#i will not apologize you brought this on the world by asking

[staryuee]

hi ! ru still taking reqs? if so i hv one for u:

diluc, ei, ganyu, itto, venti and xiao's reactions when u tell them ur from another world?

kinda like traveler lowkey - since traveler did introduce u to [char]. so what happens when they clear out the fog of your origins? (lets also make u extremely overpowered 👍)

my apologies for the abundance of characters i want u to write for :( - i may or may not think out of all the people who's works i've read ur the best? aoqooqoao don't mind that but tysm if u take my req! ily :D

S/O THAT’S FROM ANOTHER WORLD

꒰warnings꒱ honkai star rail references, not proofread oopsie

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, venti, zhongli, ganyu, xiao, ei, itto

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . i’m currently on a hsr grind so i just decided to steal both that universe and technically the elements of honkai impact to feed into my delusions ♡

traversing the planets that sprinkle the gorgeous celestial galaxy above has led you to a sticky situation. for the past several months you’ve been wandering around the land known as ‘teyvat’ with the kind traveler aiding you as someone who understands your predicament all too well.

it wouldn’t have been so weird for you as a trailblazer - after all, a nameless’s job is to explore the cosmos and the planets that dot the universe - but what made it undoubtedly difficult was the fact you were: A. alone. B. in a whole different branch of the imaginary tree. C. completely attached to a person from this precarious world.

see, over the course of your adventure you’ve met so many different types of people; some the equivalent of scraping nails on a chalkboard and some…or should i say someone, who’s been at your loving side ever since their heart skipped a beat for you.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

ʚ diluc doesn’t like to assume things unless it’s built on a foundation of logic and evidence. so this was an absolute surprise to him.

ʚ your sweet and silly habits, the little mumbles you kept to yourself, your reliance on him to converse with others…he thought those were just endearing quirks of yours! not because you were from a whole other world!!

ʚ listen, he’s not mad, per se. you’re the love of his life (as absolutely corny as that sounds), but he doesn’t appreciate having something like this be brought up so randomly and not with precaution. the traveler was one thing, this was another. he loved you. he needs to sit down for a moment…

ʚ in the grand scheme of things, this revelation made a lot of sense. there were moments you mentioned little tidbits about your personal life where it had him scratching his head. you were freely allowed to have secrets and friends outside of mondstadt…but it came to a point where he was absolutely sure you were making things up.

ʚ what do you mean you reminded him of a man called argenti? he didn’t particularly enjoy getting compared to another man of all things…but you seemed pretty happy with yourself so he’ll let it slide. you’re missing someone named…kiana? well, he’s not exactly sure who that is, but he’d be happy to escort you to meet them?

ʚ it was sweet, really—how much he tried to appease your little waves of nostalgia and nights of sorrow with nonchalant compliance while he had no knowledge of your situation. but, now that he has…everything has become so much more convoluted.

ʚ he’s already a man of very few words, preferring actions to prove his love than mere bluffs—but how was he meant to show you anything when all you ever want is something out of his reach?

ʚ diluc has never been in a position where he couldn’t give someone he loved something they desired. you manage to surprise him even now.

ʚ aside from the guilt he feels about not being able to give you more than a hug and a kiss with a muttered “it’ll be okay, sweetheart”, he’s utterly proud and in awe of you.

ʚ you were truly something else in battle. fierce, swift, barely visible through smoke and gashes of elements bombarding together like an alchemy lesson gone wrong—he couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

ʚ if diluc was one for relaxing in fairytale bliss, he wouldn’t hesitate to lean back as you slaughtered with delicate ease with a dreamy grin on his face.

VENTI — 温迪

ʚ venti knows every song from the past, present and the future. the future being the most helpful for situations like this.

ʚ but he certainly didn’t expect for you to just say it out right! i mean, he had suspicions (you called him wendy upon your first meeting, he immediately knew there was something curious about you…), but you’ve never really mentioned it before.

ʚ his initial reaction was a mix of unbridled curiosity and utter joy. he has SO many questions which he will let you use as payment instead of mora for every ballad and sonnet he sings for you. but also… you trusted him with this information? fr? (>﹏<)

ʚ he is SO down for you to chat shit about people who pissed you off in your world. will he understand any of the factions or wars involved? nope! but he’s always willing to listen to his windblume when they’re caressing and squshjng at his cheeks as a form of venting relief.

ʚ not only are you a super intriguing storyteller, one that does a heck of a good job to give him the proper material for future ballads, you’re so powerful and talented it makes him shiver! (*≧ω≦)

ʚ he already loved watching your skilful fingers wrap around a weapon…but watching your entire demeanour shift and posture straighten after you’ve left a residue of dust from a hoard of enemies? ooh you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

ʚ there is a certain bittersweetness to your predicament however… being the god of the freedom of all things means a lot of things, but one thing in particular that makes his heart ache: eventually, he’ll have to let you go.

ʚ and not in a dramatic romeo and juliet way, or an anti-commitment way—in the way that this isn’t your home. and venti would never deprive you of the chance to see your own peers and family.

ʚ what’s a little distance to a god who’s already been alone for most his life anyway?

ZHONGLI — 钟离

ʚ “i know.” were the only words that left his lips as soon as you reveal your identity. he never delves deeper into how he knew; or perhaps he didn’t and is just lying to save face…either way, he remains silent with a complaisant smile as he once again picks up his teacup.

ʚ it’s awfully unsettling how this proclamation is met with such nonchalance, but to be fair, he’s a god, and a dragon at that—he’s seen and been the fault of countless of empires falling and rising, including the one you’re standing in today with qingxin’s in your hair, he’s not fazed, but he is certainly intrigued.

ʚ won’t hesitate to bombard you with questions, slowly of course, he doesn’t wish to overwhelm you.

ʚ it’s not every day he gets to speak with someone who’s from a world completely unlike his own who’s actually willing to share their tales and past. of course the traveler was there to chat about their own experiences, but it always felt like they were leaving portions of their story covered.

ʚ it’s not every day he gets to speak with someone who’s from a world completely unlike his own who’s actually willing to share their tales and past. of course, the traveler was there to chat about their own experiences, but it always felt like they were leaving portions of their story covered. 

ʚ he’s suddenly a lot more in tune with your habits and quirks, he enjoys the whole process of guessing what things you’ve adapted to and learn from teyvat and the things you’ve clearly been conditioned into by your past.

 ʚ silly things like calling accidentally calling the archons “herrscher”, face suddenly going limp with sorrow at the mention of murata, he also does think it’s a little funny you mimic his osmanthus wine line with one of your own…something to do with life being ephemeral and being filled with worldly strife.

 ʚ aside from your unique quirks, another obvious thing that caught his eye was your power. he’s seen many a mortal in his life—some of which had left puffed scarring in his psyche from their sheer strength and will.

 ʚ but you? you were something else. he couldn’t even tell if it was just because he loved you so much that anything you did amazed him, or because it was simply endearing to see his partner so nonchalantly powerful.

 ʚ he may or may not pull the grandpa card occasionally to watch you in action. Can he technically match you in power? possibly. but you should forgive the old dragon, he merely enjoys watching you get sweaty as he sips tea, is that so wrong?  

GANYU — 甘雨

ʚ ganyu is barely awake when she comes home to you, so when you suddenly revealed such news, it abruptly awoke her. yes, she nearly lost a horn in the process—please don’t mention the bump on her forehead.

ʚ despite ganyu being extremely intelligent and quietly observant like an white barn owl with hooded eyes, this was the last thing she expected: was teyvat some sort of resort for outlanders strewn off their course? or did the gods specifically send you down here so you can play with her heart?

ʚ the revelation doesn’t change much apart from your late night pillow talks. suddenly, even the sleepy goat preferred counting the moles and freckles on your skin than imaginary sheep. please do enlighten her about your world!! she will soak up any information and perhaps help you relive some memories with some diy—she’s sure she can remake the food from the xianzhou luofu with some mismatched ingredients!

ʚ one thing that intrigued her immediately about your travels was the place called penacony; you seriously visited a world where dreams were a reality? where you can simply let go of the troubles of life and engage in mindless fun? that was far too out of her realm of imagination, but she was certainly replaying the image you placed in her mind during her late hours at work.

ʚ however…the rest of the story about the dreamy land solidified in her mind that maybe those few hours with ink are worth more than indulging in delusions…

ʚ your martial art skills and general technique with your desired weapon had also piqued her interest, but she had never really put too much emphasis on it or thought to express her curiosity. after all, it’s not like she gets out of liyue much—perhaps this was merely a style from one of the other nations?

ʚ of course, with the present context, she was now even more intrigued! you have to teach her some of those cool choreography moves! you practically use the entire battlefield like a dance floor, sliding around to avoid enemy attacks with such poise and grace you’d think you were merely doing ballet. she’s never been so motivated for something so seemingly trivial to you.

ʚ there’s certainly a hint of worry with your whereabouts. after all, doesn’t this mean you’ll eventually have to make it back home? if so, would you be potentially willing to return to her if your heartbeats ever sync again?

XIAO — 魈

ʚ that explains a lot of the mumbles you told him not to worry about where in which you compared him to people he’s never heard of in teyvat - i mean he barely remembers the blurry faces of people he’s encountered but even so.

ʚ i mean who in the world was blade?? like the weapon? if so, that’s a rather cruel comparison for a man used as a killing slave for most his life.

ʚ he did think it was weird that despite your long stay in teyvat, you hadn’t managed to properly integrate yourself into their cultures - though he wasn’t really one to judge you for that, he was born to protect liyue and he still hasn’t got a clue how to socialise, so really? he understood you all too well.

ʚ soon as you admitted to him your story, it’s like all the lanterns in his head suddenly flutter with light. ah, so you’re not just an outcast weirdo—you’re quite literally from a different planet.

ʚ xiao isn’t one to be super intrigued about other people, his life and duty is specifically intended for the protection of liyue and its people. he has no time to wonder about what’s beyond that.

ʚ but…since it’s you, he’ll try. during those alone nights at the inn, him wrapped up in your arms like an injured kitten as you brush away the dark streaks of hair clinging to his bloodied forehead—he’ll ask.

ʚ did you have any friends? any family? did they love you? what sort of things did you experience? …do you miss them?

ʚ he rarely wants the answer to the last one, he shuts it out almost entirely. he can’t bear the thought of you potentially yearning for somewhere, or even someone, that wasn’t him. it was petty and selfish—but for the first time in his sacrificial life, he allowed it.

ʚ as for your power…he’s not one to be impressed by something he was literally designed for, but it was another thing to watch you work so diligently. it was…admirable.

ʚ there’s been times where you’ve surprised him, and unintentionally hurt his ego. he’s supposed to be YOUR protector, he wants to be. because if he isn’t, what else can he be? you can’t just swoop in and snatch him by the waist while he’s in the middle of training because you think he’s in trouble!

RAIDEN EI — 影

ʚ she truly believes she misheard you at first.

ʚ you’re from where? huh? speak up, please before the stoic shogun breaks down.

ʚ you can’t be from somewhere unreachable…you were hers. and now you’re telling her you belong to a whole other world?

ʚ it’s a poignant moment. on one hand, she’s deeply honoured that you trusted her to admit something so important to you, but truly…the idea you were just barely hers made her irrationally upset.

ʚ once she gets over the sulking, ei finds a little peace with you as you retell some stories of your own life. it’s a little healing almost, knowing you handled yourself so fiercely without her need of protection.

ʚ another raiden shogun? well you better pray you hadn’t dated because otherwise…she’s not sure she can keep that purple electricity of hers in check enough to not leave a branch-like streak across your face (she wouldn’t dare no matter how tempting the idea of branding you as hers the thought may be).

ʚ yae sakura and miko though? now that was certainly interesting. at least she finally had a conversation starter with the kitsune that strayed from the typical teasing.

ʚ you must know that she will absolutely be using this information against you, in the most lighthearted manner of course.

ʚ no it’s actually very normal in the inazuman custom for a shogun to eat a handful of sweets before dinner, you simply haven’t heard of it! yup she also must be the little spoon at night no matter how much smaller or bigger you are from her—it’s a status thing, so come on, get to it.

A. ITTO — 荒泷一斗

ʚ OH SHIT??

ʚ unexpected, bewildered and absolutely enamoured.

ʚ not only did he manage to bag an absolute gorgeous partner, one that could kick ass like it was second nature, but also one that was from some super cool other world?! oh babe you shouldn’t have said anything, he will absolutely chew your ear off with this.

ʚ nonstop talking and questioning— did you have things like this in your world?? when reference to the most common items. dig you also have rain? did you wake up before dawn or was it always night in your realm? do you have family? what were they like? friends? gasp LOVERS?

ʚ ooh he suddenly couldn’t take it. he knows you’re the most beautiful, handsomest, prettiest person alive—but just the thought of someone else—someone who he couldn’t fight!!—thinking the same thing before he ever did made his stomach feel all funny.

ʚ were there monsters and freaks in your world too? and did you love them as much as you hopefully loved him?

ʚ he knows it’s a little unfair to expect you to only have had eyes for him, but for the sake of his ego…it’s much better to keep past romantic endeavours to yourself. he’s currently more than content that the great arataki itto is your first TEYVAT! boyfriend. no other dude from some shammy planet could change that significant status.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[emeraldserenade]

Save Me ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín and Sam noticed the signs but they hoped they were wrong.

tw: fem!reader, spousal abuse, Sam and Joaquín being the best at helping reader, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Guys, I started avidly reading Sam fics too and I am starved for fics. Why does almost no one write for him? (Does anyone have any recs?) Also, I said I wanted to post everyday but I was tired after class and took a nap instead so this is coming out late (12:20am).

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It started with the flinching, when you first joined Sam and Joaquín you were a force to be messed with. But now, you flinched when someone raised their voice or if someone moved just a little too fast. You blamed it on the lack of sleep and the amount of caffeine you drink, but Joaquín wasn't buying it.

Next was the smaller bruises, you claimed they just showed up and that your doctor said it happens because of your lack in iron. But they were vaguely hand and finger shaped, like someone was holding onto you too tight.

Then it was the constant apologies, even when it wasn't your fault. You would apologize for running into a table or if you made a noise you deemed too loud. You would apologize for speaking your mind when you weren't asked and you apologized for talking too long when you announced you were leaving for a bit.

Sam picked up on it too, he brought it up with Joaquín. Sam wanted to make sure that he wasn't reading too much into it, and when Joaquín said he noticed the same thing, they both knew they needed to confront you. They agreed that they would the next day at work, but you called in sick. So they pushed it off until you came in, but that day never happened.

You tracked the boys, you three had a Life360 so you could keep track of each other. You saw that they were both at Joaquín's and you drove there, your bags and belonging packed with you. Your lip throbbed where it was split open and you could tell you looked horrible.

You got to Joaquín's and parked your car by Sam's, you knocked on the door and it didn't take long until you were sat on a dining room chair while they helped you. You could help but sob and apologize, you felt helpless. There you were crying over your now ex after he beat you, again, when you were supposed to be a superhero. The irony wasn't lost on you, but it made you feel worse.

"Angel," Joaquín's soft voice broke you out of your thoughts and you noticed Sam was missing. "Sam's starting the shower for you, come on," Joaquín helped you up and you two walked to the bathroom.

"I'll go grab your bags from the car," Sam told you and your gratefully nodded.

"You can stay here, I know you're going to argue but it's an offer. Think about it," Joaquín told you before gently shutting the door. You were washing away your feeling of insecurity and unease when Sam gently cracked the door.

"I'm going to place your bag right here on the counter for you, if you need anything yell for one of us," Sam told you before leaving. You finished your shower and wrapped yourself in the towel before stepping out of the shower. You walked to your bag and just stared in the mirror for a moment. You were right, you looked horrible. Your lip was split, but you could tell that, but you had a hand shaped bruise on your chest from where he had pushed you against the wall and held you there. There was more, bruises around your body and they were just painful reminders that you weren't strong enough to stop him.

You slowly got dressed, picking out your favorite pajamas. It was just a green silk nightgown but it hit mid-thigh and it would let you put bruise cream on your bruises. You walked out to the living room and sat down on the couch between the two, it only took a moment before you started tearing up again.

"I feel like a failure," you told them. "I couldn't even keep myself safe, how am I supposed to keep the world safe?"

"What you went through does not make you any less of a hero or any less strong. You had no control over it and it wasn't your fault," Sam took the lead in the conversation, his time helping at the VA coming in handy. "You went through the unimaginable, it had to be hard. You are still the strong and confident women from before. You just have to find her," Sam assured you.

"And we will be there every step of the way," Joaquín added and you smiled for the first time that night. You felt safe and loved at Joaquín's and you realized that you do want to stay.

"Is that offer to stay still on the table?" You questioned.

"Of course it is, come on, I'll show you the room," Joaquín stood and you and Sam followed suit. As you walked down the hallway and to the room, you realized you were in the road of recovery. It may be hard and long, but you had two people you knew loved and cared for you were helping. Plus, now you could hopefully find the courage to tell Joaquín how you felt. Though that might have to wait until you weren't freshly out of a relationship.

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Masterlist | Requests

[alikesical]

pt. 2 to this silly thought

trigger warnings: mentions of death (specifically dead parents), might be out of character? idk we'll see

"Bruce? What are y-"

"Please," he said, not letting you get another word out.

He knew how this looked like. He knew it was bad, and terrible, and very very confusing, and nothing like he fantasized about.

He was at your doorstep, 3 years too late, and instead of an apology, he's got a child and a plead.

"I-" he stuttered, Bruce never stuttered, "I need help." he said, his eyes never leaving yours. It was weird, looking him in the eyes again, after all you've seen of them for 3 years were on news broadcasts, but they somehow were still familiar.

The door creaked as you opened it up, a silent invitation. A promise that whatever went down in the past, will be left there.

For now, at least.

You said nothing as he walked in, no questions asked, even if there were thousand. You could always ask them later.

"My room is in there," you pointed at the closed door, "I'll get you some spare clothes. They'll be too big for him, but it's the only thing I have." you said and headed towards your bathroom. You could hear Bruce thanking you as he moved the boy in your room, the bed creaking as he set him down.

The site that greeted you once you walked in, nearly broke your heart.

Bruce was sitting on the edge of your bed, staring silently at the boy, the softest expression you've ever seen, etched in every corner of his face. They both looked so serene, the only difference being the look of absolute, excruciating sadness in Bruce's eyes.

He almost looked like he was grieving.

"Here you go," you broke the silence, offering the clothes to him, which he took with an appreciative nod.

He turned to the boy, silently nudging him, trying to wake him up as gently as he could. You could barely hear him whispering the kids name as you left the room and closed the door behind you.

Whatever had happened to this kid must have been traumatic if Bruce brought him to you instead of going straight to the manor and having Alfred help him. Seeing another stranger wouldn't do him any good right now.

And with that thought, you moved to your living room table, picking up your mug of now cold tea and headed to the kitchen. Your movements were mechanical as you filled the kettle with water and turned it on, still confused by how your night had progressed.

You were supposed to read your book, in peace and quiet, drink your tea, and ignore the world around you for a couple hours.

Now, you had a kid sleeping in your bed, wearing your clothes, and were making tea for Bruce Wayne, your best friend whom you haven't spoken to in 3 years.

You exhaled as you filled the mugs with water, blinking a couple times, before you picked them up and headed back to the living room.

"Jesus Christ!" you jumped back when you saw Bruce already sitting on your couch, hands on his knees, spilling some of the tea on the floor.

When did he get there? How did he get there? Your floorboards are the creakiest thing in your house, which says a lot considering the apartment is very old. How did he not make a single sound? It's not like he's small. The man towered over you and probably everyone else you knew.

You shake your head a little before walking up to him. It's late, you're tired, and the night has been eventful, no wonder you didn't hear him, your thoughts are loud enough to cover up the noise.

"He's asleep." he said as he accepted the mug from your hands, "Thank you." he took a sip.

You sit down across him, pulling your legs up to your chest as you copy him.

"It's no problem," you look at him, shoulders tense, head lowered. This isn't Bruce, not the Bruce you knew, at least. The Bruce you knew always stood tall, shoulders out, radiating a calm kind of confidence. This Bruce is just a cell of who he used to be.

"You can stay as long as you need," you continued, "both of you." you say and you see him visibly tense up more, like he didn't expect you to say that.

And in all honesty, he didn't. He didn't expect any of this. Not you opening the door, not you letting him in or giving clothes to Dick, or making him tea, or letting him stay. All the while, not asking a single question.

He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of it.

You saw his brows scrunch up, his eyes fixed on the mug he was holding so tightly that it could break any moment. "Listen," you spoke up again, interrupting him from falling deeper into his thoughts, "It's late and you look like hell. Why don't you go and sleep in my room with the kid and we'll talk in the morning?" you stand up, "How does that sound?" you say moving in front of him as he nods and follows your example.

You both head into the room, him making a beeline to the bed, and you heading to your wardrobe, getting an extra pillow and a blanket.

"Good night Bruce, sleep well." you say as he slowly slips under the covers, his coat resting on your desk chair.

"Good night." you hear him answer as you close the door behind you.

The next morning, you wake up, groaning as you stretched on your couch, your back hurting in ways you never thought it could.

You exhale as you stand up, feet hitting the cold floor, as you stand up and immediately head to the kitchen trying to not think about what happened last night and the reason you had to sleep on the couch in the first place.

Coffee first, you can deal with Bruce later.

You rub your eyes as you wait for the water to boil, trying to crack your neck, just to get some relief from all the built up pressure.

Thankfully, you didn't have to go to work today, so once you were done, you grabbed the mug and headed back to the couch, hand immediately reaching for the remote.

"-terrible accident took place last night as a pair of acrobats travelling with the circus, known alongside their young son as the Flying Graysons, fell to their death, leaving their son an orphan." you hear the news reporter say the moment you turn on the TV, your expression turning into one of shock,

"Their death has been attributed to an accident, the GCPD says after conducting research overnight, and their young son seems to have be taken away by no other than Bruce Wayne, who's own parents died when-" you turn the TV off, staring at the empty black screen.

So that's what happened. This is why Bruce looked so distraught last night. He didn't just watch two people die, he relived the night his parents we murdered all over again.

Flashes from the past appearing right before his eyes, leaving him unable to escape the hold they still had on him, the hold they always will...

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard the light pitter patter on the floor, accompanied by it creaking with every step, and before you knew it, you see the boy in front of you, wearing your shirt, that was entirely too big for him, rubbing his eyes as he looked around confused.

"Good morning," you greet him, a soft smile on your lips as he turns to look at you, only then realising there's another person in the room with him, "How did you sleep?" you ask him, but he stays silent, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"...good" he says under his breath after a while, and you exhale in relief.

"Are you hungry?" you ask but he gives no response, "I've got some cereal in the kitchen." no response, "I'll let you keep the toy," he immediately perks up, and you let a wide smile overtake your face as you stand up again.

You head into the kitchen, the boy following close behind, and suddenly a light shines on this terrible situation, because even after witnessing something so traumatising, this little boy still got excited at the thought of getting the silly little toy that came with the cereal box. After all that happened, he was still a child, and you were determined to keep it that way.

@whiskytoast hope you enjoyed it! I'm not gonna lie, while I did plan on continuing this at some point, I lowkey screamed when I saw your comment and immediately got up lmao slept is for the weak after all

[oddberryshortcake]

So I wrote a fic based on this image, pls enjoy 💕

Tw: Workplace microaggressions

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It was Nyoka’s first time working with a Shaftlands magazine. He had been scouted by Félicité Cosmetics for their new line of lipstick colors, branching out to market to a wider audience. He guessed he was just the Beastman they saw most fit for it. 

His parents encouraged him, any kind of work was good so long as their clan got good publicity. 

When he enrolled in NRC, he was already leaving his comfort zone. He thought being around so many different people would prepare him to interact in the public world. He was paired with a fellow classmate and loyal Félicité partner, Vil Schoenheit, so it wasn’t like he was completely in the dark. 

Except, in came the little details that he noticed set him apart from his peers. The comments. 

“You both look absolutely beautiful. Mr. Wadjet, I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to work with us. We’ve never had a Cobra Beastman model before.” The producer elatedly told them, holding out his hand to shake. 

Nyoka almost shook with his tail and then he remembered; humans don’t shake with their tails they shake with their hands. He did what he thought was most socially acceptable and the producer smiled widely at his correct response. Thank the seven he was becoming more prepared for interactions like this. 

“Alright, you two, by the backdrop. Mr. Schoenheit, please hold the lipstick we gave you to Mr. Wadjet’s face, and Mr. Wadjet, please place your hand on Mr. Schoenheit’s right shoulder,” the director requested, and watched as they got into their poses, “Right, that’s good, look at the camera.” 

So far, so good. It wasn’t so different after all compared to everything he had done in Sunset Savanna and Scalding Sands, except for what the director requested next. 

“Mr. Wadjet, can we see your fangs?” 

He felt his stomach twist into a knot, “What?” He asked, hoping he heard them wrong. 

“We want your fangs visible in this photo. Open your mouth for us and look this way.” The director repeated, motioning for him to turn his head further, mouth open. 

Was this why he was brought here? Back at his home, Cobra Beastmen very rarely barred their fangs unless they were in some serious danger and needed to show them as a warning or actually defend themselves. To do so without reason was seen as disrespectful by other Cobra Beastmen. 

To expose one of his fangs like this for all of Twisted Wonderland to see, what would they think of him? What would they think of Cobra Beastmen and Reptile Beastman as a whole? They are already looked at with an air of distrust. What if people think he’s too scary? 

“…I would rather not,” he admits, a bit stilted. He can’t seem to find the right words to say ‘no’ without coming across as difficult. 

“These were the directions that were decided upon.” The director retorted, also trying not to sound rude but coming off that way. 

Vil’s face twists into an expression of anger and he places his hand on top of the one Nyoka has on his shoulder, grabbing it firmly, a sign that he was going to take over in his place.

“He said no.” Vil said, far louder and more commanding than Nyoka could muster, “This is a promotional ad for lipstick, not teeth. If you can’t respect his decision, then we’re both dropping the project.” 

The director didn’t like the hear that, and the producer ran back in from behind the camera crew and scrambled for a response. 

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Schoenheit, we can do the shoot without fangs!” He exclaimed, notably leaving Nyoka out of his apology. Not that it mattered, he was saved by someone who had the strength to speak up for him, something he couldn’t do for himself. 

It was shameful, always being stepped on one way or another. He had heard tales of even the greatest cobra, a close confidant to the King of Beasts, was not spared from having the world trample over him. Maybe that was the fate of someone who didn’t want conflict but still found it anyway. 

They did the shoot as usual and after the crew were editing the photos together, Nyoka was just about ready to leave before they made the final call on what they were going to publish, but Vil had pulled him aside in private. 

“I just wanted to let you know that after this, I am never working with this director ever again and the higher-ups are going to hear about this. Anyone who doesn’t respect their crew and cast shouldn’t be allowed to lead projects.” Vil told him. 

“Thank you for speaking up, and…” Nyoka replied quietly, “If you could, please don’t mention I said anything. I don’t want anyone to know I was difficult to work with.”

“You aren’t difficult to work with. You’re professional, far more than others I know. You had a boundary that was crossed, there’s nothing wrong with putting your foot down on people who aren’t respectful.” Vil encouraged. 

Like him, he knew many who would say that Vil was far too intimidating, too serious, too outspoken. But to him, at this moment, that was the Vil he needed the most. Maybe how he comes off to others isn’t so bad after all.

i was wondering since Nyoka also a mode does he and Vil pose together time to time?

I would support a sponsored collab.

[heavens-crown]

And They Were Neighbors Pt. 8

Master List

CW: 18+ minors DNI, smut, blowjob, dirty talk, sir kink

taglist: @starkgaryan @gabsgabsvaz @happyfestpanda-blog

Delilah’s nerves threatened to get the better of her while she set the table. She was wearing a very skimpy nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. It was a pale pink with lace trimming, two slits up to her hip bones and the neckline plunged between her breasts. Once the table was set she made sure to turn on her Sleep Token playlist for some background noise. Once that was done she checked her phone to see a message from Robby. 

[Robby: I’ll be home in 10 minutes]

Checking the time Delilah was about to sit down when she heard three knocks at the door. Ever the gentleman he refused to just let himself into her apartment, insisting on knocking first every time. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she walked over opening the door. Robby stood there smiling, then he saw what she was wearing and his eyes darkened as he drank in the sigh of her. 

“Hey baby,” he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. Dropping his backpack by the door he reached out and ran one of his hands down her side to toy with the lace trimming. “You get all dolled up for me?” He asked, stepping into her personal space, so close that her breasts touched his chest with every breath she took. Smiling, she gave him a chaste kiss before abruptly turning and heading toward the dining room table. 

“Maybe I did,” she teased. “Come on dinner’s going to get cold.” 

Robby barely tasted the food she had prepped, he was too busy staring at her in the nightgown. When she had turned and walked away he had to suppress a groan when he saw that it just barely covered her ass. She was chatting about how her day had gone and about her newest Tv show obsession but he barely heard the words watching as she leaned forward, her breasts just about spilling from the top of the nightgown. It almost felt like a punishment, seeing her all dolled up and beautiful as ever but not able to touch her how he wanted to. It took him a moment to realize she had asked him a question. 

“I’m sorry baby, i was lost in my own little world there for a moment.” he apologized. She took a sip of her drink smiling sweetly at him. 

“It’s all good, I was just asking if you wanted to cuddle on the couch with me. There’s a new movie I wanted to watch,” She explained. Robby felt his cock twitch when she brought up cuddling. Frankly he’d rather have her flat on her back eating her pussy right now, but he didn’t want to push his luck with her. 

“That sounds good to me.” He said as he stood to clear off the table. It was another thing he did that he refused to allow her to do. His reasoning was she had cooked so he could at least clean up so she could rest. Once they were settled on the couch he had to suppress a groan when she curled into his side like she belonged there. He stretched his legs out, leaning further into the couch and wrapping his arm around her waist to hold her in place. Pressing a kiss to her head he could smell her shampoo a mix of coconut and vanilla. His cock was hard just having her pressed to his side, the nightgown hiding nothing from his gaze. This is definitely punishment, he thought. Robby wished he could say that he was a perfect gentleman and that he kept his hands to himself during the movie, but that would be a lie. He continuously ran his hand across her hip, sliding his hand under the soft material to rub circles into her hip bone. Delilah wasn’t innocent in this either. She’d press the occasional kiss to his chest or rubbing his thigh just avoiding making contact with his now hard as fucking steel cock. He was about to say fuck it and drag her into his lap when she peeked up at him with her ‘im so angelic’ smile. 

“Hey Robby, can I ask you something?” she asked while playing with the strings on his hoodie. Robby squeezed her hip curious to see what she was going to ask. 

“Of course,” he answered. She bit her lip, a smile still on her face as she blushed before she spoke. 

“Can I suck your cock while the movie finishes?” she asked sweetly. Groaning Robby fisted his hand in her hair and roughly kissed her. Pulling back slightly he could see that the flush on her skin was darker now and that her nipples had hardened.

“You want to suck my cock baby girl?” he asked softly. He kept his hand fisted in her hair as he studied her face for a moment longer. “Get on your knees.” It was nothing short of an order. Before he knew it she knelt between his spread thighs waiting patiently as he undid his pants and pulled his cock out. He fisted her hair again as she wrapped a dainty hand around his cock before licking from the base to the tip. Then stealing the breath from him she sucked his cock down her throat sucking harshly as she did so. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed. 

Apparently that was all the encouragement she needed cause then she was pulling his cock to the back of her throat. Her mouth was wet and warm, the way she sucked and curled her tongue just right sent shocks down his spine. At this rate he’d be blowing his load down her throat before he could get her into bed. The sounds are down right filth, he can see a thin line of drool going down her chin. He yanks her mouth off him by her hair holding her place. Her lips are swollen and her eyes are hooded as she smiles at him. 

“Did you not like it sir?” she asks, faux concern in her voice. That makes the last thread of his control snap, because then he's yanked her up and begins swiftly heading to the bedroom. Delilah squeals and grips his shoulders tight, only letting go when he drops her on the bed. Bouncing a bit when she hits the bed she looks up at him with wide eyes. 

 “Turn over,” his voice is gruff and she doesn’t hesitate in doing what shes told. Robby quickly sheds his clothes before he’s knelt behind her, one hand in the middle of her back and shoving two fingers from his other hand into her cunt. A low moan is pulled from her as he plays with her watching as she squirms trying to fuck herself on his fingers. “Already so fucking wet.” He yanks his fingers from her ignoring the whine she lets out. Grabbing a condom he has it wrapped around his cock before he’s slamming into her in one hard thrust. 

Delilah all but screams when he thrusts inside of her, her tight pussy squeezing his cock so hard it almost hurts. He gives her just a moment to adjust before he starts roughly pounding into her. With every thrust he can feel the head of his cock bumping her cervix, can feel the way her pussy spasms around him trying to milk his cock. One of his hands sneaks its way into her hair gripping tightly and yanking her head back. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” he growls. She doesn’t respond except for a moan, he can see her hands gripping the sheets tightly. With his free hands he slaps her ass cheek hard, a red hand print appearing almost instantly. Another whimper from her and he nips at her shoulder hard. “You want to cum baby?” he groans as he feels another spasm of her pussy around him. 

All she can get out is a choked ‘please’ and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Shoving her face against the mattress he fucks into her harder than before, the grip on her hair tighter, his free hand gripping her hip holding her still. A few thrusts later and she shatters, fingers clawing at the sheets and her pussy becomes a vice damn near choking his cock. His own release finds him a minute later, he thrusts turned jerky as he cums. Carefully he laid himself over her, pressing a kiss to the bite mark on her shoulder. 

Robby carefully pulls himself from her, running his hands across her shaking thighs. She’s laying there panting softly, her skin is flushed and she looks heavenly. For a moment just looking at her like this Robby feels a wave of possessiveness so fierce it makes his chest ache. Smoothing her hair from her face he smiles a bit at the dazed look on her face. ‘Cock drunk’ is what she had dubbed the look, and in the moment he wholeheartedly agrees. 

“You doing ok baby?” he asks. He’s rubbing his hands up and down any inch of skin he can reach. She hums in agreement, relaxing into the mattress with a sigh. Robby chucks as he gets up to get a washcloth for her. Once he gets her cleaned up, he climbs into bed next to her pulling the blankets over them. She burrows into him already dozing off. 

“Missed you,” she mumbles. Something in Robby’s chest constricts at the drowsy words. He didn’t realize just how far she had wormed herself into his life until he hadn’t slept beside her for a night. Pressing a kiss to her head, he simply wraps himself around her succumbing to the pull of sleep. 

“Missed you more baby girl.”

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

The Mean King- Thranduil x Modern!Reader

Summary: Thranduil and reader become friends after a misunderstanding

Word count: 1, 217

Tolkien and Thranduil tag list: @littlemadamred @dazaiosamub1tch @saguaroooo

*want to be tagged in my next Thranduil fic? Click here*

A/N: I know a lot of you follow me for my Tolkien content and that I’ve been spamming a lot of other things lately. I want to say thank you to my followers old and new and hopefully this fic will make up for lack of Tolkien content x

“It’s such a privilege to be able to be the one to show you around the woodland realm, y/n. I’ve never met someone of a different world before, I mean I’ve barely left this realm. I have so many questions,” the excited elf exclaimed as she began leading you on your own private tour.

King Thranduil had no doubt chosen her as your guide because of her contagious light. Though Thranduil hadn’t spoken to you much since you arrived in this land, he did seem to pick the perfect elves to help you adapt to this new world.

The elf who helped dress you in the morning appeared to be around your age and was very sweet and soft. The elves who fed you and sat with you while you ate were almost like mother figures, and it made you feel at ease. Even the guards he’d asked to show you to your room on your first day, seemed to be the more gentle and considerate of his guard.

Yes, King Thranduil hadn’t even really looked at you, mostly just a gentle nod and a smile that was barely there as you passed one another, but at every turn he made sure you were comfortable. The king even made sure books in English were brought to you, and clothes were made for you that closely resembled the style you arrived in, with an elegant elvish twist to them.

“And here are our beautiful gardens,” your guide announced.

It truly was beautiful. Every colour you could think of shone bright against the glow of the sun.

You saw just how perfectly manicured the garden was as your sweet guide opened the gate for you to step inside. Rich and beautiful fragrances filled your nose as you walked among the heavenly expanse.

So enraptured by its beauty, you didn’t notice a figure standing before you. Suddenly you felt a solid surface against your body as you almost fell over.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” you quickly scrambled to apologise.

Your anxious apology seemed to catch the attention of your guide, as she turns around to see what the problem was.

“Aldon, are you bothering my guest?”

“No, no, no, I- I walked into him. Again I’m so sorry.”

Your panicked state seemed to make the elves before you laugh, almost seeing your worry as a child scared to be scolded.

“It’s quite alright, my lady, I take no offence. Lucky it was not the King you ran into however, now he’s one you’d have to apologise to,” Aldon rolled his eyes with annoyance, as he turned to your sweet guide to concur.

You’d thought she would defend her king from such a statement, especially since you’d seen her be nothing but lovely to you, but she didn’t. The sweet female elf seemed to roll her eyes and scoff along with her friend.

“Have you met him yet? Has he been his typical mean self?” Aldon asked, prodding you.

This talk of the king made you even more anxious, as you twisted your fingers.

“No, I-I haven’t met him,” you respond meekly.

“Well I think in that regard you are fortune. Now unfortunately I must bid you both farewell, as I have other duties to attend.”

You gently waved as he walked off into another part of the garden, your tour continuing with no further talk of the king.

****

By the time your tour of the realm had finished, you were in dire need of some calm alone time.

During your tour your guide had shown you to the large library in the castle. Remembering the massive shelves of books, art and comfortable ornate couches, you decided that would be your sanctuary until dinner.

Lightly your fingers skimmed along the spines of the books, marvelling at their ancient beauty, and wondering what the letters on the spines could possible say.

Walking to the end of the large mountain of a bookshelf, you find yourself in a section with tables and chairs, like the study area of the library back home. Slowly scanning your eyes over the many tables and chairs, your gaze catches that of the king.

As you usually do, you nod your head to him with a soft smile, expecting one in return, but all that was given was a scowl as he rises to leave.

Not sure what you could have done to offend him, or if he was alright, you quickly walk to him.

“Thranduil are you alright?”

Your hand lightly grasps at the sleeve of his kingly robe. Though you thought your act was harmless, the look on his face told otherwise. As you look into his powerful gaze you kick yourself, realising you shouldn’t have touch him and that perhaps you should have called him ‘your majesty’.

“Yes, I am quite alright. Being mean just seems to be in my nature.”

Flicking your hand away from his sleeve, he turns to leave, and you realise what has happened. Thranduil must have heard your conversation from early and he must think that’s what you thought of him.

“Wait!” You call after him, jogging around him so you stand before him, blocking his way and forcing him to listen.

“Thranduil, yo-your majesty, I-I do not think of you in that way.”

His scowl only deepens as he looks down at you.

“I find that hard to believe,” once again he turns to leave.

"I don't think you're mean, I just think you're sad and you sometimes act cold to guard your heart,” you call after the fleeting king.

Your words cause him to stop in his tracks and turn towards you, his scowl now a curious squint. Slowly he moves to stand before you.

Instead of asking you to elaborate, he only looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Look I don’t know you very well and I haven’t heard much about you, but since I’ve been here you’ve been nothing but kind to me. We’ve never really properly spoken and yet you make sure I’m cared for,” you find yourself needing to catch your breath at your own ramblings.

“I know I haven’t been alive as long as you or frankly even close to anyone here, but if I’ve learnt anything in my life it’s that if someone seems angry and yet still does things to help others then they can’t really be all that bad. Again I know nothing about you but I don’t really think you are a bad person. You distance yourself from everyone, so perhaps you are just a hurt person and you’re afraid.

“Look maybe I’ve got that all wrong bu-“

“No, I, I suppose in a way you are correct,” Thranduil interrupts your desperate rant, with a polite and gentle voice.

“I have experienced hurt and loss and I suppose it’s what causes me to act cold. If you can believe it, in my youth I was actually quite fun.”

Thranduil cracks a small smile as an unknown memory seems to appear in his minds eye.

“I think fun Thranduil is still in there at times. Maybe I could meet him one day.”

Thranduils dip into nostalgia is broken by your kind words, and his shadow of a smile soon grows to a smirk.

“Perhaps you just might.”

[tatsumi-rin]

Yeah no my family still use my deadname when talking to one another when they think I don't hear

No wonder they struggle so much with getting my name and pronouns right

But don't you know it's so hard to get used to after so many months

And I am so aggressive when correcting them

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Can I request a scenario with Malleus encouraging f!reader touching his horns now that one of them is broken after seeing she's sad/hesitant about it but she used to do it a lot before? ♡♡♡Thank you love your blog♡♡♡

Malleus Draconia:

You had never hated Malleus.

You had never been afraid of him.

You were scared for him, scared that he would never see past his anguish, that the concept of losing someone dear to him would blind him to the reality of what he’s done. You felt like an intruder in this battle, watching those who grew up alongside him, who served him dutifully and who were fueled by the desperation to save him from himself, stand their ground best they could until a victor could be announced.

The partial loss of his horn was a sacrifice that had to be made, if it was either that or his life, your preference was clear. But the loss of his magic was a heavy hit, as was the emotional fallout from all the very upset students who had fallen under his sleeping spell. You can’t say you were mad, just exhausted, and endlessly relieved that in the end his family could stay together, no matter how each individual had changed over the course of this journey.

Malleus was hesitant to approach you, perhaps remembering that your dream consisted of a yearning to be by his side, yet he couldn’t give you the full attention he wanted while monitoring everyone else’s dreams. He had left you with just a copy of himself, which was why he was determined to seek you out in the waking world. You had greeted him with a smile, as strained as it might be, and he found himself wondering how you felt about him now. Worrying was a more accurate descriptor, but if he allowed himself to think on it too long, he would never find it in him to approach you.

He does notice when the conversation begins that your eyes drift to his horns, specifically the broken one that had brought an end to this unfortunate situation. You had always had a fondness for his horns, admiring them quietly in class when you could, and Malleus could never forget the look of awe (and mild embarrassment) when he had asked if you wanted to touch them. He knew humans were generally curious about such things and since you had been polite enough to not just grab at them like they were decorations, he figured you’d take him up on his offer.

“Would you like to touch them?” His tone is mildly playful and you’re brought back to several long months ago when he had first asked, the question making your face warm the same way it had before.

“I… It won’t hurt, would it?” You didn’t know the biology of his horns, or if there were nerve endings or something else that might cause discomfort.

Malleus just shook his head in response, leaning down to allow you access, praying that you would do it. Did you see him differently now? Was the broken horn a signifier that something else inside him was broken? He was afraid of the permanent damage he had done to your relationship, to you, and there would never be enough apologies to offer to truly make up for it. He just hoped you understood him, what it meant to touch a dragon’s horns, and that you were willing to see a future that involved you intertwined.

 Your hands are as gentle as they were the first time, and the many times after where he allowed you to touch him, fingers slowly tracing along the hardened surface of his horns. You don’t avoid the jagged areas where it’s broken off, familiarizing yourself with each bump and point until you finally pulled your hands away. You had felt his intense gaze on you the entire time, finally allowing your eyes to meet.

You gave him a smile, a genuine one, and while the path of forgiveness might be long, Malleus knew you’d walk alongside him until the very end.  

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[sanriovin]

hear me out on this one y'all.

imagine yourself coming back home from a hard day at work, right? all overwhelmed, exhausted, annoyed at the world, and so on. as soon as you walk into your shared room though, you see a sight you weren't expecting in the least.

your husband, kento nanami, jerking himself off.

poor man, on his one day off, which were EXTREMELY rare for him, you, as luck had it, had to go to work :( and he was all needy and desperate for you, resorting to masturbating, which he never did often, even more so after the two of you became a couple.

his big, strong, calloused hand from the type of jobs he was involved in, wrapped nicely around his aching, pulsing cock, fisting himself, as pathetic, desperate groans and moans of your name and how good he was feeling left his lips, as his hips bucked up further into his hand from the pleasure he was feeling.

his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, head lolling back into the soft, welcoming pillows, dressed in a gentle linen pillowcase, undoubtedly not even realising that you had came home. the sight before you stirred something inside of you, making the exhaustion and annoyance from the day disappear completely, instead, replacing it with a feeling of your own neediness, and a sense of pride, seeing how your husband could fall apart. it gave you ideas. MANY ideas.

"Kento?" you spoke from your spot at the door, your eyes trailing down your husband's half-nude form; his trousers and boxers gone, his tie loosened, three tops buttons undone from the top.

hearing your voice breaking through the sounds of his ragged breathing, loud grunts of pleasure, and the occasional moan or two, his hand came to a stop, his eyes opened wide, looking at you, with shock, embarrassment, and shame. he couldn't even bring himself to hide his body, in a state of processing what had happened.

placing your bag down on the dresser near the door, you took one step, then another, then another, as you approached your shared bed, your eyes locked onto kento, not looking away for even a mere second, in fear that you would miss even the slightest reaction from your normally composed husband.

he swallowed harshly, audibly, slowly moving his hand away from where it was nicely wrapped around previously, placing it down on the linen clad duvet, averting eye contact with you, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, from either the embarrassment, or the physicality and feelings that masturbation brought, or both?

"I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon." he spoke a quiet apology, seeming genuine with it, but how could you even be mad at him? or how could he even think you would be mad at him?

shaking your head, you moved yourself down onto the bed, situating yourself in between his thighs, watching how his adam's apple bobbed with nervousness and excitement, how a dribble of precum ran down his dick with every tremor that ran down his body.

"You're sorry for what, Kento?" you asked, the question being more of a chastise for him even thinking that he needed to apologise for this, rather than an actual question. in all honesty, seeing your husband like this, undone into a puddle of desperation and lust, was something you would kill to see on a daily, so you were definitely not complaining.

taking a single finger, you trailed it down his thigh, inching closer and closer to the one spot that was the key to getting rid of all his frustrations and stress, even if just for a day. he let out a quiet sigh, watching you with eager eyes, silently pleading with you to do something, anything, to relieve the pulsing ache.

"Do you want me to help you, Kento?" you, once again, gave him a question. your voice was sweet, soft, as if lulling him into a sort of haze. your voice worked like a siren's, bringing him in and in, with only mere words. having him wrapped around your pinky. true, most of the time, nanami preferred to be the dominating one, the one in control, however, he also knew how to let himself be taken care of by others, specifically, you.

"Please, honey, please, I need you so badly." his voice was strained, barely managing to hold himself back; hold himself out for long enough for you to do something.

taking that as your sign to continue, you put a coy little smile on your face, lowering yourself to lay comfortably between his legs on the soft bed, before placing one, single, chaste kiss to his angry, red tip.

he let out a groan in response, head falling back, peeking at you from under his eyelashes, hands trembling slightly at the feeling. your kiss felt good, so good, but it wasn't near enough for what he wanted, no, needed.

"Darling you, fuck, tease..." he groaned out, situating himself to rest on his elbows, so he could see you better, and see what you were up to.

you would have teased him for longer, but the look on his face, one of love, neediness, pure eagerness and desire, was enough to pull you out of your teasing and cruel state, and you decided to help your beloved partner, help him release all the stress within him.

opening your lips, you slowly lowered yourself onto his aching, hardened cock, lowering yourself further and further, as you attempted to take him fully, with, as you soon found out, ended futilely on the first go, with uncovered space still left at his base. however, that alone was enough to cause nanami to let out a low moan, pressing his eyes shut again, letting the darkness consume him as he focused entirely on the pleasure he felt in the moment.

the scene was messy. your drool dribbling down nanami's sensitive cock, the tip of it pressed and poked against the back of your throat, trying to push further and further, however, it was stopped through the tightening of your throat, and the sounds of gags and chokes on his large size.

he gently moved one of his hands to rest on your head, not pushing, not pressing down, just trying to ground himself to reality from the immense pleasure he felt. "Sweetheart, it feels so good... You're doing so well..."

nanami kento has a way with words. a way that made you feel eager and excited to pleasure him, to satisfy him, in hopes of getting more and more praise.

trying to breathe through your nose, you slowly relaxed your throat, bobbing your head up and down, attempting to inch further and further down his large dick, holding onto his thighs with trembling hands, as your tongue swirled around his leaking tip, which resulted in a loud, higher pitched moan than before from nanami.

the moan was all you needed to proceed with your actions, desperately trying to bring your beloved to the edge of release, as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on his cock so well he could practically see stars in his eyes.

taking one of your hands, you gingerly brought it to his balls, beginning to slowly mess and play with them, testing new waters to see if it would have the desired effect on nanami.

and it did not fail.

in mere seconds, nanami was falling apart on the bed, his legs trembling pathetically, his hips jerking up to your mouth, his back on the bed, his arms having lost all strength to support himself. curses, moans, and groans of your name kept spilling from his mouth, as not once did he open his eyes. hot spurts of his cum landed in your mouth, on your tongue, as you began to taste the salty yet slightly bitter taste of it on your tongue.

letting him ride out high long-awaited orgasm, you took all that he gave you, only pulling off once you saw his body laying practically limp on the bed, regaining himself from the experience.

but, of course, he was a gentleman at heart. he wouldn't let such a favour go unrewarded, oh no, he couldn't have that.

"How about you let me pleasure you now, love? What do you say?"

(author's note: finished writing this after finishing AOT S3 - the ending hurt so bad that i couldn't even cry)

[reignpage]

Vice President!Sukuna

Satan: the end and the beginning

Word count: 3.7k Contents: cursing, mature themes, including allusions to drug use, morally dubious characters, angst, with comfort, I was gonna save this for next week, after I've done the updates for the other jjk guys, but I think people need this so here you guys go.

Sukuna’s brought you back to your dorm room with his jacket wrapped tightly around you and using the blanket of the night to avoid flashing anyone, though there wasn't really anyone hanging around by the time you two finished. It’s late and, without exchanging words, he strips down into his boxers and gets inside the covers with you. 

It’s a tight fit and you have to lay partially on top of him, but he cradles you so securely you have no doubts he won’t let you fall. There’s still a lot to be said and you aren’t sure when the right time is but maybe you'll talk in the morning, because right now, your bones are creaking, and your muscles are sore. Not to mention the ache between your legs. 

“You hurting anywhere, prez?” His mouth is pressed to your ear as he mutters the words to you, a hand rubbing your bare back soothingly. 

Shaking your head, you let it rest on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as if it could tell you the secrets of the world. With a satisfied smile, you answer, “No. I'm feeling pretty good, thanks.”

He huffs and then brushes a hair from your forehead, pressing a kiss there. Soft and gentle are two words you’d never thought you’d use for Sukuna and yet they’re the only words that circle the space between and around you. He was soft when he held you as you recounted the past, he was gentle when he carried you to his car and when he buckled your belt, and he’s both as he mutters apologies against your head when he thinks you've fallen asleep.

You’ve never been apologised more times in one night. 

But you don’t need his apologies, not really. You need something more, something only he can give you, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to get it. 

For now, you just let him hold you as you drift off to slumber.

When you wake up, he’s out of bed already. You don’t know when he had gotten changed into clean jeans, shirt and a new varsity jacket, but when your eyes fall on the breakfast spread on your desk, you’re quick to surmise that he must have gotten an assistant, or something of the sort, to drop things off. 

Sukuna leans against your desk, occupied with something on his phone as he taps rapidly and when he spots your movements, he glances at you and gives you a quirk of his mouth. It’s not a smile but it’s close enough to one to warm your chest. 

“Morning,” you yawn, covers slipping off your naked body. He grunts back a greeting. 

You push off the bed and head into the bathroom, door open as you brush your teeth and do your morning routine. When you come out, you ask him what’s going on. 

“Family problems,” he rolls his eyes. “My idiot cousin got into trouble and now I gotta bail him out.”

Finding an outfit in your closet, you settle for a plain sweater and leggings, just something to keep you covered whilst you ready yourself for a much-needed conversation. Steeling your spine, you turn and face him. 

“Choso?”

His gaze slowly reaches you, still typing, and with a cock of his head you know he’s questioning how you knew immediately. You shrug, entering his space so you can hold him. With no hesitation, his arms wrap around you, chin resting on your head. Smelling clean and fresh, you realise he must have showered; you hadn’t heard. You must have been completely knocked out after last night, both emotionally and physically. 

“It must have something to do with him being Cursed Womb, no?" Sukuna tenses, and then his grip on you tightens almost imperceptibly. “Of course, I knew. I hang around late on campus practically every night — you didn’t think I’d notice him creeping around with a duffel bag of clinking paint cans?”

“How long have you known?”

You kiss his chest, right over his heart and then look up at him with as innocent of a smile as you can muster. “Are we dating?”

His gaze narrows and you hear him put his phone down on the desk, focus solely on you now. Perhaps you’re coming on too strong, perhaps you hadn’t calculated right, but it’s too late now — you can’t wait any longer to see things unravel, to see him on his knees. 

“We are what we are.”

“I want us to be dating.”

Without missing a beat, he snaps his teeth at you playfully and growls, “Then we’re dating.”

“Perfect!” You peck his lips and then push off from him, choosing to sit on your bed, and when he makes a move to follow you hold out a hand to stop him. “You’re going to the Dean to fix things, yes?”

The narrowing of his eyes again is all the answer you need. 

“Good. And whilst you’re there with your cousin, you’re going to ask for my title back, yes?” He doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head. “Things will return to the way they were…except, this time, even better.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He had held you tightly last night, when you told him, and all he could do was kiss your neck and rub your stomach. You knew you had driven him speechless, that he doesn’t recall anything that happened, and when his eyes searched yours, you also knew he couldn’t fathom ever having hurt you. But he did. And you were. And no matter how good of a fuck he is, those things will never change. 

“Sukuna, listen closely, okay?” You cross your legs. “I got your cousin caught. Express my apologies to him, please. But I needed the whole of the Ryomen family’s backing to intimidate the Dean; you alone wouldn’t have been enough. I'm sure your family's fed up with your bullshit, but the two of you? Well, they'd have to get involved then. Sure, with your threats he would have given me my position back easily. But that’s not nearly enough. I need his unquestioning, undying support.”

“You brought my cousin into this?” His voice is dangerously low, and you can see him eyeing the space, eyeing you, as his brain tries to catch up. 

With no shame, you nod. “I told you; I needed to. Did it not occur to you that your well-experienced vandal of a cousin should have known better than to get caught? That he should know the guard’s schedule and rotation by now? And of course he did. He was careful. Good for him. But he was arrogant. Like all men tend to be. He didn’t think anyone would know and he didn’t think anyone would use that against him. I waited for the right time to utilise my knowledge, waited even when the trustees were on my ass for letting him get away with his disorder and rebellion and whatever else those dinosaurs thought. And I suppose I was hoping to bank it in much later but then the Dean pulled his shit, and well, here we are.”

He’s tasting your words, can see him mulling everything you’ve said. Despite the rising insult at your audacity to wield his family as a trump card, you know he’s impressed. But not enough to hold him back from picking up his phone, already bored with the conversation. So, you continue. 

“Make sure to tell the Dean that I want his full support. The other faculty heads need to know I can’t be bullied or undermined again. If I want a charity event, I no longer need to write a ten-page document detailing its benefits. And if I want a student suspended, it’ll happen, no questions asked, yes?”

Sukuna scoffs. “Anything else, prez?”

He’s mocking you but you ignore it. “Yeah, actually. I want you to never sabotage me again.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he bites back but you cut him off. 

Waving your hand dismissively, you counter, “Oh, but I need your word, Sukuna. I need to know that if we ever have a ‘lover’s spat’, you won’t devolve into your petty self and sabotage me. Because, let me make myself clear, if you ever do that again, even just once, even just something as minor as a single misplaced comma on a presentation or a speech, you will never talk to me again. You will never touch me again, and so help me God, you might just never see me again.”

He throws his phone back on the desk with too much force and you know you’ve struck a nerve. His body is even more tense than before and when he stalks over to you, chest rising and falling with every barely restrained breath of anger, you know you can’t back out now. 

“I fuck you once and suddenly you think I’m, what, pussy-whipped?”

Standing over you, casting a shadow across your face, you’re forced to look up at him, his damp pink hair falling slightly over his forehead. You don’t answer him, not with words, anyways. Instead, you leave a faint trail with your fingers against his stomach, his abs tensing with your touch. 

Then, with a glint in your eyes, you’re sure, you smile. 

“Aren’t you?” You cup his hardening length and squeeze. His hand flies to your head. “Because you sure do feel like it.”

Sukuna doesn’t like that look in your eyes, the smug look of someone who thinks they’ve won. He pulls your head back with a sharp tug your hair, ensuring your eyes are on him when he snaps, “I own you.”

“No. You don’t.” Your eyes flutter shut at the next rough pull. Then they fly open and you’re cutting him down with a stone-cold glare. “I own you. I have from the very beginning, since you fucked me over.”

He releases you, hands clenching like he’s been burned. It's clear he's conflicted -- offended by the arrogance in your demeanour, but oddly turned on by that newfound confidence. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“No, Sukuna," you say slowly. "I never have and I likely never will. Not even every time we fuck, or we kiss or even when we hold hands and skip along to the sunset. Because you haven’t apologised. Not the way I want you to, anyway. No, the kind of apology I want lasts a lifetime, maybe not even then. Maybe even in hell, I’ll want you to repent. Maybe in every new life, I’ll want you to find me and beg for forgiveness.”

“So confident I will?”

You stand now, and you’re actually surprised he lets you place a hand on his chest and shove him back to the desk where you pull up a chair and he sits in it without needing instruction. When you whisper in his ear, his jaw ticks.

“You will. Because you owe me. Because I deserve it,” you feel the weight of every word sink in, to both of you, and then with a slight tremble in your voice, you add, “Because you love me.”

It was a gamble to throw that back in his face, a small ball of anxiety deep in your stomach growing as you prepared to use that card in case he had a better one. But he doesn't. Rounding him, you place your hands on his shoulders, standing behind, keeping him still before you press a kiss to the crown of his head. He doesn’t deny any of your words, doesn’t even open his mouth to argue back, and you know, God, you know, you’ve done it.

“Open the left drawer and take out the book inside,” you order. He does and he clutches the bright pink, fluffy book with the shiny gold lettering like it was the most repulsive thing in the world. He’s pieced that part together without you even needing to say anything more. But still, you need the satisfaction. “Recognise it, baby? I’m sure you do. That book is my diary.”

He waves it in the air with a scoff. “If the golden capital letters weren’t enough to scream that, I don’t know what would be. It’s tacky as shit, by the way.”

You laugh and wrap an arm around his chest, he holds your hand against his heart, thumb stroking your knuckles absentmindedly.

“I had to make sure it’d catch your eye, and it sure did, didn’t it?”

Sukuna throws it back on the desk, leaning his head back to rest between your breasts, eyes closed as he inhales deeply. One would think he’s bored again, that he’s catching up on sleep, completely indifferent. But you know him better by now. You can tell by the tapping of his fingers against the armchair, the squeezing of your hand to remind him you’re real, and the clenching of his jaw, that he’s pissed. That he knows exactly what’s happened. What you've done.

“You saw it when you tucked me in bed last time, right? The night of Gojo’s stupid party? I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You’d want a peek inside my brain — no, my soul.”

“So, you knew I’d read the ripped off, crumped up paper ‘hastily’ shoved at the back?” There’s finality there. He’s so smart. You kiss his head again and when you pull away, he wraps a big hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in to kiss him on his lips. He bites and draws blood which he just sucks on before he releases you, eyes closing again. “You knew I’d read and internalise that fucking entry about ‘your deepest, darkest desire which you absolutely cannot ever tell a single soul about’.”

You nod. “Aw, you memorised it, baby? You’re such a good boy.”

He scoffs. The tips of his ears are red. 

“You thought you were doing me a favour? By giving me the opportunity to live out my fantasy in the woods? No, Sukuna. I gave you the opportunity to give me the opportunity. What? Did you think you were a genius for figuring out that I would be in the Lawn, gardening right at the forest’s edge on a Thursday afternoon? Sweetheart, I literally told you I joined the Green Thumb Society, which is a stupid society, by the way. They use up so much paper to advertise their events you’d think they’re singlehandedly killing all the trees.”

“We’ll force them to disband,” is all he says, thumb still brushing over your knuckles, feeling the scratches from the rough night. 

You hum. “And you were so sweet, Kuna. You gave me so many opportunities to stop. You tried to pull me to the car park, but I insisted we didn’t, remember? I directed you to the forest. And I thought you’d take me against a tree as soon as we were out of view, but you didn’t. You actually wanted to talk. You actually wanted to know what happened. Because you care, you sweet thing.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. 

“And even when I was screaming at you, hitting and punching, you didn’t shut me up with your dick in my mouth. No, ‘cause you’re such a gentleman.” You giggle. “So, you made me slap you. Yes, that was entirely your fault, you stubborn man.”

“Shit didn’t hurt, by the way. I’ll need to teach you how to lay a solid punch,” he lifts your hand to bite it, and you slap his shoulder with a laugh. “You’re gonna need to fight me off better next time, yeah?”

Sure, you didn’t expect him to be pissed, but he’s being so well-behaved. He’s taking this all in so much better than you expect, maybe you can actually reveal everything. It might be good to start off your relationship on a clean slate, or as clean of a slate as one can manage with your history. With a fresh resolve, you come round to sit on his lap sideways, and he accepts your weight, hands on your thighs and hip to keep you steady. You lay your head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck.

“You’re not mad at me?”

Sukuna rubs your leg through your leggings and then picks up a strawberry from the fruit salad on your desk. He pops it into your mouth, sucking the juice from his thumb before throwing the leaf back onto the plate. 

With a shrug, he replies, “Dunno yet. Why don’t you tell me the full story and I’ll decide.”

Always so perceptive. But never perceptive enough. 

Conspiratorially, you whisper against his skin, “I rigged the election.”

“I know.”

You sit up. “You knew?”

He fixes you a deadpan look like it should be obvious to you. “I’m Sukuna fucking Ryomen. One of the richest, most popular guys on campus. Who the hell would vote for a nobody over me? No offence, babe.”

Laughing, you lean back on him, tracing some patterns on his chest again. You accept another strawberry from him. Mouth still full, you garble out, “I needed to win, so I fixed the ballots. I’m not gonna say sorry.”

“Don’t. I’ll live. Plus, you did me a favour. Being president was exhausting as shit. Everyone complains like you’re the root of all their problems. Ungrateful fuckers.”

You nod. “They are��very ungrateful, aren’t they? But we’ll take care of them, won’t we?”

Sukuna kisses your forehead and reassures you, “Don’t gotta worry about them no more.”

There’s something burning in your chest, an urge to scream being quietened. It’s a deep satisfaction coursing through your veins, pumped by your heart, and you can only hum a tune again, letting him feed you and sitting in silence. Alien and odd, you never would have thought this would be happening, that you’d be in his lap being hand-fed and soothed with pecks and warm hands, but it feels right. 

You’re sat on your throne, his lips as your crown and his hands as your swords. Emanating from him is all you’ve ever wanted since that fateful night and all that you couldn’t get on your own, but you feel it crackling at your fingertips. The potential for order and destruction, the possibility for greater influence, and the ability to smooth out the path ahead. Everything you could ever need and everything you've ever deserved is right there, willing his boner to calm down.

“There’s one more thing I want,” you whisper, voice devoid of emotion. 

His words are firm and unrelenting when he says, “Anything.”

“I want revenge, Sukuna. I want to make her pay.”

The words are shameful, you know it. They're words of a petty, vindictive, shameless woman who never forgave, never moved on, never grew up. But you don't care. You had spent years following her around, hanging on every word and doing whatever she pleased because you thought that was what friends did. You defended her against bullies who called her a 'whore' or a 'slut', and you let her cry in your arms when her mother remarried, and you even let her use your library card to straighten out white powder on your desk at 17.

All those times you waited outside her window so she could sneak one, those times you wrote her essays for her so she wouldn't get marked up again, lied to her mother about where she was, and let her steal every guy you could have begun to like. Even the one you did.

But humiliating you, looking down on you? When she was one who never earned a single thing in her life?

That's just not fair.

“What’s that beautiful brain cooking up?”

Pulling away so you can open another drawer, you fish out a USB flash drive. It’s been sitting there, gathering dust for years now. And it’s finally seeing the light of day. This won’t go to waste. You can’t let it. With careful words, you explain, “In here is a bunch of pictures and videos I’ve taken over the last couple years of my friendship with her. It’s pictures of her underage drinking, snorting cocaine like it’s air and lying to older men about her age. She’s a thrill junkie and a literal one, which you knew very well, didn’t you?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him. You just peck his cheek. 

“Don’t worry about it. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. I figured that’s why you didn’t remember me, why you forgot that night. But I have to be very clear, Sukuna. You are not to touch that filth again. Not if you want to be with me, okay?’

Sukuna smashes his mouth against you, sucking your bottom lip and groaning at the sweet taste of strawberries before he shoves his tongue inside, searching for your taste and you meet him in the middle, offering whatever he wants. It’s more tender than the one you shared with him last night but it’s just as disastrous. The flash drive falls onto the desk as you cling onto him, holding him close. When he pulls away to lick the wetness trailing down your cheeks, you realise you’ve been crying. 

The things you haven't been able to say, not even to yourself, come out in hiccups.

“I-I couldn’t release it on my own, not w-when her family would find out it’s me. Somehow, they’ll know. They’ll take away my scholarship o-or blacklist me from every law firm in the country. And I can’t fight them, not by myself. I need you, Sukuna. I need you to do it for me. They can’t do anything against you, against your name.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice as he dries your face with his thumbs, swallows your sobs with his mouth and says, “I’ll do it. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“For how long, Sukuna? For how long can I use you? How long will you let me?” You whisper against his lips, a real tremor to your hands as you press it against his chest, desperate to feel his heartbeat and know it matches yours. Though he never said it, he loves you. Or whatever closest thing to it. And truthfully, you don’t care. You just need his attention and his loyalty and that’s enough. Because that’s just as much as you can give him anyways. 

That's as much are you're capable of now.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, still tasting the salt on his lips. “I can’t say what'll happen in the future, but I have a lot to make up for, and if it takes my entire lifetime, then so be it. In fact, I have a gift for you. Consider it an expression of trust or whatever.”

He shows you his phone and some coding and files and files of audio and you're very confused. Your tears stop streaming and you're just staring at him like he's lost his mind. But then you see the file name and a grin is pulling at your lips, matching his.

This is enough. For now.

So, when he lifts you up to seat you on your desk and pulls down your leggings to bury his face between your legs, you don’t say anything else. You just let the pressure take you over and you lose yourself in all the power he gives you, the power he wills into your core. 

This is all you've ever wanted.

And you've never been happier.

[orchidsarchives]

i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤

I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃

I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.

This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.

The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.

Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.

Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.

You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.

He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.

Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.

“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.

You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.

Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.

He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.

The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.

Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.

Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”

You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.

After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.

You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.

He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.

“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.

“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.

“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”

“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.

“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.

After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.

It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.

You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.

Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.

You were definitely going to call him.

[beloveds-embrace]

hi, this idea kind of comforts me but it makes you feel uncomfy just ignore this request.

but since you do poly 141, I was thinking of a fic where reader comes from a bad abusive family but she doesn't talk about it and thinks it's normal. and the 141 tries to get angry/frustrated with her because they are concerned for the fact she is fine with people treating her badly or not prioritising herself they come to realise it's just how she thinks. and they remind her that she now doesn't have to survive and fade into a background or is a burden and that she can live and be happy.

i know it sounds complicated and specific but I kinda have this really serene picture in my head that if that happens everything will fine AHAHA idk. but again if this idea doesn't correspond with your writing or feeling or comfortability please just ignore this. apologies if it made you feel uncomfortable.

hope you have/had a nice day or night!!♡♡

I hope you have a nice day/night as well!! And i hope you enjoy this! CW: past abuse, past emotional abuse and neglect

You met them first through a mutual friend, an unplanned introduction that turned into something you hadn’t quite expected: a tentative relationship, but one that had happiness blooming like the flowers and greenery you tend to. It was unconventional- a group of elite soldiers who spent most of their time between missions scattered across the world and a civilian- but when they returned, it felt like they brought your home with them.

You still didn’t understand why they liked having you around. You were just a florist who helped them with decorating their new house, or who listened when they needed a friendly ear. You didn’t ask for anything, and they were kind enough not to question it even if you'd seen their displeased little frowns and furrowed brows whenever you'd refuse.

But recently, you noticed them getting… concerned.

It was Soap who brought it up first, his frustration seeping into his usual easy smile.

It happened after you’d offered to run a series of errands, insisting they rest after a mission. As always, you tried to downplay your exhaustion, helping them settle in their home, making sure everything was clean and in order for them before you even considered sitting down.

Soap watched with a frown, noticing how you brushed off the heaviness in your movements and the bags under your eyes, doing your best to tend to them, such a sweet thing. But after you finished, he gently grabbed your arm.

“Dove, why do you do this?” he asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Do what?” you replied, a little too quickly, trying to pull your arm back almost instinctively. Almost like a habit.

“Act like you don’t need anything. You haven’t even eaten today, and you’re lookin’ after us like we’re helpless. What about you, aye?”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You didn’t know how to explain that putting yourself last was just what you did. That it felt right, somehow, to stay in the background, to make sure everyone else was fine before even thinking about yourself. It was normal, no? It was how you were raised, and your parents only ever insisted that discipline was needed.

“Just… used to it, I guess?” you finally mumbled.

Soap’s brows drew together, but before he could say more, Gaz stepped in, giving you a gentle, worried look. So Johnny... wasn't the only one who thought so?

“It’s not right,” Gaz said, frustration simmering in his tone. “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know?”

You shrugged, glancing away. Allowed. You hadn’t thought of it that way.

Price was the next to notice it, his observant eyes always catching the little things: how you’d flinch ever so slightly when they raised their voices, the way you stayed at the edges of conversations, nodding along but rarely chiming in. It had been the same when they'd met you, but he had assumed- hoped- it was merely you being naturally shy.

But this clearly went beyond that.

One night, as you were tidying up after dinner, John approached you, folding his arms across his chest. He stands close, but not too close.

“Why don’t you sit with us, love? Someone else can do the dishes. You barely let us help you cook or set the table either.” He says, his voice gentle, but with a hint of a command.

“I’m fine, John. I really don't mind.” You answered quickly, quietly. You couldn’t meet his eyes, a reflex you’d developed over years of keeping your head down.

He tilted his head, as if trying to see past the answer you’d given him. “No, my love,” he said softly, but with a firmness that made you pause. “I think you’re used to telling yourself that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You froze, unsure how to respond, feeling something painful stir in your chest. The idea of asking for anything, for taking up space- of needing more than what little you had- seemed wrong. Like wanting was a burden in itself. But it is. It's what you've learnt and been taught.

John sighed, his eyes warm but sad. His hands raised to cup you face slowly, gently. “You’re not a burden, you know that, right?”

You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah.”

The next time, it was Ghost.

He was usually silent, lurking in the shadows, watching with that keen, unreadable gaze that only ever softened for you and them. But one evening, as you were dropping off supplies at their base, Ghost noticed you hurrying off after you’d finished. He easily caught up with you just outside, his hand gentle as it grasped your shoulder.

(Yet it still had you flinching.)

“You don’t have to go, birdie.” He murmured, voice soft but clear. You met his gaze, startled by the gentle concern in his eyes.

“You… don’t mind?” you asked, trying not to look too hopeful. You always worried your company might be too boring, unproductive. Unwanted.

Ghost shook his head. “If anything, we mind when you don’t stay,” he scoffed quietly. Then he sighs. “We’re worried, you know. About how you treat yourself, luvie. Like you don’t deserve anything more than the bare minimum.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than you’d care to admit. He waited, patient, a pillar of quiet understanding.

“I just… it’s what I know,” you finally whispered, unable to look at him. “Growing up, I was never… important. And I don't have to be! I'm not demanding it, I promise-”

He was silent for a moment, and then he took in a deep breath that cuts your frantic mumbles off, as if finally understanding something he’d long suspected. “Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you’re with us now, birde. You are important.”

Something warm spread in your chest, something unfamiliar yet comforting. You managed a nod, finding a small sliver of strength in his words, and a little smile forms on your face- leaning into Ghost's knuckles so lightly caressing your cheek.

After those days, things began to change more and more. For the better.

Kyle would check in with you every day, insisting you take breaks with him, sharing laughs over simple things. Soap began inviting you to meals, not taking no for an answer, piling food on your plate until you couldn’t help but indulge. Those two especially adored taking you out to sample new cuisines, delighting in getting you to be more open with your expressions and reactions.

John and Simon would go on walks with you, listening to the little stories you’d been hesitant to share, showing you that your presence mattered to them as much as theirs did to you. And slowly, day by day, they chipped away at the walls you’d built around yourself. Showed you that what your family raised to be wasn't right, was cruel to you.

One evening, as you sat on the couch in the common room, leaning against Johnny's shoulder, Kyle leaned over, a gentle smile on his face.

“You know, love, you don’t have to survive anymore,” he said softly, meeting your gaze with a warmth that made your heart ache. “We want you here because you make us happy. Just as you are.”

The words felt foreign, but you let them settle over you, warm and safe. Kyle gave your hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring, a silent reminder that you didn’t need to hide.

“We’re here to take care of each other,��� Soap murmured, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, “and that means you too, aye?”

You gave them a tentative smile, feeling that familiar ache soften just a little.

Simon, sitting nearby, nodded in silent agreement, and John leaned back in his chair, giving you a small, proud smile. “You’re one of us, love,” John said quietly, his voice steady. “And as long as you’re here, you’re part of this family. We won't just let you fade into the background. That isn't fair to a dove like you.”

And looking at them now, at the love and gentleness they held for you, it wasn't hard to believe their words.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found a place where you belonged.

[ssahotchnerr]

👉🏼👈🏼 is it ok to request a fic where jack starts trying to take care of the reader the way he sees his dad does? like maybe hotch is away from a case and reader gets sick or sad or idk, so jack takes it upon himself to be there for reader? like maybe he even starts referring reader with the same pet name hotch calls her? tysm!

like dad does

aw 🥹 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of sickness, fluff <3

you awoke with a gentle start; a trail of cold water trickling down the side of your face, pooling vaguely in your ear.

likewise, a more concrete sensation was set on your forehead - a cold compress. most likely a washcloth, and one that hadn't been wrung out too much at that.

but it was relieving, a delightful contrast from your burning forehead.

"oops," a small mumble came directly from your left ear, as well as a soft exhale of a breath. "sorry."

"jack?" you muttered, rather drowsily. you forced your eyes open, finding jack's sweet, concerned face beside you. "what're you doing?"

"i'm taking care of you." he explained softly, his tone so nonchalant as if it were the most obvious and simplest thing in the world. he reached forward, adjusting the top of the blanket that was draped overtop you. "like dad does. he put the washcloth on you yesterday, you 'member?"

he was right; you were on day two, maybe three? of a nasty bout of the flu. quite honestly you didn't know what day it was, they all blurred together, and your scattered sleep schedule didn't help. you offered him a nod.

"thank you." you gave him a small, closed mouth smile. if it weren't for the germs, you'd reach out to touch his cheek. you sat up a bit from your position in bed, your voice hoarse. "where is your dad?"

"a meeting."

your eyebrows furrowed, the facial movement burning your sinuses. "he's home?"

jack nodded, "he's in his office, but he said it might take a long time. so that's why i'm helping you feel better."

his face brightened a bit, as if a realization struck him. he reached into his pant's pocket, retrieving a few cough drops he had shoved in there, dropping them onto your blanket covered chest.

"i'm sorry i can't make you soup." jack apologized, solemnly as his shoulders dropped. "but i'm not allowed to use the stove."

your face softened, the weak smile resurfacing. "that's okay bud, don't worry. you can help dad make some later when he's done, how 'bout that?"

he nodded enthusiastically, before hoisting himself onto your bed.

"hey no no no, i wouldn't," you protested gently, your heart also melting at his action. "i don't want you getting my germs."

"if i get sick i get sick." that's the same thing aaron had said, multiple times, when he insisted on getting into bed with you earlier. jack scooted somewhat close, staying mainly on his father's side of the bed.

"and if i get sick, i don't need to go to school."

you laughed softly, but finding yourself too weak to argue, you did the only thing you could - go right back to sleep.

it was restless; you were in and out of slumber, and could roughly process jack getting up here and there - solely due to the distant sensation of the washcloth leaving and returning to your forehead, dampened once more.

and once aaron's meeting had ceased, he went in to check on you, and was pleasantly surprised, and touched, to see jack accompanying you.

you were out, with jack diligently watching over, while also keeping himself busy - his sketchbook and colored pencils were scattered amongst the bed.

"how's it going?" aaron asked him from the doorway, the door producing a sharp creak as he pushed it forward a tad.

"good. i brought cough drops, the washcloth, and made sure she got lots of rest. just like you did." jack continued to draw as he spoke, before his head shot right up. "can we make soup?"

"sure buddy," aaron nodded, a tinge of pride pulling at his heart. he tilted his head towards the hallway, and jack immediately scrambled off the bed. "c'mon."

[mattybsgroupie]

— JEALOUS

— established relationship; cursing; face slapping & spanking (f receiving); fingering (f receiving); p in v; creampie; dom!matt

— NOTES: i’m… back? thank you for not giving up on me. y’all are my whole world. i'm rusty, i apologize for any mistakes but this is not proofread as usual and also i’ve been horny that’s the only reason for dom!matt, we’re back with the sub agenda next week ♡ and happy birthday to my best friend @ivammbb!

“have you had enough?” matt hissed as soon as i stepped back into our room. i frowned my eyebrows, wondering what he referred to. “what was so fun?”

“what are you talking about?” i asked with a confused look with my face, but not bothering with matt’s attitude. i kept texting on my phone as i made my way to our bed, laying down next to him.

“you were hysterical” he said, sitting up and resting his back against the headboard. “are you friends that much better than your boyfriend?”

oh.

he was jealous.

“anything wrong with that?” i responded, leaving my phone on the nightstand and looking at him.

“oh” matt scratched his freshly shaven beard and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “you like it, don’t you?” i tried hiding a smile, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me, my top teeth biting the flesh of my lower lip.

matt noticed i was enjoying it. the good time i had with my friends, but also his jealousy. he brought his hand to my neck, wrapping his fingers around it and gently pressing my skin “you’re such an attention whore”

i didn’t protest and allowed him to keep holding my neck, my chest suddenly starting to rise in search of air. he loosened his grip, but didn’t let go, rolling over and getting on top of me.

matt’s body was warm, as if his blood had been rushing the whole time i wasn’t with him. his licked his lips and adjusted himself, moving one his legs to in between my thighs, his knee resting under my covered pussy.

“isn’t my attention enough?” he asked, not expecting an answer as he immediately went for a kiss, smashing our lips together in a desperate seal. “no” i mumbled. “i like their attention as well” i teased when he pulled away from the kiss, feeling a sudden slap on my left cheek.

i opened my mouth, but another slap came. matt’s large hand landed across my face, his long fingers quickly caressing the area, not wanting to actually hurt me. he brushed his thumb on my burning cheek before placing it on my lower lip, pulling it apart from the top one.

i instinctively reached for his finger, allowing matt to put it inside my mouth so i could start sucking. “not talking back right now are you?” he said, a grin growing wide on his face.

i denied with my head, continuing to suck as he replaced his thumb with his index and middle fingers, blue eyes watching me underneath him.

matt slowly brought his knee upwards, pressing himself against my already wet pussy. the slaps and the way he talked, the mean words along with his touches were enough to get me worked up.

matt removed his fingers off of my mouth, turning his attention to my neck. he placed a few pecks there, traveling around my shoulders before coming back to a particular spot, kissing it deeply and sucking on my bare skin. i

knew he was going to leave a hickey, and i knew that’s what he wanted — to mark me as his. only his.

my fingers immediately gripped on his brown locks when his palm went to my breast, groping my flesh and teasing my nipple over my shirt. i moaned, both in pleasure and frustration, pulling his hair and receiving a groan in response.

“can’t keep your mouth shut?” matt teased, but the attitude disappeared as soon as i gave him a pleading look, my eyes begging for him to touch me properly. he chuckled at how i rubbed my own cunt against his covered knee and how my hardened nubs poked through the shirt, revealing how needy he had gotten me.

“my needy girl” he whispered and helped me to undress, leaving me completely bare below him before also taking off his own clothes. “only mine, right?” he asked, the slight change in his tone asking for reassurance instead of demanding an answer.

“yours” i whispered back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he continued to mark my body with bites and hickeys.

matt stopped by my breasts once again, giving my nipple a kitten lick before latching his lips around my swollen nub, sucking it fiercely, as if he was hungry for something. he could spend hours like that, kissing my skin and lazily dragging his cock across my thighs.

matt placed both of his hands on each side of my hips, creating a trail of kisses to my lower belly. he stopped and smirked at me, giving two light taps on my thighs, silently asking me to spread them apart.

i could feel matt's breath lightly slipping from his nose, as if he was chuckling while he watched my bare pussy throbbing for him. matt gave a long lick on my clit, swirling his tongue around it and placing a kiss there, quickly pulling away. i whimpered, getting impatient with all the teasing — but i knew he was gonna take ‘his own time with me’, as he would always say when i complained about taking too long.

tightening the grip on my hips, matt easily flipped me over, pressing my chest against the mattress. i felt a sudden slap coming from him, this time on my ass. i gasped and threw my head back, his large palm caressing the place he had hit, preparing me for another smack. “you gotta learn who you belong to” he said.

“i’m sorry— ah!” i tried to speak, but his hand against my ass interrupted me, making me whimper as the burning sensation started. “just gotta tell me” he repeated, “who do you belong to?”

“you, matt! fuck!” i moaned as he gave me now lighter, quicker slaps, soothing the redness on my skin.

“there you go” matt praised me, admiring his work and running his fingers through my hair. “now tell me” he started, hovering over me and allowing me to roll on the mattress, my back resting against the countless pillows we had. “who owns that pretty pussy, hm?” matt whispered, his long fingers traveling in between my thighs.

“you do” i said mindlessly, moving my hips downwards, desperate to get some relief to my aching cunt. he smirked at my reaction, wanting one last answer from me.

“who’s the only one that makes you cum?” i choked on a moan when matt finished the question and his digits suddenly met my wet folds.

“you matt, you you you” i repeated like a mantra as he started to push his fingers inside my tight hole, the wetness making it easier for him to slide in. i let my mouth hang open, arching my back when he curled his fingers, reaching my sweet spot in a few lazy thrusts.

“me, right?” he said, boosting his own ego. matt slowly removed his fingers from me and positioned himself on my entrance, pumping his shaft a few times to spread the pre-cum that had leaked.

i squeezed my eyes shut when i felt his cock entering me and stretching my walls. matt lowered his body, gluing his chest to mine, holding his weight by placing forearms against the mattress. he raised his hand near my face, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and sealing our lips together as he buried himself inside of me.

matt gradually started to fasten his pace, thrusting his hips forward and breathing heavily. “my pretty girl” he muffled, hiding his face on the crook of my neck and trying to cover his moans by kissing my skin — until he reached my spot, making me arch my back and moan loudly, clenching against his length.

“please” i begged, biting his shoulder and trying to hold my release. “please, i’m g-gonna…”

“cum for me” he gave me permission, mindlessly pounding into me, reaching for his own high. my orgasm suddenly washed over me, making my whole body tremble, my chest panting heavily as my pussy clenched against matt’s cock. it was enough to make him cum in a loud groan, painting my walls white with long ropes of cum, releasing his load.

matt slowed the pace of his thrusts as he finished inside of me, his body collapsing over mine. i scratched his back, helping him to come back to his senses.

“‘m sorry” matt mumbled. “if i hurt you” he said, the puppy look on his blue eyes making me chuckle.

“you didn’t hurt me” i assured him. “you’re just a jealous boy” i teased, cupping his cheeks and giving him a peck on his lips.

he was my jealous boy, and i was his girl. only his.

[thecoochiefairy]

sucky sucky. satoru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 10K words. blackpregnantfem!character, satoru gojo, pharmacists!satoru, sub!satoru, dom!satoru, nasty sex, shower/tub sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, face sitting, condomless sex, size kink, daddy kink, creampie, squirting, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this for that one anon who wanted satoru, cause i wanted him too. love you pookie. hehe.

showering w/ satoru. ride me, baby. sitting on his face.

DAWN WAS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF THE DAY. The sun hadn’t risen just yet, the sounds of your box fan humming through your pitch black bedroom always brought you comfort, and it was almost as if the entire world was still asleep. Your feet sunk into your bunny slippers, your soft steps pad along the white marble floor of the condo you resided in with your husband—who was currently sound asleep, able to knock out in a natural disaster as you crept out of bed. 

You decided to not turn on any lights as you came down the hallway, letting the dim screen of your phone guide you as you went towards his office close to the living room. Your hand lightly planted along the swell of your belly, taking deep breaths as you tried to focus on making it to his baby blue IMAC, needing to do more research. You were desperate at this point. 

You were nine months pregnant, the full term having been a wonderful experience as you waited for your bun to come out of the oven—the only issue was, you were almost a week after your due date, and you were now miserable. Your entire body felt heavy as your baby sat directly on your bladder, causing you to have shortness of breath at times, making you waddle essentially all the time. Regardless, you had the support you needed. Even if you were an emotional wreck. 

You keep the door cracked as you push the light switch halfway up, allowing the room to be dim as you make your way over to the desktop, clicking your french tipped fingers along the mouse to ignite the screen. Your heart shaped Cartier wedding ring glimmers along your finger—it always reminds you of the price, how you cried for Satoru to return it for something cheaper, and he felt that you deserved nothing but the best. 

You didn’t mean to wake him up, but you did anyway. You sigh lightly as you can hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, his tall and broad frame unable to sneak around even if he tried. 

“Baby, please come to bed.”

You turn your head, pulling back the flyaway of your curls as they’re hidden under your baby pink bonnet to protect your hair. Your edges swirl to perfection along your forehead, glasses tipping at your nose. 

You softly ask, “Did I wake you up?”

 “I woke up when you left. Your absence was too loud." 

He rubs his eye with his big fists, his body leaning up against the door frame. His voice was low and husky with sleep. His hair is white as snow, his bangs covering his eyes as he rubs at his face, shirtless as his basketball shorts fall right below his defined and veiny V-line. The minimal tattoos along his body and arms are visible with the light from the computer, but considering how small they were you’d almost miss them.

You turn yourself towards him as you apologize, “I know you have work in a couple of hours. You should go back to sleep.”

"It is four in the morning, baby. I’m good. C’mere.”

He stretches his arms out, his veins popping along each one as he motions for you to come over to him. You knew he had work tomorrow, but the way he said it made it feel like you were crazy for even staying up this early. Your eyes glance at his biceps as he stretches, his toned body and defined abs on full display.

“I’m just doing some research. Google says raspberry leaf tea can sometimes induce labor, I might need to grab some tomorrow,” you hum more to yourself, your eyes flickering up as he walks towards you, seeing the amusement within his icy eyes.

"I might just have to block that Google shit entirely, you find more things to research and it sends you into a complete spiral.“  

You sigh, turning to him as you chew on your lip, wanting to hold back your pout.

“Baby…” you sigh, almost in an exhausted manner, hearing as that makes him chuckle at your disappointment of his words.

"Don’t make that face at me. You know I’m right.”

He knows you're trying to help the process, and you're tired of sleeping on your side, being swollen and achy. He leans down as he presses a kiss onto your jaw. Your hormones are all out of whack as you even try not to get emotional at his words, knowing he meant no harm.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you lightly defend, hating when he was dismissive. You then click off safari along the computer as you attempt to stand, pressing your hand along the desk as you groan lightly—you just wanted to stand without struggling.

"Hey, let me help you, baby.”

He stands behind you, placing his hand on your lower back to steady your stance, but hesitates as you push his hand away.

“I can do it myself, Satoru…” 

Fucking hell, there it was. The tears forming in your vision. You didn’t know why you were about to cry. You wipe your eyes as you hold your belly, taking a deep breath as you sniffle, “I’m not helpless.”

"I know you’re not, pretty girl. Let me just help you, okay? You can walk yourself back to bed.” 

You were always prideful and resilient, but right now—you were a hot mess, the pregnancy hormones making you teary eyed often these days.

He knew how to handle you. It just depended on your emotions, and he was there to respond in any way he needed to. Like now, it was best not to make you become defensive—because you were—instead giving you an ultimatum, to make you still feel in control of yourself. You lean your hand along his stomach as you use your other hand to wipe your eyes, “Baby girl’s sitting on my bladder again.”

He places a hand along your belly, his palm firm as it sits atop of your own. 

"Do you need to pee, baby? You’re always feeling like that.” 

His voice was so tender as he spoke, he knew you were sensitive right now, so he had to be gentle with you.

You shake your head, “Just wanna lay down.” 

He nods, understanding as he makes sure your legs are sturdy before he helps you walk down the hallway, taking your hand to let him guide you. His big palm practically engulfs yours, but the warmth of his hand instantly gives you some comfort as you take slow and wobbly steps towards your bedroom. 

You successfully make it towards the soft white comforter set, golden swan headboard curving under the lights of the room as you sit yourself on your side of the mattress. You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you then say, “I wasn’t crying.”

He lets a low chuckle escape from his lips as he stands in front of you. Taking your face in between his hands that makes you look up at him, his soft thumbs graze along your skin, wiping away your tears. 

"Oh, you weren’t? An intruder cutting onions in my house?”  

His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. It was your favorite fragrance, a mixture of sandalwood and musk. 

You release a soft sigh, gently pushing his hands down as you say, “You’re unserious as hell,” rolling your eyes. You then ask, “Are you sure your employees will be okay if you have to leave work tomorrow?” 

You had a doctor's appointment to determine whether or not they could just pop your water bag, or give it a couple of days to let the baby come herself. Your husband was a Pharmacists CEO—which seemed fairly easy within the name—but it was so much more into his job, keeping him at work for hours at a constant.

"They’ll be good, baby. I think you forget that I have a team working for me, I don’t hire any dumbass staff. If anything they’re excited to play on the clock while I’m not around.”

You absentmindedly lock your fingers around the pendant of your necklace, nodding as your other hand rubs along his flexing forearm. 

You then remind him, “You need to sleep, Satoru. Otherwise you’ll be the dumbass on your team, walking around like a zombie on the clock.”

"I’ve been dealing with sleepless nights for almost a year now because of someone,” He leans down, “Gimme’ your mouth. I’m missing you like hell.”

Your eyes scan across the dangerous glint of his, always a mischief somewhere in them. Your lash extensions flutter as you say, “Kay,” almost a little too girlishly, raising your mouth up to his. 

He could be a completely different person when things became a little feisty between you two, feeling his mouth wrap around your lips, hungrily sucking your tongue inside to reel you closer. It makes your cheeks warm.

It felt like years since he held your mouth to his own, the taste of you making him grunt as he took his time with it. He knew he’d have to be cautious to not get carried away, you were heavily pregnant, and the last thing he wanted to do is hurt you. 

He sucks on your bottom lip as his hand moves down to your ass, squeezing and massaging his fingers into the plush skin under his hand.

The feeling makes your breath lightly hitch through your nose, and a throb comes between your legs. You pull your mouth back, pressing your forehead against his as you softly say, “I’m tired, ’toru,” using that as an excuse as you felt yourself becoming incredibly horny, not wanting to continue further than that.

He knew your signs of exhaustion when they came, so he wasn't surprised when you pulled back from his lips, but a part of him didn't want to stop. The sight of your pouty expression makes him release a low groan. Your swollen face, your long eyelashes, your pretty lips. The pregnancy absolutely made you sexier. 

He reluctantly pulls away from your face, "C’mon, imma’ try to get some rest before I’m cussing out my employees for no reason.”

Somewhere in you feels bad. You know he’s been holding back for months, considering your libido has been incredibly low since you became pregnant. But for whatever reason with you close to giving birth, your lower body was on fire, needing him in ways you couldn’t imagine yourself acting. It was egregious. Maybe you should’ve googled something on that.

When the next day came, you were being dropped off by the chauffeur at your doctor's office. The walls inside were pink, your smile soft as you greeted silently at other pregnant women. You sat in the waiting room as your hands were along your belly, watching the smaller children play with the toys provided by the office, imagining yourself to have a playful baby of your own. It’d already been Satoru’s third time calling you today, making sure you arrived safely to your appointment while he was at work. And he said you were worrisome. 

When it was your turn to be called back, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. You were so close to the due date, and still, the baby hasn’t shown an indication of coming out the oven. 

You were greeted by your OB, a middle-aged woman who was friendly enough, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. After getting your weight checked, you sat on the examination bed as she began looking over your swollen belly.

“How are you feeling?” she questions, cream colored skin being complimented by her red lipstick, onyx hair clipped perfectly into a bob.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, giving a smile to her, “I’m just feeling a little heavy. It’s been a bit of a struggle to walk at times, she won’t get off of my bladder,” you give a light laugh, “I just wanted to see if I was okay to get induced today? I’m just—I feel ready, doctor.”

The doctor nods as she looks over your information sheet on her clipboard, listening to you as you spoke with her. After a short pause, she answers, “Well, you’re full term, your water could break at any moment. However, I suggest waiting a few more days before we try the induction process, your body will go naturally when it’s ready.”   

She moves the stethoscope along your belly, listening to your baby’s heart rate. But not what you wanted to hear. It makes you sigh, “May I ask why there would be a difference between induction, and if the baby came on her own tonight?”

“The induction process can be a little more painful for you, honey. The contractions are more intense as we try to force your body to go into labor,” she moves away as she takes off her stethoscope, placing it back onto her neck as she pauses, “I would try some natural techniques that can induce labor, but, there’s no guarantee.“

“That makes sense,” you nod more to yourself, “I was up doing some research last night. Didn’t find much considering my husband ordered me back to bed. Are there any at home suggestions you’d give me as far as going into labor?”

The doctor gives a chuckle as she writes something on her clipboard, “I see. Your husband is a smart man, he knows what’s best for you right now. How about you try walking more? It helps bring the baby lower into the birth canal, maybe that will help your body’s natural contractions begin?” She looks back at you, “Sex is also a very healthy way of triggering a natural induction. A lot of my momma’s have some quite interesting stories,” she pats your leg lightly, same sweet smile against her face.

You’re a grown woman, but an older woman suggesting sex with your husband is something that makes your throat go dry. It even makes you blush a bit. You blink, pulling down the baby tee you wear that desperately wants to release your breast from the confinement of the material, your nipples extremely sensitive.

“Uh…sex can trigger my labor?” You repeat.

"Absolutely, sweetheart. It can help release oxytocin and prostaglandins, which can stimulate your body’s natural contractions. I’m sure your husband will be very happy to hear that,” she gives you a little smirk before adding, “It's a very effective way to start labor, a nice release for both momma and poppa.”

“Is it safe, even with my baby girl being so close to my cervix?” You have a thousand questions—definitely should've been a little quieter as you snuck into the office last night. Maybe you would’ve known this by now.

The doctor laughs, seemingly surprised by your question, but answers it anyway, “It’s absolutely okay. Baby girl won’t be harmed. A lot of my patients have sex throughout their pregnancies, it’s completely normal,” she moves back and takes her seat on her office chair, “Just be careful, but don’t be too careful. It might just do the job for you.”

At that moment, your head turns as a knock comes to the door. When it opens, it reveals Satoru—who’s not dressed within his lab coat and button up. He wears a black long sleeve, matching sweatpants accompanied with his blue New Balance 9060 sneakers, shades on his eyes as his vision strained from the sun at times. His top is practically suffocating his large frame, it’s like he has to crouch down to make everyone else comfortable. You see he holds your pale pink Nike duffle, your birth bag slung over his shoulder in preparation for anything. It almost makes you giggle. 

“You’re here,” you say, a warm smile coming to your face, not expecting him to be since you didn’t call him to come.

He loved this. He loved how you were absolutely radiating right now, all round and pretty, carrying his baby. He moves closer, bending over as he presses a kiss to the top of your head before greeting, “Hey, my pretty baby. I had a free hour in a half so I thought I’d come check up on my girl. She’ good?” he questions the doctor.

The doctor nods, placing her clipboard back into its holder, “Everything looks great. Your wife is full term and healthy, and your baby girl is ready to meet you both,” she gives a kind smile before giving a quick wave, “I’m going to have the nurse bring some pamphlets, it’s got some more information in there, just to help out. Do you have any other questions?”

You shake your head, “You’ve been amazing this entire journey, doctor. I just wanna say thank you—you’ll be one of the first people I come visit with my little muffin.”

You don’t know why you’re about to cry, but it’s a radiance of happiness you feel as you rub your eyes, so glad to have a good physician in this situation. You ignore Satoru’s, “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” rubbing your back immediately as he sees your vision glossing over.

The doctor gives a light laugh, clearly used to this type of behavior from her patients. “No problem, honey,” patting your knee once again, “How about you let papa take you out for a nice big lunch, hm? I have another patient coming in, I’ll see you soon. Congratulations.”

She leaves you both within the room, your fingers padding your eyes lightly, giggling at yourself as you greet him, “Hi, how’s work been so far?”

He’s still rubbing soothing circles along your back, finding it cute the way you were being overly emotional right now. 

His lips press to your temple, “Busy as hell. You’ hungry?”

You nod your head, taking his hand as you step off of the table as you hold your belly, a light gasp coming to your mouth as you begin waddling towards the door, thankfully not seeing the way Satoru holds back his laugh as you ramble on, “Baby! I saw this cute little restaurant not too far away when the chauffeur dropped me off, it had chicken tenders, Mexican food, burgers, all kinda stuff!…”

It’s not like your legs just stopped working, but he knows the added weight was probably hard to get used to. He chuckles as you speak, following after you as he opens the door for you both, letting you walk out first as he says, “That’s perfect, baby.”

It was in fact cuter on the inside. Small circular tables, thinly designed chairs, brown architecture and green plants hanging all around the ceiling as calming music played throughout the building. The bustle of people walking past brought a sense of comfort to you, your eyes trailing to the roses that sat decoratively along the table.

“Isn’t it so pretty?” You blink, giving a polite smile to the waiter that places tall glasses of lemon water along the table, giving you time to glance over the menu.

He could honestly care less about a restaurant’s interior. If they had the best burgers in the world, he was there, but the way you were glazed over at the interior, made the whole situation a little sweeter. 

He reaches across to hold your hand, giving a light squeeze to your fingers as he answers, “It’s pretty as fuck, baby, just like you.”

“Don’t be tryna distract me, boy. Why’d you leave work? I never called you,” you remind him, “Pregnancy doesn’t make me all ditzy and shit.”

He knew that question was coming, even if you were happy that he showed up. 

He shrugs, his thumb stroking your skin, “I was worried. You’ seen my big ass carrying that labor bag, I wanted to be there in case they induced you. Is that a crime?” he questions, “Plus, I needed a break from my annoying ass employees.”

“Oh, now they’re your annoying ass employees. You spoke so highly of them last night, what’d they do today to piss you off, Mr. Pharmacist?” You tease, accepting the fries they placed down in front of you that you ordered, taking one in your mouth, your stomach grumbling at the salty potatoes entering your system.

He reaches over to steal a fry—ignoring the way your hand smacks his—“One of them spilled a whole bottle of medication that’s hard as fuck to get again. Another one put some wrong information on a medical document. My third worker was late, and had no explanation why. So yeah, call me pissy. Don’t care.”

“Stuff happens, Satoru. Now imagine if your workers were irrational about you just ducking off the clock because you wanna have lunch with me? That isn’t fair to them,” you point out.

He pauses, listening to you as he gives a nod, chewing through the fry he had in his mouth. Satoru knew you had a point, and he respected the way you always made him realize those points. So he simply replies with, “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, baby.”

“I know I am,” you agree. You give an excited clap as they place down your nachos, craving Mexican food like no other. They also give Satoru his gourmet burger and fries, the man refusing to eat anything else at times. He was the pickiest person on the planet. 

You shake your head, “You and your beef. You’d be perfect as a pregnant woman, with excessive amounts of protein.”

“Shitt, to be able to take off work, wear whatever I want and crash out on somebody if they comment on my eating habits? Somebody call the government and start making pills to get men pregnant. Quickly.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’d enjoy the luxury of having the doctor tell you they don’t want to force your induction, and you have to wait several more days to see if you’ll naturally go into labor.”

He leans back into his seat, placing his arms over his chest as he stares at you, “Damn, maybe you’re right. Being a woman is stressful—no offense.” He pauses, his own eyes glancing at the way you looked a little disappointed from the doctor’s words, not getting what you wanted. He leans forward, his hand reaching over the table to take one of yours, “Hey. She knows what she’s talking about. Baby girl will come when she’s ready. You’ll be a great momma, y’know that right?”

“Maybe she’s hiding in there cause she thinks imma’ be a bad momma,” you sigh, kneeling yourself on your elbow against the table, “You’ think babies can feel anxiety?”

He listens to you express your concerns, his jaw clenching. He knew you were nervous. You were carrying the product of you and him for months, you wanted everything to go perfectly. Satoru wanted that for you. But he also wanted you to stop being so hard on yourself, so he says, “Nah, baby, I don’t think she can feel your anxiety. She’s probably too busy listening to how amazing her momma’s heartbeat is, probably a lullaby to her.”

You exhale lightly, feeling a bit better at his words. On the other hand, you find yourself…gazing at your husband. His dark shades along his strident face, alabaster hair and muscular frame wanting to explode through his top. He made the table almost look small, and your mind flashes to memories of you…creating your bundle of joy, an entirely different Satoru in those times. You pull your fingers away as you put another nacho into your mouth, giving a weak smile, feeling the blush on your cheeks as you say, “You’re so sweet.”

He catches the way you stare at him. Your feline eyes blink slowly, your dark curls filling the roundness of your flushed cheeks.

He leans a little closer, his tone lowering as he says, “I’m sweet, huh?”

You didn’t have to wonder whether or not Satoru looked at you in the way you were currently staring, because it was a constant gaze in those arctic pupils. There was a time he’d fuck you anywhere. You could always feel his eyes on you, especially today as you wore an all white baby tee and yoga pants set, brown sandals complimenting your pedicure, the gold along the strap of your sandals matching the dermals on your lower back. The set clung itself to your frame, never ashamed of your body even within the pregnancy. Your child bearing hips, full ass, nipples protruding through your top. You were stunning.

You always feigned an innocence, giggly like a schoolgirl when he flirted as if he weren’t your husband. Your eyes glance up to him, “You’ wanna know what the doctor said?”

His eyes were practically glued to every part of you. He took notice of the pedicure with the little white flowers against your feet, the way your shirt hugged your frame perfectly, and how he could see your pretty brown skin through the white fabric. His grin meets your face, ignoring the way you tilt his chin up to keep his eyes on yours, “Tell me.”

“She suggested that sex might be a way of inducing my labor,” you rub your fingers along his ear, a habit of yours when you talked to him in close radius.

The way that those words slipped from your mouth, the tone of your voice, it had his mind in overdrive. 

He feels your fingers against his earlobe, and he almost loses himself at the touch, his jaw clenching, “How you’ feel about that?”

“Like I need to go home and confirm that on some physicians website. I mean, that sounds terrifying! What if you bump my baby girl's head? Is that too impossible to think about?” You scrunch up your nose.

He holds back his laugh as you seem so concerned about hurting the baby that way. He knows it’s an irrational fear, but it’s adorable nonetheless, his hand coming up to rub your cheek as he says, “Baby, you do realize she’s protected in your womb, right?”

You sigh lightly, “Mhm. I just wish she’d sit up more, she makes me feel like I have to pee every millisecond. Like now. And you need to get back to work,” you remind him.

He glances at his Chopard watch, knowing he had to leave. He loved spending time with you, but he did need to get back to work. He felt awful, but that’s what it was like owning a massive corporation— you didn’t always have a life outside work.

“I’ll probably be back a little late. You’ gonna miss me?”

You roll your eyes, accepting the pecks he presses along your mouth as you say in between them, “I always miss you, Daddy,” giggling as he raises an eyebrow at the nickname. 

He could feel himself losing restraint. You stand as you wrap your arms along his neck, Satoru lowering himself so you don't have to stand on your toes. He grunts as he smacks your ass, pressing a kiss to your jaw, not wanting to pull away. But he had to. So instead he gives a sigh, watching the chauffeur pull up to drop you off at home as he waved, “Later, baby.”

The rest of the day was mostly you laying in bed, rewatching American Horror Story and also pushing yourself to read another chapter of a book you’d been interested in. You also pushed yourself to do your usual routines of being a housewife, feeding your large black husky that didn’t do much besides holler and follow you around, or even tend to your garden outside. 

You thought about the doctor's words, and although you were a bit fearful of them, maybe a relaxing night between you and your husband wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe it wasn’t about your concerns for the baby, maybe you were just nervous of having intimate time with him, considering it’d been a month without it. So, you had a plan. 

You waited until you heard your husky barking loudly at the door as it unlocked, meaning Satoru was home. You could hear his deep voice chastising the dog for her noises, dropping his keys along the counter like he always did. You lightly pad your feet along the cold floor, clutching the fluffy pink towel wrapped around your bare body as you peek around the corner at him.

He had dealt with so much work bullshit, and all he wanted was to take a hot shower and lay with you in bed. But the sight of you, dark curls pulled out of your face, natural freckles sprucing against your nose and cheeks, the pink contrasting with your brown skin, he was glaring at you.

“Was work that bad?” You poke fun, holding the towel at the top to keep it from falling.

He shakes his head, his eyes still glued to you. You looked so sexy, and he hadn’t touched you in weeks. He wanted you. He craved you. His eyes trail down your frame, taking notice of the curves along your legs, and he gives a grunt.

With a few quick strides, he’s standing in front of you, his large hands taking hold of your face as he answers, “Work was hellish, baby.”

“Mmm, I’m sorry,” you say, pressing a kiss against his palm, “Wanna come shower with me? I’ll scrub your back like you love.”

He exhales, almost sounding like a sigh of relief. A shower after his stressful ass day, and his wife? He didn’t argue the offer. The way you stood in front of him, your hands clutching the fluffy material against the curves of your body, it made his fingers itch. He needed you. He needed to touch you. 

“Yeah? You’ being all nice to me and shit, but I’m not complaining.”

You take his hand as you pull him down the hall, making your way towards the double doors of the bathroom. Satoru notices a pop of red along the floor, focusing his eyes in as he then realizes it’s a rose petal. When the door fully opens, candles sit all around the mesmerizing black clawfoot tub with golden feet, already filled with water that looks surprisingly warm. Not just red rose petals—but pink ones, lilies, sunflowers, colorful flowers overall floating atop of the water, swimming prettily.

You turn towards him, beginning to remove his watch as your warm face comes down, “I just thought maybe a relaxing night between us would be nice. You’ um…You’ like it? I used a lot of flowers from my garden so…I hope you do,” you nervously smile, pulling your hair behind your ear.

His eyes scanned the room. He could smell the sweet aroma of flowers, and the way the room was dimmed had his shoulders relaxing almost immediately. His eyes trailed the petals on the floor, realizing just how much effort you put into this.

“Baby, you shouldn’t have gone to this trouble. I should be doing shit like this for you.”

“It’s okay, I know you would have if you weren’t at work,” you place your palm against his cheek, “It wasn’t so bad, Storm helped me carry most of the stuff I needed anyways,” you refer to the dog, “She slobbered on the stems, but I cut them anyway.”

He chuckles at the way you talk, knowing your dog was like your first child . He reaches over and pinches your cheek, “You and that husky of ours have a whole ass bond. But I appreciate this, baby, really. Is the water still warm? Need me to refill it for you?”

You shake your head, “Just need you to follow me in.” 

You raise on your toes, giving him a soft, tender kiss. As you come back down, you turn away, removing the towel from around you as you stride over to the tub, arching your bare body as you make your way in. 

You sink beneath the water as you ask, “You’ coming?”

He was practically mesmerized as you made your way to the tub. The way the candles illuminated along your skin, the water moving as you slid in, he was almost at a loss of words. But he couldn’t just stand there like an idiot. 

He smacks his lips, “You think I’m not?” making you giggle at the way he yanks his tie off, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Your eyes watch as his clothes drop to the floor, scanning the curve of his abs, how perfectly sculpted he was. Veins ran through his arms and fingers, flexing up and all the way down to his v-line that harshly dipped into the monster that sat between his legs. It made your eyes pull away a bit, seeing as he was already coming into the tub with you.

He knew he had your attention. The way you stared as he undressed, the way he caught your eyes taking notice of his body, he was confident. A little cocky, per usual. Especially when you looked away, almost as if you couldn’t look at him. He slips into the water across from you, his hands immediately taking hold of your hips as he pulls you onto his lap.

“Is it warm enough?” You question, wrapping your arms along his neck, adjusting yourself on top of him.

As you straddle him, his hands move along your thighs, holding onto you tightly. He’s already nodding as he answers, “Feels good, baby.”  

He brings you closer, burying his face in between your neck and collarbone, inhaling your scent deeply. He loved how you smelled. He loved everything about you. You take the pink sponge you had within the water, your other fingers gripping the nape of his hair along the back of his neck as you tilt his head, dipping the sponge deeper before squeezing it above him. You watch as his light hair darkens, pulling back out of his face to reveal him fully. 

“It’s getting close to that time of renewing our vows,” you remind softly.

Your touch felt good. He enjoyed it. The way you took care of him, the way your fingers worked through his white locks. He closes his eyes at the feeling, leaning a bit more into your touch. When you mention renewing your vows, his eyes flutter open, gazing directly into yours. 

He gives a grin, “Baby, I’d marry you thousands of times over and over again. I don’t give a fuck where we do it, you’re just indecisive.”

You sigh, “I know. I just want it to be as perfect as the first time…” you think to yourself, eyes lighting up as you suggest, “What about Singapore? Maybe only our parents and friends, make it small, explore the country, yeah?”

He lets you speak, knowing just how perfect you wanted everything to be. But honestly? Satoru didn’t care. The first wedding was nice, but you were the only thing that he truly cared about. He just enjoyed listening to you.

When you suggest Singapore for the renewal, he chuckles a little, “You know my parents will argue with that. They’ll want to host it somewhere fancy like Rome or something.”

“And Singapore isn’t?” You blink, “God, you really were raised bougie as fuck. My parents thought the Statue Of Liberty was the nicest thing they’d ever seen.”

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh a little at how you put it, knowing you weren’t entirely wrong. But he shakes his head, “Singapore is extravagant, but it’ll be like talking to a damn brick wall, trying to persuade them to even consider Singapore. They’ll probably suggest some damn castle in Europe.”

“It’s unfortunate for them that it’s our wedding, hm?” You tilt your head, “Your controlling ass parents gon’ have to suck it up. Cause I can be a bridezilla,” you roll your eyes, ignoring his chuckle against your lips as he kisses them.

“You’re their princess. They’ll put up with your crazy ass and plan the wedding where you want it. Me on the other hand? I don’t give a fuck if it’s in the middle of some street, as long as you walk down the aisle and say you still love me.”

You giggle as he tickles your neck with his lips, pulling yourself back and you’re inches away from his face. You sigh, “I love you.” 

Satoru raises an eyebrow, “You’ having a stroke or something?”

You roll your eyes, “I mean it.”

He grins at your eye roll, knowing you were playful. But when you tell him you mean it, his blue eyes shift into a softer, more serious expression.

 He brings his hands up, holding your face gently as you continue, “I just…appreciate you for being so patient with me. You love me, even if I cry because the sky’s blue.”

Your sincerity makes him want to melt. He didn’t care how many bags of potato chips he had to buy you, how many stuffed animals you wanted, or how many times you changed the sheets because your pregnancy hormones had you paranoid that the bed smelled weird. He could deal with it. He would deal with it. You were having his baby, carrying the most precious thing he’s ever had. He’d deal with you forever.

Satoru leans upwards, capturing your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. He pulls back, gazing at you as he says, “I’d go to the fuckin’ ends of the world for you.”

When he clutches you back against his mouth, it makes your heartbeat in your ears. You feel his nails dig into the skin of your hips, almost as if he’s trying to be soft with you. Key word—trying. You lightly pull your mouth back, breath hitching as he quickly wraps his fingers along the back of your neck, holding you close, your lips centimeters apart. 

“Satoru…”

The way you breathe his name, it almost made him lose his mind right there. The way your body pressed against his, the way you sat in his lap, it made it damn near impossible to hold back. He wanted you so bad. He’d wanted you the moment he walked through the door. He needed to make you his again.

“I’m hungry,” he grunts along your mouth, your eyes fluttering as you blink, his light ones deep within your vision. 

“Oh, um—“ you inhale, “Do you wanna stop? Want me to make you something?”

“Yeah. Open your fuckin’ legs.”

Your light gasp is swallowed by his mouth, his head twisting to the side, mouth overlapping as his tongue envelopes yours. Your shoulders fall, trying to get a grip along him as your body sinks lower within the warm water—the heat of the tub, the heat within your kiss, you feel fuzzy.

He pulls your mouth from his, clutching the side of your face as he questions, “Good, baby?” to which you nod your head, running your tongue over your bruised lips. He nods with a grunt at the confirmation, and it’s quick—you nearly lose your breath as he pulls you up by your hips, your small frame being bent along the rim of the tub, Satoru scooting your thighs above his face as he puts himself beneath you. 

“Hold the edge of the tub. Arch your back,” he orders, and you grip your hands against the black marble, lifting your hips high, his large palms cuffing you by the skin of your ass. You hesitate as you try to look beneath yourself, nearly wanting to roll your eyes as your belly is in the way of seeing his face.

You stand on your toes beneath the water, legs lightly shuddering as you say, “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby…”

You grip the edge, biting your lip as you feel him spank your ass, rubbing the skin to soothe the sting it gives. 

“Pussy is fuckin’ pretty, baby. Can I taste you?”

You let one of your hands gently reach down, pushing your weight onto his palms as you clutch a lock of his hair. You nod your head as you exhale shakily, “…Yes, please.”

He grunts, his tongue flattening as he drags it up the entirety of you, the rush of pleasure unexpected as you immediately tense. You can feel the vibration of his chuckle at your reaction, holding you tighter as his warm breath fans against your slick folds. He spreads you farther, his tongue darting out, licking another slow stripe up your slit before circling your clit with the tip. 

It’s his moan that makes your lashes flutter, it’s like a candy he’d been rewarded with. You whimper as he spanks you again, “Fuck, baby. You taste like heaven,” he’s already stuffing his face in between your legs, pulling you down as he’s lapping at your clit like an animal, making the flesh even more wet from the arousal that’s collecting on your pussy.

“O—oh shit,” you gasp lightly, clutching his hair tighter, your legs shuddering more than before. His tongue swirls around your sensitive nub, soft and throbbing as it rubs against his lips, being tugged at each time he sucks in between his mouth. His jaw nudges at the opening of your walls, your legs beginning to tighten on each side of his face.

“Baby, you're dripping,” he groans in between licks, his voice muffled against your pussy, “Oh my god, shit is so fuckin’ sexy. Give me more.”

“Baby—w—wait,” you pull at his hair harder, your arousal beginning to spread in all parts of your mind, knowing he was desperately trying to pull that side of you that didn’t normally appear. 

He raises one of his hands as he orders, “Come hold it. Not gonna let you run from my mouth, so imma’ ask nicely for now.” 

You nearly pout, taking one of your hands as you reach back and intertwine your fingers together, Satoru placing it back against the skin of your ass, fully holding you in place, eating you out just how he wanted to. 

Your moans fill the air as he continues to devour your pussy, sucking and licking with reckless abandon. He buries his face deeper, inhaling your scent deeply as he laps at your juices, drinking in every drop he can get.

"Mmmmph...need you to ride my face baby," he moans, that pleading voice beginning to get to you. He always knew how to knock your walls down. His hands grip your hips tightly as he begins motioning them in a thrusting motion, pulling you harder against his mouth to make you grind on him, whimpering to you,  “C’mon, baby. C'mon, cmon. please.”

With each beg, his tongue begins to reach for your squelching opening, probing at your inner walls, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your head kneels back as you arch, moaning as you pull yourself towards him, whimpering with him as you quietly ask, “Put your tongue in me.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you like that?” 

“Y—yeah, ‘toru,” you whine softly, digging your nails within your own skin, the same hand that’s trapped under his.

He parts his mouth wider, giving your clit a good suck before he slides his face down, exhaling heavily as he sticks his tongue out, sliding you down on it, feeling as it curls within your walls to touch against your most sensitive spot. The both of you moan out, your eyes turning to the mirror of the bathroom as you see yourself—arched against his mouth, hair sprawled over your face as you angle yourself perfectly to grind on his tongue.

You’re becoming hornier by the second, taking your hand from under his that was trapped as you go back to holding his hair. Your giggle is sultry as you move your hips forward, circling them down onto his mouth as you whimper, “Want me to fuck down on your mouth baby? Tell me.”

“Yeah, baby. Need you to drench my fuckin’ mouth,” he groans deeply, shaking his head side to side, spanking you at your words. This is just what he wanted from you. 

He continues to feast on your pussy, his tongue delving deeper inside you, exploring every inch. Your moans echo through the bathroom, spurring him on as he laps at your juices, savoring your unique flavor.

"Fuck,”  he gasps, “You’ taste so. Fuckin’. Good…” he’s thrusting his tongue in and out of you with each word, mimicking the act of penetration. Each stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, causing your legs to tremble and your grip on his hair to tighten.

"You like that, baby?" he pants, his breath hot against your core, “Like when I tongue-fuck this pretty little pussy?"

Your response is a desperate whine, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his tongue. Your velvety walls clench around the invader, creaming as he savors your taste. He's relentless, spearing in and out, stretching you open more and more. 

"Take what you need from me, baby. This is your fuckin’ mouth, make it yours.” 

His nose presses into your clit, rubbing it with each powerful thrust of his tongue. He starts moving it in and out slowly, but your hips are grinding chaotically, also savoring your tightness and relishing the feel of your inner muscles clenching around him. His hands are back to gripping your ass firmly, keeping you in position as he eats you out aggressively. 

“Gonna make you cum so hard on my tongue, baby. Milk it for me..."

Your juices coat his chin and neck as he devours you, slurping and sucking greedily. He can't get enough of your taste, your scent even filling his senses. Your hair is flying all over your face and down your back, your head falling back as you’re moaning pathetically, dipping your hips down, almost like you’re dancing atop of him. 

He’s going, “Mhmmm, mhmmm, yeah. Like that. Yes. Moan louder. Shit, baby..." he murmurs against your slick folds, "Love seeing you lose control like this."

He doubles his efforts, tongue flicking rapidly against your sensitive bud before wrapping his lips around it and suckling hard. The vibrations from his moans send shivers down your spine as he works to push you closer to the edge. His strong hands grip your ass even tighter, spreading your cheeks wide to access your dripping entrance better.

You can only see the side of his face from the mirror, your craving for him is beginning to heighten, and now, you’re hungry. You pull yourself back from his mouth, looking at him through the mirror as you sultrily talk, “You want me to cum all in your mouth, baby? Beg.”

He looks up at you with lust-filled eyes, the brightest irises you’d ever seen somehow darkening. 

“P—please, baby,” he begs, his voice low and needy, "I want to taste you when you're flooded. Keep going, give it to me. Fill my mouth with your cum, let me drink you down."

You begin grinding slowly against his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he moans. You tell him with a shake to your head, “You can do better than that, Daddy. C’mon…wanna hear you mean it, ‘toru. Wanna cum all over your face baby,” you whimper, toying with him, “C’mon baby, beg me, please…” you reach down, beginning to rub your clit, “Don’t wanna cum all alone…” 

His eyes snap open, blazing with a hunger so intense it makes your breath hitch. He pulls back slightly, his chest heaving as he gazes up at you with raw desperation.

"F—Fuck, baby, please," he rasps, his voice thick with desire, "Let me make you cum. Let me cover my face in you. I need it, need to feel you coming apart on my tongue, in my mouth. Please, baby, let go for me..."

“So greedy, baby boy…” you nod your head, placing your clit back on his mouth, breathless as you pull his jaw down, “Put your tongue back in me, make me cum so I can sink down on your dick after.”

He lets out a guttural moan against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations sending shivers through you. He plunges his tongue back inside you, fucking you with it as he suckles your clit.

The both of you moan together, back to grinding on his mouth, your whines long and high-pitched as you feel your lower body jolting, orgasm coming in harsh waves as you cum within his mouth. Your moan gasps into a giggle as he spanks you in repetitions, tugging you back down to be on his lap. Some of the water had begun to drain, and you could see the hard strain of his tip, a bright pink, painful between his legs as it dripped pre-cum.

You pull him into a kiss, sloppily running your tongue against his mouth, lips parted wide as you ask between making out with him, “Want me to sink on it, baby?”

He breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks up at you with wild, desperate eyes. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, "Yes, fuck yes... put that shit in, it’s so fuckin’ hard for you…”

He places a gentle palm along your swollen belly, to which you pull away and place on the back of your neck as you quietly assure him, “I’m okay.” 

He grunts as he kisses your forehead—he was always concerned. You reach down as you run your hand along his tip, slapping it in between your clit and opening as you stick your tongue out, “Kiss me, baby,” whimpering, begging,  “Gimme’ your mouth.”

He leans in, capturing your lips, returning the nasty kiss you’d given him earlier, dominating your mouth that has your neck fall back a bit. He clutches your neck closer, keeping your lips together as his tip spreads your pussy open, sinking your hips lower, dropping down onto his rigid length. You gasp into the kiss as he fills you completely, stretching you in a delicious pain around his fat girth. 

He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving as he looks down at where you’re joined, watching intently as he gives you a slow thrust upwards as he gasps, "Shit, baby... so tight... fuck."

You wrap your arms around him, hiding your face within his neck as you dig your fingers in his hair, voice tiny, high-pitched as you cry softly against him, pouting into his ear, “Ughn, Satoru….”

He holds you close, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other grips your hip tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he listens to your whimpers. 

“That’s it baby—agh,” he whimpers himself, bouncing you down onto his dick, always close to splitting you in half, “Just relax baby—mmph,” he’s moaning pitifully with you, listening to the sounds of your skin clap together, tears brimming your eyes as you clutch him tighter. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure through both of you. He groans, low and guttural, as he buries his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "Fuck, baby... you feel so good... so fuckin’ perfect..." he growls, his breath hot against your ear.

He continues to pound into you relentlessly, each thrust driving deeper and harder than the last. Your cries and whimpers fill the air, mingling with his own groans of pleasure. He can feel your walls clenching around him, trying to milk his dick for all it's worth.

"Ah, fuck yeah... that's it, baby," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency, the water from the tub splashing high each time. "Take it all, every inch... hnngh."

As he picks up speed, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, punctuated by your moans and his grunts.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he rasps, his voice strained with lust. "Gonna make a fuckin’ mess?”

You dig your face farther into his neck, your cheeks warm, tears dripping from your eyes as you groan lowly, “Agh—gh—fuck,” you sniffle, “Deeper, go d—deeper…”

His grip on your hips tightens, fingers sinking into your flesh as he responds to your plea. He takes both palms back to your ass, spreading the skin to open you up more, pulling you up until you’re barely along his tip, dropping you back down, skin burning as it sticks together from the creaming you’re spouting out. It makes you gasp, clawing at him as you place your fingers within your mouth, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. But it also makes you extremely wet.

You bring your face up, placing your hands along his hard stomach as you begin picking up your own hips, slamming them down against him. You see as that makes his head tilt back against the edge, holding you tighter as he helps you fuck him, his moan dragging out, pausing through each drop of your hips. His adam’s apple bobs severely, hair pulled out from his face, dark pink lips bruised as he grits his teeth.

His chest heaves with ragged breaths, muscles flexing beneath your palms as he meets each of your downward thrusts with an upward grind of his hips. The angle changes, allowing him to hit that sweet spot inside you with unerring precision, stretching you wide and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Fuuuck, baby..." he growls, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "Ride me just like that... Take what you need..."

His hands slide down to grasp your thighs, thumbs digging into the sensitive skin as he guides your movements, encouraging you to lose yourself in the rhythm, in the feeling of being so completely filled and owned by him. The water churns around you, a frothy mix of sweat and soap, as you both surrender to the intensity of your passion.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” You question, your small and cute voice making his tip jump inside of you. You look him directly in his eyes, placing your hands on your breasts as you rub your sensitive nipples, bouncing up and down against him.

“They’re so sensitive…” you whimper, “Wanna touch them? Might make me cum…”

“Let me suck on them, pretty. Know that’ll make you cum.”

He comes forward, but you push him back, wrapping your fingers along his throat, squeezing as you begin swirling your hips on top of him, “I missed when you begged me, where’s my needy boy? I miss him,” you whine, palming your nipples harder, feeling as his abdomen tightens.

He lets out a choked gasp as you tighten your grip on his throat, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Right h—here baby," he rasps, his voice muffled slightly by your fingers. 

"Need you so bad... Want to feel you cum on my dick…” His hips buck up sharply, driving himself deeper inside you as he strains against your hold, desperate for more friction, more pressure. "Don't stop, don't ever stop…” he begs, his body trembling with the force of his impending climax.

“Don’t want me to stop, baby?” You’re lifting your hips slowly, dropping them down harshly, the loud sound echoing in the bathroom, your giggle evil, moaning messily as you feel yourself beginning to cum on his tip.

“N—no, baby—Don't stop—“ his deep voice cracks with desperation as he feels your walls clenching around him. 

“Ooooh, yes, baby,” your own voice is failing the control you want to give, your walls tight as they suck him in deeply. The sensation of your orgasm soaking his dick is too much to bear, and with a grunt, he buries his face between your breasts, his teeth grazing the tender flesh as he surrenders to his own release.

He listens to you first, holding you close as you let out a breath, not expecting it to turn into a sob, squirting heavily, the gush of it all drenched in between his continuous thrusts as you gasp, “I’m cumming, I’m cummingg.“

You can’t help but want to see his vulnerable side one last time as you talk to him, “Cum in me, pretty boy. Cum in me, Daddy. Please.” 

He groans, his hips jerking erratically as he plunges deeper, chasing his climax. Your words, the desperate plea in your voice—it all shatters what little restraint he has left. He softly cries out, slamming into you one final time, his dick pulsing as he warms your insides with his cum.

As the aftershocks subside, he collapses onto you, his weight a comforting press against your skin. His breath hitches as he tries to regain composure, but the tremors running through him betray his vulnerability.

 "Baby..." he whispers, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "That was... fuck, I needed that."

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your hip, a soothing caress meant to comfort both of you.

You don’t want to ruin the moment, lifting your face up as you give him a soft peck, leaning your head on his neck as you say, “Love you, ‘toru.” 

He holds you close, just enjoying the peaceful moment together. He whispers against the skin of your neck, “I love you too, baby. So much.” 

He doesn’t bother moving, even though the water has started to turn lukewarm. He wants to stay right here with you, holding you close. But eventually, he lifts his head, looking down at you as he asks, “You ready to get out before we prune up?”

Your face is warm again, nodding along his skin as you say, “Gotta pee,” as usual.

The moment the words leave your lips, he can’t help but laugh a little. He gives a chuckle, “Of course you fuckin’  do.”

You slept more often than usual in these last few months, but this had to have been the heaviest you’d slept of all. You were trapped under Satoru’s heavy arm, who snored unfortunately close in your ear. But it was somehow soothing. The love you shared for this man was like no other. 

But when you wake up within the middle of the night, you feel yourself beginning to cramp, and it’s more irritating than anything. You’re too tired to get up and take your medicine, trying to force yourself back into sleep. But the cramps become more intense, and it makes you whimper lightly from the pain, holding your belly with your palm. You decide it was time to get up, lifting Satoru’s arm as you slowly slip out of bed.

“You’ alright, baby?” His deep voice calls, still half asleep.

“Just gonna go pee,” you tell him, pressing your feet into your slippers, ignoring your dog that lightly whines, nudging your body in support as you fully stand.

Even as he was half-asleep, he was still paying attention. When you told him you had to go pee, he grumbled a little, rolling onto his back. He felt cold without you in his arms, and he wanted you back immediately.

You take a deep breath as the cramps run through your entire body, worsening with each step. You frown as you clutch the material of your oversized shirt, just wanting to make it to the bathroom. But as you take another step, you feel a heavy pressure in between your legs, and you look down to see as fluid rushes down your legs, dripping onto the floor. Your heart could’ve stopped. 

You’d been to several classes, read pamphlets, researched—even Google couldn’t stop you from your reaction when you weren’t supposed to panic. 

Your body trembles as you scream, “Gojo!” 

He grunts, “Jesus, baby. I know you’re fond of screaming my name but—“

He turns, seeing the fear within your eyes, looking down to see the fluid sliding down your legs. He thought he was a man that wasn’t afraid of anything, but this was more than what nightmares were made of. 

“Oh shit.”