#life is strange hell is empty

[pricefieldizcanon]

Chloe would do "anything" for Rachel ❤️

Rachel is Chloe's world (besides Max), in Life Is Strange: Before the Storm.

When Rachel asks Chloe if she could do something for her, Chloe's response is "anything". Chloe looks at Rachel with such love in her eyes, and Rachel looks at Chloe in the same way.

They are BOTH always there for each other. ❤️

Screenshots taken by me.

[thingsasbarcodes]

Life is Strange: Before the Storm - Episode 3: Hell is Empty

[fallingapart2dream]

My nightmares making my life miserable, I cannot speak. The house is silent, cause the screams of agony die on my lips.

[tonycries]

Heaven - N.K.

Synopsis. An aIpha? Please, your arranged husband was the perfect gentleman - soft, strong, shy to even look your way and- and damn feraI when he’s in rút?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, secretly aIpha! Nanami, arranged marriage, OMÉGAVERSE AU, rúts, down bad Nanami, bréeding kínk, he’s FÉRAL, manhandIing, face-sítting (fem rec.), dúmbifícation, HEADLOCKS, making it fit, matíng presses, office s, breaking furniture, overstím, knots, matíng bites, cúmplay, very pússydrúnk Nanami, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.2k

A/N. BAD BOYS BRING HEAVEN TO YOUUU-

“Ijichi, I’m at the front desk- where’s everyone else?”

After marrying Nanami Kento, it wasn’t strange for you to become accustomed to visiting him at work - usually with one of your own business contracts, or a cute lil’ lunch for him and his bustling employees. 

But what was strange was the hollow, empty company lobby that greets you today. 

The reception, the cubicles, the elevator- you couldn’t find a single soul here other than you. Strange. 

“...e-evacuated.”

“What?” You’re furrowing your brows at the static squeak of a reply from your phone, footsteps echoing like thunder down the familiar pathway to the head office. Hissing– “Why? Is Kento okay-”

“M-more than okay, ma’am.” Your husband’s personal assistant scrambles out urgently, “He’s actually ah- y-you’ll see what I mean…” As Ijichi rapidly ends the call with its beeping tone, your hands brush the looming steel doors of Nanami’s office. 

What the hell did he mean? Fingers itching to just open–

And that’s when you smell it. Sweet.

Oh. 

Oh…fuck.

The single, slivering waft of fragrance rams into you like five semi-trucks and leaves you reeling- needily grappling for the door handle when your knees knock together and weaken. Holding on for dear life, “Wh-what the…��

And there was your first mistake, accidentally - or perhaps subconsciously - stealing a deep, breathy inhale of the saturated air seeping from underneath Nanami’s looming office door. 

It fills your lungs and makes you jolt. Makes you gasp at the fever of your body, drinking in even more, more, more—

Your tongue sizzles with a fresh syrupy layer of drool at the musky cologne of it, more heady than any other perfume you’d ever smelt. More expensive. Like the filthiest marriage between bourbon, underlying caramel, and something so-

-so Nanami. In…rut?

But wait, your hazy eyes widen, and you’re forced to shake your head clear enough to continue the thought. It was the smell of an alpha no matter how much you looked at it - this couldn’t be your husband, right?

Sure, you two had been married for a few months already - but the man hadn’t even kissed you let alone touched you to consummate the marriage, yet. 

Hell, you still found his chiselled cheekbones tinting with a light veil of pretty red whenever you simply smiled at him.

Always adorning those scent patches to cover his pheromones, and never letting out a word of his secondary gender. Though, your husband always did make sure to tend to your every need during your heats - every need except those, that is.

Perhaps it was as unconventional of a marriage as could be - what with both your parents choosing to merge companies through familial bonds, but you didn’t know that Nanami was an alpha.

An alpha.

The words clang through your very bones and send sparks of electricity skittering down your spine, you’re squeezing your trembly thighs together only to find that they’d started dampening with a shiny sheen of slick already.

Oh- so this is why everyone in the company was hastily evacuated. 

He was potent.

And he was aching for your touch– your skin hums with something sinful as you rap your knuckles on the door, and try not to utter a peep.

“Ijichi, I already told you to leave.”

That didn’t sound like your husband.

It sounded like anything but; a low, curdling growl of husky baritone that made your heart race stupidly fast. There was something so primal seeping into Nanami’s characteristically gentle voice - never raised, never sharpened at you.

But right now he sounded like he would’ve devoured you alive. 

And you wanted to see it.

.

.

.

Nanami knew he shouldn’t be here- fuck, he shouldn’t have let it gone this far.

But one flutter of your lashes - just one gorgeous smile you’d sent his way this morning - and he found himself like this. Shit, he hadn’t even kissed you yet, and you already drove him wild.

One hand furiously pumping his rock- no, diamond-hard cock, the other digging into his drawer for more of those damn suppressants as if searching for a lifeline. 

“C’mon.” He’s grunting, crumpled forehead beading with glittery sweat the longer his aching, swollen length throbbed in the clouded air. Looking through his unruly golden bangs, his sensory tips scour desperately, “C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon-”

Only to pop one of the last prescription bottles open and find it fucking empty. 

“Fuck!” Nanami’s throat decorates with a knot of veins as his plump, blushed tip leaks with yet another thick clump of precum. He needed you, and no amount of creeping his rugged palms up n’ down his girthy shaft would ever come close to how you might have done it.

How he dreams it.

Boiling hot ears popping as the fat of his thumb roams over his bawling divot to plug it up, he barely even hears the office door opening and slamming shut.

He loosens his tie and tries not to muddy his senses with the smell of the beta man, taking everything in Nanami to not just snap– “Ijichi- I f-fucking said-”

“Don’t even recognize your wife, Kento–?”

Nanami snaps his head up, eyes wide. Glazed. 

And you think it takes him a full few seconds to register that it was actually you here and not some lecherous figment of his imagination.

Although you were starting to doubt that he was, too. 

Such a sexy picture with his favorite blue shirt unbuttoned, pants unzipped just enough, one of his hands white-knuckling the glinting ‘CEO NANAMI’ table nameplate.

But what really drew your eyes was his massive cock - all hard n’ swollen and aching, the prettily rounded top cherry-pink. Right about nine or ten inches of bulky girth pulsing so hard that even you could see it from this distance. 

Oh…he really did have big dick energy.

And he was drooling - drooling, you never thought you’d see the day where Nanami Kento drools - through great heaving gusts of gulps. His voice croaks out huskily as if disused for eons, “M-my love, why a-are you…”

Ah, it feels like your satiny blouse clings to you even tighter with Nanami’s rough tonality. And it takes everything in you to stop yourself from taking even a step closer like the betweens of your legs ached to, “Ken.”

“O-oh.” He’s immediately throwing his head back with a groan- and you don’t know where to ogle. The way his slightly plumpened lips drop with a drawled drag of your name, or the way that he’s lifting over a hand to cradle the globed top of his mushroom head to stop himself from cumming.

Failing. 

His teeth gleam with slobber, ripping viciously into one of his forearms in an instant – hot crimson trickling out ever-so-slightly. 

The attractive column Nanami’s throat bobs with the movements of his Adam’s apples as he simply pours out sultry streaks of cum. Creamy white stripes upon stripes that start dangling all the way from his sturdy wrist down to the puffy leather of his seat. Bucketloads, really.

And you find your mouth almost as wet as the sappy puddle leaking through his business suit, opening to-

“Don’t.” He’s rasping out, slouching his body forward to cover his adoring view of you - as if the mere sight of you would be enough to send him over the edge once more. Octaves higher, crazed. “Don’t s-say my name like that.”

Your goosebumps peek at the tremble in his bass, a strange thrill sprinting through your body. Experimentally, you’re exhaling out, “Ken.”

“Fuh-fuck.”

And through the cervices of his thick, wrapped digits, you’re catching the sight of that buttery mess of cum grow even more voluminous. Squeezing a few more filthy dredges out of him - truly from the way you said his name.

“You- you’re evil, darling.” He’s heaving out in strained syllables, body hunched over to pressurize his still-throbbing erection. 

The cracked corner of Nanami’s dewy eyes hone in on you as you slowly - uncertainly - take a step closer. And ever-so-sensually, he cranes over to beckon you with one of his stray hands, “C’mere, my wife.”

Shit, you couldn’t make your way over fast enough.

And he’s snickering something gruff underneath his breath the few times you’re tripping over your own unsteady feet. 

Your clammy palms eventually stick on either side of his plastic chair, and the towering man gladly manspreads to provide your hips with a place to rest on. Straddling his meaty thighs - that aching red cock between them - with your hands curling ‘round his perspired neck.

The scent of his pheromones were so thick here that it was leaving your mind pathetically dizzy, all expensive cologne and caramel sweetness for you.

“S’this okay?” He’s hissing through a snarling bite of his lower lip once your snug pencil skirt hikes up just enough to snaggle the globed curve of Nanami’s cockhead. 

“Kento-” You decide to go easy on him just this once. Raising a hand to just start peeling that scent patch you usually had on during a workday, “-why don’t you let me help, baby–?”

One calloused hand comes to stop you right in your tracks, the flat of his doughy thumb coming to caress your wrist gently back n’ forth. And not only was Nanami burning hot - he was scalding, heat radiating off of him in waves. “Because…if I start now m’gonna hah- break you, my love.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck. So that was why - and looking into the molten peripherals of his stare, you’re realizing that that was why he’d avoided every kiss, every touch, every heat.

But seated and with him at your mercy like this, you hadn’t ever wanted anything more.

“What if…” You hum suggestively, bottom lip pouting out in a way that makes him collar drench with sweat. Pushing back with a roll of your hips that sets Nanami’s pearly whites on edge, murked breath drifting against his ears, “-I didn’t mind, Ken?”

And one of his hands has to clasp around the corner of his mahogany desk until it shatters, splinters of wood hitting the floor with a dull thud! thud! thud! that synchronizes with your heartbeat.

“Do- do you know what you’re asking?” He’s graveling out between pants. 

“I do.” 

And Nanami Kento will never know whether it was the way you’d echoed those two words directly from your wedding, or the way your gorgeous eyes shined with such need - but he’s never found himself moving faster. Swifter. 

So feral when he’s slipping you off his lap and shoving you down onto the sleek, frigid surface of the desk in two precise flaps of your lashes.

“Oh–!” Your shocked lips let off sweetly once Nanami’s soft palm cushions your face, he didn’t let you feel a single ounce of the striking impact of being laid out all on your front. 

Not a single thing except for the burn of your scent patch being pulled off of you with his sluggish fingers. Leaning down so his straight nosebridge hits the crook of your neck and sniffs– savoring—

“Fuck. Fuck.” Your husband spills out gutturally into your skin, and you feel the sharpened edges of his teeth coasting nibbles down your throat. He was pushed into you so close that he could practically taste your sweetly candied fragrance, “My wife…my omega–”

You’re thinking that he probably doesn’t even realize the way he’s rutting and rutting his hips repeatedly into yours, flinching bodily at even the slightest recoil that has Nanami’s curvaceous bulge breaking off even mere inches from your sodden panties. 

The wailing whimpers escaping you are so adorable that he just can’t help but suckle his mouth down your own. 

And it’s not the first kiss with Nanami that you might’ve expected - it’s sloppy, wet, and nothing more than the lazy drag of his unfastened mouth tasting like his favorite gummy. Slapping his tongue along the splattered speckles of saliva homing themselves near the edges of your lips, “So sweet- soooo much fuckin’ sweeter than I ngh- dreamt.”

Before you can ask what that meant, he’s humming along a few more wet slurps of French kisses. Leaving your lips tingling for more as he pecks down, down, down back to your swollen scent glands.

“Wanna know- why I- bought a candle that smells like- mmm honey, darlin’?” He’s whispering against that sensitive patch of skin, watching as your half-opened eyes dart to the inconspicuous candle that was always settled on top of his desk. “Because it reminded me of you-”

But Nanami wasn’t done- oh, he wasn’t done.

You could almost feel the intensity of his leering grin quivering up at the edges, your restlessly squirming hips being pinned down with his tense core. 

“-and…” He’s letting his strained voice peter away into nothingness. 

Biting down on the salivating insides of his cheeks, Nanami pushes his sagging glasses up to take a good, looong final look at the way you’re so prettily splayed out for him like this. 

Before bending at the knees–

“-and her.”

You’re just about to ask your husband what he meant when he shows you exactly what he meant. 

Diving in completely nose-deep to gift your clothed pussymound with a loving peck, the very tip of Nanami’s pert button nose shines with a beaded dollop of your slick. Slipping and travelling all down to where he glides his tongue along his lips greedily–

“K-Kento–” You hiccup out as his hypnotic scent grows twofold, the very hits of it targeting your very core. 

“Oh.” Nanami moans at the feeling of you instinctively getting wetter ‘round his mouth, you were so sensitive for him that your saturated lips were already rendering your panties see-through. A sappy drivel of sweet, sweet juices slicking your thighs like glue, “Darling, you’re droolin’ e-everywhere.”

The very crown of his index comes to trace the snaking rivers of slick decorating your legs, sensually. Signing off the cutest hearts and ‘K’s where you were the most tender-

“S’this for me?” He’s tap-tap-tapping his generous digit on the folds of your leaking pussy, tittering when you jolt with every lurid contact. “Pretty girl, are ya this- hck! wet for me?” 

Just then he leaves a full-handed, five-fingered spank straight down your slippery slit - ripping out the rawest, most moistened sluuuurp–! of gushing sap from your core. And Nanami takes this as the perfect answer, “Mhm, you are.”

“P-please, baby-”

“That’s it that’s it—” He’s nuzzling your thighs now - as if he was worshipping you. Scorched breezes of his mouth hitting you from just a few centimeters away, his glands rub up against your body and leave you completely smelling like his. You feel his drool smear as he babbles on, “-tell me. Talk to me.”

Your hips buck helplessly, “Want- want you to touch me there, Kento.”

“Where?” He knows- fuck, he knows. But he needs to hear the words directly from your beautiful mouth.

And ah, what a sight it is to be able to see them from up on his knees - twisting and puckering around the words of “Want you to touch my ngh- pussy-”

Barely out of your mouth, barely even formulated before Nanami surges up his humid face and snogs right up into your dripping cunt. 

Mazing tip dragging away the flimsy, useless scrap of fabric you call your panties, he’s treating the pursed lips of your pussy like a lollipop. Skimming the ridges of his tastebuds riiiight along your slope and back, “So- so hot on my tongue- ngh. So sweet.”

It’s like a mantra he’s spitting out every time his pointed chin whacks the tippy-top base of your cunt, your neck flaring with rays of pheromones that make Nanami grunt.

Jaw unfastening, his mouth drips open with the gluey remnants of your sap. “Can you ngh- feel it?” Opened wide enough that you could feel his hot maw engulfing all of you - every ribbony ounce of slick that puddled at the back of his throat. “Feel me- hah, can’t fucking get enough.”

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Ken–” Your head dangles back, clawing towards the distant end of his table to hold onto your sanity. “-m-more.”

“More…m-more?”

Fuck- you didn’t realize that Nanami was this pussydrunk. 

His husked baritone was lilting sooo much higher in volume and pitch that it made your head all fuzzy just to consider who this was. 

Hell, the man has to nip his teeth ‘round a frilly edge of your underwear and bite so that he can keep it all together. Right palm creeping back down, down to his aching cock-

And the other one of his hands paws depravedly at the plush of your dampened thighs to keep them open, he huffs out a breath into your glossy fluttering lips. “More…my wife wants more.” And it hurt- ohhh, it hurt him so much to move himself even the tiniest distance away from where he was closest to your teary pussy.

Declaring a temporary goodbye with a prolonged sniff at the saccharine scent of your entrance, he’s craning his heavy head back up to you. “Spit.”

Your breath catches, inner omega crooning. “Wh-what?”

“Spit.” And before you know it, a hand darts out to smush your puffed cheeks easily together. The mean ovals of his sensory tips digging into your flesh, it’s enough to make you whine. “Spit in my mouth, my love.”

Slowly, stupidly you do - right smack-dab onto the wide plane of Nanami’s tongue and it makes him groan, hands squeezing ‘round his drenched base.

A thin line of it overspills from the side of his lips; and your husband’s crooning coaxingly at you to wrench open your slick-stucken legs further open before he gifts a steady wad of saliva over your sloppy hole.

Brushing his thumb over the lines of juices that stick to your panties, Nanami bites the edges of his glinting teeth into the side and riiiiips–! it off of you in a nanosecond. 

“K-Ken, what are you- oh mmpf–!” 

You’re mewling, pearly tears shattering your vision just as soon as his plump, velvety lips immediately latch to your clit and suck. The handsome hollows of his cheeks cushioning your sensitive bundle of nerves, it’s all it takes for you to throw your head back and clench.

“Open- need these legs hah- open-” He’s hissing into your cunt, the vibrations of his voice making your poor clit buzz. And shit, does Nanami enjoy the viscid globs of slick this makes you let out, pumping his vein-covered shaft angrily.

“Can’t–” Your moans were his favorite song, coloring the tips of his ears all innocently pink. “-can’t even feel my n-ngh legs!”

Cooing from down under, “Awww, need me to h-hold ‘em, my wife?” It’s only a few roaring heartbeats before you feel one of his palms shuffle underneath your knees to keep them pliably steady. Scuttling you further down his table- “S’alright, s’alright m’here.”

“K-Kento.”

“Tha’s riiiight, Kento’s here.” Suddenly your hit with a wave of relaxing pheromones once the very rounded berry tip of his digit comes rovering across your outer pussy. Collecting shimmering gumdrops of slick to plop into his mouth, “Kento’s here- so be a good girl n’ let your husband take care of it allll, darlin’.”

He’s swivelin’ the chilling band of his wedding ring around your rubbery hole, stretching and stretching until you’re gulping down every solid inch. 

And if Nanami’s fingers were this long n’ girthy, it made your mouth water to think of how long he might be down there.

“Oh- you’re so g-good, can feel you in so so deep.”

Nearly five or six inches probing your gummy walls all the way down to his pointed knuckles, you hiccup every time his perfectly manicured fingernail scraped the mushy patch of your g-spot. “Please- please, baby- J-just a lil’ more.”

“Fuck! Gonna be the d-death of me…” His breath tickles the crevice of your bloated pussylips, the slimy fringe of his tongue wanders over with a last few rolls on top of your hooded clit. Sticking right where you were bulging with his barreling finger to bully dually inside, “Gonna- gonna.”

And he’s stretching you out with both his tongue and a second finger.

Pulling your soft hole taut around the circumference of both eager appendages, Nanami bustles just a few inches of his fingers inside before he curls them into the roof of your cunt and makes you yelp.

“S-so close—” Your words come out botched through tears and whines and your cunt, “Wan’ you to h-hit it- oh my god, please.”

A fatly syrupy dewdrop of sap treacles out of you, which Nanami spits out gladly back into where you were leaking the most. “H-heh, she’s talkin’.” Squelch after squelch after squelch drawn out every time he’s crashing his tongue to tug your snug channel even wider. He’s even slowing down the filthy fapping motions of his hand just to hear you louder. “Sh-she’s talking t’me- ngh! Oh, hellooo– ya want me to t-touch this g-spot, my wife?” 

You’re bubbling out spitballs of answers but all of it is drowned out by every waterlogged pump - more like thrashes. Hits piled upon hits that leave your velvety walls all bruised with the circular outlines of his two, no, now three rummaging fingerpads. 

“S’that right, hmm–?” Not even talking to you at this point - but with your pussy. He nods his unsteady, blushing features, “Y-you want me to oh…”

Just then, his fingers are so lengthy that Nanami accidentally cruises a direct hit to your g-spot without even trying. 

It makes your heated insides squeeze around his digits, laminating every patch of skin from rotund fingertip to pale knuckles with all your frothy juices. Head tumbling back, “Th-there. There there there- Ken–!”

“Here- here.”

He’s rasping out with every breath, every whack into the tenderized area where your g-spot was targeted. Pumping and pumping- shit, Nanami’s so gone on your pussy that he’s letting go of his pulsating shaft to latch onto your hips and make you grind back into his face.

In long, slobbering drags that rub your folds raw on his attractive features, his broad chest wheezes after every one of your swervin’ gyrations. 

You clench your legs, ruffling the strands of his usually-tide blond hair, and he’s only pushing your thighs together snugger. Grunting throatily, “Don’t even need hah- air when I’ve got her.”

“I-I’m close–” You’re trilling out, your nails digging deeply into the firm wood of the table. “Not gonna- ngh- last.”

“S’that sooo—” Already feeling the curve of his sleazy grin on your swollen lips, it’s as if he now can’t decide between flopping his tongue inside to tugging your perked, pretty clit. “S’she sayin’ the ngh- same thing?” Planting a particularly harsh thrust of his fingers to make your cunt quiver with a slurp, “She is. Cum f’me then- cum all over my face, darlin’.”

And you don’t just cum, you’re making such a mess.

Your hips twistin’ to push back and ride the sharp ridge of Nanami’s nose back and forth back and forth back and forth. Every snaggling catch of his fingers on your g-spot makes your toes arch adorably, your sweat-simmered spine following. 

“M’cum- hngh- fuck! M’cumming, Ken.”

“H-heh, I knowww–” Nanami feels his chubby tip twitch at the use of that lil’ nickname again, weighty balls pulsing to the very same rhythm as your cunt was right now. He’s letting out a carnal voicing of your name as he hits your g-spot deeply. “-she told me, my love.”

Ears popped, you’re barely even catching his lecherous words. The mosaic of your vision blotching with pure stars like they did in cartoons, heavy tears coating your cheeks. It just felt too good. 

And, ah, just because you’d reached your waves of bliss - was riding through those peaks upon peaks of euphoria with every passing second - didn’t mean that Nanami was going to stop.

In fact, he’s throwing his free hand tighter around your waist and pinning you dead-on onto his face, the lashing tip of his tongue drawing out more n’ more zips of white-hot electricity from your core. He was still eating you out like a man starved. 

Rendering you speechless, you cry– “Wait- wait wait wait, I-I’m so sensitive.”

“Good.”

Purposefully murmured with his spit-slicked lips wrapped precisely ‘round your throbbing clit, you’re pounding your fist down on top of the office table until its hinges ricket. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Until it stops just as soon as it started when Nanami catches the knob of your clit with his sharpened canines and bites. And then you shriek, then you see white, then you’re squirting - right down onto your husband who gapes. 

“I-it feels so wet.”

“Go on—” He’s coaxing the torrenting sprays out of you with every curled thrash of his fingers, grinning. Wild. “Go on go on go on, make a mess. M-make a mess f’me.”

Splashing right onto the apples of his cheekbones, he’s flapping his eyes half-shut so that you’re drenching him all your juices. 

Your maw slacking open as your second orgasm is pulled out of you, body wracking with sensitivity, “Please- p-please.” Your glassy pupils swirl in the exact dumbified circles as he was tracing on your clit, “-Ken.” 

But even that special name of his doesn’t reel Nanami Kento out of his stupor. 

He’s so pussydrunk, so addicted to making out with every squirting splosh of your pussy that he’s overstimulating you stupid. Slurping it up in viscid, eloooongated noises which ring across all four walls and into the pheromone-fogged air. 

He thinks he could cum from this, he’s so close to cumming from just this.

Seemingly forever before Nanami leaves a final slap! of the flat underside of his mushy wet muscle on your leaking slope. Cheeks hollowing with a final sluuuuuurp–!

At least, it was meant to be final. 

But even as he’s unlatching himself, the alpha can’t bring himself not even six inches away from your spilling pussy before he presses back in with a pained growl. Snarl bared, eyes drooping- once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Can’t- can’t-” He’s rumbling out, smoky, and you sense his scent start to grow addicted all over again. Lurching you with a thorough repeated tugs to smooch your cunt some more, Nanami emits a narrowed breath through every kiss. “Can’t move- ngh- fuck.”

“Kentooo—” Your lips flap with the salted flavor of your own tears, trying (and failing) to move onto your tip-toes and remove yourself from your husband’s relentless mouth. Head turned to him, “I-I want you to fuck me, baby.”

And Nanami flinches. Breathing out a ragged, “T-to what?”

You’re blinking your tears back from your dilated irises, lips almost too wobbly to drag out the words. “To fuck- mmpf–!”

SLAM!

You don’t know if the thundering noise is from the way you’re slammed horizontally back onto your front, or the way that Nanami smashes his open palm down right beside your lolling head. 

Fingertips twitching, yearning for but a single graze of your face. You’re left helpless as all his Herculean muscles come pinning down your greedy body - firmer and firmer until he’s practically melting into you.

He was so big. 

All eight mounds of his washboard abs peeking through his torn button-up and sliiiiding down your spine. Hips pressing down on hips, scent glands brushing against yours. You still had your thin satin blouse on, and yet you could count each n’ every hammer of his roaring heartbeat.

“Watch what you s-say.” Nanami warns, the points of his teeth nibbling along where your perfume was emanating out in clouds and bursts. Needy needy needy. 

And so pretty.

“Wh-why?” You huff out, barely given the opportunity to even think of pouting until Nanami seemingly reads your mind and sinks his own teeth into the flesh. Draaaaagging. 

“Because-” Faintly, you’re feeling one of his hands straily lumber down to where his ravaged cock was sobbing. The stout end of his knobbled thumb comes to plug up his leaking orifice as Nanami’s teeth scrape your throat. Lips pulled into a snarl, “-m’got gonna fuck you like a gentleman, my wife.”

His words were dangerous. Savage. 

Looking the part, too; flushed, intense eyes all half-lidded, curtained partly by his thick blond bangs. And Nanami was glistening with the wettened remnants of your juices, all the way from the blushing apples of his cheeks to drip! drip! drip! in a translucent polish down his sharp jawline.

For the moment, you and your omega are almost rendered soundless - almost. 

“Prove it, Ken.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Nanami doesn’t know whether it’s the rut or those words or simply you that make his heavy, fat cock flinch in one hand. That makes him throw his head back with a groan, that makes him grind his hips deeper into yours as he cums–

“Move this-” His trembling fingers clutch urgently around where your skirt was still hanging off of your hips. Well, not for long before he’s tearing it clean off. And then follows your blouse, your bra. “Move.”

Right in time for the glittering folds of your pussy to be showered in a thick topping of his creamy white seed. The pointed mound of his tip is frosting out such candied knots of sap that cling to your leaky pussylips - so much.

You’re whimpering at the scalding hot cum that sploshes down the rim of your entrance, dripping. Leaking. “Ken- o-oh my god did you just–”

“Shut up-” He’s snarling out, trying to muffle out the animalistic tonality in his voice but fuck, does he fail. You’re turning him into more of a damn beast than a man with the way your parched pussy quavers to swallow up his glossy droplets.

One of his stocky fingers come up to smear the webbed mess of it on your outer cunt and push it in– “Shut up n’ take it. S’all y-yours anyway, darlin’.”

Before you can untrap your maw from the substantial gloopy-like texture of your spittle, Nanami slouches his weight over your squirming body. Massive, veiny hands rested on either side of your head, he sliiiiides his still-agitated, rock-hard length between your puffed-up folds. 

Making sure you feel every single one of his zig-zagging veins from reaching from his tawny golden happy trail down to where he was pinpricking your clit with his thickset cockhead. Over and over.

“All of it.” Nanami whispers eventually, as your driveling hole oils his girth with enough layers of sap that it oozes down onto the office floor. 

His sweltering pants making your bodyhairs stand on end, you shiver a single one of his palms slither down to cup your tummy. Somewhere along the way, he draws a burning invisible line about halfway across your body. 

And you’re not granted even the chance to ask what he’s seemingly measuring out before a stubby, splittening caress between your jittery legs makes you see stars.

“All- all- of it s’ngh yours– s’got your n-name on it. Yours.” Nanami’s keening out with a raspy tone above the sloppy squelches that immediately start pouring out of your wet pussy. Restraining a firm grip on the curve of your hips to hold you still while he reels back and pushes and pushes– “Every. Single. Inch.”

He was so big that he was spearheading you with every single of his ten inches, too.

Pushing your eyes all the way to the backs of your head with the spheroid crown of his fat, bulbous tip. Every tiny buck makes you streeeeetch around the incredible roundness of his circumference, rubbin’ and rubbin’ your drooling entrance with his veiny shaft.

“Heh, we’re consummatin’ our marriage, my wife.”

“O-oh my–” Your mindlessly squealing pitch breaks, squeezing your silky walls to hug his head. “-it’s so- it’s so.”

“With ngh- just the tip, huh, my love?”

And as cute as it was that you’re pushing back and trying to run away from his relentless pursuit, Nanami doesn’t have the patience right now.

Just barely hanging on with enough sanity to dig his hand thoroughly enough to bruise your poor hips, the slicked sweat of his palm dampening your skin. “Wh-whaaat–?” With a quick, shocking spank on the right side of your ass cheek, he’s traaaawling you over like you were nothing but a pretty lil’ toy. “S’it to h-hah big?”

“It- it’s so…”

You were already proving his point without even speaking. He was just so big that his core flexes with sharp, jutting strikes just to fit inside you, hissing with every recoiling resistance of your tight entrance.

You’re moaning ridiculously after every pulverizing glide that makes his probing cockhead push even deeper. A sliver of sweat trickles down the side of Nanami’s temple and hits your back in a splat!

Darting up onto your unsteady elbows, you restlessly try to fuck back into his ruthless cadence. “Please- please, baby. More.”

He tilts your face up to scorch it with a few promises, “I’ve got it- Kento’s got you.” Smacking a hand ‘round your arched throat - manhandling you into a fucking headlock, your husband urges you to sink your teeth into his heated flesh.

“Bite. Bite n’ you’re gonna take more, m’kay?” Nanami’s whispering out like a mantra, pulling you to crash your lips with his own stern ones. “Like a good girl- like my g-good girl.” His other arm softly thumbing along the outlined tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “More more more more more- Want more- y-you’re gonna get it- ohhh, you’re gonna get it.”

The sudden change in angle makes the stinging mounds of your ass hit Nanami’s sharp pelvis with a sharp thwack! Bottoming out. 

“Good girl.” He utters, sounding like a man crazed. The sensitive skin of your glands roast with a lazy lick, cold metal of his glasses slipping down until they kiss your skin. “O-ohhhh good giiiirl l-look at you taking it like a- like a champ. Kissin’ me from th-the inside, my omega.”

And the only thing you can moan are softly gasping ohs! and yes! again and again as his bulging biceps tighten around your neck, pounding the goopy ends of your cunt with a firm hit.

All with swollen, long inches. 

Nanami was so fucking massive that he was kissin’ your sweetest, most tender spots without even trying. Just the massage of his plumply swollen veins over them make your mouth slobber, counting in your head each lightning bolt - about eight of them.

And Nanami? Nanami was falling apart.

He was slurring out mix n’ matches of syllables that resembled your name every time your heavenly, hot innards were clenching around his capped crown like a vice. 

“Y-you feel so good, Ken.” You’re calling out as his toned hips position underneath your ass cheeks to push against you until you were almost dangling in midair. “In s-soooo deep.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” He’s wheezing out with a speckling pinpricks of cum from before and a few fresh spurts swashing all over your base. Your knees buckle as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses in, “Keep those p-pretty eyes open, okay, my love? Wanna see you watch- ngh- watch me fill ‘er up, m’kay?”

It’s all you can do to nod to his crazed whims, darting your eyes down to where Nanami was pushing on the base of your spine to make you arch curvaceously.

Straining against the swollen flex of his biceps, oh, you were burnishing his tannish skin with gluey flecks of drool. Stupidly babbling, oh-so-dumb on his massive size. “Wh-where–?”

“Here-” He thwacks his mushy, ruby-red tip in a splurge against your g-spot, “Here- here- and here.” Three repeated times to make you lose your mind just as much as he was, “S’yours. All yours, my wife.”

“All mine. Ngh– mine, Ken.” You echo, your vision blurring at the sheer force that he was pushing into these thrusts. Hell, his own bulked hilt was rubbing raw and red with the slamming impacts.

“Yeah take it. Take it, aaaatta girl.”

His pace was filthy - it was feverish. Head drooping, eyes shuttering.

And a slimy winding river of slobber was starting to fall from Nanami’s curved grin every time he’s getting so fucking drunk on your pussy. Body scorching, neck aching for you to take him take him take him–

“Kento- oh!”

It only takes two accurate swings of his grip to flip you laid onto your back when his veiny cock pulled out.

Important documents fluttering about, this time you’re getting a goood look at Nanami Kento, your husband.

Glasses completely fogged and dangling, his drenched-through shirt barely hanging off of his broad shoulders, pants discarded somewhere along the line to bare you with the sheeny expanse of his muscular thighs. Nothing of the gentleman you once knew.

Thick clumps of saliva spatter as he cranes his head down to you and growls, glassy hazel eyes at you through the rare gaps in his blond bangs. 

Your inner omega simply purrs at the glinting sharpness of his elongated fangs, the sensitive splotches on your neck stinging with the primal urge to be bitten.

Nanami’s nose crinkles at the oversaturation of sweet, sweet pheromones, his own coming out in response. And a generous helping of saliva ribbons out onto your front with a splat! splat! splatter! and he only adds to the sleek mess by slapping his weighty, extended length between your pussylips and gawking as creamy pre puddles. 

Scratching out, “M’gonna fuck ya pregnant, darlin’. Just s-say the ngh- word.”

“Kento-” Boneless arms slipping around his burning neck and lugging his hulking body even closer, “-please.”

And that’s all it takes.

All it takes for something in Nanami to snap. All it takes for him to hastily align his leaking mushroomed tip with your trembling hole and ram you full all the way to your cervix again. Cratering a French kiss there, deep.

So big that he was digging into every adhesive-slicked mass of your walls, probing and probing until your snug cunt was pulled to your limits. 

To your whining impatience, he doesn’t move immediately - instead, you jaw gapes as he’s taking the time to lean down and kiss that round, cylindrical tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Soft lips skittering right over where his bulged tip was hitting, “M’gonna m-make you round n’ glowing, my omega.”

Before you know it, rugged palms slither down the underside of your thighs and fold you like a lawnchair. And into- fuck, a mating press.

A mating press.

The realization seems to strike Nanami at the very moment it strikes you - even though he was literally the one manhandling you into this pliable position. The dimples on his chin quivering as if he couldn’t fucking believe he had his lil’ wife bent like this for him.

And the base of his thickened cock swells. Close. 

All the breath leaving his full lungs, “S-so pretty.” Every syllable followed by a harsh plap! of skin-on-clammy-skin. Every syllable. He holds your thrashing legs easily apart, “So pretty a-and wet n’ m’gonna make her even wetter. Wanna make her full- make her…oh.”

“Sh-shit–” You can palpably feel yourself growing even more damp at the way his chiselled, sharp muscles move and tense with each thrust. A hand moving down–

“Move that fuckin’ hand.”

It wasn’t even a command, and yet you find yourself hurrying to listen. 

Watching with bated breath as his smoggy, pussydrunk eyes rest on the copious glittering droplets of slick escaping your bulged pussylips, even past his girth. And he only smiles- “S’th-this f’me, darlin’? Alllll f’me–?” Greedily licking his lips, he gropes your tits. “This turns- hah! turns ya on, huh? Getting bred?”

Squealing, “Y-yessss– wan’ it so bad- want you so bad, Kento, please.”

“Hmm…boy or girl?”

“Wh-what?” 

He’s only leaning down to rasp more gruffly against your eardrums, a behemoth of his palm patting down on the jiggling pouch inflating into your tummy. “Boy or girl?”

“G-girl.” You’re whimpering out mindlessly, pulse thundering even faster at the brilliant grin that splits across Nanami’s face. 

“Mmm– was thinkin’ th-the exact same.” And that wasn’t just the rut talking. Nanami treks a hand to gift your clit with a pinch and chuckles darkly as you flinch, “Easy- easy there.” Still not letting up, still hugging every inch of his throbbing cock on your cunt. “Guess I’ll be the ngh- strict parent then, hm?”

And the zaps of electricity rushing to your brain are too much, his cadence, his pheromones - his rut. It’s all so much that with only a few more vulgar strikes to your battered, bruised g-spot your mouth gulps a dumbstruck “K-Ken, I’m–”

Not even getting out the sentence before you arch your back into a geometrical semi-circle and throw yourself into your nth high of the night.

The edges of your vision tinging with black, it’s all you can do to claw your nails in red, red trailways down Nanami’s muscular back. Feeling every muggily glissading muscle as he pounded you into the desk through every blissful peak.

“Ngh- o-oh, my l- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck–!” Nanami’s voice takes on a whiny tinge at the feeling of your scalding hot insides molding around his pillaging shaft. So tight that he had to bite his lip and push down on your tummy to pull out after every paced thrust. “S-shooo soft.”

Orgasm feeling like nothing more than tingles, your vision tinges like a black vignette once you’re ogling up at Nanami’s pretty, pretty face. “Ken- Ken”

He’s rubbing a heart over your sparking clit with love, “Yes, my love–?”

“Want it i-inside, Ken.” Mindlessly, your inner omega spurs you to teeth over the tense muscles of his neck - over that particular spot. Walls massaged raw every second, “Want you t-to cum all i-insiiide-”

“Patience.” It’s all he says before rovering his hand somewhere above your head on the flat table and grasping his favorite lucky yellow tie. 

Before you can blink your tear-stained lashes, he loops it twice over your neck and ties - dragging you back with a simple pull of his bulky biceps. You look so pretty n’ helpless like this that he can’t help but feel his mouth water, spitting the excess between your kiss-swollen lips. 

“P-promise not to miss?” 

“Never. Wh-what did I tell you- s’all sh’alllll yours.”

Slurring. He couldn’t even speak properly - barely even breathing - before snapping his hips to yours so close that your tender pussymound scratches with his soaked-through tufts of tawn. Once. Twice. Before Nanami collapses on top of you and cums—

Your knees hitting your tits, legs shoved over his shoulders, ass stinging at the shaky jackhammer.

“T-taaake it. Take it n’ get p-pregnant. Get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant–” He whispers as thick, steamy hot cum starts pooling all the way into what feels like your gut. “Want it. Need it.”

Aching, swollen, almost painful sparks of white-hot pleasure running down his spine once he’s slamming a capped knee on top of the table and angling himself to pound and pound. 

“Ngh- s-so much–” Your hips thrash, lungs heaving with the weight of his happy caramel scent. “-so much so- fuck.”

He spits into your hanging open mouth. “Ohh m’gonna make a mess of you.” And as he rests his towering body closer on top of yours, you can feel the way Nanami’s meaty thighs tremble delicately with every shooting jetstream of cum spraying inside your deepest parts. The fingers toying with your clit move to pinch your folds together, he prattles. “A-all inshide now.”

Oh, you look so pretty with your pussylips so swollen and leaky. Frothed right on top with an ivory coating of his sap that dips in and out. Moaning, “I-inside?”

“Mhmmm– I-I’m gonna be a papa- a papa. Gonna t-take care of her n’ you don’t hafta lift- lift a finger, my love. I’ll t-take care of the feedin’ n’ the late nights and- and…” 

He was daydreaming right now and you were stunned. 

“M’gonna b-brush her ngh- hair n’ you’re gonna dress ‘er up all pretty.” He’s babbling just as awe-struck as you, “A-and then you’ll- you’ll feed her breakfast I ngh- made n’ we’ll both take her to school. Spoil her- n’ ohhh she’s gonna look just like you w-with my eyes n’ she’s mine and-”

“A-and?”

“-yours.” Every declaration followed by the most determined of thrusts. One, two, three, four, five more dolloping streams of thick seed that glues to your walls and slips n’ slides straightly down your cervix. Your womb. “Y-yours. Yours yours yours y-ngh! Yours.”

Milking himself for you.

Nanami drills into you like he’s gone feral; that vice-like restraint around your throat stopping him from both biting into you just yet and helping him trawl you up n’ down to take every single drop.

It could’ve been hours, maybe even days before you find your now-shrilling voice once more. 

“M-m’yours, too–” You’re whimpering out, gliding your hands through the sweat-matted valleys of his hair and pulling him. 

But, of course, Nanami Kento loved to be used by his wife this way.

“N’ I wan’ your knot, Ken.” You bat your lashes, already having felt the massive, thick ring swelling around his base. Yet another particularly hard drive leaves you gasping, he was just so big– if you’d thought his normal hilt was wide, then this would stretch you until you were crazed. “Please?”

Ah, there it was.

That magical word. 

And how could he ever say ‘no’ to his wife?

With a knobbly thumb hooked to your fucked-out entrance, he’s arching his back and squeeezing that incredible perimeter inside. It’s so damn large that he has to slouch back and gaze as his knot slaps and slaps your outer pussy.

Wisping out a few globules of buttery cum? Pre? Nanami didn’t even know anymore, just aware that he was sobbing from the purple plum-colored, split-end of his cock.

Canines bitten until he’s tasting metal, “Gonna take it- t-take it like a good girl. My ngh- good wife.” Nanami’s fighting to keep his weighted lids from falling shut, “Get you all plugged w-with my knot. S-so full you can’t even ngh- fit. Can’t even take anymore-”

“Yes, please- please give it t’me, Ken.” You’re scrambling on the table, left hand flapping away somewhere until he clings onto it and brings it up to his spit-soiled mouth.

Tenderly kissing the band of your wedding ring as his sloppy thumb pries apart your gluey-stuck folds and siiiiiiinks his knot in. Fully. Tightly. 

And as soon as it’s all in, you’re blinking back nonsensical stars and angels in your vision - sobbing at the sheer stretch. It’s so raw, so filling having him be connected deeply inside, the tender skin of his ballsack flinching after every one of your squeezes.

Knot digging into your walls so thorough and hot. 

And it’s as if for a second, your husband stops breathing. 

Enough for you to ask, “B-baby, are you okay?”

“N-no.” Comes Nanami’s strained, cracking whisper of an answer. So hoarse you almost couldn’t hear it, “No.”

And there’s no warning before Nanami flinches - viscerally, animalistically to surge his face into the crook of your neck and bite. Hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a soundless scream, mouth dropping into the perfect oh! at the euphoric feeling of his jagged canines ripping into your scent glands. Scents melding and mixing and becoming one, it’s as if ten more orgasms hit you at full force. 

And your husband - your mate - feels it, too. 

Because the combined strength of his slamming pound and his fist on top of the table is so much that one of the sturdy mahogany legs breaks in half. 

Sluggishly, your omega reminds you that it was your turn to reciprocate the possessive marking. 

“Ken…” Being held up by none other than his tie blocking most of your airway, you lift your dizzy head enough to kiss the swollen gland where the whisked caramel was the most potent. Biting down as hard as your ruined body could, “-m-mine.”

At the sensation, he gasps–

“Marry me.” Hips driving sloppily into yours all over again and again and again even though the knot prevented him from doing anything more than swervin’ grinds. It’s like he won’t stop - can’t stop. The crimson-stained plumpness of his lips smear all over your mark, your ring, your lips. “Marry me marry me- be my wife?”

“Kentoo–” you giggle out, shortly out of breath as he accurately scratches your g-spot carnally once more. 

His foggy, half-lidded eyes watch you closely as you interlink your left hands together and reach it up to his hazy line of vision. “We’re already married.”

“O-oh.”

And it seems he was genuinely so pussydrunk that it didn’t even register - couldn’t register doing anything but gyrating his v-line into you sensually. Slow, aching drags of his plump tip stirrin’ hearts out of your insides and the splashes of cum within. 

Over and over, while Nanami takes off whatever remnants were left of his shirt and lays his head between the valley of your tits. Grabbing a sweet handful whilst he sucks like he was trying to draw milk out already.

Desk broken, air saturated. 

And only once he feels his rounded knot softening the slightest bit, tugging himself out with a few lecherously slurping tugs, does he speak.

“S-s’a good thing our hck! company’s empty.” Nanami whispers, barely audible over the squelch! of his webbed mess of cum immediately flooding out of you. Raw white and messy. Depraved. 

As you gasp, he’s cracking your legs open. Oh? 

Kneeling down down down–

Oh. 

The pinkish tip of Nanami’s tongue hits your overstimulated, weeping pussy with a damp thwack! “Because we’re celebratin’ our honeymoon in every room of this building, my wife.”

A/N. Mwahaha I told y’all alpha Nanami was next <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nightplvmes]

his baby

sylus one shot (love and deepspace) ⋆｡° | pairing : sylus x fem!reader ⋆｡° | dad sylus - when you woke up that morning and didn't see your baby in the crib, the first thing you did was panic… until you remembered where she could be. ⋆｡° | word count : 0.9k (968) ⋆｡° | autor note : this is one of my fave one shots ever, that's all, that's the note likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :) ★ masterlist here

when you opened your eyes, it was like something jumped in your chest. fear filled you, and it took you a few seconds to remember you were in your room. in your house, completely safe.

you rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of anything else that would help distract you. it was at that moment that you looked at the small clock on the nightstand to confirm the time. it was almost 7 a.m., which meant Emma would wake up any moment. you didn't usually wake her up earlier; you preferred to wait for her to wake up on her own and decide she was hungry.

you yawned and looked at the empty spot on the bed next to you. you couldn't deny that something settled in your chest at the thought of Sylus not being there, but you forced yourself to remember that he'd probably just gone to his office downstairs and wasn't actually putting his life in danger in some seedy place in the area. trying to think of something else, you walked to the crib next to the bed, hoping to see your precious baby girl asleep… but it was empty.

the first thing you felt was panic and the urge to scream, thinking someone had broken in and taken Emma, but you forced yourself to think calmly, just as Sylus had taught you. it was impossible; there was security all over the place. Sylus had increased security since you were pregnant, and it got worse when Emma was born, so where… of course, Sylus.

you let out a frustrated huff and turned to leave the room, combing your hair to make yourself look even slightly presentable. your heavy footsteps echoed through the hallways until you reached the floor below, where Sylus' office was. Mephisto was resting on one of the decorations in the hallway and made a sound that caught your attention. you could swear he was making fun of you, or maybe you'd just gone too crazy these past few weeks.

"don't you dare," you warned, raising one of your fingers at Mephisto as a signal for him to stop. he just blinked, and you finally turned to walk the rest of the distance to Sylus' office.

you didn't knock or bother to let him know you were about to enter; you simply pushed the door open in front of you without warning. Sylus didn't even flinch when you entered. he had some papers in one of his hands and… yes, that small lump on his chest.

"what the hell is wrong with you?!" you asked in that tone that made your annoyance evident, but without raising your voice too much, otherwise that small lump in his chest would start crying. "I told you to stop stealing my baby!"

Sylus finally put the papers on the table and looked at you with a strange expression you couldn't decipher. you thought he was going to say something to you in an annoyed tone… even though Sylus had never used an annoyed tone with you before. his eyes traveled all over your body, and for a second, you had the urge to say something, aware of your terrible appearance. you had a three-month-old baby, and even though Sylus helped you a lot, it seemed almost impossible to sleep normally because of your nerves. "you look beautiful today."

you rolled your eyes as you walked toward him. "I'm going to hit you," you muttered, but quickly regretted it when Sylus' smile widened. "you stole my baby."

"she's my baby too," he defended himself.

"you need to stop doing that." you rubbed your face, trying to calm down. Sylus was right. you needed more sleep and you could sleep when he took care of Emma at night, but when you heard her crying, it was practically impossible to close your eyes again.

"she likes to sleep in my arms. besides, you've had her for nine months. she wants to spend time with her father."

"Sylus, she was in my belly. we weren't just living together and drinking tea." you crossed your arms as he settled Emma onto his chest so you could see her. the baby opened her small red eyes, which met yours. she was too identical to Sylus. you were sure your genes didn't even bother fighting for your daughter to have any of you.

"you should sleep. I'll take care of her."

"she needs to eat."

"I already fed her." he pointed to an empty bottle on his desk. your eyes strayed toward it, confirming that Emma had already been fed.

"she needs a diaper change."

"I already did that when she woke up."

you sighed, giving up. maybe you were worrying too much, and a little nap and a shower wouldn't hurt anyone at all. you nodded, leaning down to kiss Emma's little head. "your father doesn't know that as soon as you fall asleep, we're going to have a very serious talk." you spoke in that tone you only used with Emma, and the baby did something that might have been a grimace, but in your eyes, it looked like a small smile.

you looked at Sylus one last time; you couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was such an excellent father and was looking for ways to get you to sleep and have some time for yourself. so with that in mind, you leaned in to place a small peck on his lips.

you finally turned to leave the office, and seconds later, the sound of the door closing echoed in the room.

Sylus sighed, leaning back in his chair again. "I love her," he murmured, as if having a conversation with Emma, who just looked at him with her wide, curious eyes.

[somnoir]

Ghost KingConsort?

Prompt: Demon Twins AU where the ghost king is summoned and claims his appearance is that of his beloveds. Shenanigans of a vindictive dead twin.

Danyal Al Ghul escaped from the league. The Lazarus Pits were never merciful but for once, they were. The pits were merciful to him as the green swallowed him and spat him out miles away from that place.

Danny can't forget his first death, the sword in his gut as Damian cut through him. The title of heir was reserved for only one of them and the spare was no longer needed. He supposed it was yet another mercy upon him, knowing that the title of spare was not simple. He would have been Damian's spare—spare parts.

Danny remembers his second death. The electricity that killed him over and over again as the ectoplasm spilled from the artificial portal brought him back to life again and again. One second he was dead, the other he was being revived. It was torturous in every way possible.

It's been years since then. His parents were a difficult case, unable to accept that their darling child had died and continued to believe that Danny was being possessed by the menace Phantom. They hunted him, tried to rip him apart to 'free' their son. It took both himself and Jazz leaving with the help of Vlad (reluctantly accepted) for his parents to stop hunting. Their home that had already felt empty was even more empty now.

It's been almost four years since then. Danny had settled into his role as Ghost King, even when the crown of fire floated over his head then descended to be too big, too much—resting around his neck.

It's... Difficult...

CUT TO THE JUSTICE LEAGUE SUMMONING HIM!

Danny Fenton, nineteen and very much overworked from all the paperwork he had to sort through as Ghost King, finds a small tugging to his very being. A summoning he recognized, sighing loudly before he's answer to this visible desperation. Like it was a world ending issue.

And yes, it apparently was when the fabric of reality itself was tearing itself apart for some strange reason. As the ruler of the infinite realms—the king of the very domain that basically glued the multiverse—this was apparently the right call.

Dressed in all of his kingly regalia, Danny felt the crown of fire float up from his neck and burned over his head. His cape, cloak—whatever—was heavy and he blinked, green eyes boring into every soul present. He recognized the fractured soul of the laughing magician—one of his more irksome subjects that avoided taxes like it was the fucking plague. He really should tell Skulker to haunt his grandfather. Maybe even Youngblood would be suitable.

But aside from the laughing magician, his eyes settled upon a familiar soul, a familiar face. Danny blinks again.

Shit... He thought, staring at the masked yet horrified face of his own twin. Robin was nineteen as well by now, older, stronger—redeemed.

In the past, Danny would have cursed Damian to the seven hells and allowed the seven sins to have a bite. But Jazz was blessing. An older sister who made sure to heal him, to let him grow, to let him develop. He's forgiven Damian for his faults. They were children, brainwashed by a mad man. He's not too angry. Resentful and a bit vindictive? That was a given as he technically was the spirit of a murder victim. Of kinslaying.

"Hellblazer." The language spoken by the dead leaves his mouth easily. It can't be understood by the living, and it was barely understood who came back from death. But John Constantine was a different, more difficult case. One hell of a motherfucker that avoided death until the entity itself was ranting to both Clockwork and Danny about his escapes.

And John Constantine recognized his title regardless of the language.

The sad man in a trench coat stiffened, staring at Danny as he stiffly bowed. "High King Phantom." He greets, and attempt at respect. When there was suddenly movement, Constantine was quick to hiss at the others—glaring at Robin who looked ready lunge at them.

Oh, he can't help himself. This was funny. In the words of his own counterpart turned brother—He could make it worse. Jazz was going to nag him, true, but Danny was so. Utterly. BORED. Being Ghost King had a lot of entertainment, like how he got to fight people and basically hang out with people from the past. But it got... Repetitive. Normal Ghosts wouldn't mind with their eternal afterlife, but Danny was still half-alive. He was completely human—just a half dead one.

"Your majesty—" Constantine struggled to explain, "The universe... Do you know why portals have been opening, your majesty? Forgive my impudence but our world has been plagued by portals from different worlds, some even lead to the infinite realm."

"It's not uncommon for natural portals to the realms to open. Many of your dead like to visit." He smirked, "Many like to haunt those who've wronged them."

Constantine gulped, "Your majesty, would you, by any chance, be aware of why these portals are opening?"

Danny sighed. Well, he can't say he wasn't concerned. This was his world too after all, even when now. It was Jazz's world, where she still went to school, it was Sam and Tucker's world. It was his family's world. So yes, he is concerned.

"The portals to the realms are under my jurisdiction. They are natural and open in my places with thick and ambient ectoplasm." Danny drawls, "But these dimensional portals are strange. I'll check in with the Master of Time to see if someone is meddling with reality. It may not even be from your dimension."

He can only shrug at that, remembering how Dan had practically ripped through time with his madness and rage, tearing through the world to ensure his birth.

"I see, thank you for your understanding, your majesty." Constantine nervously says.

"Say, would you like to watch the battle royale for your soul?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused, magician." Danny rolls his eyes, "But you'd certainly enjoy watching people tear each other to shreds for your fucked up soul. I don't understand why people want it so much when the paperwork it comes with is a hell in itself."

"Your majesty," Constantine paled.

"I'm joking. I'll deal with this as quickly as possible." Danny paused, grinning as he made a show of offering his hand to the justice league. "I couldn't possible sit by and allow my beloved's world to crumble. He'd be devastated."

Constantine blinked. Everyone blinked. And then Danny turned to Damian and... Batman. Bruce Wayne. His father. At least he seemed to be treating Damian better than Jack did with Danny and Jazz.

"You must have recognized this face, yes?" Danny tilted his head. "You are his family."

"What have you done to my brother?" Robin—Damian immediately growled, like a feral cat as he unsheathed his katanas and aimed for Danny.

"Hm." Danny rolled his eyes, "He's well. Very much taken care of." Because yes, Danny was well fed and taken care of, especially as the Ghost King. "I've taken his form so I assumed you knew of him."

He dismissed Robin long before he could even speak, turning to Constantine once again. "Don't fret too much, John Constantine." The man in question flinched once his name was uttered in the language of the dead he could barely understand. "This will be fixed in a days time. If not, I will send someone to deal with it."

The Ghost King's appearance had been startling when they summoned him. A boy with a striking resemblance to Damian if not for his white hair. A twin? Bruce had sounded devastated at the implications. But Damian? He'd seen the ghost king and felt nauseous, unable to tear his eyes away from the eldritch being that wore his brother's face.

It took a lot of explaining once they were back in the cave. The duel, Danyal's death, the Lazarus taking him and he was never seen again. Everyone was... Well, they were devastated. Yes. Grieving a son and brother they never met. But the Ghost King has been summoned with a face similar to that of their father's, a face that was the exact same one to their brothers. The Ghost King who referred to the dead Danyal as his beloved.

It's the next day when they're back in the watchtower, anxiously waiting for any update. Constantine continues to curse under his breath, shaking his head before a portal rips through reality. Everyone stiffened, preparing for the worst.

A girl appears, a child. She's a spry little thing with glowing green eyes, flaming white hair, and a face that they immediately recognized.

"Sorry that I'm late! Times pretty bendy and we don't really keep up with it." The unknown laughs, "Well, short answer, Phantom has identified the problem and has attempted to apprehend it. Unfortunately, it's been a week on our end and the perp apparently fell into your world."

Time distortion—Constantine had mentioned it. But they stare at the girl who rambled about their supposed target until Batman cleared his throat, seemingly softer on the girl—someone who was visibly a child.

"Young lady, welcome to the Watchtower. Even id the greeting it late." Batman curtly yet gently says. "May I know your name?"

The girl blinked. "Oh! You can call me Specter, princess of the infinite realms! I'm Phantom and Danny's daughter."

It is then that the possibilities processes in their heads.

One. The Ghost King took the form of his beloved, aka the dead twin brother of one Damian Wayne.

Two. Damian's dead twin and Bruce's dead son might be the queen (consort?) of the infinite realms.

Three. Danyal and Phantom had a daughter. Damian and the rest of the Bar kids were uncles and aunts. Bruce was now officially a grandpa.

Damian faints on the spot.

[deikshen]

I love getting Shen Qingqiu pregnant (and it's funny that just today I've done it twice already), so... Shen Yuan who transmigrates into Shen Qingqiu, and in the midst of his medical check-up with Mu Qingfang about that whole qi deviation thing, Mu Qingfang hints that perhaps the qi deviation was due to using too much of his qi to pause his pregnancy.

Shen Qingqiu it's like: pardon??? Pregnancy?????

Sure enough, the System confirms: Shen Qingqiu's body is pregnant! And Mu Qingfang, falling into all that of a certain amnesia after the qi deviation, explains to him that he has a pregnancy in a very early stage that he never wanted to interrupt, but "the responsibilities around him, responsibilities that only grew" were too much to have a baby at that time. And he's been putting off his baby's growth with qi... for a long time.

Shen Qingqiu asks him very, very quickly how the hell he can keep doing that. No. He's not having a baby. He's just getting a new body. He just died. What the fuck. Thanks, but no thanks.

Of course, later on, with Without-a-cure, it is very difficult to continue diverting his qi to keep the baby hidden and not growing inside him. At this point, Shen Qingqiu does not terminate the pregnancy just because... Because he does not feel capable. Plus, he feels a little guilty; the original goods could have terminated that pregnancy if he had wanted to. What gave him, an impostor in a stolen body, the right to end a life that the original Shen Qingqiu was so jealously protecting? He had already taken one life. He would not take a second.

So even he does need more qi about it, and if he needs Mu Qingfang's external qi to hide it during the larger outbreaks of Without-a-cure, Shen Qingqiu decides that maybe he'll give the baby a chance to be born when he has to throw Binghe into the Abyss. The house will be empty by then, won't it? And will be sad. And painful. And he'll need a distraction.

One month before the IAC, Shen Qingqiu lets go of the qi seal and allows the baby finally to continue growing. It is strange to feel it, and even stranger to feel it grow. Mu Qingfang congratulates him on his decision, explains what symptoms he will have to deal with in the coming weeks, what tea is best to avoid, what herbs he should drink. Shen Qingqiu is tense, distant and somewhat nervous, fearing something dangerous or close to a qi deviation since he was not actively sealing the baby now. His body still has to get used to the enormous hormonal chaos that will gradually subside; Shen Qingqiu is resigned and hateful, but he simply decides that it will not be something that will keep him awake at night.

The IAC passes. The morning after Shen Qingqiu throws Binghe into the abyss is painful and filled with tears and the first signs of morning sickness. Unfortunate timing, as many other Peak Lords and Sect Leaders see him nearly faint and run off to vomit.

What Shen Qingqiu doesn't expect (or, knowing the reputation of the original Shen Qingqiu, should expect) are the rumors.

Shen Qingqiu is jealously protecting his small belly bump, hiding it before it is necessary to say it, but it is inevitable that it will be discovered. It's surprisingly less well received than he expected. His refusal to speak about what happened to Luo Binghe, his refusal to give him up for dead, his enormous sadness, her refusal to tell the identity of the baby's other father... Shen Qingqiu is hearing the rumors from his own disciples before Shang Qinghua and his spy nets of An Ding disciples bring him the news that the rumors have already spread.

Apparently, everyone believes that Shen Qingqiu was having an affair with his spoiled disciple Luo Binghe ("He even bet so much on him and his victory in the IAC!"), and when a beast killed his beloved disciple, Shen Qingqiu fell into a heartbreaking sadness from which he could only be freed by the fruit of his love that was now growing in his womb.

Sensitive, loud, chaotic. Shang Qinghua mocks him. Shen Qingqiu hits him with his fan and insults him. Living with the author is an unpleasant nuisance when Shang Qinghua confirms that he never wrote about Shen Qingqiu being pregnant, although he didn't actually write about things that later happened either. The world filling in the plot holes, he says, and Shen Qingqiu hates it.

Pregnancy is a painless process. Shen Qingqiu suffers through it like anyone else, but he has his good moments. He gets excited about the baby. Mu Qingfang confirms to him that its a boy. He lulls him to sleep when he wakes him up in the middle of the night with kicks. Even before he is born, he is already causing trouble; Shen Qingqiu finds himself loving this little boy very much and wishing, after all this time, to finally meet him.

The baby is born. If Shen Qingqiu was curious about the identity of the second father, nothing on the baby's face tells it; it is a sweet and cute baby identical to Shen Qingqiu, except for some undeniably big and beautiful eyes.

He also has his own character: he cries a lot, he only calms down in Shen Qingqiu's arms, he hates strangers coming close, he cries when someone else carries him, and enjoys when Shen Qingqiu sings to him. He is quickly loved and spoiled by the entire sect and his disciples.

Shen Qingqiu allows himself to forget that he will only have four years to live for this baby. Luo Binghe will return seeking revenge, and Shen Qingqiu does not plan to escape; as long as he allows the baby to live, and as long as Cang Qiong don't burn, he can hand himself over to Luo Binghe's revenge.

(Of course he has prepared sun-moon dew mushrooms. He's not an idiot. He also has enough legal scrolls that in case he dies, his baby will stay with Shang Qinghua and the anonymous brother Shang; Shang Qinghua will run away with his little one and they will meet in a village far away, where the "anonymous brother" lived. Shen Qingqiu would raise his son as an anonymous herbalist and they would live as simple NPCs without bothering anyone.)

Shen Qingqiu has his beloved little baby and a plan. It is a surprise to him when, one night, there is a knock on his door. His baby is just over a year and a half old, he stammers a few words, he learned the dangerous art of walking and running; so little time, so much domestic comfort, of course Shen Qingqiu does not expect disciples returning from the Endless Abyss directly to his doorstep.

Yet there he is. Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe who looks at him with an unfathomable expression, dirty in blood, with torn robes. He is unbearably handsome, tall and with a heavy black sword on his back.

Shen Qingqiu is frozen, only thinking about running away with his baby, when Luo Binghe just falls to his knees in front of him.

("Shizun, the rumors are strong, even in the Abyss. When did this horrible disciple disgrace his Shizun like this? Will Shizun be able to forgive this one for his mistakes? If the Abyss was the punishment Shizun intended for this disciple's behaviour, then this one understands. Please forgive this horrible beast for his audacity.")

Shen Qingqiu had already made peace with the rumors. He actually tried to ignore them most of the time. So, for Luo Binghe of all people to believe them ("As if there was any way to forget... that!!! It takes two to make a baby, and you and I didn't do it...!!!"), and even more so, to feel guilty about them… As if something in Luo Binghe's head made him believe that if he were to get infected by the sex pollen of some flower, he could really dishonor his Shizun like that! For that you first need to want it with this Shizun, silly boy!

Shen Qingqiu knows that he has no chance to lie to him, less in something like that. As soon as Luo Binghe finds out that his son has no Heavenly Demon blood in his veins, it will be risky and dangerous. He wants to tell him the truth. He has to tell him the truth.

... However, who can blame a man for having a little hope that everything will eventually work out? Perhaps he should show the baby first, his little offspring, to making him understand that its a harmless baby and does not deserve to suffer. But who could blame him for wanting Luo Binghe to not notice the truth and just accept it and stay as if he had never left?

... Probably the same people who might blame Shen Qingqiu when he presented his sleeping son to Luo Binghe (after letting him bathe and eat something decent), and just a caress on his baby's pale forehead with the careful claw of Luo Binghe caused a red zuiyin to appear.

What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK?! Airplane, WHO THE FUCK DID SHEN QINGQIU HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH??! WHAT OTHER HEAVENLY DEMONS ARE THERE?! HOW FUCKING LONG HAS THAT BABY BEEN HIDING?!

...

(Somewhere beneath the mountain, Tianlang-jun sneezes. Ah. Strong-willed human cultivators of pretty faces and bad temper. They were always his weakness. One would think that someone like Tianlang-jun would learn after being abandoned by a wandering cultivator apprenticed to a demonic cultivator with a very bad reputation, but, it was not the art of love also having a broken heart?)

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ roommate johnny 'soap' mactavish - 01

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ collection - prev ⋆ next

johnny was a menace. you didn't know it when you moved in with him. you needed a cheap place in edinburgh, and you had found johnny's ad. at first, you thought it was a scam, with how cheap the rent was and how good the place seemed to be. it had been a miracle that you arrived the same day the ad was posted, being one of the first to respond to it.

turned out it hadn't been a scam, and johnny took a liking to you. so you got the place. he explained the same day that he was gone a lot because of his job in the military, so you mostly had the place to yourself. when you asked about the cheap rent, he didn't even lie to you. he explained he owned this place, and the rent was just an easy way to make more money, because he didn't need two rooms. truth was, johnny didn't need money either, but he lacked the company.

coming home from deployment to an empty and quiet house always made him feel strange. it was not supposed to be like this. he was supposed to come back to a flat full of life and joy; that was why he looked for roommates. he wasn't picky, really; anyone slightly nice would have satisfied him, but a bonnie lass like you? that was perfect.

the moment you moved in, johnny had been shipped away for a two-month mission. you had the entire flat to yourself, and you created little habits for yourself. it was so easy to think you lived alone. everything was tidied up; johnny's military training made him neat. all his "mess," if you could even call it that, was perfectly tucked away in his room. in your mind, you were alone. and you loved it so much. before that, you had lived in a small flat with your ex-best friend. her boyfriend was always around, making it impossible for you to truly feel at home. she had called you a whore once because you left your room in the middle of the night wearing a t-shirt and panties, and her boyfriend had seen you. that had been the last straw; you had needed to get out of there.

it was all naturally that you were in your kitchen, waiting for your coffee, wearing the same outfit that caused so much drama a few months ago. what was out of the normal was the quiet whistle you heard from the threshold. jumping slightly, you turned around, ending face to face with a very sleepy and very shirtless johnny. when did he get back?

"that's a sight ah wid lik' tae see ilka mornin', bonnie," he flirted, softly scratching his stomach. his accent was so thick and his voice so deep it sent chills straight between your legs. blood rushed to your cheeks, and suddenly, it was way too warm in the kitchen.

you had never denied that johnny was a handsome man, but you had dismissed his flirting as friendly banter. but with the way he was looking at you now, you weren't so sure anymore. you didn't say anything; you were openly ogling his body, as much as he was ogling yours. but he seemed happy with your reaction as he went to grab water, turning around to make his way back to his bed, a big smile on his lips.

you spent the rest of the day at work, and when you came home, the flat was quiet. you'd quickly come to learn that quiet didn't mean johnny wasn't here; it only meant he liked to scare you, and his training had made him very light on his feet. anyways, you went on with your routine: took a shower, changed into your pyjamas--adding shorts to them this time--and started cooking your dinner. you had turned on your speaker, blasting music like you were alone. to your defense, you truly believed you were. there weren't even lights coming from his room. it came as a surprise when you felt a body behind your own, and a face next to yours, smelling the food you were making. you acted on your fight-or-flight reflexes, and your elbow made contact with his nose.

"argh, hell's bells, lassie, tis juist me," he whined, hands flying to his nose. not even concerned you might have hurt him, you started shouting at him, telling him he couldn't scare you like that.

and as you were running your mouth angrily at him, not even close to being done with your lecturing and with his throbbing nose losing a bit of blood, johnny swore he fell in love with you.

[pricefieldizcanon]

Rachel calls Chloe "cute" in the hospital 🥺❤️

They are BOTH so cute! ❤️

GIFs made by me.

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki part ii

warnings: smut, power play, cursing, etc.

read part one

you assumed that after having sex with ni-ki, your biggest opp, it would be awkward and uncomfortable…

but never this empty.

you arrive at your office monday morning to find your inbox startlingly free of his scathing one-liners. there's no "nice dress. shame about the brain." no "can you actually type without making typos?"

his favorite mockery is gone, somehow leaving you strangely bereft.

you tapped your pen against the wooden surface of your desk, scanning for any hint of his sabotages. the folder you thought you'd need for the managerial position, his file on your "possible fraudulent activities" are also nowhere to be found.

because according to him, you fucked him so good that he destroyed every single thing he had that could ruin you.

relief flares that he stopped, of course. but unlike him, you still do your best to make his life miserable, leaving yourself doused in guilt — feeling like an asshole.

an entire weekend passed. you swore you weren't dying for his banter, and yet whenever your phone buzzes, you leap out of your skin.

nishimura riki: stop messing with my report. are you fucking insane?

minutes passed.

nishimura riki: you must be missing me.

your lips twitched into a smirk. hell if you know how to respond.

i didn't do it, dumbass.

really? that's the reply? he'd know you were lying (or worse, honest). the cursor kept blinking in your reply box, taunting you. you typed, erase, typed again, erase — you racked your brain, thinking of a good comeback.

you: you're so stupid. also, my life has been so peaceful without you. please stay right where you are.

nishimura riki: i can come by your house and make your life hell again. if you want.

of course you want it. you'd kill him… or you'd kill for him to come over right now but shit, even the line between those urges were already starting to blur.

you spent your lunchtime writing a status report. your fingers snapping across the keys but your mind drifts to that shameless first night with him.

the night where you wrestled with him for that fraud file of yours. the heat of his breath when you kissed him, when it finally landed on your skin…

you remember all of it. every time you lean over to pull a document from the printer, you imagine the wide arc of ni-ki's arms behind you, the precise angle of his jaw, his thick lips devouring you while telling you how much he hated you for existing…

it's all fucking there.

and as if reading your thoughts, your phone lit up again.

nishimura riki: i want to see what i'm missing.

you: fuck you. you literally work five feet from me.

nishimura riki: and new skirt? goddamn

your stomach clenched. so he… noticed? he noticed your above the knee with the slit at the side that shows just enough thigh to be questionable but still professional according to the office dress code new skirt?

you: your point?

nishimura riki: you look good and i want to see it up close.

a shiver runs down your spine. ni-ki's words became so direct, so suggestive, you can't help but to swallow hard and bite your lip. you sighed, immediately closing the report window before anyone could see you blush.

you check your company messenger during break. you noticed nishimura riki's presence: his avatar pops into view with the status "ready to crush it."

how fucking pretentious.

you just hoped ni-ki would do something back so you could stop feeling guilty whenever you sabotage him, then it would all go back to hell. the hell you not-so-secretly love. the hell he seemed to have loved before — and now forgotten.

@you @ni-ki i expect great results from the two of you. focus on the work, not drama.

you sat on your couch, sipping a cup of lukewarm green tea when your phone buzzes.

nishimura riki: we're stuck together for the next couple days.

you smirked when you realized how he can't stop texting you. you plop your head back against the cushion, totally interested.

you: yeah. happy?

nishimura riki: ecstatic.

ni-ki signs off with a kiss emoji, making you scowl in disgust and throw your phone onto the cushion. he'll see how you haven't responded and he'll definitely laugh about it tomorrow.

you came into the office projecting confidence the next morning. ni-ki is already there, beating you in punctuality. he's leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone but smiled immediately when your eyes met.

"you're late," he drawls.

"shut up," you fired back, tossing your bag under the table. you saw another folder you've been dreading. ni-ki's opened it already— hands off, though.

"fuck... i couldn't sleep," he said, casually looking at your eyes.

who asked? is what you would've said but instead, it's: "why's that?" you leaned in, "last i heard, sleeping without protection was your specialty."

he nodded slowly. his urge of choking you to death using his necktie suddenly crossed his mind, like it always does whenever you talk back.

he never followed through, of course. because every time he pictures it, the ending is him fucking you instead. he saw you submitting not because of trust, but because you can't help it.

ni-ki sighed and quickly pulls your chair close to him, making your pulse quicken. "hmm, what do you mean 'heard'? we both know you know that for a fact," he teased, his hand trailing up to squeeze your thigh. "also, did i ever told you how bad you needed practice?"

heat blooms across your cheeks. didn't he say you fucked him good? this fucking guy keeps challenging you — mentally and sexually.

you scoffed and opened your mouth to retort but your boss already knocked on the door, barging in to start the meeting.

the day isn't even done, yet you and ni-ki have exchanged more messages than you have with anyone else all week:

nishimura riki: did you catch the way that idiot glanced at your legs during the meeting? that mf is gonna keel over later once you unplug your laptop.

that 'idiot' is notoriously stiff when it comes to 'office decorum.' the thought of him being flustered at your skirt is thrilling, but:

you: you know i'd rather see how you react when i ask you to take off my skirt.

nishimura riki: come to my office then, i'll show you.

you stood up as soon as everyone's too busy to notice your absence. you opened ni-ki's door without so much as a knock. the tall guy is leaning against the edge of his desk, shirt already untucked, tie loose — completely losing his patience.

you walk towards him. he traces a finger along your jaw, tilting your face up, brushing his thumb over your sexy lips.

"show me," you whispered, sliding both hands flat against his chest.

ni-ki leaned in. "hmm, watch me," he replied, turning you gently by the hips, pulling your ass against his crotch — where you can feel the rigid outline of his cock through his trousers. you pressed yourself back, grinding on him as his hand tightens on your hip.

"we have a meeting at six, right?" he murmurs in your ear. "let's get you naked under this skirt."

"i already am…"

unbelievable.

"you really are a fucking tease, huh?"

your breath hitched when you feel his tip nudging against your folds. ni-ki slowly slid inside your welcoming heat — his cock was so big and hard, making your knees buckle as you can practically feel him rearranging your guts without even moving.

ni-ki moaned, "oh, y/n—" biting his lower lip before pressing one more searing kiss to your neck. "i could stay like this all day," he said.

you let out a shaky gasp, head dropping forward with a whimper. your fingers reached back, grabbing his hands — his big, warm hands that are locked around your hips. "ni-ki…"

"let's not sin so much today," he groaned softly, hips giving one teasing rock that makes your whole body jolt before he pulls his cock out. he stepped back and adjusted your skirt like a gentleman — making you feel full and hollow in the same instant.

that same afternoon, you decided to head to the break room for water. you stop short when you saw ni-ki with the boss' niece, who came to visit the office.

she's laughing, batting her eyelashes at him while grinning so hard. you didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she mentioned something about wanting him to show her around — and that guy just casually folds his arm around her shoulders.

"look at you, you social climber," you interrupted, clapping your hands slowly, it echoed like a gunshot.

ni-ki glances at you lazily over the girl's shoulder. the niece looks startled, she gave you both a sheepish laugh before excusing herself.

"how long have you two been planning world domination?"

"are you jealous?" he asked, chuckling as he drags out a chair for himself. "'cause i'm telling you that's pathetic."

"wha—?"

"don't worry, y/n. it's just been few days, i'll make sure to find some time for my favorite brat."

you scoffed, grabbing your water a little too aggressive. "wow... you sound so proud of being passed around like a party favor."

"passed around?" he repeated, raising a brow. "jealousy already doesn't suit you and now you're possessive too?"

you shot him a sharp glare but he just leans back in his chair, spreading his legs like he's offering you a seat.

ni-ki sighed, "fine, i'll come over tonight," he declared so casually, it made your jaw drop.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me." he stretched and yawned. "you don't have to agree. i've already made up my mind."

"you're crazy."

he stands up, brushing past you as he grabs a protein bar "leave the door unlocked for me, okay?" he whispered, leaning in to give your cheek a quick kiss.

the sound of your skins slapping were obscene. ni-ki's breaths were heavy, his muscles tensed doing his best holding back from losing control. his necklace kept bouncing against his chest every time he slid in and out of your wet cunt. he hit it deep and slow, making your toes curl.

you looked down and watched at where your bodies met.

"oh, my–" he groaned when he felt your walls flutter around his cock. "this feels so fucking insane right now."

your arms tightened around his shoulders. "you haven't fucked me in days," you breathed out, looking up at him, admitting, "i was so stressed out."

"yeah, i know," he replied, "and look how mean you've gotten."

"kiss me..." you asked shyly — too quiet for ni-ki who was busy thrusting, far gone in the rhythm he was chasing to even hear it.

frustrated, you reached up and grabbed his hair — hard. your fingers got tangled so deep in the roots of his bleached strands, yanking him down without warning so you could force his mouth closer.

"ah—f-fuck—!" ni-ki hissed, jolting from the sharp tug. his hips slowed down for a second.

his palm slapped your arm away, the sound echoed a little loud in the room. it wasn't as harsh as what you did, but it was firm because he was hurt. a very clear response to pain.

your eyes slightly widened when he snatched your wrist, flipping you like you're a dead weight. one second you were just looking up at him — now, your face was pressed into the pillow, ass up. ni-ki's hand stayed flat on your lower back, keeping you in place.

his fingers dove straight into your hair, fisting it tight, pulling your head up until your back arched and your spine hit his chest. it forced a cry out of your throat, you quickly hold on to the headboard for your own control.

"it hurts, right?" he muttered, brows furrowed. his voice sounded pissed. "you dumbass."

your mouth parted to argue but you were too breathless and stunned at how fast he turned the tables on you.

ni-ki let go of your hair roughly. your cheek sank back into the pillow. his hands slid down to your hips, spreading you wider. it was careless and he moved confident as he positioned you just how he wanted.

your moans started crumbling into soft sobs — not from pain but from realizing how you weren't too used to getting caught off guard, let alone losing control.

your thighs started shaking, your breath had gone shallow, and ni-ki noticed it right away.

"shit—" he cursed under his breath, the movement of his hips started faltering before slowly pulling out from your pussy. he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck gently. "can you sit up?"

you nodded weakly. he helped you, pulling you gently onto his lap, seating you over one of his thighs while holding you carefully. "did i scare you?" he asked, worried and cautious.

"no...not at all." you replied, shaking your head in assurance.

ni-ki sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. he place a long kiss your temple, "i'm sorry, y/n." he continued, "do you want to stop?"

you sniffled and pulled back to look him in the eye like you're a little offended, "hell no."

a small grin broke across his face. he's amused, relieved, but mostly turned on all over again. ni-ki buried his face into your neck, laughing softly. "good," he murmured, lips dragging across your skin.

"ride me."

each movement felt better than the last. his cock dragged against the deepest part of you, his blunt tip kept hitting your cervix, making you gasp in pleasure.

ni-ki sat back against your headboard, his thighs spread wide, letting you straddle him fully. his hands never stopped moving – gripping your waist or holding your nape, the other catching the bounce of your breast. his thumb grazes over your nipple, and sometimes, he'd lean in to suck it, groaning at the way your pussy clenched in response.

his hair was messy. he was so loud – groaning through his gritted teeth – that goddamn chrome necklace catching the low light as he tip back his head to moan.

you can't stop staring. you can't stop running your fingers through his hair, brushing the strands back, or cupping his jaw just to see his face better.

"ni-ki..." you whispered.

his eyes blinked open, resting his forehead against yours.

you were moving fast and steady, sinking down on his dick over and over again while your bodies stayed too close — noses brushing, stealing each other's air.

"you– you're so handsome," you breathed out, barely even realizing you said it.

"me?"

"yes," you whispered. "you."

he grinned and leaned forward after hearing that double down. ni-ki gave you a messy, open-mouthed kiss, your fingers threading through his hair again as your hips rocked in desperate circles.

you pulled back to suck on his jaw next, under his ear, then down to his neck — biting softly, marking him. you wanted to leave something there. something that would remind him how much you wanted to do this over and over again.

now, you're sitting in the center of your mattress, blinking stupidly slow as you try to process just how many times he made you cum. "g– god," you mumbled, "i think my spine broke."

ni-ki huffs a soft laugh, still catching his breath too, resting his head on his arm while his other hand would caress your stomach or squeeze your boobs. "you're fine... it's hurting because you are still talking too much."

"o– ow..."

ni-ki sat up and hugged you. placing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, and then to your temple. "fine, let's have it checked later. just lay down with me for now."

you nodded, laying down, pressing your back against his chest. you felt his smile against your skin, smug and fond. ni-ki palmed your breasts again... he can't stop touching you even if he wanted to.

"mm, you're such a baby," he murmurs against your hair, "what happened to the terrifying monster who's always mean and yells at me in meetings?"

"dead," you replied quietly, leaning against him. "she died."

ni-ki chuckled again after seeing you blush. he grinned before peppering kisses on your cheek again and he doesn't say it but he adores this messy, clingy, soft version of you.

the one only he ironically gets to see.

you sniffled, pressing your face to his neck. "ni-ki..."

"what?"

"i wanna see bisco."

"oh..."

"i– i wanna see your dog," you sniffled again, voice sleepy and soft. "even if he hates me…"

ni-ki smiled and whispered, "okay, baby." brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead, "i'll take you to see bisco as soon as he gets home."

later after a doctor's consultation, the dog-sitter also dropped off bisco. you're already in his apartment, in his shirt he basically forced you into wearing.

"wait–!" ni-ki reached out to get bisco but it ran towards to where you were. "bisco!" you gasped, eyes lighting up as you rushed toward the tiny white ball of fur that sprinted right away from you.

"bisco, come on! we brought you snacks!" you tried coaxing, crawling on your knees to look under the couch, but the little thing lunged out and bit your wrist – not hard but more of a warning chomp – "fuck– ow!"

ni-ki leaned against the wall, arms crossed and smiling like a proud dad watching the chaos unfold. "i told you he's dramatic."

you didn't care. you kept following bisco around the room, letting him bite, bark while you giggled and chased him with unearned affection... which ni-ki found strange because before, you probably would've fought with that small dog, until it fears you for rejecting you.

finally, bisco ran out of energy and jogged towards his bed, completely ignoring you like a diva.

you pouted and walked back to ni-ki, dragging your feet like you'd just been dumped. "why is it sweet to everyone but me, huh?" you mumbled, melting into his waiting arms.

ni-ki laughed and tugged you in, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "i don't think he hates you, y/n," he murmured, voice soft as his hand roamed slowly down your ass. "give it some time."

"or he knows you've been giving someone else all your attention." you added, rolling your eyes. "right? i knew it, he's jealous."

his lips found yours. "no," kiss. "he's not," kiss. "jealous," kiss. the kisses are so different from before. no clashing of teeth, no busting a lip open, or bruising... it feels like forgiving each other.

and usually, this groping and kissing would spiral into sex, but today, you both weren't even thinking about it. there's just the need to be close, not just to get off.

ni-ki was so distracted by you that he doesn't even know when did he stopped trying to win in everything.

he had plans too, you know? he thought about getting his lick back but whenever you come around, the noises in his head disappears, the urge to get even fades, and suddenly, there's nothing even left to fight for.

he pulls back just enough to see your face. you blinked up at him, tired and sleepy, your lips were still swollen from all the nonstop kissing.

but still, you're so goddamn kissable.

you gave ni-ki a kiss again when you saw him staring – once, twice – "i gotta go," you whispered eventually.

"this early?"

"yeah, i'm getting hungry."

"we can cook–"

"stop–"

"–y/n..." he interrupted, cutting you off. ni-ki opened his mouth then closed it before clearing his throat. "no. nothing. just…" he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. his eyes kept darting down to the floor like he couldn't believe he was about to say it. "just take care, okay?"

you tilted your head, "t–thanks…"

what the hell?

you're still mean and you still drive him insane, ni-ki took a deep breath – he swore he hates being this kind of guy but fuck it.

now or never.

"do you wanna have dinner with me?" he asked. he said it a little too fast, it's obvious that he was shy. "outside."

"huh?" you blinked. "you mean like–"

"yeah," he said, pressing his lips together, swallowing thickly. "like a–"

"...like a date."

ni-ki braces himself for the teasing and for your usual sharp reply. he knows you'll probably laugh in a few seconds but right now, you're just staring at him, eyes wide in surprise and that alone slightly gave him a little hope.

and he thinks, if this is how he loses, then fine.

let's let it be you.

a/n: my biggest opp 3k notes special! thank you so much for all the love and good comments. the first part came out on march 1 so it's been three months... there's so much (an understatement lmao) drafts for this and lots of scenes did not make it. as you can see, it's not so much focused on the smut and i honestly don't know if anyone will see this or if this part two this is good enough.

i teared up writing this T_T burning blue - mariah the scientist

tagging: @asaheyow @n4mh0pe @sunghoonsarmpit

[goldweaverr]

WELL FINE THEN SINCE THE MYDEI X READER TAG IS GONNA STAY THIS DRY, IM GONNA CONTRIBUTE TO IT MYSELF !!!!!! (No spoilers mentioned!! But MDNI there's nsfw)

I've seen possessive Mydei x reader, aggressive Mydei x reader, cocky Mydei x reader, etc, and while all of those are absolutely yummy and very much welcomed, consider the following flavor I'm offering; absolutely desperate Mydei.

Look. Based on everything we've seen of him so far, he definitely has not had opportunities for dating or romance or sex. He doesn't seem like the type to deem these things as silly, stupid, or hindrances that will block his path, but he likely believes they simply have no place in his life. His journey and destiny aren't ones that give him much room to go out, meet people, befriend them, grow to like them, court them, date them, sleep with them, marry them, and so on. That sounds like an entirely foreign concept to him. The furthest his social circle extends to is fellow Chrysos Heirs that the prophecy has placed alongside him as comrades, and the most miraculous extention it ever received was when the two outsiders came into Amphoreus. He certainly would never pursue a fellow Chrysos Heir romantically, as that's entirely unprofessional and could lead to jeopardizing their team dynamic which there is absolutely no room for! So he has resigned to the fact that he will simply be alone for the whole of his immortal life. And that's fine. Okay, maybe not ENTIRELY fine. He does feel like he'd fine the idea appealing, even if only for a flicker of a moment. But those thoughts are anchors that will weight him down. He's got way more important matters at hand. Okhema's safety, the prophecy, the people of his kingdom, Nikador, the outsiders who arrived from beyond the sky, hell even his fellow Chrysos Heirs such as Phainon or the Tribios. So those desires are ones that will be buried alongside many other hopes and wishes he had, but are no longer necessary. He will survive without love, he will be just fine without the touch of another, he will emerge victorious without the need of a congratulatory kiss, he doesn't need these things. They're privileges, not rights.

That is, until, he does meet someone. You.

Perhaps you're a fellow Chrysos Heir. Perhaps you're also one of the outsiders from beyond the sky. Perhaps you're a regular citizen in Okhema. Anything is possible. The occupation or role doesn't matter, what matters is that he finally meets someone who makes it feel like these things ARE necessary and he cannot possibly deny himself of them any longer.

He tries. He tries very hard. Tries avoiding you, tries scaring you off, tries not showing you much interest, tries to let you know without needing to use any words that he's no good for you. You don't know what you'd be getting into with him. But yet you persist. You're just too annoying. Sometimes you flirt, sometimes you tease, sometimes you worry, sometimes it's pure kindness. Whatever your intentions are for the day, they stress him.

Watching him train in the arena when it's entirely empty and then all he hears after destroying every training equipment around him is you clapping, the sound echoing across the empty seats where spectators would usually sit and down to his ears, that are beginning to turn suspiciously red. Coming down to praise him in person, telling him how absolutely attractive it was to watch the great Mydeimos unleash all that pent up rage. And he doesn't know what to do with the moment between the two of you. Running your index finger down his exposed, sweaty chest. Your nail scratching so, so slightly yet so deliciously over his searing hot skin making his breathing pick up the pace under your excruciatingly slow drag, until you reach his pants. You don't break eye contact with him, playful gaze challenging him with mirth. His expression can't be described in the same way. In fact it can hardly be described at all. A strange mixture of want, desire, anger, embarrassment, shyness, happiness, yearning. Whatever emotions you can imagine, you could probably locate somewhere on his face. But one thing remains. It's red. And he stands more stiff than any statue you've seen around the city. You remove your finger just as he was debating making a move forward and walk away, leaving him with way too many thoughts in his head that are making him angry. The anger he can't take out on training dummies. And that makes him even angrier. What a cycle.

He can't get you off of his mind.

Every meeting, you're throwing him glances to catch him staring. He's embarrassed, you smirk. Every time you run into him, there's some teasing remark already on your tongue, a gun ready to fire. He never has a response. Which sucks, because he should be used to this stuff with how much Phainon runs his mouth. But with you, it's different. With Phainon, they tease each other out of the love two friends share. With you, the feeling is entirely different. He can't treat you the same way he treats his friend, because he's not viewing you the same way he views his friend. And that's a scary thought. You've cemented yourself an entirely different category in his heart. Oh, how he hates it. But oh, how he wishes to explore more.

He doesn't think you make him weak. If anything, you make him stronger. It takes strength to face your feelings, it takes strength to tackle desires you've kept buried. Ones you claimed were unnecessary and unneeded. It takes strength to admit that he now has something else he wishes to protect. And he feels like if after a hard battle, he could unwind by laying his head against your chest and falling asleep to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he'll face his next opponent with so much more power than what his lonely heart usually carries. And he'll face his enemies with a desire to return unscathed, not to battle to the death he will never reach anyway. That takes strength. Strength if he claimed he didn't have in him, he'd be announcing himself weak. He's fought his entire life, matters of the heart isn't where he will surrender. Hell, the last straw may have been watching his terrifying and courageous and powerful lion companion curl into you and purr up a storm. That was just purely offensive. There goes what was left of the Kremnos honor.

But since he will inevitably claim his throne, his people will expect someone else to rule alongside him, wouldn't they? Would they not expect heirs? He cares too much about the honor of his family name to let it die with him. (Even though it literally can't)

So when your teasing gets the better of him again, and it ends with you against the wall, you expected anything out of him. Anger, rage, annoyance, utter domination, demands only a crown prince has the rights to give, anything. But not desperation. Not inexperience. Not a look in his eyes that's full of _*yearning*_ . He wants you so bad it makes him look stupid. People call Phainon a golden retriever boy too much, this one might take the crown actually (Haha)

He stares at your eyes, with a glimmer in his. He stares at your lips, yearning to feel them. It's his first kiss. He knows he'll be clumsy. He knows he'll be inexperienced. He knows it might be embarrassing. But he wants it more than anything right now. His chest heaving slightly, picking up gradually. His hot breath on your face, from his nose and his parted lips. His gaze more intense than the lance of fury's flames. A bead of sweat down his forehead. You lean in closer, encouraging him. Your jaw is grabbed suddenly with cold and sharp armor as lips immediately crash onto yours. A mess of teeth and aggressive kissing and spit and a tongue that doesn't know what it's supposed to be doing and lip bites that may not have been well calculated in terms of pain. This first kiss was a mess, but how passionate it was. How much desire was poured into it. He's not entirely clueless. He's read books, stories. He's heard stories. He knows how it's supposed to go. Not how good it was supposed to feel. You don't want to part away, even as you try to slowly guide him into a less frantic rhythm. Gently leading the way, enough to not scare him off by taking the lead above him. You let him be in control. You know he feels far too vulnerable in the current moment. His body may be reacting off of desire, but his heart is weak and afraid. This moment, despite it's violence, is fragile.

Kissing, and kissing, and so much kissing later, kissing that eventually finds it's rhythm. Kissing that eventually flows like a river. Kissing that ignites a flame of ... Happiness in his heart where fear was beginning to eat away at it. His hand no longer on your jaw, now buried in your hair, holding the back of your head to keep your lips on his. The other arm wrapped around your waist holding your body flush against him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, happy to let his strength carry you as you feel more and more limp. He never knew kissing could be so fun. So romantic. So nice . He could get used to this.

A hand trails lower. His, or yours? It doesn't matter. Clothes are off rather quickly. He's desperate. So desperate.

He prepares you thoroughly. His fingers stretching you to the point of overstimulation. It was not his intention, they've simply been inside you so long that they've gotten to that point. He swears he's only getting you ready properly so you don't get hurt taking his size. He doesn't even say it in any cocky tone, his intention isn't to brag, he's just being honest. He's big, you're not. You'll get hurt. He doesn't want to hurt you. Ever. He loves you. He probably isn't even fully aware how much he's pushing you to the edge, but he does see you grow more and more desperate. Your nails digging into his biceps, and it excites him even more. Burying your head into the space between his neck and shoulders, whining out his name weakly, begging to put it in you already, and it drives him crazy. He's heard his name said in so many different ways. A roar that announces the start of a battle. A cry for help. The pride of his people. The teasing of his friend. The disdain of those who loathe him. The begging for mercy. The casual conversation starter. The acknowledgement of authority. So many different sounds they no longer mean anything to him. But this? This is new. And he likes it. He likes it so much. No tone spoken of his name causes him reaction anymore, but this one lit him on fire. He wants to hear more of it. He wants to hear it all night long.

He doesn't wear much to begin with. But he never feels exposed or vulnerable. His armor is a separator between himself and danger. Shedding off that armor with another person to allow himself into such a weak position felt terrifying, but currently, sinking deep into your warmth, it's never felt safer. A cry of his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, he doesn't even recall people calling Kephale's name with this much worship. And he melts. Figures he could do this forever. How did he ever go on without this?

His rhythm is sloppy, he's not even entirely sure how to set one. He's operating off of something primal right now, all he can do is fuck in and out of the heat that's swallowing him whole. He couldn't stop if he tried, body moving on its own. He stares in awe at where you two connect, watching the repetitive motion with no sign of getting used to it anytime soon. He doesn't even realize — or maybe doesn't even care — about the noises coming out of him. Why should he bother holding back his pleasure? He's never felt anything like this, and it's so thrilling, so exciting, so full of pleasure, that he doesn't care about his image or his behavior at the moment. He gasps, and pants, and breathes heavily, and grunts, and groans, completely overtaken with lust. And that's the dance you two shared throughout the duration of the entire night. Although the sun never stops shining in Okhema.

Mydei is a fast learner, and eventually establishes a rhythm for how he does things. From kissing romantically, to fucking into you relentlessly. But it certainly doesn't come easy, not without many, many more demonstrations first <3

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment. 

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back. 

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

[turanarin]

Meeting with Constantine

Danny still felt terribly exhausted, even after the sessions with Sam, the walk with Ellie, and the heartfelt conversations with Jazz. The thought was spinning in his head that he should check on the others personally out of his Fright, and not just call. And if Tucker and Val still looked normal, then Wes, who got huge piles of documents from all the Infinite Realms, looked naturally dead.

However, standing in front of the Wayne Manor, his thoughts returned to why he had run away.

He absolutely did not want to remain in a vulnerable state with those whom he did not trust with his life. Or death. There was especially little trust in billionaires with creepy basements, alter egos, and adoption problems.

And if he understood anything about Bruce Wayne, he was too good at hitting all the points.

"Danny."

Uncle Alfred stood in the open doorway in front of him. And to Danny's surprise, under the man's attentive gaze, he didn't want to squirm, trying to hide. There was something strangely otherworldly about his uncle, but only the Ancients knew what was wrong with him.

"How about we go to the manor?"

"Of course."

Taking a step inside, out of habit, Danny relaxed his shoulders, straightened his posture, and took smooth steps. How amazing that etiquette at court was needed in the Life Sphere. The body followed established habits — not to appear intimidating, but to carry itself with the dignity of a Prince. And if uncle noticed something, he didn't talk about it.

"Let's go to the living room," Alfred led him down the hallways.

Danny nodded and followed him. On the walls were familiar paintings of the Wayne family's ancestors, distant relatives, and the current family.

"…will everything be okay?" it was heard from behind the doors, which Alfred no doubt quickly opened.

Inside, Danny noticed half of the Wayne children. Tim was sitting on the couch, typing on his phone, Damian was petting Titus, and Jason was reading a book. Behind them, Dick was leaning against the back of the furniture, ruffling the youngest's hair.

Turning his head back to the hallway, he noticed Cas and Duke walking. She made a sign to him, saying hello, and he nodded, and they entered the room, sitting down on an empty seat on the couch or just plopping down on the fluffy carpet.

"Hi, Danny!" Dick said, taking a couple of steps towards him and holding out his hand.

All eyes were already on him. Too obvious in their exploration. Danny didn't flinch, returned an embarrassed smile and shook hands.

"Hi, Dick."

He followed him inside the living room and sat on an empty chair opposite the entrance. Alfred was no longer there. His disappearance without a trace would have given any ghost a head start.

"How are you feeling?" Dick continued while the others, especially Tim and Jason, sat quietly. "We were worried about…"

"I'm all right."

Danny wasn't in the mood to think about his condition again when he still felt like shit. And he had no idea how ordinary people, weak dead souls, could resist this. How the Prince of Gotham is still sane. The guy will have to go through hundreds of hours of therapy to recover a little.

"It's worth checking again."

Bruce entered the living room with his usual stuffy face. Danny wanted to roll his eyes at his words. It wasn't worth telling the Ghost Prince that.

However, he was interrupted by a feeling of tight compression. Red rings appeared all around him, as if to hold him back. Now Danny noticed that another man had entered the room.

Is it a man with that smell?

There was a damn Frankenstein standing in the doorway, the sight of which made you want to puke. Danny's impassive face, carved by hundreds of meetings, still trembled. If he remembered correctly, he was…

"Bruce!" Dick shouted, noticing the red bonds. His gaze conveyed supreme condemnation.

"B, what the hell…" Jason also blurted out, he was already ready to hit him, or maybe shoot him, seeing how his hand was clenching under the side of his jeans.

"Bruce, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?" the man took a bottle out of his coat pocket and took a couple of sips under the disapproving gaze of the adults. Now Danny noticed that Alfred had returned, pushing a cart with tea and snacks. His presence stopped all the children, forcing them to sit back down.

Bruce sat down in a chair near the entrance, expertly ignoring the stares of the children and the butler.

"Mr. Constantine, I would ask you to remove whatever it is on my nephew," his uncle got a similar look of condemnation, but more intense and sharp, because the man in the coat shivered. "Master Bruce, I think we've agreed on a casual conversation. - he said with emphasis on the last words.

There was a snort from the couch.

"I knew there was something wrong with this old man…" it was said in a shocked whisper before the man in the coat cleared his throat and glanced at Danny. "I do not know what it is, but if it is connected with Infinite Realms, then…"

Click.

Frankenstein's elongated face is the funniest thing about this evening so far. With a click, the red rings evaporated, and Danny accepted a cup of tea from his uncle with a nod of thanks. There was already a plate of sandwich in front of him.

He might be a creature of Infinite Realms, but he's a half a ghost, not a demon. And his thoughts returned to the man in the coat. It's too obvious a soul form to confuse with someone else. Which made his presence still inexplicable.

"So he is…" Danny was embarrassingly trying to ask about the man in the coat. He didn't want to mess with someone from the Hell's side.

"This is John Constantine," Bruce finally began to introduce his new guest. "An Expert of infinite Realms."

In the silence of his mind, Danny stared blankly at Bruce, taking in the words. And the man in the coat even changed in aura, as if trying to match… the given title? Was it a joke?

"Are you seriously ordering a Soul Prostitute from Hell and calling him an Expert of infinite Realms?" Saying that out loud made Danny feel insulted. Human stupidity knew no bounds. "Rent a room and arrange an evening of role-playing games there."

The silence of the room exploded with laughter.

[endofthelinegang]

void where prohibited

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  bob reynolds x fem!reader, the void x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ dating Bob Reynolds was never supposed to be this complicated — or this good. Between inside jokes, forehead kisses, and late-night takeout picnics in your apartment, life with the quiet, awkward man is weirdly perfect. That is, until a cosmic horror wearing his face appears in your living room, monologues about your “foolish warmth,” and threatens to consume you. Turns out, dating a man who moonlights as The Void comes with some very weird side effects.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ i have too much fun on this app. 

You weren’t entirely sure you were supposed to fall for him. He was weird, you were also a little strange, but was very backward. In that endearingly awkward,“sometimes I stare at the moon for an hour without blinking while I listen to you talk” type of weird.  A little too tall for your furniture, a little too quiet when something was heavy on his mind, which — spoiler alert — was all the time.

But then there’d be nights like this. When he showed up at your door with a bag of takeout in one hand and a stack of your favorite candy in the other, grinning like he’d just committed a small crime.

“You said you had a bad day,” he shrugged, like that explained the outrageous number of peanut butter cups.

And it did.

That’s the kind of boyfriend he was.

Not flowers or poetry, well sometimes, but normally it was forehead kisses, Netflix documentaries, stupid shit sent back and forth more than texts, and a log of phone calls that lasted anywhere from two minutes of him telling you he was coming over to hours where he just wanted to talk. Most of what the two of you did was just between the two of you, especially your jokes, like how you called him “Moon Man” when he spaced out too hard, or how he teased you about your inability to pronounce “gyro” no matter how many times he corrected you. It was good. Weird, but good.

And neither of you talked much about what he did when he wasn’t here. There was no reason to pry; he was always safe and always came back in one clean and uninjured piece. That was all that mattered to you. 

You liked it that way, you liked tonight. 

It started perfectly. You and Bob. Chinese takeout. Netflix is playing something aggressively bad but ironically good after mutually choosing just to let Netflix pick. He was half-asleep against your shoulder, his hair sticking up in a hundred directions like he’d wrestled with a pillow and lost. He was just as cuddly as he always was. 

Then the headache hit him. He mumbled something about pressure and the room spinning. You promised him that going to bed was an excellent idea and that you would clean up. He kissed your temple and trudged to the bedroom like a man with rocks in his head. You figured: nap. Maybe ibuprofen. No big deal.

You stayed behind, cleaning up the living room picnic, humming along to a Hozier song that was finally getting to the bridge and swiping dumpling containers into a bag, grabbing rogue fortune cookies off the floor.  And then… the air changed. Not colder. Heavier. Like the walls sucked in as the light itself pulled away. It felt like how people describe feeling a presence, a ghost. To be suddenly nervous and feel sick, and not be able to think or focus on what was going on or what you were doing. And then the voice.

“You… are not one of them.” You froze and stopped singing. Slowly turned. And there, standing in the middle of your goddamn living room, was The Void. Not Bob. Bob-shaped, sure. Same height. Same broad shoulders. But everything else was gone. No color, no texture — a moving silhouette, blacker than black with those unholy glowing eyes staring straight into you.

You screamed. Loud, primal, half-choked. And grabbed a half-empty bottle of wine off the table. You threw it. It passed through him like mist. Like he wasn’t there at all.

“WHAT THE HELL,” you gasped jumping up onto the couch, grabbing a couch pillow and hurling it at the thing. It passed straight through him like mist. 

“You do not belong here,” The Void said, tilting his head like some cosmic crow considering roadkill.

“YOU DON’T BELONG HERE, SHADOW MAN. I LIVE HERE. YOU DON’T.” You ran around on the couch and tripped over the armrest before landing back on the floor. He didn’t move his lower body, just his head, as he observed your behavior. 

“This space is… vulnerable. Fragile. Why… does he keep you?” He was rubbing his hands along the furniture that was nearest him. 

You grabbed a candle, a nice cinnamon vanilla in a glass container next to the small table that sat right in front of the couch,  “BECAUSE I’M CHARMING AND I KNOW HOW TO MAKE MOZZARELLA STICKS IN THE AIR FRYER.” You were yelling at him like you had never yelled at anyone before. As a child, you were warned about strangers and possible break-ins, but by humans, not this. 

The Void glided a step closer to where you were scrambling up off the floor, chucking the candle at him, again went right threw him into the wall behind him, making a hole and shattering the glass.  

“You… are soft. Loud. Reckless. And yet…”  You were crawling backward at this point, not being able to keep your balance, and now, if you ran past him successfully, there was a glass hazard. He seemed to almost be sucking the light from the room the closer he was getting. 

“AND YET NOTHING, BITCH. BACK. IT. UP.” You swung your arms at him until you hit a wall that kept the living room and the kitchen separate. You were breathing so hard you felt like you had gone on a real run, and somehow you were not shaking, but you were feeling hot. Not a good type of hot, more like you are going to throw up. No point if you puked on him, it would go through onto your floor and you would have to clean it. 

He ignored you, “He feels… safer with you.”

You stared, no longer capable of blinking or doing any real bodily function, before puffing out words quickly. “DID YOU JUST… wait, what… did you just call me Bob’s emotional support person?”

Another step, you look to your left and your right. Nothing to defend yourself with, not even a shoe. Bob had so politely taken his off at the door, and yours were slung everywhere else. 

“You carry light. Hope. A foolish warmth.” The Void’s voice lowered, like static stretching inside your skull. “It is… unsettling.”

“Good, I hope YOU get a migraine.” You started using your hands to feel the back of the wall to get yourself standing again. Your legs felt like water slipping and sliding everywhere, and the paint on the wall felt bumpy against your fingertips.

The Void leaned in, his hand grazing your wrist and taking your hand off the wall. He was suddenly solid but cold likeconcrete covered in a thick ice, what you would only imagine being buried at the bottom of the ocean felt like. His skin didn’t even feel like skin, it felt almost like a statue. 

“Oh god gross,” you yelped, closing your eyes and hitting the wall with your other hand. You gagged a bit thinking about how somehow his hands were solid matter but not the middle of him. 

“You are… interesting.” His fingers coasted up into your palm, feeling all of the ridges before he moved onto your fingers; they felt so pleasant against his. 

You gawked. “Who says that to a stranger? I don’t know if this is considered a home invasion, but it sure seems like one.” He let go of your hand but took another step forward. He smelled of nothing, and his lack of body heat did not even come off of him. He was nothing. 

“He loves you.” You froze and now fully faced him, it was hard to tell if he or it was lying, but then again, why would he? 

“…Okay. Now you’re just making shit up.” You tried calling his bluff as he looked down at you with his arms now behind his back, his head was tipped again. 

“It is not my place to lie.” You took steps to the left and got away from your proximity, or at least you thought, but he followed you. 

“That’s convenient, because it’s MY place to freak the hell out, so—” you pointed dramatically at the hallway. “GET. OUT.” You ran into the kitchen, barely avoiding the wall, and he ran right behind you, just much more gracefully. He watched as you started moving things around as if to mimic busy work.  

“I would consume you if I could.” He was standing right next to you now, both of you in front of the sink that was empty of all dishes thanks to the takeout. 

“WHAT THE HELL?” You pulled the hose from the sink and sprayed in his direction just to see it land right past him onto the bar. This is what giving up must feel like. You fixed it back like you had not just done that embarrassing thing.  The Void sighed. A soft, cosmic kind of sigh,

“You fear me.”

“Oh? What gives you that impression?” You leaned your back against the sink blinking quickly at him hoping that pretending to not be so scared would get you anywhere but here. 

He regarded you in silence, those terrible eyes narrowing slightly, “That… is wise.”

Then, without a sound, the suffocating black peeled away not before blinding you, and the pressure lifted like a switch being thrown. You opened your eyes taking in a huge deep breath, and standing there, rubbing his face, hair a mess, looking painfully human and confused, was Bob.

“Babe?” he croaked, bleary-eyed. “Why is this wet?” He had stumbled back and put his hand on the bar where there had been water sprayed there by you. 

You blinked and then blinked again. Then you resorted to rubbing your eyes, and when Bob didn’t react other than just looking at you like you were worrying him you stepped forward. You touched his face and his hair and just whispered, 

“Warm.”

Bob nodded, “Yeah that uh big comforter you got from the department store that opened a few weeks ago is warm. I mean. It keeps you warm.” He smiled and furrowed his eyebrows as you continued to run your hands pretty much everywhere with exposed skin. 

“Did I ever come to bed?” You genuinely were no longer sure what had happened or what was real and what wasn’t. A nightmare maybe? One that was real but not real. You were now having what can only be described as shakes. 

Bob held onto your arms and let you keep your hands on him, “What did you say? I didn’t understand that.” You had spoken so quietly and so shaken that it didn’t even sound like words. 

“My pupils are the same.” Stroke you thought, maybe it was your brain's fault. He shook his head yes as he leaned downreally looking just to be sure. 

“Okay… so, pancakes in the morning?” You coughed out quickly choosing to not share your delusions with Bob and just slip into bed with him and spend the night together. Just finish the good night you had been having and pretend none of this happened. 

“Yeah sure, we can tag team breakfast if you want.” You just smiled and nodded before walking and switching sides with him so he wouldn’t see the huge mess the living room was in all the while you had three thoughts: 

I am going to have to fake a break-in or clean tomorrow morning and schedule a psychiatric appointment…

[mv1simp]

max taking advantage of innocent!best friend!reader … like a dynamic where he spoils her a lot and has made him look her think that all his strange behaviors/touches are normal

I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA FOR AGES THANK U FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT 🙏🙏🙏

Friends ♥️

Max Verstappen x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

And what the hell were we, tell me we weren’t just friends, this doesn’t make much sense, no

Max has been your closest friend since childhood, promising to always look after you. Sure, everyone gossips that you two are secretly dating, that it’s not normal for friends to be so close, so touchy - but Max blows it all off. So when you ask him for help when you want to get a boyfriend for the first time, it shouldn’t be a problem because Max doesn’t like you like that…right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin! Reader, manipulative dark best friend! Max, dubcon, size kink, dom/sub, somnophilia, recording, this is DARK 🥸 3.3k WC

You and Max had grown up close together, your families being good friends as your fathers had raced together back in the day. He had been shy and awkward when you met, age 5 and 6, but as soon as he had stepped in front of you in defence when you had been bullied in school the next day, you vowed to always be loyal to him. Your families approved the friendship, laughing and taking pictures when you two would play house - Max always being the husband doll to your wife doll, of course. You two did everything together - school, holidays, racing where you always came to support him bearing snacks and words of encouragement. So when he asked you at age 18 to move with him to Monaco you didn’t even hesitate to say yes - not imagining a life without your Maxie by your side.

Your move raised a few eyebrows from your family, who had been suprised that you hadn’t outgrown what they had thought was an innocent childhood crush. Your older sister had been especially worried at the thought of you alone in a new city with only Max there to support you. She noticed, sometimes, when he thought no one was watching - how his eyes would be watching you, in a way eerily similar to how a wolf watched a lamb he was about to devour whole. Althought it had taken a lot of pleading from your end to win her over, it had been easy enough to convince your parents to let you go, explaining you were enrolling in Monaco University - being bankrolled by Max’s new generous F1 salary - and yes, promised that you were staying in your own separate apartment. And that had been the plan, but when you stood in the entrance to Max’s penthouse a few weeks later, dripping head to toe with sprinkler water because somehow your up to code apartment had a fire when you had been out, he had insisted you stay at his until you found a new place - just for a short while. A short while then turned into a long while which then turned into the lockdown and at the end of it all Max had said you just couldn’t leave, he was too used to having you there that coming home to an empty apartment would be too hard. And although you had worried, saying that as you both got older it might be strange that you now lived together and people would talk, Max shot down all your concerns, reassuring you with a warm hug and sweet kiss to your forehead that the only opinion that mattered was yours, and as long as you’re happy Schat, I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. You had blushed from the affection and that was the end of that discussion.

You’d always been quite sheltered, naive even - and going to a strict private school meant you hadn’t had any romantic or sexual experience whatsoever. Growing up, it was clear to the adults around you that you had always held a crush on Max, and althought the older boy would always look out for you, he didn’t reciprocate to the same way - at least that’s what they thought. They hadn’t noticed that when you two had been gently separated one night when it had been deemed you were too old to sleep in the same bed anymore, Max had crept back and grabbed your hand as he lay next to you, mumbling he couldn’t sleep without you, liefje. No one noticed that this habit continued well into your teens, when Max would climb in through your bedroom window - initially making you freak out but soon reassured by Max’s words that your parents were just too strict, you were just two best friends wanting to spend time together.

And the first time you woke up one morning to feel something thick and hard pressing into you from the back, scaring you a bit, Max had gently rubbed your shoulder from the back while telling you it was okay, it’s just something that happens sometimes when a guy sleeps next to a pretty girl, you had blushed and accepted the compliment. And no one knew that behind closed doors your chaste goodbye kisses to Max’s cheek began turning into loving kisses on the lips when he had tilted your head up, saying he was going to miss you so much when he went on his first F1 race and he deserves a goodbye kiss for good luck from you, didn’t he?

And of course you would always give Max whatever he asked for since he was your best friend, your protector, the person you loved the most in the world. He’d pay for you, drive you everywhere, cheer you up when you were down, make you laugh, patiently take you shopping and rate every outfit you tried on, fight anyone who dared to give you a hard time - and the rest of the paddock had definitely noticed the lingering attentions of the Redbull driver to his childhood friend. Daniel and Lando constantly gave him shit for it, saying he needed to grow a pair and just confess instead of making puppy eyes at his “best friend”. Max always just rolled his eyes at their gossiping ways.

But it was hard to deny their claims when Max would pull you in to sit on his lap at a games night making everyone smirk at you, or when you would emerge from his hotel room the next morning since you two still shared a bed everytime you went away - it’s just like a sleepover when we were little, scatje, nothing wrong with it - or when at fancy award ceremonies or galas Max would be photographed in his tux, a vogue model at his side as his latest girlfriend - and you on his other side, wearing a luxury dress he’d brought for you. The paparazzi would eat up the dirty looks Max’s flings would always be shooting you, knowing they always came second to his best friend.

The thing was, even when sometimes doubt would flicker in your mind that things were too intimate, too romantic, between you and Maxie - you couldn’t bring yourself to want to draw back. You’d always secretly had such a crush on the older boy growing up, but since he had never directly reciprocated and was now a big world champion with women around every corner in Monaco after him, you’d learnt to accept your feelings were unrequited and you needed to stop reading so much into Max’s pure intentions to look after you. After all, that’s what best friends did, right?

And oh, did Max look after you. It seemed every week he’d level up more and more. Matching jewellery and heels to go with the designer dresses, and lately you had come home to find matching lingerie in Max’s favourite colour, dark blue. You had blushed furiously, feeling an indescribable icky pit in your stomach and remembering your sister’s warnings - Max goes too far, he pushes the boundaries of a normal friendship - but Max put all your worries to ease over the homecooked dinner you made him that night, explaining that the latest dress just happened to come with matching accessories and he wanted to make sure that you felt beautiful in all the layers you wore and it was normal to give your best friends gift, no? But he could return it if you’d prefer… prompting you to hastily accept his intimate gift, reassuring him that it was so thoughtful and you were so grateful. He’d looked so pleased with your response that when he ordered more and more sets, each one getting just a touch more lacier and risqué, you just thanked him for each one. And when he asked you how you found your gift, could he have a look at it, please schatje, I always help you pick your prettiest outfits right? You had nodded in agreement, blushing but shyly pulling his hoodie off your torso to expose the outrageously expensive La Perla black lace set you wore, accentuating your plump ass and pushing your tits up for him to hungrily look at. Max’s gaze had lingered there for a long time, his gaze turning dark and you had felt that same uncomfortable pit begin to settle in your stomach again when he saw the look on your face and patted your soft, chubby waist in reassurance, saying don’t be embarrased, schat, we always grew up seeing each other like this, right? Remember that photo of us swimming in that pool in Ibiza? Completely naked? Besides, you’ve seen me shirtless so many times, this is the same as that. That was true, you accepted dreamily, and not thinking anything of it when Max started asking you to send photos of you modelling the cute sets he’d get delivered to you when he was away. You happily snapped away mirror selfies, in all the different angles he wanted to see you from, even strange ones you weren’t quite sure about like bend over and stick your hips right up in the air, hmm schat?

He’d kiss you goodbye now all the time, saying you were his cute little good luck charm, with the expectation that you’d open your lips wide for him, letting him shove his tongue into your mouth and explore it to his hearts content. Gotta have a better kiss to get better luck. It felt so nice and made you feel all tingly between your legs so you would never turn it down. And since Max was away more and more with his racing schedule, often he would come home and fall asleep straight in your bed, saying he had missed being away from you so much. You had thought it was so sweet, no one else but you got to see Maxie like that, you were the only one he depended on. So you easily wrapped yourself up in his embrace, just like when you two had been little - except this time Max would say you’re so tense, schat, let me help you relax a bit, my physio knows this great muscle relaxation technique-

And it felt soo nice when he rubbed your sensitive little body up and down, you had no complaints, not even when some nights he would travel much, much lower down your plush little tummy than he had before. You just obediently parted your legs for him when he commanded in his deep voice, running his thick finger up your slit through your wet lace panties. And sometimes you’d wake up to feel that very familiar hardness of his behind you, soo warm now as he took himself out of his sweatpants and let his cock rest against you. Feels all tense, sweetheart, cause you kept rubbing against it last night and I didn’t get any sleep he would sigh.

You’d feel terrible, apologising profusely for interrupting his precious sleep when he trained so much, asking how you could make it up to him when Max had said just gonna let it relax out onto you, yeah? Don’t worry, you can even go back to bed, baby. You’d nodded sleepily, so grateful that Maxie was so sweet he always put your sleep first, even when his had been deprived.

He’d waited before you were comfortably nuzzled back against him, breaths turning deeper as sleep overtook you before slowly lifting your damp panties out of the way, and sliding his leaking tip just along the entrance to your innocent hole, making you moan, half asleep cause it felt soo good, and you felt so guilty that you felt so much pleasure while Max had just become frustrated overnight. With your eyes screwed shut you’d never notice the dark lustful look in his eyes, the evil smirk on his face as he had his way with you, letting him getting away with practically murder if it was for the sake of your friendship. You let him continue gliding his cock along your puffy folds, his tip repeatedly stimulating your sensitive clit, his large hands coming up to fondle at your boobs that has somehow slipped out of your camisole and gently flick your nipples before he tensed, holding you tightly against him as his breaths quickened. You has felt something warm and wet leaking out from the sides of your panties. You looked down, dazed, but Max shushed you back asleep, lulling you into his arms again. And when you woke up next you always had a clean pair of fresh panties on, camisole tucked back down over your thick hips, Max no where in sight.

As you grew up, your sexual curiosity eventually began to peak. When all of your friends in uni had gotten boyfriends and giggled to you about how good sex felt, you had gotten curious too. of course, you would never bring it up with Max even though you two talked about everything - because you should only be talking about sex with your future boyfriend, right? But one day when you had come home early from class you had heard lewd noises coming from Max’s bedroom. So lewd that you had been unable to stop yourself from peeking through a slight gap. The sight of Max thrusting himself into his latest girlfriend, her face pushed down into the mattress as he drilled into her from the back made you blush furiously. You’d stood there for a little while, your panties getting damp at the sight of sweat dripping down Max’s abs before you had caught yourself and scurried away, so guilty about violating Max’s privacy like that. You were such a creep, what was wrong with you?!

But that afternoon had also made you realize Maxie had so much more experience than you as you hadn’t been sure what a lot of the movement and positions you had seen that day were. And Max had said you could always ask him for help with anything, right? You couldn’t quite build up the courage to ask him - until your classmate asked you out one day, making you giddy with excitement but come crushing down when he had later found out on the date that you were a virgin, and had said maybe it was best for you to be with someone who was more on your level, that he didn’t feel comfortable being with someone so inexperienced for a casual fling. You’d come home sobbing, running straight into Max’s arms in your cute little dress and strappy heels, crying Maxie, he was so mean, you’d never believe what he said-

Max had been furious when you told him the story. He was so, so angry - not only at your classmate, but at you, for going on this date and not telling him, the way you would always tell Max about everything you did in your day. How could you be so careless, so slutty to go out with a guy like that? Max demanded, making your eyes widen and cry harder. It’s those new girlfriends of yours, aren’t they, they’re such fucking whores.

You’d never seen him so angry before, not even when he had a DNF at a race weekend. He’d only seems to calm down when you had looked up at him with innocent eyes, pleading Maxie, please, will you teach me how to be a good girlfriend, I don’t want to be so inexperienced anymore.

He’d sighed and run his hands through your hair, wiping away the tears that had made mascara drip down your cheeks. Of course, schat. I’ll show you exactly how to be a good little girlfriend. But promise me that you won’t talk to another guy without my permission first, okay? I have to protect you and make sure that you’re trained enough to have a boyfriend.

It was so, so sweet of Max to take time out of his busy schedule to help your embarrassing problem, you thought dreamily. You never noticed that your classmate never turned up to class again, but did have to go to hospital that week for a new black eye and bruised ribs.

Meanwhile, Max first started your “lessons” by showing you how to pump him from soft to a raging erection, guiding your hands into his sweatpants and moving your hands up and down, after you spit cutely into your palms to ease the glide. You didn’t notice the smirk on his face as he watched your struggle to jack off his entire sizeable length with your tiny palms.

Then he’d shown you how to use your mouth to make him feel good. You’d sat on your ass for hours in between his legs as he absentmindedly played his game, drawing kitten licks up his shaft before he’d taken over and told you to relax that tight throat of yours, baby, as he shoved his cock inside your mouth. He’d jackhammered away happily without any regard for the tears that emerged from your eyes. You had coughed, spluttered, throat raw for days as Max made you practise on the daily, tutting at you in mock disappointment when your gag reflux got in the way and you stopped halfway down his length. He’d pulled you up to sit on his lap, his hard cock wedged in between your plush thighs, as he put a dirty video onto the TV - petite ebony deepthroats massive white cock like a pro.

You had blushed and stuttered at the obscene video, looking away at one point but Max had forced your head back to look at the scene, saying don’t miss this bit, schat, look how she doesn’t forget about his balls, yeah?

You’d watched video after dirty video until you had perfected your blowjob technique exactly to Max’s likings. You look up obediently at him as he points his phone at you, flash on and all, recording your performance for reference, of course scatje, we need to track your progress, right? as you sloppily took his hard cock into your eager mouth, all the way to the base, gag reflux well and truly trained out of you from his daily discipline.

You’d woken up the next morning to find Max’s blonde curls between your legs, his tongue sweetly licking at your most innocent parts and you had squealed in shock, Maxie what are you doing ohmygod- but he quickly thrust his fingers into your drooling mouth to shut you up, just progressing to the next level, sweetheart, you need to learn to cum whenever I ask you too.

You’d squeaked and whined as his tongue didn’t stop flicking your clit, his fingers now joining in abusing your poor little virgin cunny until you begged him to pull away, Maxie please I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee- Ahhh!!! You’d ended up squirting all over his fingers and tongue, immediately passing out from exhaustion at the sheer intensity and missing the dark, pleased grin on Max’s face as he licked up your juices from his fingers. God, it was almost too easy to brainwash you into his perfect little pet. Soon he’d having you asking him to claim your virginity, he just knew it. And he would not hesitate, taking what had always belonged him anyways. He’d have made you his housewife a long time ago if your goddamn sister hadn’t kept cockblocking him.

Never mind that. Even she wouldn’t be able to withhold her blessing when you’d turn up at the next family gathering, glowing and expecting his child, he thought darkly. Smirking to himself, Max unbuttoned his pants, freeing his hard cock. In fact, why wait to feed you some bullshit excuse about how no baby, virgins can’t get pregnant the first time or no, I can’t use a condom, schat, it’s bad for you to have something unnatural inside you.

He might as well start now and give you a thick creampie as your present to wake up to later ♥️ After all, you’d take it like the good girl you always were for him.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Chile anywaysssss don’t mind me and my depraved thoughts. Gotta go drink some holy water fr. Lmk what you guys thought! Feel free to request more x

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. Now dealing with the aftermath makes you question everything.

A/N: Hi friends! Thanks so much for your patience. We lost my mother-in-law last month and it's been a difficult time. But, I've got part two up and have got a good head start on parts 3 and 4. Hopefully updates won't be so far in between. As always, I have to say a special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby who is also my hype princess and most darling friend. I hope you enjoy!

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

In the two days since you returned to the compound, you had rarely left your room. Your body was incredibly sore the first day but it had started to lessen. You were glad the medbay kept a supply of morning after pills. Dr. Miles, your most trusted doctor, had examined you after the fact and said that you should be fully healed in a few days. The examination was a necessary requirement but it had felt like yet another invasion. 

Your emotions were a mess and the doctor had suggested a visit with a counselor to help you work through them. Now, you were starting to wonder if she had been right. Compartmentalizing wasn’t working, you had strange dreams, and your mood was all over the place. You had avoided everyone while you were off-duty to heal. The thought of facing any of them,  especially Bucky, made you sick. By now, you were sure they all knew what happened. Bucky had probably gloated that he had-

You couldn’t even finish the thought and shake it away. When you filled out the mission report, you had simply stated that there was an exposure to an unknown substance that had caused a short-lived fever. Quarantine and a battery of tests had cleared you to return home to the compound. The only person who knew what happened was Dr. Miles and Bucky, of course. Your gut clenched whenever you thought of him, which was often now. Hell, it had always been often. You had been enthralled by his story and excited to join the team. Unfortunately, he had proven to be nothing like you imagined. He seemed to hate you from the moment you were introduced. His comradery with your other teammates was fun and friendly, but with you, he was always scowling and defensive. You had given up after a few attempts at striking up a conversation. He had shut you down and moved away every time. 

And now, you’re a notch on his belt. Not that either of you had chosen it. It was just horrible luck- or was it? Had he purposely led you to that lab? Had he known what was there? What would happen? No, you stop yourself from spiraling. Even if he was a jackass, he wasn’t that kind of person. He had been just as surprised and affected. The thought of how affected he had been made you clench. You hated him but, fuck, that had been the most amazing sex of your life. You wondered if it was the drug or that thick-

Stop it! You hate him! You yell at yourself in your head. You felt concurrently turned on, ashamed, and angry. It was frustrating and eating at you. 

Thinking of eating, your stomach rumbles. It was late and you thought it would be safe to make a quick trip to the kitchen. You had exhausted the supply of snacks in your room and needed some real food. Peeking into the hall, you find it empty and quietly make your way to the kitchen. You make yourself a plate and raid the pantry for more snacks. As you were tip-toeing back to your room you saw Bucky coming out of his room at the other end of the hallway. He froze when he noticed you and watched as you made a mad dash for your room. Inside, you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. Tears streamed down your face for some reason you couldn’t pinpoint. You set everything on your desk and crumpled into a ball on the floor. You rocked as you tried to calm yourself while also berating yourself for your weakness. It was just sex. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like you wanted it or even asked for it. It was just a mutually agreed upon need. 

All your rationalizations did nothing to stop the surge of emotions taking over. So, you decided that maybe Doc was right. You needed to talk to someone. Someone to help you sort out your own feelings. You just hoped that you could feel normal again because, right now, you are not yourself.

–

Bucky stared at the space you had occupied a minute ago. He hadn’t seen you since you’d returned from the mission. You hadn’t been able to look at him in the small amount of time you were together during exfil. You’d both been put through quarantine and testing. He had no long lasting effects from the exposure but he knew you had to be bruised and sore from the experience. He felt immensely guilty about that but he could no more have stopped what was happening than you could. Sometimes he wondered if he could have even if it wasn’t for the pollen, it was the best thing he’d felt in seventy years. You were so soft, wet, and perfectly tight. 

Berating himself as he felt his body react to the memories, he reminded himself that you hate him. You had good reason to. He had been an absolute ass since you joined the team. Hethinks about his terrible behavior. He didn’t like new people to start with and then, out of seemingly nowhere, you were put with the team. It roused his suspicions and he viewed you as a potential threat. So, he had questioned your every motive, idea, and process. He wanted to hate you but the more he saw your work with the team and interactions outside of it, the more he found you intriguing. Rather than apologizing or correcting his behavior, he had doubled down. He couldn’t explain it but some small, stupid part of him had hoped that this incident would create an opening for him to reconcile with you but now you couldn't even look at him.

Who could blame you after the way he had treated you? Both before and during. He had been lost in the feeling and had stopped fighting the effects of the pollen the first moment he entered you. Hell, he hadn’t really fought it from the beginning. He had burst into that bathroom as if he had every right to enter it. You had to hate him even more now with what he’d done. He felt the need to talk to you, to apologize, to ask you to forgive him. He hadn’t told a soul what happened and had been deliberately vague in his mission report. He hadn’t wanted to make it any worse for you. 

Retreating to his room, Bucky paces trying to figure out his next move. Should he approach you or wait for you to come to him? He shakes his head. You wouldn’t approach him. Not the way you, no doubt, feel about him. You probably never wanted to see him again. What did you think? Did you hate him even more? Most likely. Did you think he had done this on purpose? That he had taken advantage of you? The drug had taken both of your ability to really consent. Did you feel… What are you feeling? He couldn’t stand the thought that you hated him even more or that you thought he hurt you purposely. 

He grabbed the doorknob, determined to speak with you but his hand slipped from it before he could turn the knob. You needed more time. He shouldn’t push you. He’d wait until you were at least healed. That was a better idea, he decided. It wasn’t that he was chickening out, he was just waiting until the wounds weren’t so fresh. That was the best thing to do, wasn’t it?

–

You nervously bounce your legs as you wait for the office door of Dr. Victoria Montesi to open. Dr. Miles had gotten you an appointment within thirty minutes of messaging her that morning. You wonder if she already had Dr. Montesi on standby. It wouldn’t be surprising with how well Doc seemed to know and anticipate your needs medically. 

When the door opens, you turn to look at the woman smiling softly at you. She was lovely with dark hair and eyes, and she radiated a calm demeanor that immediately put you at ease. 

“Hi. I’m Vicki Montesi,” she introduced herself.

Giving a polite smile, you give your name but don’t extend your hand. Touch was too intimate a thing to do currently and Dr. Montesi seemed to instinctively understand your body language. You felt so weak and hated it. You had been through major disasters, espionage, a host of events that would fell another person. Why was this the one thing that affected you so deeply? 

Dr. Montesi motioned for you to follow her and closed the door behind you softly, “Sit wherever you like. Do you mind if I take some notes?” 

“Uh, no, that's fine,” you shrug.

She grabbed a pad of paper off her desk and took a seat across from where you had settled on the couch. You fidgeted with your hands, glancing up occasionally. You knew she was waiting for you to start but two could play at-

“What brings you in today?” She interrupts your train of thought. 

“I, um,” you stuttered, thrown that she hadn’t followed the pattern you expected. “What did Dr. Miles tell you?”

“That you needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh…” you trail off suspiciously. 

“Your privacy is tantamount to both of us as your doctors,” Dr. Montesi says gently. 

“Right. So, I, um, we, I,” you stop yourself. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you begin again, “I was on a mission with a teammate. We were exposed to a powder that… forced the need for, for. Fuck! It made us burn up with fever and feel intense pain unless we were actively having sex. It felt like we were dying if we weren’t fucking. And of all the people in the fucking world it had to be with Bucky fucking Barnes. I can’t stand him and knowing that we- goddammit.” The words had become rushed and your frustration grew as you tried to explain. 

“So, you were put into a situation you had no control over, and your only relief was provided by someone you don’t like? Am I understanding you correctly?”

“Yes and hate. I hate him. He’s such a jerk, He’s probably told everyone who would listen.”

“Why do you think that?” Dr. Montesy probes. 

“Because he always undermines everything I say, anything I bring to the table. What better way to knock me down a few pegs than to tell everyone that he got me in bed?” You explain. 

“Have you spoken with him since it happened?”

“No, I haven’t really spoken to anyone since, ya know.” You look down at your hands. 

“And you feel that Bucky has after what happened?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” You scoff.

“Do you think the situation was different for him?”

“Yes! No, I… I don’t know,” you look away for a minute gauging what he could possibly be feeling. In your mind you think through your prejudices towards him, realizing many were sexist assumptions of what men are supposed to feel and others never took his past into consideration. Most of your thoughts had centered only around the hatred you felt for him and his constant attitude towards you but underneath all of that was a real person who was probably struggling with aspects of this as well. You admit in a near whisper, “Probably not.”

“It’s good that you’re able to look outside yourself. Can you tell me how you feel about the situation aside from him?”

You nod, taking a moment to assess that yourself, “It sucks to not have control over a situation to not have any good choices. I didn’t want it to happen but it’s part of the job. Sometimes you end up in these situations where no matter what you do, you’re going to come out on the other end with regrets. This one was just much more intimate than most. I want to blame someone and I keep blaming myself. That I couldn’t control myself, that I led both of us straight into that trap, that I used him and allowed him to use me. I just feel ashamed.”

“That’s common in situations like this but you did the one thing you were supposed to do. You survived.”

–

You saw Dr. Montesi again a couple of days later. She was helping you process and you appreciated it. She had a way of pulling things out of you that surprised you. Like when you continually called him Barnes rather than his first name and anytime she said his first name, you corrected her immediately. 

“There’s something more here. What is it about his name that bothers you?” She asks. 

“He… made me say it during,” you shrug, looking away. 

“Why does that bother you?”

“I never call him by his first name. It's always Barnes or asshat. Never Bucky.”

“And he made you call him Bucky?”

“Yes. He wouldn’t, you know, um… let me-”

“Orgasm?”

“Yeah, until I did. It felt… awkward,” you finish softly. 

“Just awkward?” She pushes. 

“Infuriating. Like a violation, another way control was taken from me. I mean, why? Why would he do that? What possessed him?”

“Well, the pollen for one thing, but have you considered that might have been the way he found some control in the situation?”

“So, you’re saying I shouldn’t take it personally? It wasn’t about bringing me to heel but about him finding a modicum of control? But should that negate how I feel?” You ask, confused.

“Not at all. Your feelings are valid but what I want you to understand is there is a why for him that may have had nothing to do with you. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Why have you never called him by his first name?”

“Because I hate him,” you shrug. 

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“It’s like I told you before, he treats me like a subordinate. Like I didn’t earn my place and I don’t have anything to offer.”

“Even after you’ve worked together for the last several months?”

“It lessened after a while I guess but he still acts like an ass all the time.”

“How have you handled that?”

“I tried to be friendly, to prove myself, and then I gave up. Why waste the energy?”

“Is it a waste? There’s no hope?” Dr. Montesi tilts her head. 

“I mean, I don’t… I don’t know. I just… I don’t know,” your voice trails off as you think back over all your interactions with Bucky. What if you had missed an opening? Was there some point when he tried to let you in but you had closed yourself off and delivered only sass and smartass remarks? But was that your fault? Was it all up to you?

“It’s okay to not have an answer but it is something you might think about until we see each other again.”

–

You saw her again early the next week. Each time it helps you see more clearly and feel more like yourself. Her guidance through your feelings and assumptions both good or bad, right or wrong without judgment or censure allowed you to explore more than just the situation with Barnes. It was the question she had posed about his motives that had stuck with you. 

“I think I'm ready to talk to,” you pause as your stubborn nature still fights against you calling him Bucky, but Barnes seemed even less apt now. You finally settled on just using the noncommittal, “him.”

“Oh?” Dr. Montesi waits for you to elaborate.

“I feel like I need to know his motives and feelings,” the last word was hard to push past your lips. You hadn't considered his feelings ever really. At least, not since he had proven himself to be a royal jackass. There was still a part of you that loathed him but somehow concern for his reaction to all of this had wormed its way into your mind. 

“What do you think that will do for you?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I don't know. I read his mission report on what happened. He was even more vague than I was on the details. Whether he was protecting himself or me, I wasn't sure but,” you take a deep breath before admitting the next part, “then I went through the other reports for missions we had been on together. He's always succinct but never fails to highlight others' contributions to the outcome. Even mine. It was obvious reading them that at some point he had started to see me as an asset. So, I guess, I think it'll give me some closure. Either we can start building a more respectful comradery or that's never going to happen and it's time for me to think about moving on.”

“How would that make you feel?”

“Disappointed but I want to be part of a team that has mutual respect for each other. If he can never give me that respect, I don't want to work with him. I'm not asking to be friends, just teammates. Preferably ones who can hold a conversation without all the snark.” You paused for a moment as a feeling of pride suffused through you. You were stronger than you realized and you were ready to find happiness and fulfillment on your terms. You smiled to yourself and then looked up to share it with Dr. Montesi. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt you could see it in her eyes, too. 

When you left her office a little while later, you pulled out your phone and sent a short text. 

You: Hey. Can we talk?

It was only a few minutes later that your phone dings. 

You let out a little laugh. That was probably the most civilized conversation the two of you had ever had. You started feeling the nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation but you needed it to happen. It was time to face this head on. As you make your way, you practice breathing techniques and make mental notes of what you wanted to say and ask. You even jotted a few down to help you remember when you know you're going into an emotional situation. 

Barnes: Yeah. On the phone or do you want to meet up?

You: I’d prefer face to face.

Barnes: Where? I can come to you. 

You: I’m on my way back there. I’ll come to you.

Barnes: Okay.

There is still the confusion in your own head of what to call him. Such a simple thing but rife with emotion for you. Barnes was what you called him because you hated him and now you weren’t sure you did. James is his first name but no one calls him that. Bucky felt too friendly and intimate especially when it triggers reminders of that night every time you even think about it. Sergeant was too formal and felt harsh and rigid. Asshat was fitting when he was being one but you could hardly call him that all the time. You think back to what he calls you but, in just the way you have, he calls you by your last name mostly. You don’t ever recall hearing him say your first name. Occasionally, your designation and more than a few times he’s referred to you as “pita.” His way of calling you “pain in the ass.” You let out a scoffing laugh when you think of that and then shake the conundrum away. Maybe after this talk, you’d figure out what to call him or you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore if you decided to move on. 

Part 3

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!