

JN: oh my god…WHAT’S HAPPENING?

D: WHAT’S GOING ON WITH THE HIM??

J: AAH! IT FEELS LIKE REZZOCH IS INFILTRATING MY MIND AGAIN!

Q: REZZOCH? I THOUGHT WE DEFEATED HER!

JN: I THOUGHT THAT TOO BUT IT SEEMS LIKE SHE CAME BACK

J: *gasp*

(In his head)

J: oh no…what do you want from me now, Rezzoch?

R: since you have proved yourself to be hero and you have changed your doomed future, I shall help you in your quest to help rebuild your home…

J: why? Are you tricking me again?

R: since you were technically my last hope to come into the real world, I shall help you instead of hurting you.

J: so what am I supposed to do?

R: take my hand and I shall transfer a part of my power to you

J: uh

R: i Must warn you, the transformation is long and painful but only at some moments shall it have the pain you are expecting

J: are you sure this isn’t a trick?

R: if it were a trick, I would be creating a nightmare

J: makes sense…ok. I’m trusting you this once but if you even dare to hurt me, my friends will end you

R: expecting the best

J: *holds her hand* this feels wrong

R: *talking gibberish*

J: uh *gasp*

(The real world)

J: *gasp* what was that-

Q: dude! You were in that nightmare state again

J: rezzoch she- *hiss* my hand

Q: why?

J: *takes off his glove* the sign of Rezzoch

JN: no way. Does that mean-

J: no….she won’t come after me it’s like- Agh-

JN: it’s glowing

J: *puts his glove back on* this is crazy! I saw Rezzoch and then she said I can have part of her power? This is so messed up- AAAAGGH!

JN: WOAH WOAH WOAH, WHAT’S GOING ON?

J: UGH

(Jack’s eyes start glowing a blue, similar, almost identical to Rezzoch’s. His hair gains blueish highlights and his veins on his gloved hand start glowing blue, stretching among his arm. Next thing you know it, Jack felt better. Better than before even. Becoming more powerful than before, Jack floats above everyone and everything. Jack sighs in relief as he realizes that his gift, something of a curse, wasn’t a trick of Rezzoch)

J: hey! Look I’m flying!

Q: wha- HOW!?

JN: dude! Your arm and your eyes they-

J: they’re blue, I’m aware but wow, this feels…weird?

D: Sullivan got the powers? Oh come on!

J: this feels so weird. Hold on *trying to go into June’s head*

JN: uh- woah!

(In June’s head)

JN: where am I? Rezzoch?

J: hey juuuunneee

JN: JACK!? did you do this?

J: cool right?

JN: I wanna get out

J: oh right uh

(In Reality)

JN: that felt so weird

D: what happened?

J: i- i think i went into June’s head! That felt so we- ugh…my head

Q: friend, what’s going on?

J: I- mmmgh it just- my head is aching

Q: oh no. Is it a type of sickness or is it Rezzoch?

J: no it’s just a Normal headache

Q: phew, ok. You scared me there, friend

JN: hmm, your hair is a little…navy-er than before

J: huh? Oh…that’s…something

JN: eehhhh might be something else

J: these powers they feel…different

Q: of course they are, you’ve never had powers before

J: no it feels…

Q: feels what?

J: it feels good. Like really good.

Q: as in fearless good or like destroy the world good?

J: the first one

Q: ok good

JN: ok the word good is starting to not sound like a real word

D: agreed. Hold on, Jack, can I see your hand ‘gain?

J: yeah sure *takes off his glove*

D: hmm…Rezzoch is kind of like the embodiment of chaos as we know her but this…

J: what do you mean?

Q: Dirk’s right, yeah Rezzoch is blue but more turquoise-y. Yours is just…pure blue

J: what does that mean for me?

Q: I don’t kno…w

D: Jack, why are the stuff floating around our heads? Make it stop now

JN: Sullivan…

J: i- uh- the powers they’re not…part of the part of the power that Rezzoch gave me

Q: does that mean she’s back?

M: *barges in* Heyo!

(Mari, part of the squad trying to find other survivors. She is about the same age as June and is a self insert character)

M: Mari

Q: WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?

M: Mari B. Part of the Finding Survivors Agency (The F.S.A)

Q: uh..hi…new friend?

M: new friend!

J: hi! I’m Jack, the girl who has a crystal bat is June. The blond guy is Dirk. And the person you just talked to is Quint, my best friend!

M: why hello there! As you know, I’m Mari. I come from…well..I’m based in the Philippines but me and my family took a trip to Florida at the worst time possible heh..but my family is safe and sound in the F.S.A’s base back in Connecticut

Q: Connecticut?

M: Uhuh!

Q: how did you get here? What was your form of transportation?

M:… Wretch!

All - Mari: A WRETCH!?

M: yup!

J: wha- HOW!?

M: it was easy! All I did was feed it some food and he trusted me!

Mari’s Wretch: *screeches and flies beside Mari*

M: his name is Stormfly! I named him after a dragon in a fandom I’m in!

Q: so…that’s all it took?

M: yup! I heard there was a uh…king wretch and a Rezzoch?

J: hi uh..I can tell you all about that…I kinda did uh…make Rezzoch posses the king wretch

M: oh that’s PERFECT!

J: wait what?

M: let me see your hand

J: wait wait wait- WOAH!

M: *grabs Jack’s hand and takes off his glove* yes! The sign of Rezzoch! So you got her power too?

J: wait what?

M: I made her posses something before and then I got some of her powers, I know, big deal

J: but…where’s your mark?

M: *takes down her scarf* here!

J: woah…

M: yeah! It’s been 7…8 months? Since I got her power

J: I just got mine today…

M: oh cool! *starts floating* I can teach you what I know. Do you guys mind if I take him for a bit?

JN: are we really gonna say yes to the girl we don’t even know that much about

D: we don’t mind

Q: only if he comes back safe

JN: I- WHAT!?

M: majority wins! Bye bye. Cmon I have so many things to show you

J: but how do I fly?

M: just…think of flying I guess

J: *Starts to float* ok! Lesson one-

M: complete! Now let’s go! *heads over to the old comic book store*

J: oh uh- *follows Mari*

Chapter 2: Just Getting Started

M: alright, focus all your energy on that one comic book. Just hold a finger out

J: uh *shoots a bolt of electricity through his finger* woah!

M: bullseye!

J: I-I just did that?

M: pretty cool right? Ok, so there’s a few you need to learn. Sniper, minigun, and revolver

J: uh those are all gun types

M: yeah, ok, so sniper is just rapid fire. Minigun, it has a rebound. Only use it when you get hit. And revolver is 6 in-a-row type of sitch. Sniper, you get the gist. But revolver…oh it’s just amazing! 6 in a row is the best that revolver can do. Revolver is uh…the heavy stuff

J: what do you mean by “heavy stuff”

M: Revolver is like this *shoots 6 in-a-row of heavy fire shots*

J: ok i see that now

M: see that? Ok try it

J: which one? Revolver?

M: yeah

J: uhm *pulls a 4 in-a-row of heavy shots* ugh..

M: drained?

J: guess you could say that

M: yeah…revolver takes the most energy out of us

J: *sigh*

M: ready?

J: yeah *pulls a revolver*

M: yes! Now a sniper

J: *sniper time*

M: minigun

J: *throws a minigun 3 in-a-row*

M: yes!

J: *snaps out of it* woah that felt

M: weird huh? It’s like your so focused but you’re also out of it

J: yeah..that’s so weird

M: yeah, wanna head back?

J: is that all?

M: you’re obviously tired…based on your veins

J: what? *looks at his veins* AHH!

M: yeah, they become bluer when your tired

J: yeah let’s go

M: alright!

(Back at the new built tree-house)

JN: hey! How was training number 1?

J: pretty good. Apparently, my fingers are like guns!

JN: no way!

J: yes way!

M: can I crash here for a bit?

JN: yeah sure, do whatever

M: thanks. Wow this place is stacked! You’ve got it good. My place certainly didn’t look like this the first time around

JN: yeah, this is Jack’s

M: cool! You know…I wish I were here when this all first started

JN: yeah? Me too…

M: I just *sigh* I wish I could’ve been here sooner! Then my family would’ve been safe

JN: I get it…but down worry you’ll be ok here

J: yeah…if we’ve been here since Rezzoch came, we can be here ‘till the end!

M: thanks guys

J: let’s get sleeping now

M: ditto

Chapter 3: Becoming Pt. 1

M: alright now just focus on that one x on the comic book aaannnnndd FIRE!

J: *shoots*

M: nice!

J: we’ve been doing finger guns for an hour now. Isn’t there anything else you know?

M: hmmm fighting?

J: I already got that down

M: fencing?

J: I’d say 80%

M: Fence-fighting?

J: oh heck yeah!

M: alright, fence-fighting is just a mix of fighting and fencing but more advanced

J: alright so I hold my bat like this aaanndd

M: swing. Block. Swing swing. Block. Kick. Swing. Stab. Left kick. Uppercut

J: alright!

M: stab. Stab. Swing. Block. Kick. Swing

J: *panting*

M: you’re tired already?

J: never *goes into hyper focus mode*

M: swing, swing, swing, stab, kick, kick, block, block, block, stab stab stab, uppercut (let’s throw in some finger guns) sniper, swing, kick, block block, stab, minigun. Yes! Alright I think we’re good

J: *snap back to reality* I- what happened?

M: you were fence-fighting. Added a few finger guns in the mix

J: I dont…remember that

M: *gasp* YOU UNLOCKED HYPERFOCUS THAT EASILY?

J: hyperfocus? What do you mean?

M: you see, whenever we get tired after the few minutes of fighting, we go into this thing called hyperfocus mode. It’s like use in autopilot. Think of it as a defense mechanism but you’re zoning out

J: how often does it happen?

M: uh…quite rarely is some situations

J: can we train it?

M: as far as I know, we can’t

J: ugh, could’ve been so helpful if we could do it on command

M: right? I tried telling Rezzoch but she just won’t listen and she’s so moody all the ti-

J: I’m gonna stop you right there. “Telling Rezzoch”? You can communicate with her?

M: yeah, whenever I’m in my dreamscape, I can talk to her

J: why didn’t that happen last night?

M: it’s like lucid dreaming. Like all our powers, we need to train it

J: oh..

D: hey guuuuyyss!

M: hey dirk! April, quint!

Q: we thought we could use some training!

M: oh that’s very nice of you but I was training Jack

JN: oh come on! There needs to be something we can train with you!

M: I think there can be some

JN: great! Now, what are those things?

(End of session)

All - Mari, Jack: *panting for their life*

Q: THAT WAS SO HARD!

J: really? I feel fine!

M: just Rezzochs have more stamina than others

J: I mean, if Mari says it, then I guess so!

Q: (Rezzochs?) oh my god I think I’m gonna throw up

D: I feel…defeated…I’m heading back to the treehouse, byyyyeee!

JN: TAKE ME WITH YOU

Q: ME TOO

M:……

J:….

M: wanna keep training?

J: yeah sure

(Back at the treehouse)

J: *panting*

M: hey Jack, you ok?

J: I- i- Ugh *faints*

M: *catches Jack* eeeuggh

JN: I heard something! *gasp* JACK!

M: he just fainted, you just have to let him rest

JN: wha-wha-wha- FAINTED!?

M: yup

JN: I-

M: I’m taking him to his..bed? Room? For him to rest

(In Jack’s room)

M: *sitting beside him*

J: *waking up* ugh…what- what happened?

M: you fainted once we got here

J: what why?

M: I….may or may not have overestimated your power soooo

J: heh…i get it

M: ….you know. I’ve always had a theory that when 2 people with Rezzoch’s power go into each others mind, they can connect even more there. They become more powerful and gain more of Rezzoch’s power.

J: what if we try that now?

M: I mean…what harm can that do?

They stare into each others eyes

(The dreamscape, none of their minds, none of their thoughts. More like a free park, an in between)

M: this is so weird

J: but yet so natural. *floating around* weeeeeee!

M: hey…

J: yeah?

M: our veins…they won’t stop getting bluer…

J: is this bad?

M: it doesn’t feel bad

J: this is worrying me

M: uuuhhmmmmmm

J: agh! It’s starting to feel tingly

M: was this a guh a bad idea?

J: most probably yes!

M: oh god oh god WHY DID I THEORIZE!?

J: AAAAAAAAAA-

They wake up

Both: *gasp*

M: oh my god…that felt…terrifying. I do NOT want to do this again

J: agreed

M: but that felt…uh…how do I say it? Pleasing? Oh god no uh…

J: fulfilling

M: yeah that. Uh- mmgh…my neck

J: hsss my hand

They take off their scarf and glove

Both: my marking…

M: are your veins spreading too?

J: yeah…a lot

Both of them go to the bathroom

J: jeez it stretched all the way to my shoulder

M: mine is until my upper chest…

J: do you think we’re gonna die?

M: not quite. Don’t feel any pain and from as far as I know, our pain receptors are alive and working

J: this is so weird

M: I have a bad feeling that we shouldn’t tell the others

J: for once, I think this bad idea might actually be something that would be if our benefit

M: i think we should go to the forest for a bit. Y’know…so they don’t find out

J: yeah, I agree with you

They head to the forest

Chapter 4: Becoming Pt. 2

M: what’s happening to us? This isn’t something that happened before

J: duh! This is because we invaded each other’s mind!

M: I mean, yeah but…I didn’t think THIS!

J: I know, I know…our veins seem to symbolize we’re tired but…I don’t feel tired

M: same…wait. What if this is the complete opposite! Beat ya to the tree house?

J: oh You’re ON!

(while running to the treehouse, both Jack and Mari see the world going slower, birds flapping their wings so slowly…like they were the only one in normal speed while the world was in 0.5 speed. But it was the complete opposite, as Mari says. They are in the fastest speed their town as ever seen. They move so fast that they get to the treehouse in record time of only 3 seconds)

M: hah! We got here so fast…or was the world just slow?

J: no matter what, i bet to the others, we got here in about i don’t know, a few seconds? Maybe a minute too.

M: huh…this is so weird

J: hey, our veins are going down

M: weird…

J: ugh

M: oh no…

Both of them faint just a few feet from the ladder to the treehouse

JN: *going down* MARI? JACK!? *shaking them to wake up* DIRK! HELP! CARRY THEM INTO THE HOUSE!

D: I HEARD MY NAME! oh no…SULLIVAN? MARI? *goes down the ladder*

JN: here…

D: *takes Jack and Mari one by one*

(In their room, alone)

M: *waking up* uuuuugghhh….. what- what happened? Oooohhhh….oh no

J: mmgh…

M: Jack?

J:……

M: *tries to get out of bed* agh! Ugh I feel like I broke my back on a rock! *heals herself and gets up* Jack…*sits besides Jack*

J: no no no no no no no no no no no no!

M: *gasp* oh no…*healing Jack* please please please….

J: *gasp* what the heck?

M: you were in a…supposed to be 9 month coma

J: NINE MONTHS? I- I- MARCH 1 OF 2024?

M: I said supposed. Not that you were. I woke you up with my powers

J: woah woah woah woah….you can HEAL PEOPLE?

M: we may share the same powers but we have 2 very distinguishing powers that each of us have. As in my healing power, I also have telekinesis powers. You wont have them, you will have another 2 powers that I don’t have.

J: so like….fraternal twins?

M: technically

J: how do you know?

M: analytics

J: so…are all the things you taught me….are that all you know that we have the same thing with?

M: yeah

J: so you’re saying that there’s over a billion powers that I could have that you don’t?

M: uuuhm…yes?

J: oh god…this is terrifying

M: but in a good way….I think…for the most part

J: *lays back down* this is…gonna be an interesting year

M: Mind: i wanna have pizza

J: well we don’t have pizza but if you just want some toast and cheese we have that

M: how did you know?

J: did you not say anything?

M: yeah…OH MY GOD THAT’S YOUR POWER! YOU CAN READ PEOPLES MIND!

J: I Wonder if i can…*makes fire* no wonder my hand felt so warm

M: *GAAASSP* my student has become the master…

[taegularities]

rid my dear if you’re not too busy, and still open for some drabbles, I have a request. All these amc on ry has me feeling soft and gushy, so my request is ry!tae and a!oc on their wedding night 🥹❤️🥰💍💐👀

fic: ruin you and ruined pairing: taehyung x reader (a!oc) genre: established relationship; pure fluff and smut warnings: confessions and a lot of love :(, they're simps for each other, bit of teasing, wedding talk; explicit sexual content: fingering, oral (f.), doggy and missionary <3, spit stuff, brief masturbation, biting (surprise), dom and big dick!tae (surprise pt2.), one pussy slap, he likes her ass, praising, so many petnames, he's actually SOOO fkn sweet :(, unprotected sex (condoms are cool), manhandling, multiple orgasms, lmk if i forgot smth <3 wc: 3k (u don't understand how much i miss them ok) a/n: i've not been feeling so well lately, so i was gonna say no to this request – but this ask stirred something in me, and now i miss them even more :') it's far from perfect, but i hope u still like it hehe i even made a banner !! :D lmk what u think <3 a/n2: the drabble belongs to my ruin you series (linked above), but if u'd like to read it as a standalone, that's totally possible, too! those are just newlyweds very very much in love 🥺

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ask my character! (no drabble requests anymore, please!) <3

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The sly smirk he shoots down to your awaiting body will never not feel new to you.

He towers above you, veined hands under his neck. His fingers slowly work at the buttons that yet keep his skin hidden, and your blood boils. Your heart vibrates. Your eyes dart back and forth between his gaze and his ring finger, now decorated with eternity.

With his shirt down and the melanin popping, he hastily removes his slacks; danger fills his words when his knees hit the mattress and he says, “You looked so gorgeous today.” You hold your breath, shifting back on the bed. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Liar. You were too busy admiring the castle grounds and the fairy lights.”

Your back hits the headboard of the bed, but you don’t remain in the position for long. His strong grip settles around your already bare thighs, pulling you down the bed until you’re flat underneath him.

Drawing closer, he breathes against your skin, hands crawling up from your legs to your tummy and then to your breasts. He’s an enchantment, every single time… and despite the years you spent together, tangled up in your room, you don’t know how your heart will handle his unending affection.

You’re officially his now, aren’t you? Officially officially.

“You loved the lights and the flowers just as much, though, didn’t you?” he asks whenever his lips aren’t kissing down your neck and shoulders.

“I did…” you mumble, focusing on breathing, “didn’t expect anything else from us.”

“It was your idea.”

“No regrets.”

“No,” he places a hand on your cheek, brushing back your hair, “fuck no. Never any regrets.”

Taehyung is impatient today – and that says a lot, considering how he’s still moving slowly, carefully. The hour-long pleasure that usually keeps you awake at night falls away this time; his mouth journeys down your body and to your panties right away.

Wet kisses call goosebumps to the surface of your skin; he moans when you do. His fingers tug at the straps of your bra, pulling it down and freeing your perked nipples. The gust of wind through the open window makes you shiver.

“Today was really fucking long,” you murmur, whimpering when he bites your sides. “Fuck, I—”

“Yes. Yeah, what is it?”

“Can you hurry up?”

“You’re flattering me,” he laughs, hands on your hips as his face settles between your spread legs. “On our first day as a married couple, too.”

“Me telling you to hurry up is flattery to you?”

“Is it not?” He plays around the hem of your panties, and when his fingertips graze the spot near your clit, you almost shut your legs close. “You think hearing you beg for dick isn’t flattery?”

“Not begging…” you insist, though the both of you know just how fast he affects your mind. “Just—”

He slaps your pussy with a layer still inbetween; you yelp, looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows as he says, “I missed this.”

“It’s just been two days.”

“So? I miss you all the damn time.”

“Simp.”

“‘Kay,” he only voices before he buries his nose and mouth in your panties.

He inhales, lips toying with the fabric. Then, his tongue darts out, and you feel it subtly, slowly; your body reacts, and that’s all he wants.

Looking up at you, he finds your eyes closed in delight and lust. He dives in again – and this time, he flattens his tongue over your pussy, the material of your panties harsh against the wet muscle. You squirm, groaning, and your hands rush to his dark hair.

It’s still somewhat hard from the gel his tresses got styled with, but when you look at him, the damn loose strands send you into an endless spiral of craze.

“Taehyung—”

“Mmmh.”

His movements become more urgent; soon, he’s making out with your clothed cunt, nails digging into your legs and hips, and you squirm in his grip. Your reaction sends blood straight from his head to his cock, and when impatience wins once and for all, his face shoots up.

Your limbs are shivering already, your nipples impossibly hard. And with the look you wear, he can’t help but feel his underwear tighten. Nearly ripping your panties off of you, he throws them on the ground before finding his way back home between your thighs.

He doesn’t take a moment or two to prepare you for what’s to come; instead, he pushes your legs back immediately, starting to eat you out like a man starved. His tongue and lips feel soft against your pussy, and he keeps changing the pace.

From fast flicks to slow kisses, he doesn’t leave a spot of you untouched. His mouth glistens from your slick – you can see it even from here – and his hair tickles your pelvis. Nether lips spread, he brings a finger to your entrance, and when he teases it with circling motions, you shut your legs around his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says when he emerges anew for a breath of air. “One more time and I’ll leave you high and dry on your wedding night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He smirks. “I wouldn’t, you’re right,” the shake and tilt of his head remind you of the devil; he will eat you alive, you know it, “but don’t you wanna come as many times as possible, baby?”

“Now th–that you say it…” you breathe out when he soothes the crescent moons his nails dug into your skin. “But hurry. Please.”

“‘Yeah, babe.” Taehyung’s finger pushes in between your walls, and your eyes roll back at the pleasant intrusion. “No need to worry at all.”

And then, he’s tongueing at your clit. Drawing patterns, watching you leak, his fingers drenched in arousal to their knuckles. He fucks into you slowly at first before he increases his pace, and with the tension already present in your tummy since dinner, you let go with a snap.

“Ohhhh, you— you fucking demon, I—” is all you manage.

He licks you through your high; you feel the smile against your skin. You might’ve remarked something snarky if he wasn’t robbing every little piece of your sanity.

Cautiously, he watches your expression, a deep crease between your eyebrows that relaxes bit by bit. You look drowsy, kind of hazy – the way you always do when an orgasm shakes your body.

“Baby,” he whispers innocently, and you almost scoff; though your reaction dies immediately when he adds, “Turn around.”

“Huh?”

Taehyung laughs, kissing your cheek, your nose, your forehead before he teases, “You really can’t think anymore, can you?” You let out a small snicker, shaking your head no. “Turn around for me.”

You attempt your best to do a 180, and his hands aid you, flipping you over before he lifts your hips. Balancing your body on your underarms, you throw the hair out of your face, and when you glance back a few seconds later, he’s… fully naked.

Pumping his cock.

Hissing, biting his lip. His jaw is clenched and sharp – you want it to cut you open.

You push your body back, wiggling your ass, but Taehyung’s free hand stops you in your tracks when he grabs a handful of your bum and squeezes hard. You let out a quiet vocal, and he says, “You wanna play with my sanity like that?”

“It’s what I’ll be doing the rest of my life, babe.”

“Good one,” he says, albeit not without a tsk and a roll of his eyes. You don’t see his pupils anymore – but you’re sure he did just that.

You feel the mattress shift when he moves closer; his cock rests between your ass cheeks, moving slowly. Leaking precum sticks hot against your skin, and he leans forwards until his chest almost touches your back.

“Here,” he voices, bringing his fingers to your mouth. “Need a good image of what you can do.”

You want to tell him that he knows exactly what you can do – pictures of his eyes rolled back, his cock throbbing in your mouth, your own eyes watering flash across your mind. The way he grunts and groans when he comes in your throat, his voice as deep as the ocean.

Fuck.

Words die on your tongue when he pushes the digits he fucked you with between your lips. It’s the same as always for you, neutral; your arousal awakens nothing in you. But you know he likes your fragrance, your taste, that it drives him crazy to feel you around him anyhow.

Like now.

You swirl your tongue around his fingers, bobbing your head back and forth, eyelids shut as he moans. You imagine that he’s thrown his head back; feel how rockhard he is for you.

His cock shifts down and prods your entrance – you think he’ll push in when you expect it the least. But instead, he removes his fingers from your mouth and says, “Spit on it.”

Offering his palm, he breathes in deeply again, and you land a blob of spit on his hand before it vanishes from your sight. Craning your neck again, you watch as he spreads it around his dick; veins pulsate along his curved length, and you drool at the size, at the sheer delicacy that’ll ruin you all night.

And then, he moves on the bed again, and you avert your gaze, preparing your body for what’s to come.

Wet and filthy, his cock slides in. A loud mewl of his name falls out of you, and your upper body threatens to drop. He fills you up slowly, knowing you need a moment to adjust to him; and once he’s sheathed himself entirely inside you, he asks, “All good, my love?”

“I’m okay,” you assure, your head spinning, “go ahead. Please.”

And so he does.

Starts fucking into you gently, his hips moving in circles. He watches the way his cock keeps disappearing inside you; listens to the sounds that tumble out of you constantly; sees it when you grab the sheets above your head.

“Can I go—”

“Yeah,” you say, already aware of what he’s going to ask, “harder… faster.”

“Okay. Okay, shit.” He pauses, taking the moment to ram into you hard. “Are you even real? Gonna break the bed, I sw— swear.”

He would. It’s not like he has never torn up the pillows in your bedroom. But if he does it here, the hotel staff might complain, so he better practice control tonight.

Even if you don’t want him to.

Taehyung used to tell you how his biggest flex in bed was composure. How he always knew what he was doing, every move calculated – and how all of this broke once he met you. You’re a fog, he always says. You don’t allow a clear mind… don’t allow calculations.

And you notice it in the way his hips snap against yours; the way he forgets the world around him. You jolt forwards, your legs giving in. But the weakness of your limbs doesn’t discourage him; instead, he falls onto you, careful to not crush you under his weight.

Flat on your tummy, you’re caged between the bed and him, raising your arms higher. And before you know it, his hands have wandered from your waist to your wrists, pinning them down on each side of the pillow.

His cock, impossibly solid and wet, fucks you insane – your thoughts are scattered when the curve of it hits an especially sensitive patch inside you.

And he… not even he can believe that you’re real. His thrusts push your ass upwards, both your bodies sweaty; he loves how you feel wrapped around his thick cock. So he lunges in harder.

You nearly scream, “Taehyung—” Your heart thumps wildly, and his teeth nibble at the shell of your ear, his breathing shallow and irregular against you. “Taehyung, fuck, I…”

“Talk to me. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I love you… so— so fucking much.”

You do.

You do, right?

And suddenly… something seems to change in the atmosphere.

Your words trigger something in his heart. Something deeply anchored, yet easy to grasp. The wild hammering of his hips calms down, and the firm grip around your wrists loosens.

“Baby,” he whispers, and you hum, feeble in his presence. “I’m sorry, but… can you— can you turn around again?” You hum again, and he adds, “Wanna see you.”

So you do.

Slowly, with sugar and honey in your eyes. No matter how lewd your actions, your eyes are always deep and dreamy. He thinks he sees your soul through them – shiny and bright, like no one else’s ever.

God, he’s in love with you.

There can’t be a day without you anymore. By the laws of fate and love, there can’t be.

With the tip of his member spreading your pussy again, one of his hands wanders to the nape of your neck. His fingers bury in your hair, his lips grazing yours. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time – sighs along with you when his dick has vanished inside you again.

And then, before he starts moving once more, he admits, “I love you, too. I love you so much, it hurts.”

It hurts.

Every moment without him. You hate being dependent on people – but Taehyung has a hold on your heart that will keep suffocating you in the most delightful way. If that’s the silent ache love and eternal fondness bring, you don’t ever want your heart to stop bleeding.

Your moans, your whimpers, the crying out of each other’s names continue. The yearning, despite the closeness, doesn’t end. But his ministrations are slower now, his eyes lost in you. He doesn’t stop looking at you.

Only fucks you deeper, his pelvis brushing against your clit, untying the second knot that forms in your stomach. And he says, “I can’t… I cannot believe this.”

“What, baby?” you whisper, pushing the stray hair behind his ears.

“That this is happening…” You know immediately what he means. Not sex. Not intimate moments. You’ve had so many of those. But. “My wife. Aren’t you? My—” A sharp breath falls out of his mouth. “My baby, right? My wife.”

You might tear up… here and now. Your eyes are already welling up, glassier than his – and when he buries his face in your neck, kissing your flesh, you throw your head back. Eyelids flutter shut. The one tear priorly attempting to escape rolls out of your eyes and down your temples.

And when the contact of your skins keeps toying with your clit, you let go again at one particularly effective thrust. His name is all you seem to know – the rest of human language doesn’t make any sense anymore. Your voice breaks, your arms around him so tight that your muscles hurt.

Your husband.

Kim Taehyung.

Kim Taehyung – a man you’ll keep forever. His thoughts, his smile, his touch. A future with him and mini hims.

Yours.

“Fuck, I’m gonna…” he manages, but you barely understand. “I love you. Love you. You feel so good, f—”

You press your lips together, still keening – and when he muffles his sounds against your clavicles, you know he’s close, too. He moves inside you once. Twice. And half a minute later, he’s spilling inside you, his seed hot and plenty.

A palm of yours slides down his body, to the firm muscles of his ass. He raises his head, madness in his eyes; his hair is dishevelled, in urgent need of a wash. But you think he’s prettiest like that.

Drowning in you. Unaware of his surroundings.

Taehyung is in love with you, and you will keep repeating it to yourself until you understand this fact’s reality one day.

“You’re perfect,” he then says.

His cock softens, the sheets damp from your sweat and filth – but right now, you couldn’t care less. His eyes pull you in too much, hypnotising; who could care about anything other than him?

“You are,” you tell him, and he smiles. Pecks your nose, and then stares at you with a blush dusting his cheeks. “And today was perfect, too.”

“It was, yeah? I’m happy if you’re happy, then.”

“You know what I loved the most?”

“Mmh… Slow dancing.”

Your eyes blow wide along with your mouth, and you tilt your head in the pretty way he adores as you say, “How did you know?”

“I saw it the moment we started. I knew you loved it,” he pauses, licks his lips, and you look at his mole for a moment, “but also because it was my favourite part, too.”

You nod slowly, pulling him into you a bit more. “We should slow dance more often, I think.”

“We’ll do anything you like, okay? We have all the time in the world now.”

Once again, you nod, and your eyes shimmer with purity. You’re indescribable – a wonder of nature. One of Monet’s paintings, right out of his mind, personified.

Taehyung never questions where you were all his life. Never thinks you should’ve crossed paths before. Because recalling his past, he doesn’t reckon he would’ve gotten into your heart this deep with the personality he used to wear.

Love had its time – and when the first tries failed, you appeared with a halo over your head.

It’s perfect. Every moment, every kiss, every fight and every piece of you – perfect.

The corners of his lips drop, his eyes suddenly sober. Worry creeps up your heart, and for a second, you fear he might slip back into the anxious moods that used to plague him. So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

But in reality… he and his heart are calm. Pleasant waves of tenderness swim in his eyes. And then…

Then he says, “You’re the love of my life.”

Your heart stops for a moment.

You take a deep breath; your waterline dampens again.

And he continues, “Don’t you ever dare to leave, okay?”

As if anything was easier than that. A request so obvious that you don’t even need to think twice before you promise, “I’d be an idiot if I did.”

That’s what you vowed at your wedding today. That you’d keep the beats of your hearts synchronised. That you’d never let him feel the absence of your warmth. And that you’d keep your fingers tangled with his.

That you’ve fallen for him once – and that you’ll keep falling for him forever.

–

please lmk what u think and reblog if u liked it 🥺 !!

[muffindaddystyles]

Soft dom harry makes subby reader upset subspace?

MEANIE ANGRY H :D BUCKLE UP FELLAS

Y/N's day is been shitty so far. It started with an ache in her lower abdomen from Harry’s morning stiffy bulging against her asscheeks fattening everytime he snuggled into her to hoard her warmth and blankies and to stuff his face in her neck with incoherent blabbering.

She wanted to wake him up with her hand, mouth, hole— anything around his cock and to please him and dull the burny feeling in her tummy -- but -- she had an important workshop at UNI that was must needed to be attended.

The time she managed to knock herself out of her needy and lusty headspace, she was getting late and whirling around the room and closest like a thunderstorm -- burying a snoring Harry under the heaps of clothes and littering the floor with her shoes collection, the kitchen got treated much more worst with maids being not around (she’s used to Harry waking up earlier than her and making her a full course brekkie) after making a laughable ruckus of cabinets all she stuffed her mouth with was a chocolate protein bar.

The stars were still not in her favour. She was grabbing onto her hair until far when she missed the bus (she usually don’t take buses, Harry makes sure the driver drop her off safe and secure) and it started raining leaving Y/N with nothing but a bare head to take all of it as she already left the bus shelter to stop a taxi.

If all of that wasn’t much of a tragedy and humiliating, Y/N slipped the moment she stepped out of the vehicle and on the slippery curbs of the building, she saw her life flashing right infront of her eyes as the papers tucked in her armpit fled everywhere and landed on the rainy mud sadistically along her. It gave her a serious hit in her ankle and completely yanked her hip, still being a stubborn-head she picked herself and went inside despite how many glares the cleaning staff threw her way for bringing the dirt with her feed all over the shiny floors.

She felt bad.

Stupidly bad.

Her workshop teachers were kind enough to accept her late arrival, but her designs for fall got rejected and they’d have been a huge milestone for her to get her dream internship.

Y/N felt awfully, teeny, pathetic and little while slumping into the corner of the bus and holding her breath to refrain from crying these little liquidy bitches out of her eyes.

Reaching back home she was met with pure chaos, bumping into petrified and agitated employs from Harry’s company scurrying out of their main foyer and she could persist but to ask what happened only to be informed in stammers that the staff messed up big and caused a loss of million dollars— making Harry terribly mad and fire people left and right.

It wasn’t a joke at all.

Because once, she steps inside, bag falling from her shoulder as she sighs in exhaustion feeling her muscles stiffening everywhere but one particular spot's hurting wrenchingly— her foggy mind couldn’t figure it out yet. She peeks into Harry’s home office to be met by a very annoyed, aggrieved, furious Harry pacing in his office all whilst with a phone against his ear shouting at someone who was destined to be humiliated today just like her and she pouts gingerly seeing his features skewered tightly into displeasure, the vein that curves along his temple prominent with blood pumping erratically in his body.

His head snaps up at the door’s creak and albeit his eyes softens a little, the kink of brows and the scowl on his lips is still there and he watches her paddle towards him carefully knowing anything at the moment would burst his chimneys out and she wants to be good for her daddy.

“Hi.” She speaks timidly, pout getting more rusty when the greetings not returned and instead he keeps all of his attention on the phone keeping a loose arm around her.

She grumbles, when he gestures down at her to give him a sec and untangles himself from her walking away and huffing and puffing into the phone.

How could he!

She feels so denied and rejected and kicked like it’s done to those affection starved lil puppies.

Her clingy tendencies flying high drunk and wooly. The needy beastie inside her wanting nothing more than take a bath where Harry could cream her back in her favourite berry bubbles, massaging her head and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, then lots and lots of cuddles, maybe he'll be generous enough and let her keep him snug inside her while they watch movie because she had such an awful day.

But, No! He's trying to escape free from her because she’s such a burden for him now.

Her eyes turns glassy, her shoulders slumping sadly and out of nowhere she’s feeling cold and barren as Harry’s voice becomes a wafting fume for her— an indication she has gone under too much.

“Daddy . . .” She stomps behind him, circling his footsteps like a whiny puppy and grapples at his dress shirt gasping sullenly when he swats her dainty hands away and glares down at her in dominance, his tone harsh as he blocks the receiver with his palm and mouths at her with a huff, “Stop being needy fo’ once. I’ve clearly some important issues to care for, Y/N.” Poor Y/N's deathly grip on his shirt loosens sorrowfully and her chin wobbles as she nodded still wanting to be good for him and if it wasn’t enough to give her the biggest heartbreak of the year— he even rolled his eyes at her too grumping under his breath about something how he turned her into a spoiled brat himself.

“Okie. . .” Her voice strangled and small. She shrinks into herself but wasn’t paid any heed from Harry and without another word she leaves him as to be it.

Having a huge breakdown in her room didn’t help at all. A painful headache hitting her like a train as she clumsily strips down, wearing one of his t-shirt heavily drenched in his scent he keeps for her under her pillow anytime she needs it and hides under the blankets with tears still running down her swollen cheeks— slipping into a light slumber from all of weariness and crying.

Once the smoke cleared from Harry’s mind and his capabilities of rational thinking coming back to him, he was reminded of how he denied his baby of his littlest of affection and tenderness when she clearly looked so glum and sad and upset.

He wanted to whip himself in head.

He’s such a twat that he let work come between them.

He curses himself. Making a sprint to his bedroom, knowing he’d find her none other than there and he was right puffing out a disheartened sigh when his eyes falls over his princess buried under all of these layers of blankets, he crawls up towards her carefully not to startle her awake.

Grunting at himself when he finds she’s been crying, he strokes a thumb up her blushy cheeks and her wet lashes, kissing her puffy eyelids and her little sad unhappy pout away.

He frowns. Feeling her feverish and flushed under his hand, “Hey puppy . . .” He thumbs down her throat getting a little fretful when she doesn’t stirs, however she’s such a squirmy little one and he moves the blankets away to let her body cool itself smiling proudly at his shirt swallowing her whole is when she snuggled herself more into her stuffie letting the shirt ride up her thighs and hips exposing a ghastly bruise of red and purples and he frowns not remembering it being there before.

Now. He feels shittier. Wanting to jump of the cliff for being a shitty sadist boyfriend to his only beloved.

“No!” Y/N whimpers loudly, squirming away from his touch as he examines her gently and it sent shockwaves to each of her tissues and lions causing her an undeniable pain.

“Puppy, shh, shh. ‘s just me, making sure if y'okay.” He scrambles closer to her towering her to cradle her face and kiss the tip of her nose—- his face falls drastically and his heart cracks miserly when Y/N pushes him away with a sorrowful mumble not even letting him wipe the drool away from the corner of her mouth as he usually does.

“’M okay . . .” She tries to knuckle the sleepiness away with shivery hands, “No you’re not —...” He’s cut off by her angry pout and her silly efforts to keep as much distance between them as possible, “I don’t need, Daddy . . ‘m big and I could take care of me self.” At her puny waver realization dawns upon Harry and his brows shoots up to his hairline feeling nauseous and terrible for not taking care of his babylove earlier.

He’d have never let her be away from him if he knew she was in her subspace.

“Y/N baby . . . I didn’t mean it, darling —--...” With gentleness he tries to approach her but she wraps her arms around her petite figure in a protective manner, haziness taking best of her and Harry’s chest suffocates into itself, being a dom it’s your responsibility to make your subby feel protected, loved and happy and he even failed at that.

He quickly cups both of her hot cheeks in his nippy palms when she hiccups sadly, a sob threatening to slip out, “Yes you did! You meant it. Said you spoiled me, I don’t want your money, promise! I just want you and y'shooed me away saying Y/N’s too needy . . .” Harry flinches at her words. He never even spared a thought to this negativity that she chooses to be with him for his money because he knows out of all the people she’s the only one who loves him out of the boundaries of status and money.

He realises how stabbing they'd have been to her when she was so sensitive and floaty wanting nothing more, just him.

How deep she has gone if she’s taking her own name in third person.

“’M sorry baby. So sorry. Swear on myself, didn’t mean to hurt my baby, knows tha’ work shouldn’t be an excuse t’ make y'feel unloved—- but those bastards got a tick outta me.” He rambles on frantically. Afraid she’ll think he’s lying and would finally make up her mind to leave him.

“You didn’t?” She asks with so much innocence Harry nearly cries out, “’Course I didn’t! How could I? You could never be needy, Bab. I love you so much and you’re my whole word, forgive me please?”

“You’re forgiven,” She let a small smile flutter up her features, a tinge of gleam in her previous dull eyes brightening the whole room and Harry immediately bunches her up in his lap.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks her, not sure if she still needs space from him and would rather be better without him but she bobs her head shyly and he chuckles softly before touching their lips together into a tender loving kiss and brushes their noses up and down murmuring sweetly coy to her.

“Now, could y'tell daddy how y'got this bruise baby? How did ya get hurt?” He coos, brushing her sweaty hair back and rubs her sweet gland behind her ear delicately, “Oh yeah . . . this, was raining and slipped.” She murmurs, hissing a gasp jolting away when Harry glides his fingers gently down her hip bone and fresh tears springs in her eyes as she buries herself in his chest, “Daddy hurts. . .” . “Oh babypie. Daddy’s g'na take care of his love.” He lays her down gently kissing her forehead when she whines for him to keep on holding her, “’M right here darling. G'na prep us a bath, make my baby alright.” Saying this he quickly disappears inside the washroom and next their room’s sursuring with marble tub filling with warm water, Harry throws in her favourite pink coloured bath bombs and rose essences and throws their towels in the warmer coming back with her as he left her to be, he has decided he’s gonna love on her whole night, “My baby’s the best, ain’t she? She’s my bestest girl.” He coos down at her sweetly and slides his forearms under her knees and back picking her up carefully and brings her to his chest securely.

She closes her eyes, biting down a whimper when Harry dips them in the water some it sloshing down the edges of bathtub and it envelopes them and gives a stingy feeling to her bruise before soothing it down.

He rubs her arms, and circles smoothing patterns on her tummy and kisses her a gallons as she melts in his embrace and he let’s her sink into him more, nibbling and sponging wet ticklish kisses on her neck making her purr and become a puddle of softness in his hold while she takes her time to mumble all the bad events that happened to her and he felt so guilty of not asking her how she’s and how her day went when she came to him, in need of some of his lovin.

“I love you so much, bab.” He suckles her earlobe, toying and plucking her bottom plush lip, “Was prick to me love —.. you deserve all my lovin,” He noses at her jaw, not forgetting it to mark it with his pecks and sloppy bites.

“’S okay daddy, y'had a bad day too.” He’s grateful to have her in his life. She cares about him, maybe more than he does for her and he feels himself lucky for it.

“You want me to help you relax?”

“Can I have you?” Her tone bashfully desperate and coy, Harry meanders their fingers together and kisses her knuckles softly.

Considering her wound still being sore and pulp, having sex would be painful for her and she might not grasp it in her hazy mind but Harry doesn’t want to hurt at all.

He plants a little noisy smooch to her shoulder when she nods, she mews and purrs when Harry glides his palm all the way down her body and cups her pussy digging his palm into her mound and coats his digits with her arousal dipping the pads of his fingers into her entrance, “All this wet f'me?” Palming her tits while whispering sweet nothings into her ear when she gasps and closes up on Harry scratching nails into his bended knees.

“Shh, shh puppy, jus' relax hmm? Feel yourself.” With sputtery inhales she does as he says, soon two of his fingers slips inside her and he strokes her pussy and pulls them out making her all whiny and pushes them back with a squelching noise, fucking her with it smiling and stopping when her thighs parts falls again his’s completely.

“Daddy!” She writhes and whines, trembly hands trying to bring Harry fingers back to her pulsating wetness, “You’re the cutest.” He smiles against her lips giving her cheeks several squishes and pats her head loving to see his adorable princess all flustery for him.

On her demands. He slicks his fingers back inside her and caresses the insides of her thighs while she pants and sinks onto his knuckles blabbering out daddydaddydaddy weepily.

“Cum fo’ me, puppy. Feels good? Yeah? My baby feels nice?” He rasps in her mouth, curving and petting the soft spot inside her pussy and sucks onto her upper lip when she moans and mewls loudly gushing all over his finger and he keeps on fucking her till she’s all sleepy and balmy against his chest.

Harry coaxes her tenderly, smoothing his hands all over her twitchy spots and patches sloppy kisses all over her face that makes her all giggly and shy—- the amount of endorphins spiking high in her system.

“Love you so much, daddy.” She mushes puckering her lips into his throat.

“Love you too, pup.”

[angelface-posts]

Need

Notes: um hi, kind of crazy that people read my writing????? I did not think that anyone would so thank you to everyone that did <33 ily all!! Also please send asks and stuff, i wanna hear ur horny thoughts.

Also I am aware how stupid fuck or die is but idc and the situation was hard to think of so sorry if it sucks but I think we are all just here to see Frank’s cock so ignore that it is very unrealistic. 

reblogs and likes much appreciated :D <3

Pairing: Frank Castle x female!reader.

Summary: Your job with Madani often includes dangerous situations and today was one of those days. Some asshole drugged you with an aphrodisiac and of course only cumming will stop a horrible fiery death, the asshole in question just so happened to be someone the Punisher was after too, will you and Frank cross that line to save each other? 

Warnings/ tags: DUBCON (cuz sex pollen, but they both want each other, even without the pollen), p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, pet names, blowjob, masterbation (f), fuck or die lol

lmk if I missed any tags!!

MDNI !! 18+ ONLY I WILL BLOCK U

Today was supposed to be a good fucking day. You had been tracking this asshole for what felt like forever and to make it even sweeter you had an inkling that the Punisher himself was going to be there and you were going to get them both, two birds with one stone and all that. 

You did not anticipate that the asshole would have gotten his hands on some ex-military biological weaponry, god bless America, right? 

You had gone in alongside Madani but the two of you got split up when he started shooting, leaving you and him in one room together and Madani god knows where. 

“Just hand yourself in, there’s no way for you to get out and you’re making it worse for yourself the longer you shoot at us!” You shout across to him, trying to get him to come with you semi willingly. 

Before you could say anything more though, the room is filled with gas, what you assumed was just a smokescreen to allow him to get away unseen. However, in a matter of seconds you are beginning to feel faint and disoriented. You must pass out because the next thing you know you are in the arms of one incredibly strong man who is dressed all in black. 

“Frank?” you groan out.

“I got you, sweetheart, come on just a little further.”

“It hurts, Frank.” your words come out breathy as heat forms under your skin, the close proximity with Frank only making it come on quicker. 

“What hurts, darlin’? You hit anywhere?” His voice is fraught with panic.

“Not hit, it hurts down-down there.” Even with your mind full of drugs the phrase causes heat to flare in your face and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

He is carrying you bridal style and your thighs rub together slightly with his heavy steps, you are barely aware of your surroundings, only thinking about the desire pooling inside you. Suddenly a cool breeze sweeps across your skin making you sigh contentedly as it soothes your burning skin.

You reach what you assume is Frank’s van and he manoeuvres you into the passenger seat, leaving the door open to give you air while he pulls out his phone. 

He holds it to his ear for just a few seconds before he starts berating whoever is on the other end, the rising of that deep gravelly voice and the way the vein on his neck stands proud send you further into overdrive. 

“...so you just fucking left her there?! You thought she was gone- Madani the next time I see you, you better be wearing a bulletproof vest. What was that fucking gas anyway, she’s burning up and says she’s in pain…an ‘af’ what? Aphrodisiac? Well what the hell does that mean?... Christ. I was only in there for a few minutes, I feel alright, a little hot but judging by the looks of her it’s not as serious...”

You can only hear Frank’s replies to Madani so you can’t really tell what’s going on, not that you would be much use at the moment anway, all you can think about is the slick building between your legs and how fucking good Frank looks right now. 

Jesus, was he always this attractive? 

Yes. 

Fuck. 

How long have I had the hots for the fucking Punisher?? 

Get it together.

But he looks so good, fucking hell…

After his angry phone call, Frank walks back to the passenger side of the van. 

“Hey, sweetheart, how you doing?”

“Not good, hurts so bad Frank.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Madani said it’s some kind of drug and you need to, uhh, finish to make it go away. I’m gonna get you home, okay? And then I can ring someone for you, yeah? A partner or ex? A friend even, someone you trust. Can you try and think of someone for me?”

“Uhghg there isn’t anyone.” You groan, frustrated that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. “I-i want you Frank, please.” you’re practically whining now, with need and also the thought of Frank denying you release.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, it’s the drug talking, c’mon lets get you somewhere safer.”

“No, I’ve wanted you for a long time but I could never admit it” you would have been shy under any other circumstance but the drug was working quickly, was it a truth serum as well as an aphrodisiac?

“Jesus, sweetheart, you really don’t know what you're saying right now, you don’t want me, I can promise you that. Deserve someone better than this.” He chuckles dryly at the end, dragging a hand down his face and shaking his head slightly. 

“Stop telling me what I want Frank. I need you, I think I trust you more than anyone I know…judging from that you need me too.” You gesture to the slight bulge in his trousers. 

“That’s not- that’s not what you think.” He replies, his eyes flitting around nervously, his ears taking on a pinker hue than before. Fuck, had you just made the Punisher blush? as if you could find him any more attractive. 

“What I think, Frank, is that you were in that room too, so you must have inhaled at least some of the drug. Please, it hurts so bad, I just need you to make it better.”

“For fucks sake,” he mutters to himself under his breath before looking you in the eyes, “I just don’t want to do anything to hurt you, alright? And what if after this wears off you don’t feel the same way, huh, what then?!”

“Frank I’ll feel the same, I have felt this way for too long. If you don’t drive me somewhere else we are going to end up fucking right here in the car park.” 

He slams your door and rounds the van in a jog, throwing himself into the seat and speeding onto the main road, anxiously looking at you from time to time. 

The drug has practically taken full effect now, whereas before you could hold a semi-fluent conversation, now all you can’t think of anything but the heat curling in the pit of your stomach and the tingling between your thighs. Frank must sense the change in you because he reaches across to squeeze your arm. He meant it to be reassuring but in your drug infused mind all it did was make the fire burn more fiercely. You inhale sharply before letting out a small moan, your hips rolling in your seat. 

“Frank please!” You sob out, you’re properly begging now, all shame gone out of the window. 

“Just a little longer, sweetheart, I’m sorry, we aren’t far now.” His eyebrows are drawn together and his voice is laced with genuine concern. He has retracted his hand from your overheated skin now, resting them firmly on the steering wheel, knuckles practically white. 

Suddenly, the urge gets too much and you have to find some kind of relief. Your hand pushes past the waistband of your trousers and into your underwear, which you find completely soaked. Your wet folds feel hot and swollen, your body begging for release.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just have to- it’s too much Frank, I have to,” your words come out confused and whiny, too focused on the overwhelming feeling to be coherent. 

“S’okay, baby, do what you gotta do.” His low voice sends a shiver through you and you whimper when your eyes catch his, finding only concern and perhaps some desire rather than the disgust or judgement you expected to be there. 

Your fingers work quickly, rubbing over your slippy folds and protruding bundle of nerves. The feeling is like nothing else you have ever felt, the pleasure magnified to a huge degree. Finally you sink your fingers into your heat, a relieved sigh slips out of you and you see Frank briefly look in your direction. His eyes locked on the sight of your hand working into yourself under your trousers, and you see him shift slightly in his own seat. 

You keep rocking onto your own fingers, your chest is heaving now and your moans and whines are getting louder by the minute. 

“Fuck, feel s’good, Frank, I wish it was you, love your hands so much,” you’re not even aware of what you’re saying at this point but it spurs Frank into playing along now. 

“That so, baby? What do you like about these hands, huh?” He’s trying to help you over the edge without having to touch you himself, still concerned about overstepping boundaries. He thought that maybe if you came like this, the drug might wear off enough that you wouldn’t need him, and he would go home alone and spend some time with his own hand to work the drug out of his system too. 

“Uhhh, they’re so fuckin’ big Frank, d’you know that? Fuck, and they look so strong too, just wanna feel them all over me.” You’re so close now you can feel the rush of it coming on strong, hips moving fast against your fingers, your palm catches just right against your clit and you’re there. Moaning out Frank’s name and bucking wildly, legs shaking and closing around your hand.

“That’s it, pretty girl, there we go. Sh sh sssh, you’re alright, did so good.” He speaks to you soft and low, stealing glances at you to try and gauge how you’re feeling now, whilst also trying not to crash the van. “You feeling any better, sweetheart?” Finally he has pulled into the parking lot at his apartment.

“Need more, Frank, I’m sorry, please, I need you, need more” Your voice is just wet sobbing at this point, you can’t help but feel so overwhelmed at all these feelings. Cumming has left you more sated now, but the ache isn’t fully gone, and you just want him close to you.  

“Shsh ssh, it’s alright, gonna take good care of you, darlin’, don’t you worry.” he strokes his fingers gently across your cheek before pulling you closer and kissing your head lightly. 

He gets out of the van and rounds to your side, opening the door before leaning across you to undo the belt. If the sweet heady smell of you was strong in the van, leaning close like this makes it completely overwhelming to him, another effect of the drug. He holds a hand out and helps you out of the van, ushering you towards the building and thanking whatever god was out there that the lift had been fixed a few days before. 

Eventually you reach his apartment and he leads you to the bedroom, sparse and lacking personality for the most part, the only sign of his living there are the stack of books on the bedside table. The sheets are clean and tidy - military habits are hard to kick - and his pillow smells faintly of him once he lies you down on it. You sigh out at the warm feeling the scent gives you, pheromones enhanced by the drug making you light headed.

“What do you need, baby?” he’s lying practically on top of you, supported by one arm, leaving the other free so he can softly cup your face.

“You Frank, please, anything you’ll give me, want it all.” you’re breathless with need, practically panting under him.

He smiles softly at your heated words, his free hand moving from your face to stroke down your side before pulling at the waistband of your trousers, you lift your hips to allow him to free you of your underwear at the same time and then he helps you pull off the rest of your clothes leaving you bare to him. 

His hand moves between your thighs now, finding your clit with ease and rubbing slick, messy circles over you, a content noise catching in your throat at the relief of him finally touching you.

“So wet baby, you came so much already, huh?” His words make you moan, arching up to him, his head is buried in your neck now, leaving small kisses as he talks to you. All the while, his fingers never falter, even with your writhing under him.

“Feel’s s’good Frank, don’t stop,” you’re so lost in your pleasure that you don’t even acknowledge his question, but the wet sound of his fingers once he pushes them into you highlights just how slick you are. All he can do is smile fondly at your hazy state, kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth, slightly in awe of the view of you under him.

The drug has been working slower on him, him being bigger and having had a smaller dose than you but he is certainly feeling something from it, heat rising under his skin and the aching of his cock reminds him that he needs to cum too. 

“These hands living up to expectation?” He smirks down at you, your eyebrows drawn together in pleasure, mouth hanging open with silent moans and pants you can’t contain. You just nod desperately in affirmation, words failing you. 

His long fingers are reaching parts of you that yours can’t seem to, pumping against your g-spot practically in time with the rapid beating of your heart. Your hips rock up to his hand, moving with his fingers and the obscene sloshing sound of your pussy is almost pornographic. 

You keep moving with him until you reach your end, hips shuddering and bucking, your moans loud enough for neighbours to hear now. He praises you through the whole thing, how good you look coming undone for him, the impossible clenching of your pretty little pussy. 

You have barely come back down as he moves himself between your legs properly now, kissing you deeply and rutting against you, you suddenly realise he still has his clothes on and the rough fabric of his jeans rubs against you. 

“Can I fuck you now, baby? Shit, that drugs some powerful stuff, I’ve never - ah fuck - never been this hard in my fucking life.” He’s still moving against you as he talks and peppering kisses to your face and lips. 

“Please, Frank, I want it,” your multiple orgasms mean the drug is just a small buzz under your skin now, instead of a roaring fire but still all you want is to feel him fill you to the hilt, stretch you out and to see him come undone just like you did. 

He makes quick work of his clothes, you don’t miss the wet patch along the zipper caused by your pussy rubbing against him. When he finally gets his boxers off you can’t help but inhale a small gasp at the sight of him. Standing proud, the tip looks almost angrily red and you have no idea how he held out this long, making sure you were taken care of while he himself was in just as bad shape. 

“So pretty, Frankie,” you can’t help the soft adoration from leaving your lips, “can I taste you?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you tryna make a man blush? ‘Pretty’” he scoffs under his breath and shakes his head looking away from you, but he can’t help how his heart swells slightly at your praise, “you don’t gotta do all that, honey-” 

“But I want to, so bad.” You cut him off and move to the edge of the bed grasping one of his arms to pull him closer before smoothing your hands up the sides of his thighs, reaching for his cock, looking up briefly to see his nod of consent before taking the hard velvet into your hand. 

You pump him softly and he lets out a groan at the relief of your touch, hips bucking slightly as he gets used to the pleasure. 

“Sorry, can’t help it darlin’, feels so good.” His speech is breathy and strained.

“S’okay, just want you to feel good,” you reply before taking him into the wet heat of your mouth. A lot of him doesn’t fit so you work him with your hand at the same time, bobbing your head and moaning at the feel of him filling your mouth. You continue like this for a few minutes, licking and sucking to your heart's content, Frank growing more and more needy by the second. 

“Jesus, m’not gonna last, baby, I gotta be inside, that okay?” he pulls you off of him with a wet pop. Your soft please is all it takes to have him lifting you back on to the bed properly and slotting between your thighs. You’re still so slick from cumming earlier that he glides into you with hardly any resistance. You both moan out as he pushes all the way in, before stilling as best he can to check you’re alright. 

You buck your own hips slightly and he gets the picture and begins moving, his hips hardly leaving yours before snapping back to you. His pelvis catches your clit just right and with how sensitive you are it doesn’t take long for you to be nearing that all encompassing feeling yet again. 

“Goddamn, baby, this perfect little pussy. You gonna cum? Can feel you clenching around me.” His voice is strained with the effort of trying to keep composure but he manages to look into your eyes as he talks, overwhelming you in the best way, unable to see or feel anything but him. 

“Yeah, I’m so close, please don’t stop, you feel s’good.” All you can do is whine under him, clinging on to his arms for some semblance of grounding. 

He speeds up at your words, grunting in earnest, the sound of your wetness and your skin meeting again and again pushes you both to the edge. He drops down right as he releases groaning loudly against you, hips stuttering in their rhythm. You cum hard, it blindsides you, you bite into his shoulder to try and mute your moans but they seem to escape anyway. 

You lay there for a while both panting before you break the silence with laughter, you can’t help it. You’re laughing at how ridiculous the situation was and at the sheer amount of bliss that coursed through you, leaving you thoroughly exhausted and content. 

“What you laugh at, pretty girl?” He moves to lie beside you, taken aback at how gorgeous you look, fucked out and happy. 

“I don’t even know,” you smile like an idiot before kissing him, it’s mostly teeth through your smiles but it’s sweet. “Thank you. For looking after me, Frank, I’m so glad this happened, glad it was you.”

“It was my pleasure,” he jokes before turning more serious, “I’m glad you don’t regret anything, sweetheart. Will you stay here for the night? Not done taking care of you yet.”

You do stay, and true to his word he takes care of you, in a much more innocent way. Running you a hot bath and bathing you himself, cleaning your skin softly and giving you sweet kisses as he goes. He warms some clothes for you in the tumble drier and cooks you a simple pasta dish. He even changes the sheets on the bed before cuddling you to sleep, facing each other, your head tucked into his neck and his hands softly tracing up and down your back. 

Yeah, maybe today was a good day and maybe you didn’t want to put the punisher away after all…

[duskholland]

Settle || Mob!Tom Smut

summary ↠ distance may make the heart grow fonder, but you’d spend every day by tom’s side if you could. warnings ↠ a bit of angst, and this is just.... so fucking smutty.... pwp but make it 8k of smut... 18+ minors dni !!!!!!!!!!! extended nsfw warnings below the cut <3 word count ↠ 11.7k. a/n ↠ lads... lost my mind I’ve lost it. the mob!tom energy has been absolutely overwhelming for the last month, and this has been a long time coming. thank you esquire. thank you gq. thanks tom too, I guess, even though his handsomeness is a double-edged sword. also thanks to chloe for motivating me to write this lmao. this was a lot of fun!! softness sweetness debased animalistic crazy stuff. we love to see it. lmk what you think !! <3 ***this is a part of my mob!tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ praise kink, breeding kink, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, biting, spitting, oral + fingering (fem receiving), unprotected sex (the long-awaited return of cum-dumpster!reader), minor d/s dynamics ft soft!dom!tom, possessiveness in the dirty talk, and I wouldn’t say it’s degradation but there is some patronisation lmao. this is intense loving passionate consuming smut, esp the second section. pls practice safe sex irl x

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧ *:･ﾟSETTLE･ﾟ:*✧

Tom is wrapped around you, his rich scent overpowering each one of your senses. He consumes you. He becomes you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck and your legs swung either side of his thighs, you’re clinging tightly to him. One of his hands rests beneath the shirt on your back, the tips of his fingers slowly stroking up and down your spine, and you can feel the firm press of his nose against the side of your head. His face nestles against your hair as he holds you to the warm skin of his neck. Every few minutes, Tom pulls away from the documents and spreadsheets resting on his desk and litters the side of your temple with short kisses.

There’s a persistent throbbing between your legs, but it’s worth it. Tom’s cock is buried inside you, his length enveloped by your silky heat. You can feel him, bearing in on every intimate space of your cunt. In your aroused state, you swear you can make out the lines of his bulbous head and the curves of his veins as they press up against your sensitive walls. You’re pulsing—every slight movement made by either you or him causing you to gasp softly and cling closer to your boyfriend.

“God, darling,” Tom murmurs, accented voice hanging low and heavy. He strokes over your back again, and you hear him click his ballpoint pen. When he tosses the heavy metal object back onto the desk, he sits back in the wide office chair that the two of you are precariously balanced on. You aren’t scared of falling off—you’ve done this before, countless times. You know that he’s got you. “So fuckin’ snug, aren’t you?”

You pull away from your boyfriend’s neck, sucking in a rough breath as you sit up to face him and receive the lightest of friction against your g-spot. As your teeth dig into your lower lip, you take a few moments to admire his ensemble—light white shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open, a delicate silver chain dangling over the golden expanse of his chest. He’s got his rings stacked over his fingers, and the bright metal pieces catch in your hair as he smoothes a hand across your cheek.

Tom smirks at you, his deep brown eyes flooded with lusting appreciation. With one hand on your face, the other slowly slides down your back, drifting over the loose shirt that covers your figure until it disappears between your legs. You cry out as his index finger reaches down to play with your clit, still wet and sensitive from his exploration earlier. He’d opened you up on his tongue before sheathing himself inside you.

“You just got so tight, angel,” he murmurs, voice raspy. “Do you like when I show you a bit of attention?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. You can barely keep your eyes open as he continues to toy with your bud. It’s hard to push down the temptation to start riding him, but you know that’s not the point of this. As much as you crave release and the opportunity to fall apart whilst being encompassed by Tom, there are other objectives at play. “I’ll miss this,” you admit. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know, my darling.” Tom’s expression briefly clouds over, some of the heat leaving his eyes. He rolls the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, a gentle pout curling across his lower lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”

You lick your lower lip, pushing back the hot lump of emotion that simmers in your chest. All week, you’ve felt apprehensive for his departure, anticipating today with unease. Tom is a good businessman, and usually he’s able to control his own empire from the comfort of his West London mansion. For so long, he’s been near you, lingering close, never trailing too far from your side. But there’s uncertainty in the air, and they need him out in Manchester for a few weeks to whip the boys back into shape. Until the supply issue is resolved, he’ll be away—away from you, and your bed, and the life that you’ve constructed so precariously together.

In this world of drugs and darkness, nothing is certain. You fall asleep beside Tom each night thankful that he’s safe, he’s here, he’s content. You know plenty of people who haven’t been afforded such a luxury. Your boyfriend has enemies who seek revenge and retribution, and their greedy eyes follow him from every direction. They’re like wolves, every single one of them—suppliers, rivals, the law—waiting in the shadows, preparing to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

You shouldn’t love him. He’s not a good man. Tom has told you as much repeatedly—in his deprecating words, in the underhanded dealings that go on around your dinner table, through his violent actions against opponents. But he loves you, and he is a good man, to you, and maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe you can take the pain and the darkness, because it affords you a glimmer of light in the form of your boyfriend. Tom holds you at the very centre of his universe, and as he cups your face in a gentle hand and coaxes you in for a sweet kiss, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your life may be characterised by uncertainty, but there is no doubt in the way that he loves you, so recklessly and fiercely. He gives you everything that he has without hesitation.

The kiss grows deeper, and you moan into Tom as he presses his tongue into your mouth. He’s still rolling your clit beneath his thumb, and you reach up to grab fistfuls of his hair. When he’d pulled you into the office earlier and begged you to spend time with him, it’d come with the caveat that you need not distract him from his final pieces of work. He seems to have abandoned that decision now, as he ruts up into you when you groan into his mouth.

“Sweet love,” he purrs, voice darker. Tom squeezes your cheek, the cool metal of his ring pressing to your skin as he holds you tightly. He releases your face a moment later, fingers shifting to your waist as his lips grace over the tender part of your face. “God, I’ll miss you. Miss this fuckin’ cunt.” He kisses down from your cheek, shifting back and towards your ear. You release a wispy moan as he finds your tender spot, sucking harshly against the skin then soothing the ache with his hot tongue. “So perfect for me.”

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, mind slow. Tom holds your hip slowly and encourages you to move, and both of you release sounds of enjoyment as you begin to ride him. Your entrance aches, stretched wide around his girth, but as his finger rubs persistent circles across your bud, it soothes into pleasure. “Fuck, Tom… You fill me up completely. You’re in so deep.”

“I know, darling,” he murmurs. When you toss your head back and start to move faster, he’s quick to attach his lips to your neck. “Tightest little thing,” he adds, voice scalding against your ear. “I know I’ll be dreaming of you, angel. Every single night.”

You cry out as he helps you shift slightly to the side, optimising your pleasure. As the crown of Tom’s cock rubs up against your back wall, you shudder, breath hitching. The sounds of your heat, so wet and silky, being fucked repeatedly as you come down on him again and again spurs you on. It grows wild quickly, Tom leaving your neck and sitting back in his chair just to watch you ride him so perfectly. His eyes are dark and passionate, and his gaze so intense that it’s as if he’s trying to burn the memory to mind.

“I don’t think I can hold it,” you admit, eyes threatening to roll back. After sitting on his cock for fifteen minutes, you were already riled up. Now, you’re on cloud nine. Pleasure has your toes curling, the muscles in your thighs tensing and straining as you cling to the back of Tom’s head and tug on his curls. “T-Tom.”

“That’s it, gorgeous. Say my name.”

His ring digs into your side, spurring you on. As the cool metal nicks at your skin, the coil in your stomach tightens further.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. No longer able to see Tom’s handsome face, you’re left only with the sensations, pulsing out from your centre. You’re on the verge, inching closer with every time Tom pulls you back onto his cock. He works you open, thrusts into you deep, leaves you gasping.

“C’mon, pretty baby,” he murmurs, hot lips moving forward to press at your neck. “Make me cum. I know you want it, don’t you?”

A throaty groan travels past your lips as you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’d stopped taking birth control a week ago, and though both of you know that the chances of you falling pregnant so soon after ending those hormones are slim, the possibility is there. Sex now feels dangerous, the extra weight to it filling you with arousal and excitement.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

Tom nips at your ear, the bite of pain making you moan.

“Go on,” he coos, voice sweet, sultry. “I’m going to fill you up, darling. Give you something to remember me by.” His hand slips from his waist and travels to your lower stomach, resting there. “Right here,” he adds. “Do you want it, love? You need to work for it. Cum on my cock, mm? Let me feel how desperate your tight little pussy is for my cum.”

Tom snaps his hips up to yours, and a few moments later, you peak. Your climax burns through you, your walls clamping down around his length in a way that makes him groan loudly. You open your eyes to watch his face seize up, freezing with pleasure and enjoyment as his jaw tenses and his eyes squeeze shut. You feel his cock pulsing as you continue to move over him, lost in the pleasure that spirals out from your cunt and your clit. His pants are laboured too.

When you come down from it, you settle in his lap, sweaty palms grasping at his face. Tom pulls you closer, wrapping you up in his arms as he presses his forehead to yours. His nose bumps against yours, tip warm. Every part of him is warm.

“I love you so much,” he says, voice serious. “More than you could ever imagine, Y/N.”

You smile. “I love you too,” you whisper.

Tom pulls back from you to pepper his lips across your face, dusting every inch of your skin with his mouth. You’re still connected at your centre, and you know the moment you stand, you’ll feel the evidence of his love dripping down your thighs.

“I—”

A rough knocking sound bursts into the room, hard knuckles drumming over the office door. You jump, and Tom’s brows crease. He brings both of his hands to cover your ears and kisses the tip of your nose before sitting up a little straighter.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hollers, voice terse. He’s muffling the volume with his palms, but you still wince, and he kisses your nose again in penance.

“Sir, we have to go. The men are waiting—”

Tom’s face ripples with irritation. You watch the vein stand out in his neck, fading only when his eyes sweep back to your face. He deflates as he brings his lips down across your forehead.

“I’ll be two minutes,” he barks back. “Now piss off. I’m with my girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom peels his hands away from your ears, then rubs each one of your earlobes with the soft pads of his thumbs. “Sorry about that, my darling,” he mumbles, shadows covering his features. His teeth dig into his lower lip as he sighs. “I need to go.”

You feel your face fall, and break eye contact when the intensity of his gaze grows too much. “Okay,” you mumble.

“Hey.” Tom grasps your chin between his index and his middle finger. “I’ll come back to you,” he promises. You know he can feel your reluctance to let him go, can see it on your face without you having to verbalise it. You wonder if he’s been able to tell how unsettled you feel about the whole ordeal, and if maybe that’s why he’s let you be more clingy this week.

“What if you don’t?” you breathe out, unable to keep it in. You blink a few times, trying to hide the watery film of tears that shakes across your eyes. “What if something happens to you whilst you’re away, and you don’t come home?” You reach down and grab at his shirt, clenching your knuckles around the crisp material. “Tom, you are my home. I don’t know what I’ll do if—”

“I’ll come back, baby.” He kisses you softly, a few fingers brushing up beneath your chin and tilting you to him. “I always will. I promise. I’m a man of my word, so you know that’s true.”

You manage a thin smile, heart aching even as Tom cups your face in his hands. “I love you,” you say finally. “And I’ll be waiting for you to get back.”

Tom nods. His cheeks are still flushed, and his hair is a mess, but the fire in his eyes is undeniable. When he deposits a light kiss to your cheek and then lets his lips brush you against your earlobe, you know that he’ll be back. You know he’d never fail you.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A month passes. You miss Tom desperately.

For the first three weeks, you manage to control the sadness in your chest. Finding distraction in your job and your friends, you’re able to forget about the giant Tom-shaped hole in your heart. He lingers on, though, his love persistent even in his absence. Despite finding certain ways to limit your anguish, like daily calls, and soaking your wrists in his cologne each morning, the time only worsens your heartache. You’re miserable without him.

In the fourth week, it reaches the point where you can no longer pretend you aren’t aching for him. You miss him in a way you’ve never felt before, his absence from your home like a sharp spire ever-present in your chest, burrowing deeper every lonely morning. Tom can’t ease you, doesn’t know himself when he’ll be able to come home. The job he’s had to do has spiralled, with mutinous men and delayed shipments, and it’s in too precarious a position for him to leave and come back to you. When you’d suggested visiting, he’d immediately wiped that option from the table, citing the acts of violence and uneven atmosphere as too great a risk to take. You understand it, but you miss him, and it permeates every part of your life.

It’s late Tuesday night, and in a fitless trance, you find yourself walking up to the third floor of the mansion. When you’d moved in, almost a year ago, Tom had tried to make you feel as comfortable as possible. In his efforts, he’d installed an art studio for you to use. The gesture went in tandem with his greatest gift to you so far—your very own art gallery, right in the centre of London. The studio is a large room, framed with huge windows which overlook the sprawling estate. Tonight, all you can make out is the dim driveway and the crescent moon, hanging thinly in the sky.

After turning on some music and slipping on your painting apron, you take your place in front of your easel. As you stare at the blank canvas, your fingers shift up to absently run the line of Tom’s ring. It hangs on a chain around your neck, silver and bold. You hadn’t realised that he’d left it with you until you’d reached into your pocket the day of his departure and found it sitting there. You know the matching ring stays wrapped around his pinky finger, and it brings you a sense of comfort to trace the smooth band and feel connected to him, even in a small way.

You decide to paint Tom, trying to coax him to life from your memories. Shades of gold and brown take form over your canvas. With every brush stroke and flick of your wrist, you feel lighter, some of the ache lessening.

Hours pass, interrupted only by the ringing of your phone. Biting back a small curse word as you feel your concentration shatter, you put your paintbrush down and tug your phone from your back pocket. Your frown fades as you see Tom’s name, flashing on the screen besides an image of his face.

“T,” you greet, the relief in your voice obvious even to you. “Hey.”

There’s silence for a few moments, then his voice crackles down the line. “Hi, darling,” Tom speaks. “It’s not too late to talk, is it?”

You glance up at the ornate clock sitting on the wall. The feature is grand and solid gold, matching the themes of the rest of his house. Tom likes decadence. His luxurious touch is evident in the patterns of red, black, and metals that cling to each article of furniture. When you see that it’s 2am, you blink a few times, shaking off your surprise as you realise how much time has passed since you’d started to paint.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I’m painting.”

“Ahhh.” You hear the rustling of sheets, and you imagine Tom in bed. He’s probably bundled up in sweats and a hoodie, sprawled out across his mattress. The house in Manchester always runs cold, and you’ve heard his complaints consistently for the last few weeks. The image of him resting up against the headboard, pouting from beneath a pile of blankets makes you smile. “What are you working on?”

You smile into your phone, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “You,” you tell him. “Just your eyes at the moment, and the outline of your hair.”

“Me again?” Tom speaks, and his tone is like soft velvet, gentle and crushing at the edges. “I’m flattered, darling.”

“Mmm.” You fiddle with his ring. “I’ll need to dedicate a wall to you in the gallery. You’re my favourite muse.”

Tom chuckles. “That’d be an honour,” he says, voice dropping in volume. “It’s a privilege to be loved by you.” His voice twangs sadly, and you feel yourself frowning.

“Are you okay, baby?”

He’s quiet for a few moments. You find yourself biting your lip.

“Yeah,” he says, voice thicker. “Long day.”

“What did you do?”

He sucks in a harsh breath, air catching on the back of his teeth. “Can we just talk about you for a minute?”

Worry furrows your brow. “Okay,” you say, drawing out the syllable as you scramble for words to fill the gap. “Today I visited your mother.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted me to show her how I made those biscuits, from your birthday last year?” You pause until he makes a noise of recognition. “Ended up staying there for a while, had some tea. Gossiped about you.”

Tom snorts. “Learn anything good?”

“Only that you were just as much of a terror as a child,” you reply. “She sent me photos. I’ll text them to you later.”

It’d been a sobering experience to see Tom so animated and innocent as a child, but you don’t tell him that. So much as changed since he was seven and running through a field with his brothers. He has lost more than you could ever fathom.

“Did she show you the one with my head half shaved?”

You laugh. “Yeah,” you say, smiling against the phone. You’re holding the device tightly in your fingers, clinging to it almost desperately. “I can’t believe Harry did that to you.”

“Well, I did piss him off,” Tom reasons. “I got him back, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, darling. Put a bunch of, like, millipedes and creepy crawly things in his bed.” Tom pauses to laugh, his voice lighter. “He hated me for about a year after that. Tried to kill me with his eyes every time he saw me.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a nightmare,” you respond. “I’m seeing him at the weekend, and Sam. I can’t wait to get their perspectives on the demon you used to be.”

“I’m still a demon now, darling.”

“Yeah.” You lick across your lower lip, mind briefly darkening. He can be particularly devilish, whenever the mood strikes. “Love you, though.”

“And I love you.” Tom’s quiet again for a few moments, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, “I love how much you like my family. It’s really special to me that you get along with them.”

You suck on your lower lip. “Of course,” you reply. “I love them. They… They feel like my brothers too, sometimes. Is that weird?”

“No.” You hear rustling again, followed by a soft grunt as he tries to find a better position to lay in. “Darling, family is everything to me, you know that. It’s a joy to see you fit in with my family, and I know they love you like a sister, too. Mum’s always saying how she sees you like a daughter.”

You glance up at your canvas, the shapes blurring with unshed tears. “She said that today, actually,” you murmur.

“Exactly.” Tom’s voice is passionate, alight and engaged. You can feel his strain. “You’re family.”

The air between you stills, and you wonder if he knows that you’re on the verge of tears, if he knows how grateful you are to him for inviting you into his life and letting you touch each piece of him without hesitation. The intricacies of his soul have gone so long unfelt, but he’s let you handle them, let you dust them off and admire them.

“Show me your art?” Tom adds, voice slightly thicker. “Please?”

“One sec.” You swallow down the hot lump of emotions that press at the back of your throat and pull your phone away from your ear. After briefly tousling your hair, you tap at the screen and enable the video setting. You flip the camera so it’s facing out in front of you, the canvas being framed by your phone screen. “This is what I’ve been doing today… Over there are the ones from the last few weeks.”

Tom spends a few minutes on a virtual tour of your studio, cooing soft words of endearment as you talk him through each piece. He’s tired, his voice often interspersed with soft yawns and grunts of fatigue, but he blows away all suggestions of disconnecting. Your tour takes you all throughout the house, showing him the slight alterations you’ve made to a few pieces of furniture in his absence. You end up in your bedroom, showing him the new blanket you bought for your bed.

“I want to see your face,” you whine, finally settling in bed. You’re laying on his side, head resting on top of the pillow that smells of him. Tom had watched you change into pyjamas, witnessed you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. All you’ve had is a black screen. “How am I supposed to sleep without seeing you, Tommy?” You pout at the blank phone, trying really hard to get him to yield. It’s 3am now and you’re delirious with fatigue, but you’re craving him more than ever.

“I don’t look nice, though,” he complains. “I look ugly.”

You practically recoil at the words. You hope he can feel the ferocity in your gaze as you glare at your phone’s camera.

“You don’t,” you say. “You never look anything short of handsome.”

Tom chuckles. “You’re too kind,” he says, “but really. I got beat up a bit. My face is all…” He makes a sound of nonchalance. “Well.. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know the gory details.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead at the word gory. “Show me,” you ask, voice softer. You snuggle further into bed, pulling the sheets further around your figure and trying to pretend you’re being hugged by your boyfriend instead of the feather down duvet. “Please, baby. I’m worried.”

Tom sighs. “Okay, but before I show you, you have to promise not to freak out.” As he sees your widening eyes, he adds. “Exactly! Don’t freak out! I’m fine. Can’t even feel it, the amount of painkillers I’m on. I’m alright.”

“...Okay.”

A few moments pass, and you hear him curse as he clumsily presses at the screen. When your phone lights up, showing a depiction of your boyfriend’s face, you have to bite back a gasp. Bruises cloud his left cheek, deep shades of red clinging to his cheekbone. There are scratches, too, riddled with scabs and lined with pink skin. The most obvious and upsetting sign of his injury however is his nose.

“Did you break your nose again?” you ask, voice soft. The skin beneath his eyes is bruising, and there’s a dark mark across the bridge of his nose.

“No, thank god,” Tom murmurs. “Just got hit on it.”

He’s laying in bed too, and you turn onto your side and prop him up on one of the pillows so it’s as if he’s laying beside you. With a dark burgundy hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring his curls, he looks pale and tepid. His cheeks are sunken, and it’s not just from the injury. Tom seems exhausted.

“Are you okay, apart from that?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay, Tom?”

He offers a weak smile. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” His voice fades with each iteration. You watch as Tom bites his lower lip, then reaches up to press his fingers into the tense lines of his pebbled forehead. “Just tired, darling. It’s been a busy week.”

“Come home,” you say, sleepy and wistful. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t, my darling,” he mumbles. Tom’s eyes look at you sadly. “Things would fall apart.”

“You’re falling apart.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?”

Tom’s quiet for a while, and you watch him swallow. He gives you a tense nod, lips pulled into a frown. “I have to be.”

His words hurt you, but you know you shouldn’t push it further. Not with his eyes glassy and his chin twitching.

“You don’t,” you say softly. “Come home.”

Tom hums. His eyes are like two diamonds, holding the weight of the world, of a life so recklessly lived. His gaze skitters across your phone, and he arches a brow when he sees you stifle a yawn. “Goodnight, darling.”

You wish you could hold him, or touch him. You wish you could get anything more than the static and the empty bed.

“Night, Tom,” you whisper. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, baby.” Tom puckers up his lips and blows you a kiss. You return it, lips tweaking into a soft smile. “Love you more than anything.”

Your voice feels thick as you echo the sentiments. “Talk tomorrow,” you murmur, tired. “Love you.”

“Bye, bye, bye.”

You’re the one to disconnect, unable to take the imminent heartache that comes with being the last to say goodbye. Tom fades, and you let your phone fall over.

The pain returns, pressing into your heart. It’s raw and cold, and it makes you shiver. A few tears soak into the pillow that smells of him, cool against your hairline.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up the next morning, slowly at first, then all at once.

It’s light in your bedroom. Your sleepy mind wonders if you’d forgotten to draw the curtains when you’d crashed out last night. As you bemoan the bright light that hurts your closed eyes, you slowly twitch awake. Feeling an ache in your arm, you try to move, only to find something rendering you incapacitated. You frown in your tired haze, trying again to move, just to stay exactly where you are again. Your brows furrow next, and you slowly rouse to consciousness as you try to work out what’s going on.

Your heart rate spikes as you realise there are two arms wrapped around you. Warmth envelops you, pressing into your back, your legs, your waist. You jerk awake, panicking for a moment before you feel his lips on your shoulder, and smell the familiar scent of him.

“Shh, darling. It’s me.”

Immediately, you roll over, twisting in his arms until you’re looking at him. His eyes are soft, hair a mess, and he offers you the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Tom?!” you exclaim, voice catching in the back of your throat. “H-How— but—?”

Both of Tom’s hands go to your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a blinding morning kiss. You sigh as warmth fills every part of you, his lips washing away the angst and the sadness you’d felt just hours earlier. You moan into it, a soft rumble, and curl into him. As you run your hands over his bare form, you appreciate how his muscles are firm and supple beneath your fingertips. You map him out attentively, touch dipping into the shades of his muscles as you try to imprint him to your memory again.

When Tom breaks the kiss, he presses his lips to the tip of your nose. As his warm breath fans out across your face, he stares at you, eyes gentle. Keeping one hand on your cheek, Tom lets the other drift down. When he reaches your neck, he tugs at the chain you keep looped around your throat, his nimble fingers going to play with the ring on the end, still there, hanging between you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says slowly. He pulls on the chain and brings you in nearer, kissing you again, softly. “We said goodnight, and...”

Your hands are in his hair, gently stroking the mane from his face. It’s longer now, thicker and brighter than before. You push it away and look at his features. The bruises don’t seem as pronounced now, and you think he must’ve spent time in the sun. Light freckles dust the bridge of his nose, slanted and wonky but perfect nonetheless.

“Hmm?”

Tom licks his lips. “I couldn’t stay away any longer. I left it all to Haz.” Again, he steals your lips in a kiss. He follows up the action with several more, light dustings in quick succession. He tastes minty, and you wonder how long he’s been cuddling you. “I don’t care if we lose Manchester. I don’t care if we lose everything.” He swallows seriously. “I can’t lose you.”

“You were never going to lose me,” you whisper. You brush your thumb across his unscarred cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I missed you,” Tom whines. He drops his face, lips drifting down to suckle at the base of your neck. You giggle as he leaves tickling kisses all over your skin, mouthing at all the spots that make you laugh until he’s found his way up to your lips. With a hand on your jaw, fingers on your chin, he guides your face to look at him. “Time away gave me a lot of time to think,” he adds, voice drifting lower. A shadow of a doubt passes over his face. “I spent a long time pondering.”

“Yeah?” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly, you’d be concerned. Instead, you continue to muss your thumb across his cheekbone, gazing at him adoringly. “What were you thinking about?”

“Hmm. Well…” Tom lies back, sitting up with his elbow digging into the pillow as he turns to rest on his side. You mirror his position, stretching out your legs beneath the covers as a small yawn slips past you. “I realised that you’re the only person who makes a nice cup of tea. Even I can’t make one as well as you.”

You smile softly. “Don’t let Harrison hear that.”

He chuckles. “He’d be a bitch about it.” Tom’s eyes slide over your figure, gaze soft. You hum in quiet agreement, and he sucks in another breath. “I realised that no one else loves my friends like you do, and the same with my family.” Tom reaches out, hand slithering beneath the duvet until he finds your waist. His fingers are smooth, without the jewelry that usually adorns them. His calloused fingertips roll across your hip, and everything about the moment feels bare and authentic. “I love you now, and I know that I’ll love you forever.”

Something inside your chest clicks, and you find yourself looking at him a little differently.

“Where’s this all coming from?” you ask, looking at him, eyes wide.

“My heart.” Tom pulls you a little closer, and you think you see him swallow nervously. “C’mere, angel.” He turns and lays on his back, gently coaxing you to straddle him.

You settle over him, laying on top of his bare chest. He’s in boxers, and they rub up against your shorts as you shift around on top of him. Tom’s hair presses into the white pillow, wild and messy, but not unlike a halo. With the late morning sun highlighting his worn face with golden stripes, he looks ethereal.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “Gimme a kiss.”

You bend over, and Tom greets you with a warm open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re tired and groggy as he reaches out to cup your cheek, the other hand resting on your hip. You smile against his lips as his fingertips dip beneath the material of your shirt, rubbing light circles to your flesh as you sit up eagerly and press back in. His kisses feel like droplets of fire, setting off small chain reactions with each press of his lips to yours.

When you pull back to admire him, the chain around your neck goes swinging. Your eyes widen as you hear the thump of heavy metal colliding with Tom’s chin, followed by his soft grunt.

“Oh,” you exclaim, immediately feeling your face fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I always forget about the ring on the end.” You bend over to kiss his chin, then sit up straighter, hands absently travelling along the chain. The metal feels familiar beneath your fingertips, and you sigh softly. “I haven’t taken it off since you left,” you admit. “It was nice feeling connected to you, and the ring you left—”

The words die in the back of your throat when you reach for the ring and feel two instead of one, looped side by side on the chain. Confusion twitches across your face as you look down and inspect the piece of jewelry.

Tom’s ring is still on the chain, silver and bold, but sitting beside it is a dantier ring, the band thinner. It lacks the brash family crest that Tom’s harbours so proudly, and has a diamond as its centrepiece. Your fingers go to it immediately, and you find yourself trembling as you pull it closer to your face, inspecting the perfect cut of the sparkling diamond. It’s a large jewel, but it isn’t too flashy, and the ornate twisting of the band is beautiful.

You look back to Tom, who’s watching you with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Nerves shadow every one of his features, and it’s such a rare look on him that it takes you off guard.

“Angel,” he says slowly, reaching out to take one of your hands. “I love you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together… I want to grow old with you by my side, and wake up to you each morning. I want to watch our kids muck around in the back garden, and I know… I know I’m not supposed to want these things. I don’t deserve them, and I’m being incredibly selfish even having you here with me right now, but I love you, and nothing will ever change that.” Tom squeezes your hand. “You’re the only woman in the world that I’d ever be able to love like this, and it would be the greatest honour of my life if you married me.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, processing his words. Entranced, you shake off his hand and reach up, tugging off the chain that hangs so heavily from your neck. You unpick the clasp and the necklace falls open, depositing both of the rings into the palm of your hand. They sit there, side by side, and you feel a tear skate down your cheek.

“Tom,” you say, voice thick with tears. “I’d love to marry you.”

The rings press into your palm as he hurries up to kiss you, smiling against yours lips. Tom’s nose nuzzles against yours, and when he pulls back, you see his eyes are red too.

“Thank fuck,” he murmurs. “I was so worried for a second that you were going to say no.”

Your laugh is light and vibrant, and you hold out your hand for Tom to pick up the engagement ring. As he slides the engagement band up your finger, you take his ring, chunky and heavy, and tenderly press it up his finger, joining it with his fourth finger instead of his index. You bend over to kiss the rise of his knuckles, then pull back as you feel him do the same to yours. Through blurry eyes, you bring your hand towards you and admire the gem as it sparkles there.

“In what world would I ever say no to this?” you muse, after a few moments. “I want to be with you forever, Tom. You know that.” Tom’s still looking at his ring, at where it joins at his knuckle, but he glances up when you drift nearer. “I came off birth control.”

His eyes darken slightly. “I know.”

You hold his face in his hands. “You’re silly,” you say. You peck his cheek. “I need to brush my teeth,” you decide. You know exactly where this is going, and you want it to be perfect.

Tom pouts, but he helps you up from his lap. He watches you walk across the room, and his gaze stays on you as you keep the door to the en-suite open and start to brush your teeth. “Miss you, darling,” he calls out. You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster. “You look ethereal.”

When you’re finished in the bathroom, you hurry back to bed. You find your way back into Tom’s lap, sinking into him to share a fresh kiss. “Tell me more about what you want with me,” you continue, voice darker.

With a determined smirk on his lips, Tom flips you. You release a huff of air as you find yourself laying on the mattress, head on the pillow, with him suspended above you. He plants a forearm on either side of your head and gazes down at you fondly.

“I want to settle down with you,” he says slowly. “Maybe start to divide my assets, give a little bit more power to Haz. I want to focus on you.” He pecks your lips before continuing. “I want to watch your gallery grow into the most successful place in London, and I want to be by your side at every opening. I want a big white wedding, with the cake, and the confetti, and the best honeymoon that’s ever been had. I am going to spoil you rotten.”

“You already do a very good job of that.”

“I’ll kick it up a level. I’ll have to. You’ll be my wife.” Tom’s face darkens. His hand shifts down to rest over your lower stomach. “We’ll need to wait for a lot of those things to happen, but there’s one thing that I want that we can start working on right now.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you feel the space between your legs throb. You tilt your head to the side as you stare up at his handsome face. “And what would that be?”

“Our heirs, darling.” He smirks when you whimper, warm fingers dipping beneath your shirt until he’s able to touch the flesh of your belly more directly. “I’m gonna fill you up with my babies, angel. Fuck you really good. ‘M gonna keep cumming until you’re full of me, then fuck you full again.”

You moan as he drops his face to your ear, suckling hard marks against your skin. “Fuck,” you murmur, burying your hands in his hair. “That sounds so obscene.”

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you? You’re my dirty little thing, hm?” Tom bites at your neck, teeth nipping you and making you shiver. “I know you want me to cum in you so much that it drips down your thighs for hours after I’m gone. You want me to make a mess of your pretty cunt.”

“Please, Tom,” you whimper. You feel hot and bothered already.

“Eager, darling?” Tom sits back and gently reaches for the hem of your pyjama top. You bring your hands above your head as he gently tugs it up your arms, throwing it off to the side without thought. He crawls back over you and seizes your breasts in his hands, his metallic ring like a cool shock against your skin. When he nibbles at your nipple and follows up the action with a lap of his tongue, you whimper.

“Don’t be a tease,” you beg, squeezing your thighs together. “I need you, Tom. Haven’t been with you in so long.”

He looks up at you, tit held between his lips. Tom winks as he gives the bud a noisy suck, then pulls back to address the other. He keeps his thumbs busy, and as he moves away his mouth, he replaces his touch with the pad of his fingers, swirling his spit around your skin with ease.

“There’s no rush,” he announces. He keeps his hands on your breasts, kneading softly and stimulating your nipples as he knows you like, but his mouth starts to move. Tom trails light kisses down your form, keeping his eyes on yours. He observes you through darkened eyes. “Don’t whinge,” he adds, the tips of his teeth sparkling ravenously. “I’m going to fuck you so well you’ll cry, but not yet. Let me enjoy this.”

His promise makes you squirm, and Tom takes advantage of the fact your hips are off the bed and tugs your shorts and panties down your legs in one fell swoop. As you part your legs, you invite him closer, biting back a frown as Tom settles between your thighs but pays your legs attention instead of your centre. Your folds are slick already—you can feel them wet, hot, pulsing with more urgency the longer you spend watching your boyfriend’s muscles flex as he draws his lips across your figure.

Tom teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re quivering. His lips draw down to your shins, his whole body sliding down the bed until he’s just out of reach. You lean back against the pillow and try to enjoy it, revelling in the warmth that he dusts across your bare skin with each small kiss. Tom traces love hearts up your legs with his fingertips, drawing large ones over each one of your knees before tracing over the outline with his tongue. As his spittle cools over your skin, Tom finally parts your thighs.

“Such a pretty sight,” he moans, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt. You think he’s going to dive straight in, but then he smirks, and you know that was just wishful thinking. Instead, Tom nuzzles his nose against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and goes back to kissing.

He’s needier now, moving with fervour. Sucking harshly, you know he’s marking your inner thighs, drawing an arrow towards your centre with a line of bruises. He delineates his journey, marking out the precise route he needs to take up to your sweet lips as if leaving instructions.

“Tom, please,” you moan. He’s so close to you that you can feel his hot breath coming out across you. He looks up at you and throws out a wild grin, his eyes bright and his smirk as bold as ever. “Please stop teasing me.”

He hums softly. “Okay, my darling,” Tom murmurs. You release a deep sigh of relief. “But only because I can’t go another second without tasting my pussy…” His thumbs gently move along your petals, light with his touch and teasing you until your cunt clenches around nothing. “You don’t mind if I’m a little rough, do you, angel?” He blinks up at you innocently. “I tend to get a little bit lost in you, but you know that by now, don’t you?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Give me anything… ‘m aching for you.”

Tom’s devilish smirk makes you wonder if giving him complete control was a good idea, but the thought goes flying from your mind as he nuzzles his face closer and finally indulges himself. Moaning loudly as he tastes you, his lips gradually envelop your clit, hot tongue lightly glancing off the engorged rise of the bud as you cry out. He’s wet with you, letting his tongue make your slit all messy.

Tom brings two slender fingers to your lips and parts them in a V. His nose brushes up against your clit as he slowly moves down. As the thick muscle of his tongue presses against your dewy entrance, he emits a low-pitched moan.

“God, darling,” he purrs. “Tastes even sweeter than usual.” As the vibrations of his words thrum over your cunt, you shiver and grab at his hair. One of Tom’s hands grabs at your inner thigh, pushing it up and opening you wider until he’s able to move deeper. You gasp as both of his thumbs shift down to hold your lips apart, tender petals parting easily.

As Tom slides his tongue into you, your eyes roll back in your head. You squirm against the sheets as wetness drips between your cheeks, a mix of your heat and his spit as Tom devours you. He moans against you, dragging his tongue against your tender walls. The sensations of his smooth muscle twisting against your sensitive pussy makes you shiver, and when he adds a thumb to your clit, you cry out loudly.

“Tom, oh fuck.”

He traces around your bud with a light finger, teasing the edge of the bud with his fingernail. Impatient and needy, you rut down against him, a choked sob bubbling up in the back of your throat. Your chest is heaving, your nipples perked and erect, and your fingers shake as you hold him to your heat. Tom seems to go deeper with each thrust of his tongue, moaning as he makes you messy, leaving no part of you untouched.

You call out a quiet warning, blind with lust and on the verge of tears. “‘M gonna cum,” you mewl. “Feels too good.”

He hums aggressively against you and dives deeper with his tongue, touching your clit until you peak. The feeling of your walls clenching and contracting against his face makes you whine, rutting down against him as you ride it out. Tom takes it, stays pliant as you grind onto his tongue, continuing to stimulate your passage until your back arches from the bed and you break into a hot sweat. When Tom pulls back, he’s quick to replace his tongue with two fingers, and the moan you release is garbled and excessive.

“T-Tom,” you cry out. He curls his index and middle finger into you with ease, his fourth dropping down to rest between your cheeks. You can feel the metal of his heavy silver ring, cool against your skin. “S’too much.”

He finally looks up at you after an eternity admiring your heat. His eyes are wide and feral, his chin coated in your juices. You whimper as you see streaks of white cum clinging to the early morning shadow of his chin. Tom grins inquisitively as he thrusts his fingers faster, your heat so slick and open that the movement draws out loud noises.

“I don’t think it’s too much, darling,” he mumbles. “I think you’re being my good girl, hm? We’ve barely started.” He drops his lips and nuzzles further between your legs, looking up at you with your clit held loosely in his mouth. He gently laps across the rise before releasing it and pressing a light kiss to the engorged bud. “I’m going to make you cum so much you forget your name, lovie. Gonna show you how much I appreciate you today and for every other day of our lives.”

You like the sound of that, and your cunt throbs persistently as Tom curves his fingers up and his fingertips brush against your ridged g-spot. As your hips threaten to spasm from the bed again, Tom sits up and shifts his arm, so it weighs down your lower stomach. “More,” you decide, hearing your heat prickle as Tom speeds up his fingers.

He adds his ring finger, and you cry out as the smooth band of metal presses up against your entrance. The contrast of cold against the ravaging fire of your hole is almost orgasmic in itself.

“Pretty little pussy,” he muses. “Need to stretch you out for my cock, da’ling. Haven’t taken me in so long, I don’t want to hurt you when I stuff you full.”

You’re so wet. You can feel the flat of Tom’s hand coated in your arousal, hear your heat as he fucks you. You try to pay attention to him, but you find yourself slipping when he drops his lips back to your bud and starts to suck on it. As Tom traces incessant circles over your clit, he alternates between long laps of his tongue and more focused kitten licks. Your desperate fingers curl around the silky sheets as you recognise that he knows your cunt well, and he’s learnt the right angle and depth that he needs to travel to in order to get you to the edge. He’s persistent and ruthless in the pursuit of his objective.

You peak for the second time as he curls his fingertips up against your tender g-spot, moaning around your clit under you’re crying out. Your eyes burn with tears as you call out his name, voice clouded by curse words and desperate sounds of enjoyment. You’re loud, thrashing in the sheets until he has to reach up and press you into place, not moving as he continues to stimulate you through it. It feels unending—an eternal tunnel of throbbing pleasure, your cunt squeezing his digits until it’s almost too much.

When you grow too sensitive, you tell him as much, and Tom pulls back to reach blindly for your hand. He finds it, then separates from your mound. His fingers slowly slip from your aching cunt, causing you to gasp, but he softens it out by kissing over the knuckles of your other hand, then your lower stomach.

“Perfect, angel,” he coos. Tom pushes your legs shut again, being careful not to hurt you as he crawls on top of you. He squeezes your hand as he continues to kiss all over your stomach, hips and chest, retracing his tracks from earlier until he finds your nipples. You moan as he laps at both of them messily before moving up to your face and kissing you intensely. His tongue tastes of your juices, your arousal sticking to his tongue. The tangy hue sticks to your own mouth, and you moan as you taste it.

“God, I love kissing you,” he murmurs against you, voice rumbling into you. Tom gasps your face with his clean hand, holding you tightly. “Could do this for the rest of my life.”

You’re hungry as you chase him, body tired but craving more. As Tom starts to roll his hips against yours, the press of his length to your centre makes you excited.

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit. The blend of you and him makes you feel ravenous.

“Really?” Tom sits up, his face flickering with enjoyment as you start to grind up against his hips. He circles his waist against yours, both of you enjoying the little pleasure until you find the capacity to nod. “You’re nice, aren’t you?”

You lick your lips, watching the way he stares at you. “Yeah,” you say. “Tastes of you, too.”

Tom reaches up, and with the hand still covered in your juices, he feeds three fingers into your mouth. You moan around them as he imitates thrusting motions, smearing your cum over your tongue. There’s a metallic twang as he pushes deeper, his ring brushing up against the tip of your tongue as he fucks towards your throat. The taste makes you shiver.

“There you go, clean me up,” he coaxes. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before hovering above you. Tom’s eyes, dark and hungry, shift down to your lips, and he raises a brow. “Such a pretty mouth. Wish I had time to fuck it, too, but shit… I need to be in you, darling.”

When he pulls his fingers from your mouth, you feel empty. Your tongue is light—too light. A pout settles over your lips.

“Why are you frowning?” Tom adds as he sits back on his shins. You sit up a little straighter, strength regained as you watch him move around and shed his boxers. You almost moan as you watch his cock spring free, tall and flushed red. You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“Feel empty without you,” you respond.

Tom slides over you again, and you part your legs. With ease, he slots himself between your thighs, his throbbing crown resting against your clit as your wet lips envelop the rest of his member.

“Well, you’re going to be very full soon,” he murmurs, looking up to kiss your jaw. He waits above your lips, quirking a brow. “Open, then, if you’re so needy.”

Your teeth catch your gnawed lower lip before you follow instruction, opening your mouth for him. Tom presses one of his hands against your shoulder as he leans up. He rests a thumb to your chin and looks down at you, eyes glimmering with mischievousness as he puckers his lips and hums. A moment later, Tom spits into your mouth, his dirty spittle falling onto your tongue. He groans at the sight, and you reach up to grab at his broad shoulders as the heat of the possessiveness rolls over you. Tom chases his action with a deep kiss, his fingers rolling back down to pull up your thigh and open you for him.

As he enters you, it’s a smooth movement. Everything flows together—your tongues, your bodies, your hearts. Tom’s able to guide himself inside you almost seamlessly, and you’re so aroused already that the stretch is comfortable.

“Fuck,” you gasp, falling back from his lips.

“Oh, god,” Tom groans. “That’s it. Fuck yeah.” He kisses you again as he slowly pulls out, sliding back into you with ease. His lips are hot as they rest on yours, unmoving as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he continues to thrust into you. Tom’s building it up slowly, rutting deeply against your heat as his member explores your walls. It’s a little clumsy before he establishes a rhythm, his groove coming back after a few weeks apart, but when he gets it right, it feels otherworldly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, dropping his face against your shoulder. You bury your hands in his hair, fingers tensing around his strands when he bites at your skin. “Love of my life,” he coos. “Love this pussy more than life itself. Love you more than anything.”

Overwhelmed, you hum, the sound twisting into a gasp as he grinds against you and the crown of his flushed length hits your sensitive spot. “God, yeah,” you agree. “Feels so good, Tom. Go deeper.”

He obliges you for a few moments before his rhythm fades, and he stills with his cock stuffed deep within you. Your fingers play with his hair as you feel him kiss your shoulder, then follow up the action with a lap of his tongue.

“I want you on top, darling,” Tom grunts, words smearing against your neck. He’s panting, hot breath making your skin wet. “Need to see my beautiful wife.” You clench around him, and you feel him chuckle into your shoulder.  “C’mere,” he coaxes. “I’ll help you up.”

It’s dizzying to readjust, but as soon as you’ve taken your place in Tom’s lap, you feel better. You’re impossibly close, able to watch his face constrict with pleasure every time you lower yourself on him. He’s got his head thrown back against the headboard, half-closed eyes watching you, ringed-fingers digging into your hips.

“Tom,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” Your eyes are rolling back, your body trembling as he helps you move. With each bounce down, Tom ruts his hips up to meet you, and when you shift slightly to the side and lean forward, his tip brushes up against your spot. Arcs of electricity zing through your centre, adding layers to your enjoyment.

“The way that you look right now should be breaking the law,” he says, voice held tight. Tom grabs one of your tits in his palm, roughened thumb toying with the nipple until you squirm. “You’re stunning, angel. All mine…” he drops down to kiss at the base of your neck. “Mine forever.”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m yours,” you stammer, voice hitching as his index finger trails back down to your bud. It knocks you off balance how quickly your third high threatens to surge across you.

Tom sees it on your face, growls as he feels you clench around him. “Come on, darling. Give me another one.” His greedy fingers continue to move your hips as the others play around with your clit. The bud tingles, stimulated beyond anything you’ve felt before, but the ache makes it better. “Always the prettiest when you cum, angel. Make the prettiest sounds too. Go on, my love. Let me hear you sing for me.”

It takes a few moments for you to peak, and when you do, you go loose in Tom’s arms. It ripples over you like a blur, your limbs feeling equal parts boneless and taut. Everything fades, pulled back to the bare primal motions of orgasm, warmth spreading through your entire body until it consumes you.

No sooner have you finished your release does Tom scoop you up in his arms and press you back against the mattress. He continues to drill into you, moving roughly against you, grinding his hips into you. Both of you are sweaty, and the space between your legs is sticky from all the aroused fluids that you’ve released, but he doesn’t care. He buries himself in your heat, losing himself in the feelings as you claw at his back, unable to comprehend the pleasures of overstimulation on a scale as intense as this.

“You’re okay, yeah?” Tom says, pulling away from your neck to stare at you. You’re slack-jawed and panting, but you nod. He likes to push you, and you like being stretched to your limits, but he never does it cruelly. He’s always attentive as he picks you apart, slowly breaking you open until you’re shattered into pieces that only he can reassemble. There’s love behind everything he does with you.

“Yeah,” you manage, voice broken. Hot tears of enjoyment pool in your eyes, a muffled groan leaving you when Tom reaches for your thigh and tugs it open roughly. You curl your leg around his back, allowing him in completely, and as you gain that familiar friction back against your g-spot, you melt against the sheets.

“You know what I’m going to do, angel?” Tom grunts. He’s heavy on top of you, body a blur as he fucks you harder, faster, deeper. “I’m going to get your initials tattooed on my ring finger, so you’re there even without the ring.” He stares down at your face, love swirling in his frenzied eyes. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m gonna fuck you so good for the rest of your life, darling. I promise you that. Yeah.” He nuzzles at your cheek, hot breath panting across your skin as he drops his voice to a gritty whisper. “I’m gonna love you, cherish you, fucking adore you… Gonna put a baby in you.”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Tom slows his thrusts, his hips stammering in a way suggestive of the way he’s near a peak and wants to put it off. With an intensity that you’ve never seen before, he reaches down, balancing on his strong arms until he’s able to rest his hot palm against your lower stomach. He presses against your skin as he thrusts into you a few more times, slowing but burying himself deeper.

“Can you feel me?” he says. “I’m in so deep, darling. I can feel everything. Such a wet pussy. So greedy.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “You’re so big, T. I can’t think about anything else.”

“Mmm, good, ‘cos you’re the only thing I’m thinking about right now.” He dances his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach, contrasting the gentleness as he drops his head to the crook of your neck and nips at your skin. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he admits roughly. “Thought about it every night I was away.”

“Yeah?” You brush your hands through his sweaty hair, tugging as he drives a little deeper.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Go on, touch your clit.” Tom waits until you’ve done as instructed to continue with his musings. “Thought about how you’ll look, belly all swollen with my cum. I love those pretty whimpers you make when I pull out, and my seed pours down your thighs. Can’t wait to fuck it back into you until you’re crying.”

“—oh god,” you whine.

“Mm, yeah. I felt you clench then, darling. I know how much you like the idea of taking fuckin’ everything I give you.” Tom presses firmer against your lower stomach, accompanying the action with a particularly hard rut. “You’re gonna feel me here, lovie, right in your womb. Gonna stuff you to the fucking brim until there’s no chance you aren’t pregnant. Gonna fill you with my babies, give us the heirs we both deserve.”

“Please,” you beg, voice broken. It’s overwhelming in the best way, your bud rebelling as you toy with it. But you’re persistent, matching the deep rolls of Tom’s hips as you feel another climax stir in the pit of your stomach. Everything feels so fluid and wet that it’s hard to tell where you stop, and Tom begins. He’s tangled up so completely in you that he has become part of your existence. “Please, Tom, I want it.”

“What do you want?” Tom teases. He’s a devil, looks up to smirk at you. You can feel how badly he wants to snap into release just from the way he’s controlling his thrusts, but he isn’t going to cave until he gets exactly what he wants. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I know you can do it.”

He’s in so close, lips on your cheeks, chin, nose, and lips. His heat envelopes you, clouding your brain. With each nudge of his tip deeper against your walls, you get closer to losing it, clinging to the firm muscles of his back like it’s your only lifeline.

“Give me it all,” you choke out. “I want it, Tom, deep in me. Want you to fill me up with your cum.” His curls are sweaty as you reach up to fist your trembling hands in them, entirely at his mercy. “Wanna feel you lose yourself in me.”

“Mmm, okay, baby,” he groans. His voice is broken, thick and tired from exertion. He kisses you roughly, all tongue and teeth, the noisy meshing sounds of your lips mingling with the chaos of his hips slapping down against yours. “Oh fuck,” he pulls away to say. “Oh fuck. Oh—”

With a heavy grunt, Tom finally spills. He releases a loud groan, hips snapping forwards with an animalistic force as he drives his cock deeper, shaft pulsing as your walls squeeze around him. You cry out, cumming for the fourth time. Your climax feels like the main attraction, as if every other orgasm has merely been part of the buildup. You push up against him, breasts pressing into Tom’s chest as your eyes screw shut, tears cascading down your cheeks as pleasure burns through you. His name pours past your lips like a prayer until it’s all that you know, all that you care to know.

It ends, and you’re trembling. Intense aftershocks rock through you, and you feel Tom kiss all over your cheeks as he coos soft words of endearment into your ear. His lips become wet, and you realise that blissful tears have skated down your face.

“Lovely girl... Best girl…” He’s gentle, tender. You jump, opening your eyes suddenly as Tom slips from you, causing your aching walls to spasm. He looks up at you, lifting a questioning brow as he reaches down towards your clit. “Finished?” he asks. When his fingertips lightly make contact with your bud, you wince. Everywhere aches, and it’s nice, but it’s enough.

“Definitely finished,” you choke out.

“Okay, okay… sorry, love.” Tom gently pulls back, flashing you an apologetic smile as he kisses your inner thigh. He shuffles around, eyeing the sight of his cum leaking from your hole, and you watch him shudder. “Fuck….” You can feel it slowly dripping from your entrance and clench your walls just to see his reaction. Tom groans, chewing his lips and continuing to stare until you shiver. He smoothes a hand over your thigh. “Sweet thing,” he whispers. “I’ll bring you some water.”

It only feels like he’s gone for a second, and you realise you’re drifting, ecstatic and loose-limbed. Tom is suddenly behind you, delicately hauling you into his arms. He sits against the headboard and pulls you into a tight hug from behind, kissing over your shoulders as you whimper softly. You can feel the soft fabric of his sweats as he settles you in his lap.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. He presses a glass of water into your hand and helps you take a sip. As the cool liquid soothes your throat, you relax into his hold. “Love you, love you… Love you so much.”

He’s so warm against you, holding you tight. Your eyes still feel wet.

“Love you too,” you say. Tom takes the glass from your hand and puts it down on the bedside table, and you turn in his arms to kiss him. Your lips feel puffy and sore, but the ache is worth the relief of feeling your fiancé’s mouth gently press to yours. You sigh as the tension leaves your shoulders, draining away as he loves you, and holds you.

“Am gonna clean you up, now,” Tom mumbles, voice soft. You look at him, curious until you feel a warm cloth pressing against your thighs. You part your legs, turning back in his arms and snuggling further into his grasp as he delicately runs the material over your centre. “Sorry, darling,” he says as you wince. He’s so gentle, but it still aches in a way that hurts.

“What time is it?” you ask, mind running slow.

Tom throws the cloth aside, then reaches out and grabs one of the thick furs that sits on top of your bed. “3pm.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” you murmur, brows creasing. “What time did we wake up?”

“Around midday.”

“Wow.” You smile softly as Tom tucks you both in, covering your shivering form with the blanket. You reach up, leaving your left arm above the fur and reaching out to take Tom’s hand. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

He laughs and tangles your hands together. Tom’s palm is warm against yours, and his other hand curves around to fiddle with your new ring.

“Indeed it does, darling,” he coos. “I had a lot of fun. Did you?”

“Always.”

You watch him play with your ring for a while, his lips moving over your sweaty neck. You’re still hot and exhausted, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you tight all the same, not caring that you’re messy and still quivering from the aftershocks. Soft sentences of adoration pour from his lips as he holds you.

“After this,” Tom says, voice slow, “I thought we could have a nice bath… maybe drink some champagne, have some dinner… then I want to hear everything you’ve been up to for the last month, and maybe we can celebrate some more.”

You nod softly. Turning in his arms, you sit up to face him properly, dragging the large blanket with you and draping it over you both as you straddle his lap and rest your arms over his shoulders. The bruising is still on Tom’s face, but he looks more handsome than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a golden glow to his face, a certain lightness that you’ve never seen before. You reach down and take his hand, bringing it to your lips and ghosting your mouth over his ring.

“I love you so much,” you say, looking up at him from behind his hand. His smile is like the sunrise. “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

“Oh, darling.” Tom pauses to kiss you, smiling against your lips. “Don’t you know the pleasure is all mine?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

will i burn for this ? perhaps. but it’s worth it. thank u to my lord and saviour mr mob!tsh... i love u.

lmk what you think......? +++ if you want to see any more specific scenes from my mob!tom x reader universe?? any other milestones you’d like to see? lmk! <3

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3

thank you for reading!! <3<3

[kiridarling]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄

d.kaminari and h.sero | f!reader + corruption + weed/shotguning + praise + threesome + more! minors dni!

— 3.6k words

"I knew I wanted you the second I saw you."

Denki’s addicted to the pre-concert high.

His veins hum with a song that has yet to start, fingers drumming some mixed beat on the body of his electric guitar as he assumes his place on the dark stage. The theater’s dead silent, the room suspended in a titilating anticipation—and the steady rhythm Denki's heart dissapates into chaos when the faint crack of Eijirou's drumsticks bounce off the walls, and the click in his earpiece begins.

Eijirou hits the kick drum once. Twice. Then his hands fly across the set in a flurry, the rolling beat echoing into the packed arena and spurring the crowd to explode, fans flying to their feet to render their vocal cords for the night.

As the other instruments fill the blank space, Denki's hand grips the back of his guitar's neck, on hold for his solo, and by the time the electric blond steps up to the mic, pavlov's theory has already kicked in overdrive.

"Who’s ready to feel good tonight?”

“Dude, I’m on fucking fire!” Denki vibrates, nearly glowing in comparison to his bandmates as they sift through a flurry of fans at a meet and greet. It always seems like Denki and Eijirou are the only ones with energy after a good show—but what can he say? Being on stage lights him up like a live wire.

"You said that last concert, buddy," Hanta snorts, before his a fan ran sacks his attention by shoving a tiara into his hairline.

"And? My point still stan—" Denki cuts himself off with a gasp as a bra slings across his face, followed by a burst of pain when the metal hits him in the cheek. He peels the lacy thing off with an eye on the audience and an eyebrow raised in question, unsure of what to do with the undergarment (other than put it on) until someone screams:

“Sign it!”

Denki shrugs and pops the Sharpie cap with his teeth to sign the crest of both cups before flinging it back into the audience—he can only pray it pinpoints its rightful owner before the meet and greet ends.

Katsuki clicks his tongue (because he hates these events) and as the next round of fans lineup in front of their table, Eijirou stretches like this is a sport, saying, “Guess it’s go-time.”

"Go-time is when we perform," Katsuki grumbles in the seat to Denki’s right. "Go-time is when we're in the studio makin' a goddamn album, not meeting crazy fuckin' fans—no, I’m not gonna marry you, you obsessed fuckin—“

“Oh, you're just salty you're not popular with the ladies~“ Denki gushes, wiggling his eyebrows, and a fan hands him a canvas the size of his upper body. “Un—oh wow, did you make this for me—Unlike me, of course.”

"Okay, pretty boy." Hanta rolls his eyes, before signing a phone case and returning it to an overzealous fan. With a hand covering his mouth, he whispers, “Can you believe this guy? So full of himself, I swear.”

The fan giggles and Hanta meets the blushing cheeks with a satisfied smirk. Denki huffs from the disrespect, crossing both arms over his chest. “Full of myself? It’s not my fault I’m sexy—*an autograph? Of course!"

Katsuki chuckles, scratching under his chin with ink blue fingertips, "Call yourself sexy one more fuckin’ time and I'm projectile vomiti—no, I'm not signing your tits, give me a goddamn paper or somethin—"

"What?” Denki scoffs, chest collapsing with the disbelief that one could make such a lie. “I'm literally the definition of I'm sexy and I kno—"

"Um, excuse me?"

His gesticulations freeze at the passive voice, arms stretched wide and to the sky, and Denki knows he has to look absolutely ridiculous as he blinks down at the next person in-line; who's stood with bambi eyes and such a sweet smile the electric blond thinks it might make him sick.

"I-I'm your biggest fan! Could you—um, please sign this for me?"

She comes alive, shoving a poster into his chest with pink cheeks and shifty irises. Out of all the bras, all the breasts he's been asked to sign today, and here you are, with your pocket-sized poster and your lamb countenance. Denki beams.

"Of course, Sweetness! What's your name?"

"[Y/N]!" you say, giggling, and it's so. Cute. Denki opens the Sharpie and struggles to focus on signing instead of your gorgeous fucking face.

"Anything specific you'd like me to say?"

And he knows there's a rule—there always are when it comes to these things, and it's simple: don't fuck the fans. As tempting as it is, don't invite them back to your hotel room because there are too many uncertainties, and if something leaks to the press that’s possibly career ending, that’s it. So, Denki holds his tongue. For the future of himself and the band.

"Uhm, just write what you want! I...I think I'd like it best if it was authentic and came straight from you, so."

Fuck. Of course she does.

And maybe Denki just can't help it when he leans down to speak, perhaps a little lower, "You want something more authentic, cutie?"

You light up like a kid on Christmas, gasping, "Yes please Mr. Kaminari!"

So eager, too.

"Awe, you can call me Denki if you'd like," he coos, and you nod so quickly he starts to worry about whiplash. "Meet me out back, in the alley behind the venue if you wanna get to know me better. Sound like a deal?”

"O-Okay!" You nod, and when he returns your sign you grip it tight between both hands. "I'll um, see you soon Mr. Kami—I mean, D-Denki!"

You flush from the mix up and bow in apology, and Denki knows he's made the right choice when you light up, indicating you have no idea what he meant at all.

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream," you hum, sniffling. You’re unsure if your nose is running, it's too frozen to tell, and it has you patting to confirm it’s presence. With your hands stuffed in your pockets and a jacket wrapped tight around your body, you'd think you'd be warm, but no.

The alley is dark. It's dank enough that you can smell it and you're positive what you're dancing in is vomit, but none the matter—today, you met your favorite band. Literally the people you'd die for.

"Merrily, merrily," kicking the loose rocks in the gravel every which way, you enjoy the sound of them scattering against the surrounding brick walls. "Merrily, merrily..."

"Life is but a dream," a voice finishes, a yelp rips from your throat and you jump twenty feet in alarm. But you’d know that voice anywhere; Denki chuckles at your reaction and it has you recoiling with timidity, unprepared for the surprised audience. "You have a lovely voice, Cutie. You should use it more often."

"I..." but you're not exactly sure what to say to that, knowing Denki's heard so many professional voices in his career to last a lifetime, and yet yours is lovely. "T-Thank you."

Denki watches your reaction with a hum and a smile, his visible breath escaping between the slit of his lips and into the cool air.

"Of course, Cutie."

Another voice sighs, shattering the friction that fills your gut when Denki gives you that look. You're not sure what to call it, but it makes you shiver, and that's enough to make you to run and hide.

"...Denki, who's this?"

"Um," the blond places his frozen hands in his pockets and swivels his head around to Hanta, guilty written all over his face. "A fan?"

Hanta sighs again, head tilting to the right in exhausperation, “Denki—"

"I know, I know," the electric blond sighs, waving him off. "But it's fine as long as we don't get caught, right?"

Hanta's black hair threatens to fall into his face so he combs through it, and you try not to drool at the sight of his bicep flexing. "Yeah, until we get caught."

A honk blares and it has you shrieking, to reveal a parked tour bus in the alley once the lights flicker on. Denki points the car keys at the vehicle and the doors swing open. "Awe c'mon, don't be a sour puss. It's a one-time thing, alright?"

Hanta's eyes narrow into slits.

"Seriously, dude! I'm a man of my word! On God."

The noirette's shoulders sag, but he waltzes around both of you to get on the bus. Over his shoulder, he warns, "Denki I swear to fucking god—"

"I'll be careful, I'll be careful~" he singsongs, hopping onto the stairs after the pianist. When Denki notices not you're not moving, he stills at the top step. "You coming, [Y/N]?"

"O-Oh, am I um, am I allowed?" You ask, biting your cheek at the thought of what Hanta just said as you peer around the electric blond’s body. Denki snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you're allowed," he exits the bus, only to tug you on via your collar. "Now c'mon! Let's have some fun, yeah?"

"Okay!"

Denki steers you through the bus and into a space that looks a bit like a living room, with a couch, tv, and a makeshift kitchen in the corner. Following Denki to the kitchen, you look around.

"Where are Kirishima and Bakugou?"

"Out drinking," Denki tosses, flicking open a RedBull. You wonder if this is always the post-concert routine. Hanta fiddles in with something on the couch, but he still has yet to look you in the eyes tonight, even when you ask him:

"What are you doing?"

It seems he didn't realize you’ve relocated from the kitchen to the couch next to him from the noirette nearly jumps. The green stuff in his fingers crumbles, and you scrunch your nose at the smell.

"It stinks," you add. Denki snorts, jumping onto the cushion to your right. There isn’t a whole lot of room and his addition causes your shoulders to slush between the two of them, but it’s strangely comfortable.

"It's weed," he explains like it's obvious. "You smoke, Cutie?"

"Obviously not," you and Hanta say at the same time. You turn his way, and for the first time that night, Hanta looks you in the eyes—and it's a smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners, but there's...something else. Something else hidden behind the thinnest veil that makes you cower, if ever so slightly.

Something feral.

Denki, unaware of the crushing grip your hand has around your thigh, huffs, and tosses the energy drink down his gullet, "It was a genuine question! Geez."

"What are you doing?" You ask again, and the electric blond whimpers from being ignored.

"Rolling a joint," he utters, lifting the paper to his lips to lick the length. You watch, semi-disgusted, as Hanta finally folds over the last bit of paper around the crest of the joint, gluing it together.

"Know what a joint is?" The noirette implores.

"Yeah," you breathe, shifting at the new closeness Denki provides when you feel his chest against your back. "My roommate smokes, so."

Hanta taps it on a tray, or what Denki describes as "packing it down," before twisting the tip and tossing it back onto the tray in conclusion. Denki cheers.

"Aha! The joint-rolling master has blessed us! Everyone say thank you, joint-rolling master."

"Thank you, joint-rolling master!" You giggle when Hanta's face turns a ruddy red. He reaches over to pop Denki upside the head. Denki gasps, before lunging to return the favor, and you squeal from being jostled between two men.

"Okay," when Denki returns to his seat he's panting and so is the noirette. He picks the joint off the tray and though there isn't much room, turns so he's facing you, your legs smushed against his body indian style. "You ready, Cutie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," you huff, swinging your arms in preparation despite the lack of space. Just in case.

Hanta snorts, holding the joint to your lips, and Denki raises the lighter and raises it to the end until it's hot enough to burn on its own.

“Now suck."

You do, cheeks puffing, and you blow the smoke straight in Denki's face. It's...a lot.

"Not quite," Hanta chuckles, and flips you via the waist so you're facing him. Denki whines from the change but finds solace in hooking his chin over your shoulder. "Suck, and then inhale. Act like it's a big breath—you gotta hold it in your lungs for a sec."

"Okay," you assert with a nod, eyes burning with a new determination. When Hanta holds it to your lips, you suck and inhale, and start coughing your throat raw, in a flurry of smoke and tears, eyes watering and nose burning. You scramble for water, but by the time you get some, the only thing that's left to soothe is a sore throat.

"Here," Denki offers, grabbing the joint before flipping you his way again. "Take smaller hits, like this."

Denki's mouth wraps around the tip and smoke pours from his lips so smoothly you're determined to do the same. With a raised eyebrow, he passes it back to you, and though it takes a moment, you try again.

The back of your throat tingles but the glide is much smoother, and you find that it doesn't burn on your next exhale. So you do it again. And again. And agai—

"Okay," Hanta picks the joint from your fingers with a click of his tongue, before taking a hit himself. You frown, making grabby hands.

"Hey, wai—"

"Nu-uh," he tuts, pushing you down by your forehead. "You'll feel it soon enough, trust me."

You whine, crossing your arms over your chest. Hanta gives you nothing but a raised eyebrow as he takes another hit, and you're convinced it's to taunt you. "I'm not eve—"

But then the world blurs, a bit, and your legs hum in a way they haven't before; it's warm and it's nice, and it has you blinking down at your hands in bewilderment. Whoa.

"And there she goes," Denki announces, and somehow seized the joint from the noirette when you weren't looking. Your mouth drops to say something, but all you can produce is a light giggle before it melts into a guffaw that only comes straight from the gut, your hands trying to soothe your cramping belly. Tears come to your eyes fairly easily, and when Hanta asks if you're okay he sounds like he's underwater, and that's enough to send you flying through another fit of laughs.

"I—y-yeah, I'm just—just fine," you snort behind a hand, chest spasming as you finally gather yourself enough to calm down. "I'm good. Mhm."

"Yep. Totally fine," Hanta says, but something in his tone suggests he doesn't believe you at all.

You nod, biting your bottom lip to avoid another laugh attack with your hands bunching the bottom of your shirt for extra purchase. Hanta narrows his eyes while taking another hit, so you sock him in the shoulder with a huff. "Stop looking at me like that."

The noirette snorts, "Like what?"

"Like..." you start strong, but falter under his eyes. "Like you want to eat me."

Hanta hums at the comment but says nothing, and you're not sure if your mind fabricated the quick look he gives the electric blond sat behind you. Denki speaks first.

"Do you know what shotgunning is, [Y/N]?"

You frown, "Like a shotgun?"

"So no," Hanta answers for you.

"Here," Denki offers, turning you again. Plucking the nub of a joint from the noirette, he takes a big hit before picking your face up by the jaw and hovering your lips over yours. You're not sure what to do, but once your lips connect, smoke fills your lungs, and you don't exhale until Denki pulls away. You blink, a little dazed.

You just kissed Denki Kaminari.

"Feel good?" He asks, never leaving your personal space. You nod, and he grins. "Wanna do it again?"

Your hands fist his shirt, teeth tearing the inside of your cheek due to the amount of embarrassment this question encourages. "I wan—can we do it again but without the um...without the smoke?"

Denki's hands find your hips and it's hard for him to contain a sly smirk, biting his lips to move in on his prey.

"I knew I waned you the second I saw you."

Denki's lips feel much better when he puts a little weight into the kiss, pinning you between him and the noirette. You're not exactly sure what you're doing but he takes the lead, titling his head and kissing harder, rougher, so your lips are pink and swollen by the time he pulls away.

"A-Another," you whimper, tightening your grip around his tee.

Denki hums in contemplation, picking your head up by your chin. "Ask nicely, Cutie."

Flushing deeper, your eyes dart to the coffee table.

“Another, please."

"Good girl," Denki coos, and he's propping you up against Hanta's chest. You shiver at the comment, finding purchase on Hanta's thighs as Denki kisses you on the lips again. "Wanna feel even better?"

"Yes," you nod vehemently. "Yes please."

Denki hums at that, climbing down your body as his hands glide from your waist to the band of your pants. You frown, "What—What are you doing?"

"Eating you out, Cutie," the electric blond says, hands freezing once his thumbs dip under your waistband. "That okay?"

"Oh okay," you breathe, relaxing against Hanta's chest. "Y-Yeah, that's fine."

Denki rips your pants off at that, tossing them towards the corner of the room and ultimately, to a place you'll probably never find them. Pushing your panties to the side, he licks his lips at the sight of your pussy, and flicks your clit with a smirk. You jump.

"H-Hey, that's not—"

He flattens his tongue against your slit and chuckles when you shudder, and after tossing both of your legs over his shoulders. You're not sure what he does after that though, because Hanta picks your face up by the chin and presses his lips to yours.

Denki slides a finger inside and you squeal against Hanta's chapped lips. You hear the electric blond moan, readjusting himself between your thighs, before you finally peel your lips off the noirette's, chest having from lack of oxygen.

"Such a pretty pussy, Baby," Denki gushes before his warm lips fold around your clit and he sucks, humming in surprise when you buck against his mouth. Hanta hooks his chin around your shoulder with a second joint dangling between his lips—and where it came from is beyond you.

Once he exhales, the joint finds its way between your lips and he instructs you to inhale, and the head rush afterwards has you digging your head into his chest.

"You're so wet, holy shit," Denki pulls away, lips strawberry pink and glossed with slick as he trades his both for his thumb and inserting another finger. It crooks just right and that's enough to make your hips buck, nails carving crescents in Hanta's thighs.

“T-There,” you whimper, wiggling your hips again, and Denki grins, thumb pressing into your clit. Your thighs quiver with the strain it takes to hold them back and Hanta’s calloused hands skip to your waist after dropping the burning joint off in the tray.

“Pull his hair,” the noirette commands, but you hesitate, hands glued to his thighs. Hanta sighs, reaching over you to tug for himself.

“Mph—fuck!” Denki’s eyelids flutter as he moans into your pussy with a new passion, his hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you in place. You gasp at his reaction, fingers scrambling under Hanta’s own to thread through his electric blond hair.

“Move your hips—grind against his face, c’mon,” Hanta’s grip tightens around your waist as he offers the suggestion, and you whimper with a nod before your bucking into Denki’s mouth without abandon. As the noirette trails butterfly kisses up the column of your neck, the coil in your gut snaps, and you barely have time to squeak out a warning before you’re flooding Denki’s mouth.

“Good girl...ride it out—there you go,” Hanta coos, biting your ear. You shiver as Denki pulls away with a final (and obscene) slurp, grinning like he didn’t just shatter you to pieces with nothing but his tongue and fingers.

Denki’s lips are on yours in a blink—you moan, legs still buzzing from the afterglow as you weakly grope for the small hairs on the back of his neck.

“Taste good, don’t ya?” He says with a click of a tongue after pulling away.

“I guess so,” you flush, the humiliation from so shamelessly digging your heels into Denki’s back finally settling in. Hanta reaches under your arm for Denki’s chin.

“What? Want a taste too?” The electric blond giggles, wiggling his eyebrows. Hanta snorts.

“If you could be so kind.”

Denki hums at that, placing a hand on your inner thigh for balance as he slams his lips on the noirette’s for the first time that night. He dives straight for the kill, tongue and teeth and everything, and Denki moas when Hanta’s teeth sink into his bottom lip; you find that you like it a lot.

Though eventually you tired of watching, and press the heel of your hand on Hanta’s hard cock through the fabric of his jeans. The pianist hisses, and you grin—you’ve got their attention now.

“Whoa Sweetheart, what are y—“

“I...I want more,” you assert despite the tremor in your voice. Hanta raises an eyebrow in question which has you pressing harder in hopes he’ll cave just as easily as before. Just in case, you add, “Please.”

Denki redirects your attention by squishing your cheeks until you’re looking him in the eyes. With dark eyes, he says, “You sure you want more, Cutie?”

You nod despite the restriction, “Wanna...wanna get to know you better.”

You watch Denki’s pupils dialate at that, and he can’t even hold back a groan when he says:

“Gods, Baby. We’re going to ruin you.”

unpopular opinion: bakugou's the bassist and kirishima's the drummer. fight me.

not me projecting 12yo sun's fantasy of getting railed in the tour bus by 5sos um—

[touyasdoll]

Red Lights

Request from anon: hiii I’m soo shy to ask this 😩 but can u do like a Dom!Shouto umm smut ahhh thankiew u can make ur own storyline haha eeekk thankiew again✨✨

Pairing: Dom!Shouto x sub!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, PWP, dom/sub relationship, daddy kink, breath play, impact play, breeding kink, quirk play, spitting, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia

————————

“Fuck yes, baby girl, just like that.”

The words tumbled out of his lips like a hushed growl as juxtaposed hands worked their way into your hair; one ice cold and the other warm enough to coax sweat from your scalp immediately.

“You’re doing so good for Daddy.”

The sweet praises Shouto offered you further encouraged your efforts as you sheathed his entire cock within your mouth, your bottom lip placing soft pressure on his balls as you took him to the hilt, gagging and choking for air as your esophagus became suddenly all too full of his impressive length.

His deft fingers seized your hair in tight fists as a guttural groan rang against the walls of the living room. You could feel his thighs flex on either side of you, kneeling in your rightful place between his legs as he sat atop the couch.

Releasing his vice grip on your locks, he raked his right hand through the strands until he caught another fistful at the nape of your neck and forcefully tugged your head back.

His heterochromatic orbs bore into yours, a sadistic sheen of lust darkening them even further than the ambient red lights that shone down from the ceiling ever could.

“You’re really hungry for this cock tonight aren’t you, baby? Tell me how bad you need it and maybe I’ll let you have another taste.”

The icy coolness of his right palm soothed the heat of the sweat that had broken out over your body, but the grip he had on your hair didn’t falter.

His eyes searched your face and his left palm connected with his large member. He didn’t dare look away from your needy expression as he wrapped his fingers around his length, stroking it at an agonizingly slow pace.

Even in the dim lighting, you could see the veins on the underside of his pretty cock, stretching across the wide girth of the appendage. Just watching his fingers slowly drift up and down his shaft had you captivated and absolutely dripping with need.

You captured your bottom lip in your teeth, exhaling through your nose as your pussy clenched desperately at the emptiness between your thighs, trying in vain to catch some friction to relieve the ache deep in your belly.

The words flew from your lips, breathy and frantic with the lilt of a whine as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Please, Daddy..m’please lemme taste your cock again. I’ll be such a good girl. Need you to fill me up, pretty please, Daddy. I’d do anything just to taste you..”

Devious couldn’t begin to describe the smirk that flashed across his face. Before you got the chance to speculate what his next torture might be, you felt deliciously warm fingertips on either side of your jaw.

Your lips parted, forced open as he applied pressure, the pads of his fingers growing warmer against your flesh as you watched his jaw shift momentarily.

Finding his eyes again, you noticed his gaze drop to your open mouth as he leaned closer to you, finally relinquishing his hold on your hair.

His index finger found your bottom lip, tugging it down as he tilted his head forward and allowed a long string of saliva to pour from his mouth into your own, watching with possessive purpose as it pooled on your tongue.

“Swallow it.”

Heeding his command without question, you obeyed and felt your cunt clench even tighter as a desperate moan left your lungs.

The dirtier he made you feel, the deeper the need for you to satisfy his every want grew. He loved it. He adored it.

The way your eyes were already glassed over, still moist from the tears that pricked your eyes when you swallowed him whole. How your body reacted so beautifully to every little thing he did to you. How responsive you were to him even just looking at you the right way.

It hadn’t always been like this. When you two first got together, he had been so careful with you, as if you might break right there in his grasp if he mishandled you to even the slightest degree.

But once you had successfully assured him that you weren’t made of glass, he was willing to try out some of the things that you were interested in. He was still hesitant at first, but once he saw how your face contorted in ecstasy the first time he really tugged at your hair, he was genuinely intrigued.

The first time he heard you moan in response to the crack of his hand against your ass, he had warmed up to the idea of pushing the limits.

But the first time he saw your completely fucked out expression, tears streaming down your face as you tried in vain to beg him for more, too dumbed down by how good he was make your feel; that’s when he knew he was addicted.

Here you were again, on your knees and ready to submit to whatever he felt like subjecting you to tonight and he had nothing but time on his hands.

“Such a good little girl.” he crooned, notes of debasement peppering his tone. “Daddy’s obedient little whore. That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Fire and ice met on your face, his hands cupping both of your cheeks as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath against your chin.

The exhilaration of the filth pouring from his lips coupled with the pressure building between your thighs made your head swim and you clenched your eyes shut.

“Yes, D-daddy. S’all I am. Just a filthy little whore for you. Please, use m—“

Frosty fingertips found your neck and squeezed with intention, causing your eyes to snap back open to see Shouto’s darkened demeanor.

“You want me to use you, baby? I might not be nice. Are you sure you can handle this?”

The condescension in his voice and the way you now had to struggle to pull more air into your lungs made you squirm, which was exactly what he was hoping for.

His lips pressed against yours, conveying a sense or urgency with the way they collided so eagerly. The chill of his fingertips left your throat and slid up the side of your face, cupping your cheek for the briefest of moments, before pushing into your hair.

You found yourself still breathless when your lips disconnected, panting as you whispered your needy pleas to him as if making a sacrificial offering to your own personal deity.

“Please, Daddy...‘s’all I want..I’ll be so good for you..”

He groaned, his cock twitching in anticipation as both of his hands moved behind you, finding purchase in the underside of your thighs.

In one swift motion, he leaned forward, standing up from the couch and lifted your off your knees. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him and you could feel his throbbing erection pressed against your abdomen.

Your arms circled around his neck as your mouths met once again, moans and sighs tangling between your tongues as he walked across the room.

The coolness of the wall met your back as he pressed you up against it, never slowing the efforts his lips were making as he leveraged you against the structure just enough to take a moment to align his cock with your entrance.

Your yelp met his now smirking lips, a symptom of trying to adjust to sinking into his entire length so quickly.

His hips moved slowly, mercifully so, as he graciously gave you time to adjust to the sensation of this new position. It didn’t take long until a grateful moan rang in his ears, which he took as a sign to pick up the pace. 

A chill crept over you neck as he decorated your skin with icy cool kisses, each one leaving a layer of frost behind, which was quickly melted away by the friction between you two.

His labored breathing and sinfully satisfied grunts tickled your ears as you tilted your head to the side, giving him better access.

The feeling of him sliding in and out of your slick, velvety walls, concocted with the added stimulation of the ice quickly turning to slush and slipping between your torsos, had you reeling.

The wall was suddenly absent from behind you. He had taken a few steps back and your arms tightened around his neck in response to the loss of the added support.

“M’relax baby girl, just trust me, okay?”

Shouto’s husky voice sounded like liquid honey, sweet, but thick. Thick with sensual promise. Your arms loosened as you relaxed into his hold, allowing his hands to bear the majority of your weight.

The muscles of his capable arms flexed taut, coated with a thin veil of sweat as he lifted you, up and down, over and over again. Each time you sank back down, you could feel the head of his cock connecting with your cervix, coaxing louder and louder moans to tumble from your throat until all you could do was whine and haphazardly mutter about how fucking good he was making you feel.

“You love this, don’t you, bitch? Like getting fucking rammed by this fat cock? How fucking deep I can stuff the pretty little pussy of yours?”

Tears welled in your eyes as the pressure inside your center became insurmountable. His disgusting words were sending you hurdling towards the apex of your journey and all you could do was try to hang on.

Your nails duh into the nape of his neck, clinging to his as if your life depended on it. His motions were so fluid and he was still picking up speed as he took in your contorted face. He was bouncing you effortlessly on his cock and eagerly awaiting the very moment you came undone.

“Let go, baby girl, come all over Daddy’s cock like a good girl. Show me what a good fucking girl you are, that’s it.”

His devious commands catapulted you over the edge as a shriek of pure, unadulterated pleasure ripped from your lungs. He didn't bother slowing down, instead choosing to pound the rest of your high out of you. There was no going easy tonight.

He marveled at the sight of your expression, willing himself to hold off on his own release, so he could see yours through. His arms never wavered, holding you securely and thrusting you up and down along his length until you were shaking from the pleasure still sending waves through your body.

“D-daddy, t—..thank you s’much, Daddy..oh fuck..”

Your eyes were too heavy to open, the pleasure still buzzing too high across every single one of your nerves as you felt the familiar fabric of the couch against you back.

“Good girls get what they want. And we’re not finished yet.”

Thought your arms were practically useless, he captured your wrists between one of his strong hands and pinned them above your head, rising his other hand to tuck under your hips and tug you toward the edge of the couch.

“You want Daddy to fill you up, sweetie? Pack this tight cunt of yours with my cum?”

You mewled as your pussy clenched tight around his impossibly hard cock and you realized he was about ready to burst inside you, but you had no words left to beg for what you so desperately wanted.

A nearly feral growl escaped him as he felt your walls grow even tighter around his throbbing length. He angled himself above you, so that his hips could continue their merciless assault on your body with gravity’s assistance.

“Of course you fucking do. You’ll beg for whatever I’m willing to give you, won’t you, you cock-hungry slut?”

He lifted his left hand and briefly lit it aflame, before extinguishing the blaze just before he palm connected with your ass, drawing a whelp and a gratuitous moan out of you.

“Beg for it. Beg for me to pump you full, darling. Beg me to use and abuse your pussy as I please. Unless you’re already to fucked out to form words.”

His still scorching palm slapped across your breast, before offering a fleetingly soothing rub and catching your nipple between his thumb and index fingers, tweaking it in just the right way to have you about to fall of the cliff of another climax.

“P-please, Daddy!”

Your cries were almost frantic, so desperate sounding for any and all of the filthy things he would do to you.

“Please fucking fill me up with your cum! Please don’t stop fucking me, Daddy! I want you, I want you, I want you..!”

More ritualistic chants sprang from your lips as Shouto’s head snapped back, his jaw going slack and a powerful groan reverberating throughout the room as he shot ribbons of white within your most hallowed halls. You were quick behind him, the sensation of his seed releasing within you sending you over that cliff again.

Your bodies both shook in sequence, as if passing those delicious tremors back and forth to one another as you coasted on your respective highs.

“Fuck, baby girl..”

His hips slowed as he rode out the lingering shock of his eruption, trailing gentle fingers over your hips.

“M’thank you, baby.”

Slowly, he pulled out and you relished the feeling of how well his cock always filled you up as you tried to catch your breath, still unable to form coherent words. His forehead pressed against yours and you could see his soft smile just inches from yours as he spoke in a gentle, husky whisper.

“You are so wonderful, you know that? Lemme take care of this mess. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gentle kisses traced down your jaw line, over your chin, and all the way to your lips, where he let his mouth linger as he sighed through his nose. The feeling of his smile against your lips never failed to make your heart flutter and now was no exception.

He was still smiling as he forced himself to break the contact and tear himself away from you. For a moment, he disappeared into another room, until he returned with a small towel, dampened on one end, and a glass of water, which he was sipping when he reappeared.

Extending the glass to you, he sat beside you on the couch, letting you quench your thirst as he cleaned up the mess he has made of you.

“How are you feeling, baby? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

Traces of concern were evident in his mismatched eyes as he laid down on the chaise of the couch, extending his hand to you to invite you into his embrace. Slipping your hand in his, you allowed him to guide you from your position on the couch and against his chest, your back to his front, as he placed a hand on your hips.

“No, babe, not at all,” you smiled as you reassured him. “That was amazing. I know you’re never going to hurt me. I don’t think you’re capable.”

A quiet giggle echoed around you as you felt him kiss along your shoulder and up your neck, before nuzzling your cheek and placing one last, sweet kiss there.

“I never want to. I love you so much, y/n.”

He let his head rest on the couch, tugging you gently against him, so that you were as close as you could comfortably be.

“I love you too, Sho.”

His lips turned up in smile as he kissed the top of your head, letting his eyes close as yours already had, and the two of you drifted off into sleep curled up together.