#makes you feel like you just got your eyes dilated

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

in control (paige x reader)

summary: you take control to show paige just how proud of her you are after a good game

content warnings: nsfw smut dirty talk fingering sub paige munch/dom reader strap

inspired by this and this request!

You waited for your girlfriend in the same place as always post game. Outside the locker room. You could hear the muffled cheers and celebrations from inside and you smiled to yourself. You were always so proud of Paige, but especially today. She was anxious for this season to start, knowing it was her last year here and the pressure to get a national championship was bigger than ever but she showed everyone what she was about. There really was no more passive Paige and even though it was only the first game, you could see that. You watched her work her ass off all summer and it was paying off.

Paige loved hearing how proud of her you were but her love language strayed more towards physical touch than words of affirmation and you planned on letting her know just how proud of her you were, in a way she would feel it rather than hear it.

“Hi my love.” Paige beamed as she came out of the locker room, her hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you into a hug.

She was fresh out of the shower, her hair was damp and brushed out of her face. She smelt of coconut and vanilla and you couldn’t help pressing your lips to the soft skin on her neck, “Good game baby.” You praise into her ear.

“Thank you. Wanna go out and eat to celebrate?” She asks looking down at you with her big blue eyes.

“I was thinking we could go back to mine and I could eat you out to celebrate?” You whisper for just Paige to hear as her teammates filter out of the changing room.

Paige gulps and you watch in real time as her pupils dilate, “That works too.”

“You coming P?” Aubrey asks as the girls start to make their way to the exit.

“Nah, got plans with my girl.” Paige says draping an arm over your shoulder and leading you away but you don’t miss the wink she sends Aubrey and you nudge your elbow into her side, “Have some decorum.”

The ride back to your place was charged to say the least. Paige couldn’t keep her hands off you as you drove. They started at the nape of your neck, then they were on your waist, then your thighs and as you squeezed your legs together, Paige fought to slip her hand inbetween, cupping you tingling cunt. You had a good mind to pull your car over right there and climb over the console and on top of Paige but you controlled yourself.

“I’m gonna crash if you carry on.” You hiss at her.

“I’m sorry baby, you just look so good.” She rasps, removing her hands from you and you immediately miss her touch and wish you never said anything.

Getting through the front door was a task, Paige was wrapped around you from behind, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck and jaw. She was needy today and you liked it. Paige was usually very dominant and in control, she was rarely at your mercy but your words earlier had an effect on her and she was ready to let you have your way.

“On the bed.” You ordered and Paige wasted no time complying, kicking off her shoes in the process. Her eyes were low and hooded, she drank you in as you stripped out of your clothes until you were stood in her favourite lace set, worn purposely for this moment.

“Shit baby. So fucking hot.” She muttered, shimming out of her sweats exposing her slender legs.

You crawled up the bed slowly, your eyes never once straying from your girlfriends and she bit on her bottom lip, a low groan escaping her mouth.

You pressed tender kisses to the inside of her thigh, nipping and sucking at the skin, leaving red marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment in days to come.

You kissed all the way up to her boxers and she shivered with anticipation as your fingers traced her folds over the thin material.

“I want them off.” You remark, snapping the waistband against her skin and she quickly lifts her hips pulling the boxers down, revealing her already glistening cunt.

“So wet for me and I’ve barely touched you.” You purred, licking your lips at the sight in front of you.

“That’s what you do to me baby.” Paige husked out and she bucks her hips towards you, “My body is crazy for you.” Her eyes were filled with a burning desire and it ignited something deep inside of you, so passionate and heated, you lowered your mouth to her core and began moving your tongue in short, quick flicks, devouring her like you were starving and she was the last meal on earth.

“Holy fuck baby, that feels so good.” Paige moaned as you continued lapping at her cunt.

Your grip on her calves was firm as you held her legs in place, bent and spread apart, creating the perfect space for your head to nestle inbetween.

“You taste so good baby, so fucking good. I could eat you all night.” You mummble against her and the vibrations caused by your voice make her tremble with excitement.

“I’d let you.” She groans, “I’d let you do anything.” You lift your head to look at her and you replace your tongue with a finger and watch as her eyes roll back as she basks in the feeling of you being inside her.

“Anything?” You ask, your thumb presing to her throbbing clit, “Anything.” She confirms and you slip another finger in and start pumping in and out, curling up to hit her g-spot with each stroke.

“Cum for me and then we’ll test that theory.” You dip your head back down and work your tongue and fingers in conjunction, your only goal now being to make your girlfriend cum.

“Shit, don’t stop.” There’s nothing in this world that would make you stop. You were already soaking from the moans and raspy words spilling out of Paiges mouth.

“Fuck I’m- ugh- I’m gonna cum.” She breathes out and you take her clit in your mouth sucking it raw as you feel her walls contract around your fingers. Her legs begin to tremble and shake and she grips onto your hair pushing your face further into her.

“Shit-” She moans before letting out a guttural growl and her juices seep out, dampening the sheets.

You work Paige through her orgasm until shes begging you to stop but you’re not done.

“On your hands and knees for me baby.” You request, slipping your fingers out of her and stuffing them in your mouth, savouring every last drop of the sweetness you had caused to melt out of her.

You watch as Paige shakily manoeuvres herself into your desired position, still feeling the effects of her high. She looks back at you, ass up, thighs moist and her eyes flutter as you step into the harness before securing it around your waist.

Wearing a strap felt foreign to you, this was usually Paiges domain but with the way she was bent over, hole pulsating, ready for you, you were in your element.

You teased her wet folds with the tip of the strap, swiping it up and down and Paige gasped at the initial contact. As much as this was new for you, it was new for her too.

“Are you gonna take my cock like a good girl, P?” You ask, sending a smack to her ass cheek.

“Mhm.”

“Words baby.”

“Y-yes.” She stuttered out and she pushed her ass back and that was the only sign you needed that she was ready.

You guided the silicone dick into her, slowly filling her up.

“Fuckkk.” She groaned as you went deeper.

“Such a good girl.” You praised as you latched onto her hips and begun to thrust. With each pound, the base of the strap hit into your cunt sending ripples of pleasure through you. You could see why Paige enjoyed this.

“You look so fucking hot like this.” You grunted as you drove into Paige at such force that the only sound that could be hurt over her moans was the slapping of flesh. Her ass against your hips and it was only adding to your arousal.

“Feels so- ugh- so good.” She whimpered and you reach forward taking her hair in your hand and you tug at it, “Tell me how good.”

“The best- oh my god- the fucking best Y/N.”

You quicken your pace, now fully in the swing of dominating your girlfriend and you look down at the strap, at it hammering into Paiges sopping cunt and you release her hair, your hand coming up to squeeze and tug at your tit.

Paiges head drops into the pillow in front of her and her hands grapple with the sheets, you can tell she’s close and the way her body glistens with sweat drives you crazy and you can’t stop yourself as you slip a hand around to tease her clit.

“Ugh- I’m gonna cum- shit- right there.” She groans and you press down further.

“Fuckkk! I’m- I’m cumming!” She cries out and her body thrashes and twitches before going completely still and she collapses onto the bed in a mixture of pants and groans.

You slip your cock out of her admiring the state of it, wet and sticky and you think if it wasn’t attached to you, you’d lick it clean.

You flip Paige over so she’s on her back and she looks so gloriously fucked out, her hairs a mess on the pillow beneath her head, her chest is rising and falling at a quickened pace and her eyes, when she finally opens them are filled with such intensity, you want more.

You push her legs up so they’re bent and her leaking cunt is exposed to you once again, “I can’t.” She whimpered trying to close her legs but you held them firm, “You can baby. One more time. Cum for me one more time.” You urge and you slide into her again, slower than the previous time and you watch as her mouth falls open, eyes screw shut and head tips back. You could cum simply from this view.

You work inside of Paige slow and deep, grinding your hips to pleasure yourself at the same time.

“Its- its too much.” She cries reaching up to push you away.

“Just take it. Take me.” You assert not stopping your movements and it takes seconds for Paige to be arching off the bed yelling your name.

With the way she looked, so helpless beneath you and sounded so insanely out it, you could feel a fire roaring in your abdomen.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” You pant, drawing back and then slamming into her hard and forceful and that does it for the both of you.

You fall ontop of Paige in a trembling heap and she wraps her arms around you holding you close as you both succumb to your orgasms. Time slows as shockwave of electricity fire through your bodies and you let out the most animalistic groan, burying your face into Paiges chest.

“Shit baby,” You choke out, “You took me so well.”

You press sloppy kisses along her collarbone, the taste of sweat, salty on your lips. You push yourself up and out of Paige and she whimpers at the feeling, “You did so good P, are you OK?” You ask softly aware of onslaught you just put her through.

“Yeah but you’re never topping me again.” She chuckles as you lay beside her breathlessly.

“You loved it.” You quip, wiping your brow of the baby hairs that stuck to your clammy skin.

“I fucking adored it but I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i have no words actually 😵‍💫 freaky friday in full effect 💋

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❝ HEAVEN CAN WAIT. ❞

pairing: kinich x afab!reader (uses she/her) synopsis: during the invasion of the abyss, the bond between you and kinich is put to the test when you're both lost in the chaos searching for eachother, as he fulfills his sacred duty as one of the heroes of Natlan. warnings: spoilers of the 5.1 archon quests! lots of bodily injury + descriptions of gore, the war ingame is described in a darker way here, cursing, many mentions of death. wordcount: 5.4k cho’s notes: PLS SRSLY LISTEN TO THE INJURY WARNING!! i might be a little dramatic but theres an injury here that made me geek when i was writing it idk. this is basically 5.4k words of me pretending to understand the mechanics of the ode of resurrection 😭 i was inspired to write this after playing the 5.1 aq! hope u guys enjoy this, happy reads <3

taglist: @sillywinnertidalwave

Today marked the exact moment the people of Natlan realized that the abyss weren’t just these noisy hilichurls you see camping in the meadows or the occasional mages you’d encounter in the caves; The Abyss was a ruthless cult of monsters with their uniform goal of bringing humanity to its demise.

‘It was never supposed to get this bad.’ was the only thought racing through Kinich's mind as he swung from cliffs to trees as fast as he could, the muscles in his arms feeling like they could rip apart if he swung one more time, his head slightly burning with exhaustion and heart racing with overwhelming pressure.

People were getting massacred on the ground underneath him, as numerous warriors and guards pushed themselves beyond their limit to fend off the neverending wave of rifthounds and hilichurls coming from the illuminating pylons—and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when everyone and everything needed his aid, all at once.

But Kinich had someone to come home to, and it was you.

The last moment of peace the both of you had together was just earlier today; Sipping coffee and eating fruit together, discussing light subjects to try and distract each other from the rising attacks of the abyss, totally oblivious to the fact that Natlan would be dragged into war by them hours later. 

He felt like it was just a minute ago when you sat in front of him, and glowed under the sunlight, slicing apples intricately as your lips spilled words. ‘How could this happen?’ he thought.

The image of you smiling, your face full of faith pulsed in his mind, making his stomach twist when his eyes landed on the village of the Scions of the Canopy; it was on the brink of ruin.

Caravans and carts were being ripped open with the goods spilling onto the ground only to be squashed, children getting dragged by desperate parents, greedy businessmen clawing at their money hoping it would save them, and the scattered limp bodies of innocent natlanese. The sky loomed over everyone’s heads in an eerie color, only amplifying the hopelessness he rarely felt in his chest. The scent of blood and burning ash filled his nostrils the second he violently landed onto the oversized canopy, mildly hurting his ankles in the process.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called out among the frenzy, his eyes darting to every face he could spot. He got on his heel and started running— desperate that you wouldn’t appear as one of the bodies that were left to rot on the ground. 

He raced to your house, and tried to push the door open with no luck. He had no time to care for it, and just slashed through it with his bulky claymore and bursted into the room, his eyebrows knitted together, pupils dilated, cold sweat on his nape. His eyes don’t spot you in your usual leisure spot of your common room, making his heart drop. He checked all other rooms, and finally opened your bedroom:

You weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

His heart hurt with every beat, and he desperately clawed at his chest trying to get back his calm composure he was always known for. But what for?

“Just give it up, that peasant probably turned into abyss food long before you even got here. Stop wasting your time, my time!” Ajaw suddenly hissed out, his words filling kinich’s mind with poison.

Imaginations of your body growing limp and cold, face turning blue, and blood oozing out from some part of your body as rifthounds dug through your flesh flashed through his head. And he tried to stop it. But with the spinning of his head and the lifelessness of your house that was once so full with your laughter, it just kept getting worse.

He stood with a lowered head, his hand gripping his claymore so tight his knuckles turned white. He fought back tears as his mind danced like a kaleidoscope. To him, there would be no use in saving Natlan, if you weren’t in the picture.

He was supposed to not let his will in defeating the abyss sway at all, you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that. He doesn’t either. But now faced with the odds that you might not be able to experience a Natlan that is finally free from centuries of prejudice, after you’ve been by his side telling him to have faith that the day will come, and the dreams you want to accomplish when everything is finally okay— It seemed unfair. SO unfair.

He whispers to himself, or rather to anything who was willing to listen, with a shaky voice: “If only one wish of mine can be granted for my whole lifetime, please.. Keep her safe. That’s all I ask.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The clashing of weapons against the shelled skin of the abyss monsters zipped through the air, as you swiftly dodged the claws of a relentless rifthound; you’ve been doing this for hours now.

You were helping your tribe, the Scions of the Canopy, strengthen its defenses before the outbreak until you were called by a messenger to help strengthen defenses of an adventurer’s base southeast of the village as it was being easily overwhelmed by the enemies. As the head of preparing defenses from the village, you happily obliged.

But now you were almost hours into battle, with your body aching in all different spots, as you tried your best to continue evading the insistent attacks of numerous monsters. You couldn’t find the energy to swing your sword with maximum strength anymore, so all you could muster up was to dodge them.

“Fuck! Will you ever quit!?” you yell, before pushing yourself beyond your limits again, attacking with frustration. You slashed through the tough skin of the rifthound with your dendro-infused blade, making it dissipate into purple smoke with a screeching growl before fading into the air.

You had a second for a breather and  took a deep breath, which you regretted immediately. “ugh!” you cried, falling to your knees, grabbing your side. You recall the moment you heard something snap when a hilichurl swung its wooden baton at your side when you were busy confronting a different monster. You broke your rib, and it was now piercing your lung.

You stared into the dirt, forehead collecting sweat. You took your hand off of your side, seeing blood paint your palm a deep scarlet. You touched your forehead, and brought your hand back to your eyes— You were bleeding. everywhere.

Your eyes sting with tears, the reality of the situation slowly setting into your head— The chances of you leaving this battlefield alive was slim. Your teeth press against your bottom lip tightly, the pain being incomparable to the injuries you’ve sustained. 

‘I’m sorry kinich.’ echoed in your mind. Kinich had been training you recently, for you to be ready in case of an invasion and he wasn’t there to protect you. But here you are, head-first onto the ground, realizing you’ll probably die in the next few minutes.

‘I’m sorry kinich.. I’m not built for this.’ you whimpered, tears slowly trickling down your face. You felt so heavy with hopelessness, you felt like you could start sinking into the solid dirt beneath your body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were only supposed to continue helping people fend off the abyss for a few more days, until the Pyro Archon solved the crisis. And after she did, you would’ve explored places outside of Natlan with Kinich. Sumeru was the first region you both agreed to visit; It was always a dream that you shared together to travel all of Teyvat one day. Hell, you even had a hunch he’d propose to you somewhere down the line of your voyage. 

So why are you kneeling on the floor, bleeding from every possible corner of your body, accepting your demise as your comrades slowly thin in number?

‘How long do I have to keep this up? I feel like if I swing my sword one more time, my arms will come flying off. I can’t do it anymore. This is something only strong people can do. Strong people like kinich. I can’t. I just can’t. I ca-’

Woosh!, Your ears picked up the sound and you jumped to your feet, barely escaping the blade of an enormous mitachurl that almost claimed your head. 

You tumbled lightly onto the ground, before you hold your sword up again with both your hands, your limbs trembling hopelessly in the gaze of the towering monster over you with demonic horns. You almost drop your blade and just let it kill you right then and there. 

But kinich appeared in your thoughts.

The mitachurl was standing the way the dummy kinich built for you was. Kinich’s voice instructing you rippled in your thoughts: “swing your sword down to the left, diagonal to the body. Then, slice up to the right, also diagonally. For the final blow, strike straight down the crown of its head, taking force from your shoulders. ”

You listen to kinich on repeat a few times, drawing imaginary lines on the body of the scowling mitachurl that stomped closer to you. You gulped the lump in your throat, before you did exactly what kinich taught you.

You twist your body with your edge in the air, taking a (painful) deep breath before swinging your blade to the left in a declining path. The mitachurl stumbles back at your sudden strike making an mmgh! sound, breaking down some of its armor. You quickly slice back up in the opposite direction before it could react any further. Your shoulder burned with every twist, but you had to keep going.

As it stumbled one more time, You bring your weapon above your head, and ignite it with dendro, causing a deep green aura to emit from your person. You meet eyes with the monster; It looked horrified. You stood there ready to take its life, appearing like a monster yourself with the blood that dripped down your head, your eyes seething with revenge.

You spare no more time before completely slicing straight down its head with maximum precision. A loud growl slowly faded with the noise, just as its body did, turning into a dark smoke. 

“If my life is going to end with this battle, then please grant my final wish—” You whispered, looking at your blood-stained hands, hoping the heavenly principles could hear your wish among the deafening sound of war:

“—Please.. Keep kinich safe for me.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The people seeking refuge in a temporary hideout turn their heads at the noise of their beloved heroes walking into the space. ‘Baraka’ Xilonen, ‘Umoja’ Mualani, ‘Uwezo’ Iansan, ‘Bidii’ Ororon, and ‘Vuka’ Chasca. There was only one more hero missing.. ‘Malipo’ Kinich.

Kinich had just rounded up civilians he saved from the village, and brought them there for safety. His gaze met with his friends, before he carefully placed a baby he was protecting into the arms of its mother— The baby had your eyes, which gravitated him into holding it just a little longer. He walked over to them with heavy steps, still trying to keep his composure despite the pain weaving his insides; just like them. 

“It’s the final phase of mavuika’s plan. We have to get back to the stadium, and help her with the Ode of Resurrection.” Xilonen says. “Can you do it?” 

It’s not like he had any other choice so he just nodded, not being able to muster up the strength to talk.

“Kinich.. Did something happen?” Mualani asked, taking notice of his silence as she placed her hand on his shoulder in support. It was clear she was just as broken down as he was, covered in bruises and scratches. But she continued to stay strong and pulled an empathetic look for him, trying to get his lowered eyes to meet hers.

“I.. couldn’t find y/n.” Kinich barely mumbled, the dread he felt earlier coming back to him, feeling like it only got worse verbalizing it. His eyes stuck to the ground, refusing to peel away.

The five heroes suddenly feel the air grow thick, a gasp leaving Iansan and Mualani's lips. This reaction only made the feeling worse, his fingertips digging into his palm. ‘Why does it have to turn out like this? I don’t fucking get it. It’s unfair. Not fair. Not fair to me, to her.’

The five struggled to find words to say, but ajaw quickly filled the space, spitting out: “Fear not lowly humans! For when Kinich finally slips in this final fight and accidentally ends up kicking the bucket, I, the almighty dragonlord, k’uhul ajaw! Will reign over this world once more! And the abyss will no longer be the biggest threat Natlan has faced!” The 8-bit monster laughed proudly with its jagged voice.

Kinich suddenly snapped at the puny dragon: “Zip it ajaw. Let’s go.” before stepping out of the hideout. The heroes gave each other glances, before silently following after him. They weren’t scared of kinich releasing ajaw, they knew kinich would never do that to them. But it was him they were worried about.

Kinich never handled loss well. It often resulted in.. Accidents. Towards himself.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You continued to fight your way to survival, the dendro vision hanging by your hip flashing every few seconds. You shifted your focus to destroy nearby pylons. Your hands had bruised, and slowly became callused and firm. The amount of blood loss you’ve endured has slowly started affecting you too, as your actions started getting sloppier, following your sight getting hazy from time to time.

‘Ching!’ You sliced through the last mitachurl around— atleast, last one before another one spawns—and fell to your battered knees. You sat there, gasping, your body begging for air. 

“Y/n!” a fellow comrade called out, rushing to your side. You can hear him mumbling something to you, but it’s incoherent. You looked at your dirty, bloodied hands, ‘what an ugly sight.’  

“Just.. keep pushing on y/n.” his words sound muffled to you and almost accompanied with sand; he’s losing hope too. 

Without warning, a bright beam of light suddenly shot up into the air, emerging from somewhere in the distance.

‘Huh?’ You look up.

The ray of light exploded into a star, making you wince at the glare. The explosion was so grand, you felt the earth tremble all around you, and even felt a slight radiance of heat reach your skin, even when it was suspended so close to the stars.

The warriors and monsters’ brawl comes to a pause, all beings turning their heads to the magic unfolding above their heads.

You look back up once more. It’s the Pyro Archon.

“In the name of the Pyro Archon, Haborym,” the transcendent voice sends chills down your spine.

“I declare the Night Warden Wars underway—”

“—The Ode of Resurrection will guard all life, until the war is over!”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich might’ve lost his mind.

With the Ode of Resurrection, there was nothing in his way to contain the blood rushing through his veins anymore, the flame pumping his drive. There was no limit to the blood he could pour, no limit to the bones he could snap, no limit to the wounds he could take; There was no more life that kept him from death, and no death to threaten him to life. 

He shot himself through the trees and cliffs and plunged into the ground, slashing right into an abyssal pylon, immediately shattering it into pieces. The abyss that caught sight of his unhinged eyes,  became the last thing they saw. He swung his blade relentlessly, calculated with maximum precision embedded into every strike. Every blow he landed would end a life point-blank, not wasting a single movement. No monster could keep up with the speed of his assault, their death delivered to them in a blur.

A hilichurl had taken an open opportunity to stab him right through the heart from behind. He felt the flame inside him flicker for a second.

‘Again.’

He ripped the double sided polearm right out of his chest, before skewering the same hilichurl right through its chest with the same weapon. A cryo mage quickly sent icicles to penetrate through his limbs and vital organs. He felt the coldness pierce into his insides, feeling the flame inside him flicker for a second time.

‘Again.’

He swiftly turned around, and spun his claymore right into the mage, beheading it in the process. The mage had evaporated to its death, as his claymore spun right back into his palm, snug as a glove. A hilichurl decided to charge into his tall figure and stab him with a dagger, puncturing his abdomen. His flame flickered for the third time.

‘Again.’

He sliced down on the hilichurl, making it dissipate into the air with a groan. He pulled out the dagger from his body and carelessly threw it onto the ground. Noticing the area was clear, he flung himself back into the air, swinging himself through the thick trees and long branches. They would momentarily graze his skin, cutting and wounding him but it was nothing to him, not anymore.

His void eyes scanned through the rocky terrain underneath his feet, searching for your figure. ‘You have to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.’ His thoughts of you distracted him from an incoming tree, before flying straight into its tree branch, his body getting skewered in the process. He let out a loud cry of agony— “aaghh!”—, hearing static ringing in his ears. His bewildered eyes landed at exactly where he got impaled before feeling his head go fuzzy, his eyes slowly losing light, and his body going limp. He feels his flame flickering once more.

‘Again.’

Life is shot right back into him as he braced himself again, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself off of the tree branch. His injury immediately punished him, making him wince. He took one last look at the tree branch covered in his gore before swinging himself again. He looked at the gaping hole in his abdominal cavity slowly patch and fill itself again, and for a moment he’s completely mesmerized by the power of the ode of resurrection. 

In his mind, he punished himself for not being by your side, for not protecting you. And his mode of punishment would be feeling your misery over and over again. The sensation of burning pain ending up to his death just to wake up again completely alive again all in a split second was intoxicating. He was preserving life, as he toyed with his own. 

In his mind, he would rather die a million deaths than find out he’d be alive without you around.

“Listen to me bastard! I’m starting to appreciate this new thing you got going on, you know, like actually following your master, me, Almighty dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw! and using your vision for something exhilarating like ending lives. But I HATE! how i’m getting excited to take your body everytime you go floppy, but you just wake back up! It’s so ANNOYING!! So just keep it up until the fire-head woman turns the ode of what-ever-you-call-it off, and you stay dead. Alright!?”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Mavuika looked longingly onto her people fighting for their nation underneath her feet, as she levitated in the dark sky. It was a surreal simulation to her; It was her that was the catalyst for their dreams and hopes. It left a deep impression of justice, duty and pressure on her. 

Mavuika took a deep breath, before feeling a surging power slither all throughout her body.

‘This has to end, now.’

She collected all the dreams her people have relayed to her, the hopes for a future guided with justice and equality, their ancestors and their prayers for Natlan, the lives of her beloved followers who had been sacrificed and martyred, into her fist and made it into her strength. 

Her hair ignited into its flamed form, as she shot out all the might and glory of Natlan into a beam of radiance, targeting the abyssal body that was the sole cause of terror over her nation. 

The Celestial body forms a temporary glowing shield to stand its ground, until it doesn’t.

It slowly starts shattering like thin glass, making her attack on it only more powerful. Her thrash breaks through until it exploded into a dark fume, her light piercing right through it and into the distant sky. The sky carries the sound of the thundering explosion, shaking nature all around.

The black cloud slowly starts fading, revealing the eradication of the Abyss.

The black sky lifts off of Natlan, revealing the blue once more. You choked out the blood that’s been pouring in your mouth for the longest time as you finally finish off the last creature in sight. The Abyss had been eliminated by the Pyro Archon, and no more would spawn. Dulled and scratched swords, torn bows, and unfortunate martyrs polluted the grassy field around. The noise of battle could still be heard somewhere distant but not around you anymore. 

You spat and coughed out blood onto your palm, your other hand clawing and digging into your chest trying to calm your rampaging heartbeat. You heard your remaining comrades cry and yell out of grief and solace. The words they yelled were incoherent, only being able to hear ringing. 

But you could almost make out what they're saying, somewhere along the lines of: ‘It’s over.’

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich’s eyelids slowly peel open, feeling the heat of the sun greet his eyes immediately making him wince. He sits up and tries to gain back his senses, letting out a sore groan.

Ajaw perches up at the sound, and starts roaring in his ear: “You were supposed to be dead! I was so thrilled to finally take over your cold body, finally thinking of the horrors I'd run to this land, just to find our contract not working! Just bite the dust already you useless asparagus! Curse the archons!”

“Wh-what happened?” Kinich croaked, his throat stinging him in the process. Completely ignoring ajaw’s tantrum, he looks at the nature around him; There were dismantled weapons, a few dead bodies scattered meters apart, and an awful lot of silence. 

“The fire-head woman destroyed the abyss in the sky, and the magical thing happening to your body that stopped you from dying stopped, and you just crashed into the mountain side and passed out onto the ground. Your head should’ve caved in! Fucking imbecile!” 

Kinich stares at the state of his body; It was a disaster. His jacket was torn with all sorts of holes, his arms full of scars and dried blood and smeared dirt, his gloved hands having numerous rips and tears. All of his digits were present, but a huge scar trailed over the joints of his thumb. ‘So I lost a finger huh?’ he guessed to himself. He looks at his headband dangling around his neck, and feels his face with his hand. He felt a few scars and winces at a cut he had, realizing he had a gaping wound that was actively bleeding out.

Body intact, clothes and weapon secured, with his heart beating in his chest cavity.

But something was still missing. Something was out of place.

He feels his heart drop to the ground, mumbling: “Y/n.”

He hurriedly turns around and tries to run on his feet, a sharp pain kicking into his legs making him fall back onto the soil. He curls into a ball, suddenly feeling all his muscles tormenting his body at once. He groans in pain, feeling parts of his body ache and burn under his skin.

“Yes! Perish!” Ajaw shrieks, making kinich swat at him. He takes a cramped breath— almost like the capacity of his lungs had shrunk— before digging his hands into the sharp blades of grass, dragging his body through the earth.

Each pull of his body made him wish he wasn’t human, pain electrocuting each living cell in his body. Grunts slipped through his teeth, as he tried not to notice the torture he had been enduring for what has felt like forever. He despised the pain he could feel as he crawled not because it hurt him, but because it was proof he was alive and could use his senses. That would remind him that you might not be, only making the weight of his chest heavier.

Red from his wound dripped down his head and slipped onto his lip, making him spit it out bitterly. 

The silvery of blood was inferior to the bitterness in his mouth if he felt your body without its heart beating against his own. Ajaw slowly follows him in the air a meter away, and is almost horrified. Ajaw that day, saw humanity in its most desperate state.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Let me go!” You yelled, trying to break free from the arms of the other scions of the canopy. They had tried convincing you to go to the village and get your injuries treated, but they mentioned kinich was missing. You heard glass shattering in your ears, almost reality to your eyes breaking just the same. You escaped their captive and tried to find kinich, but they had caught up to you easily.

“You don’t understand! You might die out of blood loss before you even find him!” Said one of the nurses, gripping your wrist tightly. “I have to try!” You snapped, shoving and kicking at the men trying to get a holding of your legs.

“And what if kinich is dead y/n!?” A man retorted, making you freeze in your spot. Words got stuck in your throat, as your eyes blurred for a second. “Kinich would never.. be..” you feel your tongue stiffen, your knees slowly sinking back onto the grass. The men among the helpers quietly argue behind you, scolding each other with ‘don’t say that!’ as your thoughts slowly dim your spirit.

‘Kinich? Dead?’ the thought of kinich dying seemed so far and impossible to you. It was always kinich who seemed to prevent harm from going your way, and knew how to deal with injuries or how to get out of risky situations. But not even the strongest warriors of Natan's ancient tales survived against the toughest attacks of the abyss. You feel like vomiting, the imagination of kinich mangled body suddenly tormenting your thoughts. ‘I still have to try’, you interrupted yourself, reminiscing the oath you took between the both of you to never abandon his side, dead or alive.

You quickly try to pounce off of them, but they're quicker into getting ahold of you again. You try your hardest to tear through their grasp, feeling your skin ache as they tighten their hand around you.

“Please! Just let me try!” you cry out, almost freeing yourself. They object in volumes, a series of ‘No!’s and ‘You need to rest!’ leaving their mouths. You almost feel helpless, but the group of five freeze all together, out of nowhere.

Their eyes are wide, dilated. Their mouths agape, skin draining of color.

You turn your eyes the same direction as theirs, and a sudden chill waves all throughout your body.

It’s kinich.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich locks eyes with you, his breath hitching. Almost terrified you’ll disappear in front of his eyes, he doesn’t waste another second and sprints towards you on his feet, ignoring the sharp pain afflicted to his ligaments. The tribespeople quickly free you from their clutches, stepping back as your aching bodies collided into an embrace.

Everyone else disappears from his world as he takes you into his dirtied arms. His body melt into yours, leaving no space for the opportunity of separation between both of you ever again. He feels you trembling underneath his touch making him hold you tighter. “I’m home.” He whispers into your ear, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders, like bulky armor sliding off of his battered frame— He had died a hundred times to tell you those words.

He can hear you; you're crying into his shoulder, salty tears reviving the scent of the dried blood on his clothes. All he can do is hold you, and take refuge back into your arms after leaving them for what seemed like an eternity. His heart is communicating with yours, beating back and forth at each other. “I was looking for you.” You mumbled against his skin, lips quivering. Your voice is hesitant, as you pull away and look into his tired dark-golden eyes.

“You never lost me in the first place.” He whispers, planting a delicate kiss to your cheek, placing your nimble hand on the left side of his chest to feel evidence of his return. His arms felt lighter, his bones seemed to unbreak, and his wounds were no longer burning. His eyes slowly stickled with tears, burying his face into your hair to let out his shy tears before you had the chance to notice.

His body grew vulnerable under your touch as your tears slowly undid the knot of grief residing in his chest. He almost feels himself shrink back to when he was a lonely child as your mere presence invited the fragile parts of him to be loved again.

His soul yearns for moment like this, where your love is presented raw; It was never about just the beauty. He thawed under your touch even when his clothes and body was drab and scarred. It was never about just the mora, his wallet was no longer weighing in his pocket and he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. It was never about just the distance, it didn't matter if he had to crawl from mondstadt, he still would've tried to come home even if he knew he would die along the way. and it was never about the festivity. he didn't need a festival to celebrate in a way of holding you like he is now. It was always about the bond between both of you and how much joy his heart is beating out just because he can count the beats of yours.

To him, his soul is bound with yours. No matter how far his heroship takes him, he’ll always return to you. For him, that was enough of a reason to come crawling home. 

Kinich escaped heaven a hundred times to come home to you. For you, he would’ve gladly left a hundred times more.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You relish his embrace with tears sticking your lashes together when your mind slowly floats you away to a distant memory, one you feel like you should have forgotten by now.

It was so long ago.. 7 years ago or so?

It happened somewhere.. Here?

With someone.. Kinich.

You were younger teenagers with kinich that time. You had tripped down a short rocky fall while traversing grassy terrain with kinich. A wince squeaks through your gritted teeth, as he poured water onto the gash you scored on your stumbling. “I’ve always told you to stay sharp when we go out on a walk, but you never listen.” He grumbles, wiping off the dirt that trailed down your calf. “..And everytime you trip, it’s always me who has to clean you up, bandage you, and carry you home.”  He treated your wound as you sat on a rock, awkwardly playing with your fingertips.

You can tell he was just worried about you, you always managed to injure yourself when he took his eyes off of you. He was already pressured on finding a way home, but you just had to go get your knee busted. “Sorry.” you mumble, heat rising to your skin out of embarrassment. “If you really were sorry, you would actually look before you land your feet.” he said bitterly, undoing his bandana, and wrapping it around your knee tightly. As he tightened the knot, he said: “You know I won't always be around to protect you right?” 

“Yeah..” you shuffle your feet around. “But I-i swear I looked before I stepped okay! But the dip was.. was hiding under all the grass.” You attempt to defend yourself, looking at him with guilt written all over your face.

“Can you just promise me you’ll make heaven wait when I'm not around?” He sighs, before helping you get back on your feet, his arm snaking around your waist, as he scooped your shoulder over his shoulder. “Only if you promise too!” you scoff. He rolls his eyes, “As if I'll ever die before you. Seriously, one day I might just be running a commission and bump into you just bleeding to death from your knee.” you grimace under the thought. “Don’t say such horrible things!”

“Then promise me.” “..I promise.”

[madamechrissy]

Preview of Keep This Low Key Ch 2

Choso x F Reader- explicit - FWB

You wake up the next morning in a strong pair of arms, with a thigh pressed up between your thighs, you flush when you realize where you were, in your best friend’s arms. Arms the squeeze you just a little tighter, his breath hot on your neck, tickling you and making you tremble, then he shifts his thigh, and fuck it’s pressed even more, and you’re arching up for it without thinking.

He moans softly, you feel his long dark lashes fluttering against your cheek, you are tense against him. “Mmm, g’morning.” He mumbles, burying his head back in the crook of your neck.

“G’morning, Cho.” You say softly, he pulls you even closer now, pecking little kisses down your neck, it feels way too good, too natural.

Not once had you felt like this.

Was it because you’ve known him like the back of your hand forever? Possibly, not having to worry if you look good, if you’re done up enough, to just be a little bit of a mess next to him was so comfortable. But also, it didn’t feel odd in his arms, you’d knocked right out, and now you feel that same thrill you did last night, remembering the pleasure he gave you.

You’re blushing now, cheeks hot, vivid images of his dark hair between your thighs, those violet eyes as his tongue ring had done wicked things. You’re getting wet just thinking of it, and he tenses himself behind you, arm tightening, his breath catching in his throat. You’re sure he can tell, making you embarrassed.

“You’re so hot there.” He whispers, and you cry out just a bit when he presses up once more, your hand clutches the pillow under it tightly.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m…”

“Sorry, for what? Being sexy.” Fuck you adore your best friend, his kisses against your neck turning hotter, his mouth opening, tongue lapping at you, making you shiver with desire, coursing down your body. You shift, and he moans again. “Fuck.”

“Sorry!” You cover your face, and he gently pulls your hand down, turning your face to look at him.

“Stop apologizing. Do you want me to get her off again?”

“Fuck, yes. But I wanna do things to you.”

“You can get me later.” He says, pressing up once more, and now you’re shamelessly rubbing on his thigh. “Oh my god, fuck.”

“Choso…” You whisper, eyes dropping to his lips, glossy as he licks them slowly, a big hand pressing against your tummy.

“Let me get you off, angel.” You shake your head, making him smile a bit, running his fingers down your tummy, rolling against your clit now, pressing his thigh up further, you’re bare aside from his big shirt, dripping down his sweats. “Oh my god, you feel so good, you’re this wet for me?”

“Shush, supposed to be… friends…”

“Friends who fuck, hmm?” You nod weakly, eyes fluttering shut at his gentle circles, as you keep grinding on his thigh helplessly. “So then I can talk to you like that, if you want.”

“I want.” Is all you manage, getting wetter and wetter as your hips move, his fingers hitting the perfect rhythm, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Then let me tell you how good you feel against me.” He pulls his thigh back then, you whine out at the loss. “Aw, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, so fucking sexy, your silly Cho Bear, it wrecks your mind.

Now he is pressing his cock against your back, you feel how hard and thick he is, when he grabs a thigh and brings it high over his leg, and plunges two fingers in your pussy now. You’re pouring more all over his fingers, weakly crying out at how good it feels, reaching a hand back to grip his hair, pulling his lips to yours as you turn your head back to him.

He moans, still fingering you so good you can’t stand it, you want so much more, especially that thick cock against you, fuck it felt so big, you ache to see it, to feel it. Choso’s tongue ring hits your own tongue, clicking gently against your teeth, as you suck on it playfully, earning more of his moans, more of his fingers.

“Close, Cho… m’close.” You whisper, and he looks at you with those dilated eyes, fingerfucking you faster, scissoring his fingers in and out, you’re so close you shatter at it, and he’s watching as your eyes roll back, as your mouth is open, you think you must look so dumb-

“Oh, you’re so pretty.” He says instead, and you begin to climax, it washes all over your body, you’re pulsing around his long fingers now, and he eases, slipping them out to toy with your clit, making you jerk.

“Sensitive.” Your voice is faint, you’re reaching behind you to find him, earning his own moan, his eyes fluttering shut, he keeps torturing your clit, until you’re close again, this time overstimulated. “Do you um, wanna fuck? Or want me to suck you?”

“Both, and add wanna eat you again.” You giggle breathlessly.

“You’re a freak, Cho Bear.”

“You really haven’t seen much freak yet, angel. But you’re so cute and nervous, I love you like this.” He brings his fingers to your lips, and you are sucking yourself off of him, stroking him over his sweats as he bucks into your palm.

Coming soon! <3

[dreamscapeee222]

Hello!! Can i request a boyfriend headcannons with jungkook?:O

A/n: Of course you can anon. I hope you like it ^^

Jungkook Headcannons

Jungkook x reader

Masterlist

It was your beauty that has caught him

The moment he had seen you for the very first time, every thing had paused for a second or two. You had him awestruck, you hadn't noticed him then but Jungkook definitely had you locked in his mind.

An adventurous guy

Although it was mentioned that he is bouncy and that you're both having fun, both of you stimulated by the bliss of experiencing one another's presence

Jungkook is definitely a memes guy. You'll never go throughout a day without at least 5 memes being sent to you

Your boyfriend is clingy. He craves physical affection from you almost every second

On days when he's got free time, you're the first person that he looks for. Doe eyes lit up when he finally finds your form, instantly getting up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, a kiss pressed to the nape of your neck.

He loves to hug, cuddle, kiss, and hold hands with you

Jungkook feels like he can let down all of his guards down when he is around you because you make him feel so safe. You're like his soft, familiar blanket. You make the rest of the noisy world fade away.

Jungkook is super playful and goofy when he's around you. You'll always find him asking the most silly questions. - "Baby?" - "Yeah?" - "Do you sometimes imagine what it would be like to shapeshift?" -"What- I... actually yeah, yes I have..."

Jungkook always appreciates when you agree to riding on his motorcycle with him. The fresh, breeze of the air running all over your face while you hold your boyfriend's waist even tighter. You should have seen the smile on his face when you did that.

Being the perfectionist he is, Jungkook does his best to understand your hobbies and even goes the extent to learn them. Whether you like to knit,

He is a great cook. Always whipping up the most tasty foods you've ever had, and its just breakfast.

Jungkook can be protective over you, over every situation.

Despite Jungkook being an energetic guy around you, he also has a side that's calming and peaceful. The

He loves seeing you in his clothing. To have the sight of you dressed up in his XL sweater squeezes his heart in a way he didn't know possible. It makes him fall even more for you.

Jungkook has a photo collection of you, just you. No no, not on his phone but physical candid photos, creating a collection of memories that capture all your beautiful, everyday moments. Whenever you're not with each other, Jungkook would look at those pictures and smile in adoration.

On nights where you're both exhausted from the day you experienced, one of you (usually you) would start rambling about a story— about anything and everything. It's often about absolute nonsense, but it helps in both of you sleeping warmly and in a content state.

Jungkook has a hobby of annoying you. Pushing at your buttons to see your reaction is just great entertainment, it also kind of his way of testing the waters. You know it's all from a good heart though.

Jungkook displays his love to you in many ways. Through small gestures like waking up at 2am and getting ready to go out to the convenience store because you were hungry.

He never forgets to tell you that he loves you, sometimes those words feel much stronger than other times. The times when he's feeling more emotional, he holds the softness of your face, gazes lovingly into your eyes and says "I love you"

Yeah, that gets your heart beating quickly, pupils dilate, and face warm up

To be more in detail with physical affection, Jungkook is always attached to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, peppering kisses on the soft supple of your cheek, inhaling your familiar scent.

Kisses shared with him are so magical

When Jungkook leans his face towards yours and your lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. A kiss that was built with intensity, deepening by the second, his hand brushing along your skin. He lets go and your eyes are still closed.

Yeah...

You guys are tight

Requests may be made. Only SFW. Surrounding BTS only at the moment.

[dadsbongos]

sockpuppet

act 1 - the day your life changed / act 2 - the day your life began / act 3 (coming soon!)

6.1 k words / warnings - your mom is named but not physically described, childbirth

summary - before meeting his wife, toji had a firstborn; and if you thought he was a messy parent with megumi you’re gonna hate being that first kid with all the responsibility. ~~~

Scene 1 - birthday

Ten hours.

Ten grueling hours and new life was shone in the delivery room, mind the screams and searing cracks torn into Toji’s hand from his girlfriend’s cobra grip.

“I’m never letting you in me again!” Saisho shrieked, shortly before tossing her flushed head back to wail wordlessly.

Toji merely clenches his eyes, teeth gritted as he slams his spare fist into his knee to prevent shouting something he regrets. Something along the lines of “let go” or “fine jesus christ” or “goddamn woman just push”, something that would get him snark for weeks into the future. Gentler words coo from a woman with thick hair tied up beneath a turquoise paper cap at Saisho’s other side.

Two more lissom bodies in turquoise scrubs are crammed between his girlfriend’s sweaty legs, urging her to breathe and push and breathe, breathe, breathe -- she’s got it, just like that, good job mama! Toji garners no praise, he’s certain that isn’t going to bruise his ego more than it’s already been battered. With nothing nice to say, Toji says nothing at all and lets Saisho continue crushing his hand.

For all the praise and ease that was sworn to them, how easy this birth would be given Saisho arrived dilated ten centimeters, it seems to have all gone wayside. Toji only hears his girlfriend screaming, can only feel her red nails dragging pink lines into his hand -- he feels nauseous. The once sterile scent now dredged by iron and he knows it to be her blood. He wants to plug his nose, but he’s petrified to make her feel alone. Barely does it occur to him that he should probably be speaking if he wants her to realize he’s still there. The realization is no help, though, as he doesn’t begin praising her or encouraging her. Just silent squeezing.

Saisho swears his name, the bed creaks as her back bends even as one of the nurses calls for her to “lay back, mama! keep pushing!” and another brand new foul stench enters the room: one he’s sure will humiliate the poor woman, so he won’t say anything (yet). Curses and huffs and blood and shit make him gurgle spittem and stress burrow between his brows, he’s jostled as Saisho rips him into the side of the mattress.

“Toji, fuck- do something!”

His eyes snap open, and hers are full of salty water: bright red. Sweat slicks her gown flat against her chest just as hair is drenched against her forehead. She stares into the bowl of her gown between her raised thighs with wide, petrified eyes. She screams his name again. He hates how her voice sounds. She is in terrible pain, it’s all his fault.

Quietly, the only thing he can mutter is, “I’m sorry.”

”Fuck!”

Something is crying, suddenly. Something ghoulish and wimpy and altogether ear-piercing, something that makes the doctor cheer and snap her head up to the two late teens. He notices her ears are exceptionally small and that’s about all he notices over the sound of warbly, gutless crying.

In the doctor’s arms is something tiny and wrinkly and covered in goopy crimson. Toji watches the doctor pass it off to the nurse next to her at Saisho’s feet as she speaks, “We’ll get the baby all cleaned up and then do some skin-to-skin, does that sound okay?”

Saisho wordlessly groans, slack-jawed. Toji nods, attention snapping to the exhausted woman. He stands and stretches over the side of her bed, brushing hairs from her face with warm fingertips and soft whispers.

“You did great,” he doesn’t know what to say, so he just tells her all the things he likes hearing her say, “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you, you’re great. You’re so strong. I love you.”

“Love you…” she bumbles just barely through the words, Toji can hardly tell she even meant to say them.

“I love you,” he kisses her swamped forehead.

“Would dad like to hold baby first?” the doctor asks, and now he can hear her perfectly. Cacophonous cries reduced to whines and croaks. The woman’s voice is raspier than he thought it’d be.

“Uh,” he looks to Saisho for permission and no longer feels like the big adult man he masqueraded as in the lobby: demanding attention for his laboring girlfriend. Now Saisho is barely conscious and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Toji nods stiffly and holds his arms out as if to take a sack of flour.

The nurses laugh to themselves and orchestrate his posture before letting the doctor slip the newborn to her father.

Warm. It's warm in his arms and it’s stationary despite not being swaddled. Was he this small once?

Toji blinks down at the thing. It’s eyes open and they’re misty gray which makes him frown. It looks nothing like him. It looks like nothing at all. Nurses assure him the eyes’ color will darken and their features will sharpen with time, but he’s not so sure. Pounds of shapeless flesh, and despite not being overcome with emotion he cannot imagine hating something so tiny and helpless.

Then his girlfriend asks, “What should we name her?”

Voice raw and throat torn from anguished howling. Saisho watches as Toji secures you against his bare chest. She finds the humor in how his eyes are thinned and brows furrowed in concentration. When he doesn’t respond, she continues,

“I want something pretty.”

Toji blinks again. You’re warm. You squirm, trying to turn into the swell of his chest. He cradles you closer and wonders how his parents ever hated something so helpless and tiny.

And he wonders something else aloud, “Thought we were going with Kiko?”

“I don’t like it anymore.”

Toji hums, rumbling deep in his chest, it rouses you and the room seems to still when you twist again in his arms. Your eyes are squinted and agitated in the bright, cold room. It strikes him, how you don’t look like nothing but instead look like your mother. And he’s grateful. Only proves less of a claim the Zen’ins could take over this sudden new family. He thinks your life should be a normal one, and with neither him or Saisho being sorcerers, he believes he can manage that.

He sees endless possibilities in your wrinkled little ugly little eyes (that he’s not entirely unconvinced mean you’re unwell). No, newborns are not as cute as movies say they are, but his daughter is. His daughter holds boundless new avenues and cities and suburban homes and jobs (and maybe even an entire new country) in her little ugly eyes. And it’s just so…

“Mabushii,” he answers, holding up a hand and baiting you to grab his finger, “I like Mabushii.”

Yawning, Saisho shakes her head, “No.”

Toji glares up at her for just a moment, “The hell’s wrong with Mabushii?”

“She’s not a ‘Mabushii’, she needs something…” she yawns again, loosely swatting at the hand Toji holds above your face, “Talk ‘bout it later, ‘m tired… ‘n’ she won’t have,” seconds away from passing out, she makes a grabbing gesture, “for like… a while…”

“Brat,” he mutters, just to make Saisho scoff. Toji leans to kiss her cheek, “Alright, sleep already. We’ll name her later.”

Your eyes close as if heeding the command, face turning into Toji’s chest while your mother succumbs to her exhaustion.

When he’s sure Saisho is asleep, Toji stares down at you and whispers, “Mabushii can be a nickname, then.”

You don’t respond, but a suddenly alert Saisho does,

“No way!”

“C’mon! She’s mine, too, you can’t just control all the bullshit!” Toji rolls his eyes, “What about Mabayu? Shorter, cuter, right?”

“Toji…”

“Damn, go to sleep already then.”

Once she’s finally collapsed, Toji shakes his head with a fond smile stretching the pink scar on his lip. He hopes you’re just as spiteful as your mother, too. No Zen’in woman would be as abrasive as her.

Proven again once she wakes from rest. You’re in a crib while Toji fiddles over name ideas to pitch -- pen and paper settled in his lap. Saisho’s last name is already scratched across the line.

“Why my clan?” she grumbles.

“They’re less obsessive,” Toji reasons, “Besides, your dad actually likes you.”

“Highly questionable,” she grunts while trying to sit up, making Toji rush to aid her. One large hand on her back while the other soothes up her arm, “And you’re not nicknaming our kid Mabuya!”

“Why the hell not?”

And no Zen’in woman would carry the same petty bickering for almost a year later.

Saisho sighs, drumming her red nails against the spotted and muggy stove top, “It makes her sound like a granny. She needs a cute nickname! Cute nickname for a cute baby!” she ignores his incessant groaning and chides while making curry, “You need to settle on something anyway. Mabushii then Mabayu and now Maba? Make up your mind or she’ll never know which one to respond to.”

“Mabu? Is that better?” any input Saisho had is shut out when you squeal, clapping against the jar of little red pickles (very irresponsibly) placed in front of your chair. Toji grins over at you, silvering scar twisting up and your eyes follow the movement instinctually, “You like Mabu?”

“Ah,” your heavy head nods and Saisho whines.

“You never get her enough tummy time, now she doesn’t know how to hold her head up!”

“Oh, that’s what that was?” Toji teases, shaking his head and looking back over to you, “Sounds like Mom’s in denial, huh, Mabu?”

“Ah!” you nod again, more excitedly.

Saisho finds herself struggling to smother down a grin at the sight, pretending to think it over, “Fine, if she really likes it… but no shorter! I don’t wanna be arguing with you again in a week when you think ‘Ma’ is an acceptable nickname.”

“Well…”

“No! Just say the whole thing, lazy ass.”

Toji leans close to you, pretending to whisper as if Saisho can’t still hear him, “Mom can be so mean to Dad, huh, Mabu?” you blabber useless consonants of agreement(?), “But isn’t she so pretty when she does it?”

You blabber again, clapping this time, and Saisho can’t hide her swooning smile any longer -- huffing a mumbly, weak, “Oh, enough.” between pretty rouge lips.

Scene 2 - special talent

“I’ll pick you up myself today, alright?”

“That’s what Dad said…” you hug your ruby backpack with the kitty charm zipper tight against your chest. Uncertainty lingering in your gut from yesterday’s disaster.

“Well, I promise, did he make it a promise?”

“No…”

“So, I swear to you, sweet girl, I will be there after school today to pick you up,” Saisho smiles despite her evident frustration with your father, holding up a red-tipped pinky, “And we can even go get a treat, if you want.”

That makes you nod excitedly, a warm sensation like the wash of sunshine through an open window bathing you. It doesn’t feel like when Dad tells you things, Mom’s face is round with sincerity. Following your eager agreement, Saisho secures you into your seat and presses a kiss to your forehead. Then she smudges the staining candy apple gloss away with the pad of her thumb.

Pulling into school returns swirling dread to your gut, now entirely unrelated to your father’s lousy attitude. Saisho holds your hand and practically drags you up the pavement to school as your feet skid the concrete. Politely, she opens the door for you and you wish you were brave enough to take the entrance -- but you’re not.

“C’mon, honey, not today,” she whispers, sugary tone marred with frustration expertly layered beneath drowsiness. Lulling you through the hall as you crush your backpack strap between clammy fingers. Her sunken face rises again when another adult comes into view, “Good morning!”

Her earnest greeting is shot down with a huff, “How will she be getting home today?”

Saisho clears her throat, “I’m picking her up.”

When skepticism passes over your teacher’s face -- you have half a mind to punch his knee.

“Mom will be here!” you reassure, clenching her hand. When she said she’d be there, somewhere in your chest you could feel it: she’ll be there. You know it. Not like when your father said he’d be there.

“She will,” your teacher nods passively, a slight smile gracing his slender face. His tone is cool, voice free of any distinct emotion.

“I’ll be taking over her pick ups from now on,” Saisho mutters, nervously reaching up to skin her fingers against the cold steel of her necklace, “I’m sorry about my boyfriend…”

“New parents,” your teacher shrugs, shoulders drooping after, “Things happen,” he smiles higher and this time your mother sighs with relief at his expression, “We don’t usually see dads so engaged anyway.”

Saisho scoots you toward your teacher, who calmly says, “Now we have to wash our hands before breakfast, friend.”

You freeze completely outside the door with polka dot trim stapled around its border. Shaking your head frantically, tiny “uh-uh”s fall from your lips with brows knotting in distress. Wet sniffles preorder the tears about to shine your eyeballs. Teacher and Saisho share concerned looks before your mom bends at the knee and pets over your hair.

“Honey, you have to wash your hands.”

“I don’t like that bathroom.”

“Why not, friend?” your teacher follows onto a single knee.

Visibly offended they both apparently forgot your mortal enemy, you fling an arm out to point in the bathroom’s general direction, “The man in the bathroom! He’s green and big and I hate him!”

“I’ve never seen a man in the bathroom,” your teacher soothes, “Are you sure it’s a man and not a shadow? Nobody’s ever seen a man in there.”

“Maybe I could go with her again,” Saisho suggests.

“She can’t keep having you go with her just to wash her hands for school…” your teacher sighs, “But today, fine. Just today, after today we can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry, again,” Saisho hefts you onto her hip as you begin sputtering various panicked ‘no, no, no’s. She sets you back down, angled specifically to block out the front right corner closest to the mirror. Her eyes are low, solely watching herself turn the faucet on and pump soap into your hand.

Similarly, you keep your eyes on your hands.

“Do you see the man, baby?”

“No…”

“Exactly,” Saisho doesn’t move an inch, lips tightening and knees going rigid, “There’s nothing in the bathroom.”

Suddenly you’re cold: whole body rippling with goose flesh and your heart leaps into your jaw. An uncanny spark in your chest urges you to tell her that’s not true. You’re not sure how you know, you just do.

So you say it, unaware of every implication that comes with it, “That’s not true, Mom… You’re lying…”

Saisho frowns, eyes flicking over her shoulder momentarily.

A round, moss green creature with bug eyes stares back at her.

She sighs, “We’ll find you a better school. Maybe grandpa can find a good place, hm?”

“I don’t like Grandpa.”

“Then don’t talk to him,” she smiles at your adorable pout, “You don’t have to see him, honey.”

“Good. He’s not fun.”

Saisho knows her dad isn’t fun. Toji’s is even worse.

“That’s why he knows good schools, though, because he isn’t fun,” Saisho beams, lifting you out of the bathroom once your hands are dried and kissing the crown of your head, “Dad says he misses you.”

You pout again, “When’s he coming home?”

“Soon,” Saisho shrugs. Not ready to tell you that she has no idea when Toji gets home from jobs either.

“Promise?”

She pretends to not hear you before dashing out from the classroom with a, “Keep a good head on your shoulders for me!”

Two days later, Dad comes home. It’s Friday afternoon. He groans, shirt stained with blackening blood and dirt -- bruises blooming down his arms and chest like roses.

“Why are you gross?”

Toji jumps at the sound of your voice, only then realizing that the small television he spent weeks saving for was blaring with flashy colors and round cartoons. You were sitting in a baby pink shirt and purple shorts with no shoes and hair undone. A plastic cup with apples printed around the rim sat between your legs, water half empty.

“Why aren’t you in school?” he shoots back.

“Mom says I don’t have to go anymore!”

“‘Scuse me?” he raises a brow, toeing off his boots and groaning all the way to the couch. A split second of clarity washes over him: he should shower before laying down or he’ll ruin the leather. He doesn’t care for too long before falling face first into the cushions with a moan. A tiny hand slaps his sore cheek.

“Grandpa says Mom shouldn’t take me to school, so that I can learn with him but Mom says I shouldn’t learn with him.”

Toji splits an eye open to look at you, content to lay in his filth while you smear sticky, crumby fingers on his face, “Fuck you mean Grandpa wants to learn with you? Where’s your Mom?” he doesn’t let you answer before shouting into the cramped apartment, “Sai! Why’s the baby not at school?!”

A yelp, then a bang, then a swear, then your mother’s voice, “We’ll talk later!”

“She’s in the potty,” you explain.

“Thanks.” you nod honestly to his sarcasm.

“Mom says I’m special like she is,” you bounce on your tip-toes, a small giggle floating through your lips.

Toji’s shoulders stiffen painfully, he looks at you weirdly. You don’t like it. You thought he’d smile for once, but instead he just grimaces and says, “You’re kidding.”

“Nah-uh, Mom really says I’m special!”

“Special pain in the ass,” he hauls himself up and grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, “Did you go see Grandpa yet?”

“No… Mom doesn’t want to…”

“Good,” Toji stresses, “Stay the fuck away from Grandpa.”

You tilt your head, “Why?”

“Just do it.”

You shrug, “Okay.” . . .

Few days later, you’re strapped into your mother’s car and told you’re going to her clan’s compound.

“I thought I was supposed to stay away from Grandpa.”

“Grandpa did us a favor,” Saisho glances back at you, a rocky silence fills the car as you stare at your parents through the rear view mirror. She coughs, “Toji?”

“Huh?”

“Can you… just- ugh- can you do something? Can you explain it?”

“Grandpa,” Toji huffs, “Grandpa gave Mom and I a lot of money, so now we have to let him teach you stupid bullshit.”

“Toji!”

“That’s what it fucking is. Cursed energy is made up bullshit.”

“Well, she needs to learn it.”

“I never said she didn’t.”

They glare at each other. It doesn’t look as fun as their usual glares do. It looks like they mean those glares.

Grandpa is not very excited to see your dad.

“A Zen’in does not belong with the Shakko family.” he says, eyes narrowing horribly at your father despite their great height difference. Toji rolls his eyes and says there’s a ‘shit-brown’ tea stain in his red robes.

You watch quietly, hand in hand with your mother. She gnaws her lip until it's blistering.

Scene 3 - midnight

Hours ago you were laid to rest. Sung to with Mama’s crackly, raspy lullabies. Read to by Papa’s gruff and inexpressive baritone, his hands barely clutching the tiny purple goodnight, moon cover. Given milk and forehead kisses and bids of the sugariest dreams. And Mama seemed happy before closing your door. Your heavy eyes couldn’t help but droop immediately after, chest rising in even draws with soothed breaths.

Grasshoppers are the ones singing now: outside bathed in pale moonlight, and you are too young to know what they are crooning for. Similarly, you are too young to understand why you can’t be included in the rather heated debate spiraling between your mother and father. Mama’s voice is warbly and thick, like she’s choking. While Papa sounds so quiet and measured he might as well be thousands of cities away. Few minutes have passed since you awoke to their discussion, so you’re also clueless as to what they’re even talking about.

All you know is now Mama is very, extremely, terribly upset.

“You’re a fucking liar! You bastard! I hate you, you take me from my family and you make me carry your baby and now you’re pulling this?! I hate you!” a hack and sniffle, your mother sobs and screams again, “I hate you!”

A soft rumble, muffled by your bedroom door, is what follows. Suddenly, stunning silence fills the small apartment. It makes you itch. You rise from bed without much thought and prattle towards your closed door, pressing an ear against the cold wood. Faintly you can feel a biting in your cheek, so you snuggle closer trying to make out what’s beyond your door.

“I hate you,” your mother coughs. A long pause tilts the room before she sighs, “Are you going to say anything to your daughter?”

That makes you scootch impossibly closer to the door, straining to hear how you’re now involved with mom and dad’s latest spat.

“I don’t know what to say,” you can barely pick out your father’s voice. He speaks so cool and smoothly, not nearly as distressed as your mother.

“So don’t go!”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Is it her?”

“No. Kind of. Not really. Not like that.”

“Then how? Talk to me, tell me, explain yourself just a little! You owe me that much, Toji.”

“My job. It isn’t for kids to be around. It’s better if she doesn’t know what I’m doing, or wondering if her dad’s still alive when he isn’t home,” mom sobs again, you wonder if dad wipes her tears or if he lets them dribble down her face, “I’ll send money.”

“Don’t send money, just find another fucking job!”

“I’m good at this.”

“You could be good at anything if you tried.”

“Not like I’m good at this.”

“You’d rather leave?”

Toji doesn’t respond. So you open the door. Two heads whip to where you stand in a red shirt five sizes too big and covered in bleach stains -- it used to be your mother’s when she dyed her hair. Your hand lodged on the door and eyes wide, you ask in a trembly voice,

“Dad’s leaving?”

Toji watches you glance from him to Saisho and feels his throat cinch. Suddenly his knees are wiggly and stomach twisting. Steely resolve and iron will crackling as you totter into the living room with bleary eyes. Saisho moves before him, kneeling in front of you with both hands on your shoulders. She nods slowly and whispers soft resolutions into your ear.

“I’ll be back,” he says, and he isn’t sure he means it. He just wants you to believe it. His voice is softer, face sullen.

Saisho throws a disapproving glare over her shoulder. Toji pays it no mind. He’s sure whatever he said would have earned that scorning stare.

“When?” you ask, “Tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow…”

“The next day?”

“Someday,” he solemnly swears.

Saisho hates him more than ever when he looks at you and says things she knows he doesn’t mean.

Your eyes find a pair of bags stuffed full; lumps protruding through the fabric and zippers nearly bursting open. Toji’s hands stretch with the urge to grab them. You nod slowly.

“Someday.”

Somewhere inside you, that feels like a lie.

Scene [a] - juvenile sleepovers

Suguru and Shoko were sharing Suguru’s bed. Soft snores are your only listening experience aside from Satoru's rushed, gaspy and ecstatic whispers of various Digimon evolutions. The room is far too dark for you to reasonably pull out one of Suguru’s many books -besides, you fear his taste in literature may be too boring for you. Shoko reads textbooks for knowledge and you’re starting to think Suguru does it for fun.

Yaga, in the future, will claim he had no idea you four set up a sleepover this very night. And every one of you is absolute that he’s lying. After all, tomorrow will be the first time you four are to be isolated from one another on a mission. Sometimes one will stay back while three go, or two and two, or even all four of you would be driven out.

You’re sure everyone will return, just as lively and hot-blooded as they’ve been all night, but the other possibility still frightened you enough to murmur to Shoko about it. She then turned to Suguru and declared you should all have a last hoorah. Certainly, if you four can each handle a mission by yourselves then you’ll be sent on more.

Neither scenario is really a win for your group of friends.

“Do you ever worry we won’t be friends?” you interrupt his speech, only feeling a little bad that you couldn’t tell which character or plot he was even scrambling over.

Satoru pauses, not even a hum of thought escapes him, just silence. Just then, you catch the faintest shimmer of his stark white hair glinting in the slatted beams of outside light. A mixture of dying stars and greenish lamps overrun by moths.

He’s shaking his head against his pillow on the floor, “Not really.”

“No?” you pull at Suguru’s carpet, watching your fingers in the dark, “Why not?”

“I just don’t think about it like that. About our friendship ending. It’s a shitty thought so why would I waste time having it?”

“I guess…”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Especially right now.”

“Nobody’s dying tomorrow.”

“I know, but then we’ll all get sent out individually more, right? That’s why they’re doing this, to test us.”

Satoru rolls onto his side and grabs your hand, pulling it away from the carpet and tucking it into his warm palm. Skin soft and unweathered by the harsh training you’ve had to endure.

“Probably, but as long as we’re alive then what does it matter?”

“I don’t want us to drift apart… start hating each other.”

“We’d never.”

“How can you know?”

“How can you?”

Extra weight lands on that final word, you know it's meant to be reassuring and poetic and eye-opening but all it does is frustrate you more. As horrible as it sounds, you know Satoru’s experience with relationships of all kinds is extremely limited. He could never understand someone abandoning him because he’s Satoru Gojo and the only way people have left his life is in death.

“I just like you, Satoru,” your heart hammers at the finality in such a statement, you curl your knees up to your chest to stop the deadly pounding before continuing, “And Suguru and Shoko. You’re a good friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You like me?” he gasps, all shitty and teasing.

“Ugh.”

“Aww, c’mon! Tell me more! Tell me more!”

You glare at him. Though don’t tear your hand away, a foreign want to feel his peachy skin on yours invades your undeveloped frontal lobe. Weirdly, you want to see his smile stretch tighter and you want to be familiar with the way it shines. Even more weirdly, you almost -kind of -really want him to know you think he’s kind.

Instead, you say, “Nah. If your head gets any bigger, you won’t fit through doors.”

“Like you’re one to talk, edgelord,” he clumsily pokes you in the forehead. His palm sweats over yours suddenly, and he uncharacteristically stutters before calling your name, “I have an idea.”

“Huh?”

“To seal our friendship. You know? So you’re sure I’ll never leave you.”

You sit up and he follows, you scrunch your brows at him, “How do you plan to do that?”

“You take something important from me, and I’ll do the same to you…”

Naturally, your first instinct is to assume him the average teenage pervert, “Ew, ‘Toru! You’re gross!”

“Not like that!” he flicks your nose.

“Then what?!” you hiss.

“Have you had your first kiss yet?”

And your turn to be shy comes around. Coyly shaking your head instead of answering verbally. Weaving your fingers between Satoru’s and cringing at how your sweat mingles and slides.

“Me neither, so…” he drifts off.

His lips taste like the strawberry chapstick you watched him apply hours ago and the faint dew clings to your own lips when you part.

Satoru smiles down at you.

“That was probably a mistake, right?” you ask quietly.

“Oh,” he doesn’t bother whispering, “definitely.”

But he leans in again, and you don’t stop him.

You spend the night cuddling. Neither of you brings it up the next morning.

Scene 4 - a very special dinner

Honorary, maybe. You think. Few people are available to vouch on your behalf -- honestly your career as a sorcerer may be stunted now. Which you mind a lot less than Satoru seems to. He arranged this dinner. He arranged the car for you both here. He bought you the nice dress you’d been eyeing all week. He wrangled the blonde woman beside you back home for this one night.

She sips her drink. Tequila and apple juice. She says it’s dangerous and she saw it online and you should totally have some. You keep telling her later. She keeps ordering more from the bar and poking that she’s drinking much more than you, despite this being your promotion dinner.

“It’s not even a technical promotion, right? I haven’t heard anything…” you mutter.

“Hey!” she abruptly speeds into a new topic, swerving all concerns of getting you drunk off her brain-train, “What’s your type?” Yuki leans way too close, tongue poking through her lips.

“Why?” you tease, “Getting a little curious?”

“Hm,” she doesn’t answer your question, instead pushing her own, “I think you can tell a lot about someone by how they answer that question.”

You roll your eyes, but are already taking the time to think through her inquiry. Probably someone excitable, to balance out your subdued nature -that would sell in a shoujo manga, right? But no, someone too loud all the time would get annoying. Fast. But someone who’s introverted like you might get boring.

You shake your head when you realize you’ve been thinking about this for too long. You shrug, “I dunno… probably someone who knows how to shut up when I tell them to.”

Yuki throws her head back, squeezing your arm as she laughs, “That’s a good one!” she pats your shoulder, “I like that, hm.”

“Is it befitting of a special grade?” you’re mostly just trying to mess with her.

But she takes you in earnest, “I’d say so,” she wags two fingers in your face, “Special grades like us usually have two answers. Someone who can put up with our shit…”

“Or?”

“Or nobody at all,” she boops your nose and you tell yourself you let her, “I think you’ll fit in.”

That makes sense. Yuki liked guys who were hard-working and rough. Suguru didn’t really have a type at all. Yuuta preferred girls (well, one girl you know) that were headstrong and confident. And Satoru…

You glance at him.

He isn’t drinking because he hates the burn of alcohol in his throat. When he goes to bars, he likes virgin cocktails with sweet added syrups. And he keeps his phone tucked deep into his pocket so he can ignore the higher-ups for as long as possible. His teashade glasses are pressed tightly against his face because looking at the world through his own eyes becomes overstimulating. He’s so giddy tonight because you promised to watch that new Ryûichi Hiroki drama with him after your dinner. He laughed out an apology to you just outside because he accidentally spoiled the whole movie trying to give a brief synopsis.

You glance away.

You don’t know Satoru’s type. It never really came up.

You don’t think you want to know. And you definitely don’t want to think about why you avoid that question.

Maybe he doesn’t have one. Maybe it’s just someone to listen to him ramble.

You don’t know.

But your feet hurt, and you’re forced to lean against his side while you and Satoru wait for his personal driver. Raucous drunken yelling grows unsteadily from back inside the bar.

Satoru is rambling.

“I feel like people are too nostalgic for his old work, he’s only gotten better over the years. Not very surprising, just weird to me that everyone focuses on his old stuff like Vibrator because it was so successful- !”

“Satoru, I’m worried.”

He’s startlingly quick with, “You look like it.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You wish he hadn’t done that. It makes you wonder why you ever told Yuki something so childish. It makes you wonder what came first -- Satoru shutting up when you told him to, or liking people who shut up when you told them to. Either way, you think the result is the same.

“I think,” you frown, you wonder if he feels that involuntary need to fix it, “I’m in love with someone.”

Not just someone. Gojo, Satoru. It carries so many different things. Your old friend, your closest confidant, your partner in raising two kids, your fellow teacher, your fellow sorcerer, the strongest sorcerer, the heir to the Gojo clan, the untouchable Gojo, Satoru.

He frowns now, and you feel an involuntary need to fix it, “Aw. Mabu-chan doesn’t want lil’ ole me anymore?”

On reflex, you almost cry out for him to shut his mouth. But he would, and then you’d be even more helpless. You fear that maybe his obedience has bred a softness in your heart, but more than that - you fear that he’s bred a liking to obedience simply by being himself. You’re terrified that obedience isn’t your type at all.

“I’m being serious.”

“Who is it?”

So much could go wrong by telling him. He could reject you and you’d be embarrassed and maybe lose him as a friend before the both of you moved on. Or, even worse, he could feel the same -- until one day he doesn’t, and one day he leaves.

He can read you so easily, he shakes his head, “Nevermind, you don’t gotta tell me. I’ll just be absolutely heartbroken for the next rest of my life,” he sighs wistfully, “You’re killing me, Mabu-chan.”

You want to tell him to be quiet.

But maybe that’ll make your fondness grow.

Or it won’t, and you’ll be forced to realize that you were delusional -- it was always Satoru.

Oh, God, it was always Satoru, wasn’t it?

Scene 5 - just a small thing

Your most distinct memory of your father is from the age of five, being sat in front of a bright TV.

You have pink and white pajama pants snug against your little legs and a teal shirt with a purple bear and green frog on the front slung over your shoulders. You stumble out of your room, with a door that’s always open because the hinges squeak too loud for Ms. Mitoko, rubbing your heavy eyes. The television burns your retinas, but the man on the couch is unaffected by its brightness.

He sits with folded legs, an ankle resting atop his knee, one arm thrown over the back of the couch and the other on the armrest. The remote is practically slipping out of his palm, but he doesn’t seem to be dozing off. It irritates you even then, how he seems to not care if something slips and breaks - maybe Ms. Mikoto has a point with those stupid cups.

“What’re you doin’ up?” his voice makes you jump, all sleepiness gone from your body.

He still doesn’t look down at you, though. Eyes focused on that blinding TV.

You shrug, shoulders heavy, and yawn, “Not sleepy…”

He snorts, that scar twisting up faintly, “Oh, no?”

You yawn again, shaking your head fitfully, “No.”

“Okay,” he finally looks down at you, head falling back against his shoulders, “What d’you want then?”

“Hmm,” you squint your eyes at the TV. The sudden light makes your eyes water, “Can I sit with you?”

But you don’t remember why you asked.

“Hmm.” he copies your thoughtful hum, “Yeah.”

And you don’t remember if he helped you onto the couch.

Your most distinct memory is slouching against your father’s side on Ms. Mikoto’s lumpy, sunken couch. This memory doesn’t tell you what you were watching, just that it burned to stare at in the otherwise pitch black apartment. And just that your father’s shirt was soft against your cheek. And he was very warm. And you didn’t take long to fall back asleep.

[motleyfam]

when you say outsiders do you mean the book i had to read in like 6th grade for requires reading or is it something else? bc i remember that book was Great but also Not what i wanted to do over summer break

I do mean that book, and the 80’s movie, and now the musical which has rekindled my obsession

[s0dium]

Warnings: Werewolf!Toji is whipped, humping, breeding, knots

Toji is worried about the fact he cant seem to stop fucking, no, breeding you, even when he's not in heat.

At first, he had never thought his constant need to be near you was a problem—he had claimed you long ago, after all. But lately, it felt different, more like an obsession that consumed him the moment he stepped through your door. The second your sweet scent hit him, lemony and mouth-watering, Toji's is already down for the count.

His pupils dilate, wolf ears twitch, his dick strains against his waistband, and his fangs unsheathed in primal response. Before he can even think, he is by your side, his larger muscular body pressed close as you stand at the stove. He rubs himself against your ass, grinding his hardening dick on your butt, desperate, like a puppy in heat.

"Y/n..." He will whine into your ear from behind, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent. Fuck, he can feel pre-cum dribbling from his tip just inhaling you.

"Baby?" You coo, turning to face him so you can cup his stupidly handsome face in your small hands. Dark eyes stare back at you, wide and droopy, eyebrows furrowed in a plea. How funny is it that a man, a wolf man, as big, tall, and scary as him was now pawing at your sweater and whining like a lost dog?

"Please im so..." He breathes out, biting his lip to stop his fingernails from sharpening into claws. If he had a tail in his human form, it would be wagging wildly right now.

You giggle, running your hands through his silky dark hair.

"You're so pathetic" you whisper, delivering a kiss to his jugular that makes Toji whine.

"I'm so pathetic..." he hums tilting is chin up so you can nibble at his skin.

From there he is a victim of his instincts.

There is no warning when he completely bottoms out inside of you, walls throbbing as he seems to get bigger with every inch slipping into your quivering hole. He moans at how warm you are, it's nothing like his fist or that stupid fleshlight you got him for when your away.

“S-shit baby so warm n'tight" he groans and presses his own messy kisses into your squealing mouth. His pelvic bone rubs on your clit as he jackhammers into you, the base of his cock swelling and stretching your gummy walls wide.

"Love you, love you so much, wanna make you a mom, give you my babies~” He’s babbling now, lips hungrily sucking your nipples like milk was going to come out. The sheer collision of his tip against your cervix as he slammed into you was making your brain go numb. Just when you don't think you can cum again, he rips another one out of you and god does it feel amazing. It's like your flying in euphoria as thousands of flesh arrows send pleasure across your body.

Tojis soft ears suddenly twitch and peak up to a point his eyes screw themselves close. "F-fuck, m’gonna cum inside.” he cuts off with a groan of his own, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into your swollen n wanting womb. He kept cumming inside of you, strings and strings of hot cum filling you up as he held you in his arms. It made your body shake, his load weighing at your stomach like it was forming a bulge with how much there was.

“Your gonna make such a good mom baby” his ears twitch at his own words, mind going foggy at the thought of you round and swollen with his children.

[screampied]

໒꒱ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, sugar baby gojo, missionary, tīt play, praise kink, mdni.

sugar baby!gojo who lives off your praise,

you can buy him anything in the world—but hearing you call him a ‘good boy’ was the most expensive, priceless gift he could ever get.

anytime he’s buried between your thighs, it’s like pure heaven to him. satoru can’t help but shove his face between your soft breasts, humping sloppily against your body as you run your fingers down his hair. down his undercut, oh that spot . . it makes whimpers spew straight past his lips at the simple touch of your fingers. “f- fuck, miss,” he’d grunt, almost forgetting that his hardened cock was stilled inside of you. his bottom lip quivers as his body continues to sloppily thrust against you, his hips lazily trying to become in sync with your own. satoru almost purrs, feeling your thumb swipe down his undercut and the way you clench around him. “y- you feel so good.”

“eyes up here, ‘toru baby,” you coo in a sweet tone, almost angelic. pretty azul irises dilate, meeting yours whilst you cup his chin. he leans into your touch as his eyes shimmer in the light. “thaaaat’s it pretty boy, jus’ hold my hips,” and he shivers once you drag your tepid hands further down, grabbing ahold of his frigidly cold hands. satoru moans, continuing to drive his dick into your sopping cunt before he leans in for a kiss. “mmpf,” you let off a muffled squeal, tossing your arms over his tensing broad shoulders.

satoru’s soft lips crash onto yours, tasting the remnants of peachy moët & chandon on your tongue—you tasted sweet, rich. .

“no, call me a good boy again,” and with how whiny his voice is and how far apart his snowy white brows furrow, he’s not asking he’s begging. “please miss . . please.”

“mhm, satoru,” you breathe through gritted teeth, his sizzling hot body continuously rocking against yours. the queen-sized bed grows rickety and your nails claw a long slope down his tensed back.

he’s stupidly feral, rutting into you again and again with his hungry jittery hips plowing into you with such needy, greedy thrusts. and as he’s between your thighs—going back and forth, hearing the sloshing sounds of your pussy shriek in rapture, satoru’s got that look in his eyes awaiting for you to say it again.

those sweet sweet words, sweeter than honey.

satoru’s sloppily kissing down your neck as his hips thrust into you quicker. he huskily groans, the sweltering hot tip of his cock kissing up against that same spot. your toes curl in pleasure as you feel his pumping surge deeper into your loving core.

“good boy,” you whisper, letting off a soft whine once he goes back to sucking on your tits again. with a loud ‘pop’, one tit of yours jiggles out from his mouth with a silvery string of saliva swallowing. a sleazy grin spreads across his lips as he heard your words of approval. he’s nodding with your swollen nipple, his eyes telling you, ‘say it again, again. . ’

“ngh, good boy,” you repeat in broken breathy whimpers, feeling the shaky weight of his sculptured hips continuously buck into yours. satoru can’t get enough of you, your scent — oh, that expensive acqua di parma perfume you’d spritz all over yourself purposely just for him to smell - it drove him insane.

satoru’s whining, his face sitting up from between your chest and he’s staring dead at you. dewy hooded eyes lock onto yours before he’s starting to see nothing but white. as satoru’s weakly moving his hips against you—his eyes were staring to roll back, he was about to almost drool. all because of your sweet cunt—the epitome of pussy drunk.

his base was the fullest its ever been. it thwacks and thwacks against your sloshing wet cunt until you’re dizzy, until he’s dizzy. wrapping your legs around his slim waist, you grind yourself back into him. “fuck me, right there ‘torubaby, fuck.”

“ ‘m gonna cum just from your voice—shit,” he huffs, and he can feel your pussy slobbering all down his pace with your slick. your hands run down his waist and he moans from your touch. it was almost cute at how sensitive he was to something as simple at touch. to the outside world—he’s satoru gojo, the strongest. but between your legs, he’s weak—happily weak just for you and only you.

with how wet you were and how his cock’s just twitching and throbbing inside of your clingy gummy walls, it’s just so damn lewd. he sucks his teeth as his bare knuckles split, turning pale. “god, keep touchin’ me please, touch my body. keep t- touchin,”

cupping his cheeks, you have a sheepish expression. “baby, you’re rambling again,” you softly murmur, and he’s panting, rolling his hips faster into you. he leans into your touch, his plump cheek squishing against your palm. your arms go back to hauling themselves over his shoulders before you bring him into a kiss.

satoru’s shivering at how your lips crash onto him yet again—your hands feeling all over him. his hips grew so unapologetically sloppy that it was only a matter of time before his knees pathetically buckled.

as his tongue blissfully curls against yours, strands of sappy saliva tangling amongst each other, he whimpers right into your mouth. satoru’s hips pop against you as he tries to slow down, feeling himself finally let go.

it’s so good, his cock emits out lustrous ribbons of cum right into your cunt and your lips part, gasping. “oh, o- oh shit,” he grunts, feeling the warmth of your ankle run down his chiseled back. satoru’s panting heavily, cowardly tucking his head back between his favorite place — your tits.

“mmpf,” he tries to suppress his moans as he’s still cumming. it’s so much that he can’t help but shake. euphoria overtakes his body as he’s dumping satiny strands inside of you. his tongue swirls against each of your pretty tender nipples before he gives each of them a long three second suck. you whine, feeling him pour every dribbling drop inside of your pussy until it’s no more for him to spill.

a hand of yours runs through his unkempt ivory strands as he’s trying to silence his sweet noises by having his mouth stuffed full. “f- fuck, that’s it, ‘toru,” and he hums with his pretty lashes fluttering themselves shut, feeling butterflies once your fingers drag through his delicate scalp.

satoru’s entirely sloppy without zero shame either. with half-lidded droopy eyes, you watch as a bit of his own saliva runs from the corners of his pink crooked lips. “s- satoru,” you moan, his flaccid cock still plugged into you. it’s hot, his tip was barely even leaking anymore, and yet between your thighs—it was an entire mess he’d gifted you. you always showered him with praises and gifts so he decided he’d shower you with a gift of his own this time.

the gift in question was currently spilling down your thighs and staining the rich velvety sheets.

“say it again,” he whines, pretty eyes pleading at you. satoru’s got a pout displaying against his lips as his head presses on top of your breasts. but his pout suddenly turns smug once he playfully nips at the sheeny pearls that wrap around your neck.

“call me your good boy again, miss . .”

[shotmrmiller]

Simon doesn't care how he comes. He doesn't care if it's your smaller hand wrapped around his fattened cock, tugging it with a gentle twist, smearing the bead of arousal that's welled up from his slit with your thumb. Doesn't care that he usually fucks his fist roughly after a hard day's work with blood still crusted on his fingernails, hard enough to ache. The way you sit beside him, the soft swell of your breasts pressed against the corded muscle of his arm, murmuring words of praise that have his cheeks alight with a rosy glow—

He doesn't care if you use your mouth (you asked, ofc) your mouth is warm around him, the gummy inside of your cheeks slippery— the constricting back of your throat even more so. He sits still, like a good boy, not bucking his hips up, not pushing your head down to take as much of him as you can.

Doesn't care if you make him fuck your thighs— intercrural, you'd called it. How could he when your soft thighs are so smooth and pliable, enveloping his leaky cock with their warmth? Certainly doesn't mind when he glides his head along your slick folds, occasionally catching your swollen clit, hearing your little sharp intakes of breath.

Simon doesn't care where he comes, either. If it's a hand job, he spurts hot, viscous pleasure onto his pudgy stomach, coating the dark trail of hair below his navel and making a mess of your hand. (If you lick his come off your fingers, he's asking you to grow old with him asap)

If it's a blow job, he'll give you a heads-up with a rumbled, "'m, close, so close—" and that's your cue to either pull away, let him paint your cheeks with his spend, or swallow every single drop. (Or let it drip onto his jeans, none of it matters just don't stop)

He'll slicken your inner thighs with his sticky cum, scoop up some of it with his callused fingers, and slather it over your puffy pussy, using it as lube to rub you to completion.

So, when you casually ask him how he feels about a breeding kink as if you were commenting on the weather, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Are you asking him for a kid?

But you don't notice how his pupils dilate a fraction or how the skin around his eyes tightens, the corners forming small creases as you continue. "Because I'd been thinking," a small pause, "to spice things up a little—" before he even gets a word in, you raise your hands up in a calming gesture. "Not like there's anything wrong with what we're doing now."

There's a subtle shake to your hands and the grooves of your palms catch the light. Sweaty. You're nervous. This isn't just about him filling you with his cum. He's already done that before— pressed his tip right into your swollen entrance mere moments before finishing. he lets you gather your thoughts, unsnag the words caught in your throat.

And when you finally steel your nerves and say what you want to say (garble, more like) the shrill ringing in his ears is deafening. "You wan' me to wear a rubber 'nd let you take it off." Had he misheard?

The way your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, gaze lowered to the ground, your fingers twisting and turning, uncertain. So he hadn't. Well. How could he say no? Granted, he doesn't understand it, but for his girl? Anything.

He comes to understand it the very first time it happens.

Rolling on the rubber hadn't been different. nor the way he gently stretched you with one finger, two. The spit he'd used as lube to cause you as little discomfort as possible mingling with your own slick, dripping down his rugged knuckles. He takes his time as always, slipping between your spread thighs, watching your face twist, kiss-swollen lips part as he sinks into your heat. He goes slow, hearing you hiss between your teeth, your blunt nails sinking into his chest. He'll have red, angry welts later alongside his dog tags. Claimed by both duty and his little love. "Marked like property," he'd joked once.

You hadn't found it so funny. (Johnny got it though.)

Even with the very small difference in sensation, you're still the best thing he's ever felt. You take him like you're meant for him and maybe you are, but he smothers that train of thought quickly with a heavy hand lest he finish when the fun's just begun.

He feels you shift, even with his body weight that presses down on you with the gravity of a boulder, and he sinks to the root— like a pebble falling into still waters. Your nails tear skin, draw blood. The biting sting of it sends a shiver that sweeps over his goosepimpled skin, arousal tangling in his spine. He bucks his hips in reflex, hard enough to jolt you upward. The discomfort on your face quickly melts away, the sweetened burn of his thick cock prying your tender walls apart finally bleeding into white-hot pleasure.

Simon thrusts again, this time deliberately. Again. And again. He keeps them shallow, dragging the ribbed edges of the condom along your sensitive nerves, gently trying to coax a lazy orgasm out of you— the ones that always leave you syrupy and warm.

He focuses on you. Swirls your peaked nipples with his thumb, nestles his face in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning over your heated skin. Simon licks a hot stripe over your fluttering pulse, presses a chaste kiss on it, nips your sensitive skin with a little too much pressure when you squeeze down around him—

Cheeky minx.

He snaps his hips, hard enough to rattle your spine, hard enough to hear the way the oxygen is ripped from your lungs. Simon keeps at it, resolute in getting you to the edge, dragging you with him, taking you over.

And then he hears you slur out a couple of words through your gasps. "C'ndom," you mewl, "the condom, off."

Right. He peels himself off of you. He'd almost forgotten —

You're impatient, pushing him away with your bare feet on his chest until he pulls out with a pop, trembling fingers reaching his twitching cock. The rubber comes off after a moment and while he's distracted by the creamy slick coating it, you're already putting him back in you, and your cunt feels sublime.

Divinity. He feels intoxicated.

The pleasure he felt before feels muted now, in comparison. Dull, almost. You feel hot, almost burning— swallowing him up, wet, so wet. The way your walls flutter around him jumbles his thoughts, tangles his tongue. He grinds down onto you with grit teeth, nostrils flared as he tries to keep the searing coil in his gut from unspooling, but he fears it's a losing battle. Beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he fucks into your tight cunt with a hunger that borders on desperation.

He can see, and hear, that it's different for you too. Your keens and mewls are loud, nails scoring trails of red down his back. Simon leans back a bit, enough to let you watch his cock split you open, strings of sticky arousal connecting between you two. When he changes angle, aiming for your (and his) favorite spot with precision, the squeal you let out stiffens his spine.

Simon needs to hear it again. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing you to look at him with those pretty, glassy eyes that glimmer with tears. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of tasting salt. "Like tha'?" The delicate strands of your eyelashes are clumped together with overwhelming sensation.

When you don't answer, he gives your hood a gentle tap, striking right above your clit. "I asked you a question." He grunts when your pussy almost strangles his cock at his gravelly tone. Simon will remember that for later.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, god, just like that." As a reward, he uses his thumb to draw tight little circles over your pearl, fucking you with his full weight behind every thrust. The blissful expression on your features, spit glistening in the corner of your lips, your hand flat, fingers spread wide over your lower belly as if to feel him from the outside— it's enough to almost toss him over that crumbling edge.

But he takes more. Selfish, greedy. Takes what's his with fervor; wholly, unapologetically. "This," he pushes until he can go no more, his tip meeting a firm resistance, "is better than everythin' I've ever had." Maybe it's a stupid thing to say, right here when he's rearranging your guts around to make room for his fat cock, but he's drunk off of you.

There's no thinking clearly with the slick noises echoing in the stuffy room. There's no seeing clearly when his world has narrowed to a single point of contact.

You're squeezing around him like a vise, tight enough that his nerve endings prick with pain. But he keeps going. He takes, he gives, he yearns to watch you unfurl at the edges forever, on his fingertips, on his tongue, his cock but you—

You are both his ecstasy and ruin. He can see it in the way the corners of your pretty mouth curl upward, teasing, eyes glinting with mischief, with the same kind of trouble that ensnared him into your orbit that one lousy night.

"Come in me."

Bloody fucking trouble.

(He wants all of it. The you who'll complain about the hard surface of the kitchen table he'll bend you over. The purple marks he'll pepper on your neck, your collarbone. The you that fights tooth and nail over him eating beans on toast.)

He watches you with half-lidded eyes as his fingers and his cock toss you overboard into the tumultuous sea of euphoria and then— when you're a drooling, limp mess— only then, does he finally surrender, balls drawn up painfully tight,

and fills you to the brim, until there's no more room left in your swollen, greedy pussy. Until it spills from your hole in thick rivulets, until there's no more of him left to give.

(He doesn't do rings. It'll get the both of you killed should he ever get caught. Maybe a tattoo for him and a band for you? Gotta text Price in the morning.) <- oh what barebacking does to a simple man such as he.

this was supposed to have been a 600 word drabble hello. he's clingy and squishy and so sickeningly in his emotions.

[dmitriene]

continuation to this small work, cw: two freaks in love.

könig finds out you're kind of shy, a meek, pretty thing, sure, you send him such a revealing, unabashed polaroid pictures, but now, with him appearing out of nowhere at your door, giant and rugged, your fingers fiddle nervously at your own clothes, tugging down and trembling at your sides, wide eyes looking at the letter he holds in his gloved hand, from colonel, to you, name written by the way you already memorized, making you understand that it's really him.

the man you sent your nudes to, who would've know that he'd get so obsessed to try and find you like possessed dog, but you welcome him nonetheless, shuffling aside to let him in, bend his head down with a curl to his back so he would get past the doorway to your living room, dirty boots leaving a crumbs of dirt, his gear coated in things you don't want to know about, but his bright, unmovingly focused eyes look at you with a crinkle of delight, pupils could've dilate by now.

sure, könig is a little bit sad you didn't welcome him naked, or undressing at the very first sight of him, but he can work from what he got, from your shy touches when he wraps a hand around yours, for a handshake, that's it, but his by now ungloved, sandpapered fingers rub and circle around your wrist, curious, almost shuddering at the feel of your much smoother, gentle skin against his, and just this is enough to turn him on, cock swelling hard in his cargos.

he wonders if you'll let him bend you over the couch and eat your pussy from the back, or just stretch your pretty hole around his swollen cock, but you ask him questions, how he found you, why, does he wants something to eat, but könig already plans a small wedding for you two so he could make you his forever, an adorable housewife that will take care of her hard working husband with sending him pictures of her holes he could pump full after coming home.

könig tells you everything, how much times you made him cum, that he fantasized about you in any possible situation and position, dreamed of entering his quarters, and instead of a empty, boring room see you curled at his bed, his thumb tracing along your knee all the while he babbles your ears off with all disgusting, horny talks, but it's amuses you, to the point your thighs start to clench together, pressing harsh, as you lean in, watching his eyes nearly eclipse from the very little contact.

you put the letter he brought aside on the table, instead, asking your questions, and then answering his, which only contain of awkward, boyish laugh and stuttering words of if he looks the way you imagined, and könig is, a little bit awkward, in the same time cocky enough to touch you, nearly groping, looking enchanted on the outline of your breasts from beneath your sleeping shirt, before rubbing an sweaty hand against the back of his hooded head, such a silly man.

nearly jumps out of his pants when you offer him to take a bath at your place, voice mellowy and inviting, and könig trots behind you with a wagging tail when you lead the way, filling the bath full of warm water and couple drops of shower gel, making some bubbles that not really suit him, but would make the room smell nice and block out all that reeks out from him when he starts to undress, preening under your touch when you help to unclasp couple of things off his gear, könig holding down from to not shove your hand down his crotch.

it's when you join him that he gets insistent, all your shy act dropping down, your nails raking down the expanse of his toned, tissued back with tiny, reddening streaks, as könig corners you against the bathtub ceramic, moaning raggedly and humping your pussy persistently, messy, hips grinding and twitching, and the way he acts so eager and silly makes you really aroused, mewling right against his wet ear as he sloppily makes out with your neck, his hair and stubble rubbing all over your sensitive, bruised skin, sharp teeth's closing around the warmed flesh.

seems like now, you have a strange kind of boyfriend, a military colonel, a right pervert, and a pussy drunk pup that pumps your soppy, gummy cunt full of his thick, creamy release, one he kept in his balls especially for your meeting, his vision nearly blackening from how long his cock throbbed and spurted, squeezed tight by your pulsing, milking walls, enjoying your palms stroking his face, cooing at him hushed and lulling, everything könig dreamt of.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[shouyuus]

completely pussydrunk!hawks who can barely control himself when he's fucking you, groans and grunts and makes the most incoherent noises when he's thrusting into you, pushing you in half so hard that that you can feel the backs of your legs straining, your knees pressing against your shoulders, toes curling, his eyes half-hooded and just so full of hearts, pupils so dilated you don't even know if he can see properly, bending down to lick at the sweat on the side of your neck, making you squirm and twist at the sensation, heat flooding in your tummy he way he mouths at your like a debased, starving man.

"ke-keigo don't --"

"d-don't? don't what?"

"'s gross -- a-ah fuck --"

"gross? nah --" he licks his lips, bends down, grins all lopsided and smitten, fingers digging into your thighs as he slows down his thrusts ever so slightly, his cheeks pink from the exertion, wings ruffling behind him, red feathers everywhere -- "nothin' bout you's gross, dove -- nothin' got it?"

he groans, letting his head drop into the crook of your neck; you can feel him trembling as he continues to rut down into you, his pace getting sloppy and desperate, his breath hot and wet and needy.

"could eat you up -- kiss every inch of you, wanna taste every part of you, yeah? fuck so pretty for me -- so wet -- fuck fuck fuck --" rambling to himself as his thrusts get all shallow, moaning about the taste of you on his tongue.

and after he's finally filled you up (multiple times, mind you), he turns to you, breathless, his chest heaving, brushes a few sweaty strands of hair from your face and says --

"i meant what i said... nothing about you is gross to me, and i'll fuck you till you remember it, yeah?"

[rubiehart]

cockwarming bestfriend jayj would just be so ughhhhhhhhhh. you’re both a little past the point of tipsy, having slipped away together from the kegger back to the chateau, legs tangled together in the hammock as you watch jj slowly inhale the joint he still managed to roll pretty well even in his intoxicated state. his eyes flutter closed as he sucks in the smoke and reaches over to place it between your fingers as he blows it out, too focused on the way the smoke clouds his face and then disappears, blue eyes trained on your figure, raking up your bare legs and ending on your face.

you blink away the thought and bring the joint to your lips and inhale deeply, looking into his eyes as your hold the smoke in your mouth, not too sure what this eye contact meant from his end but you knew exactly why you were doing it, the reason evident as you feel your cotton panties dampen a little, choosing to ignore it as he reaches his arms up behind his head and groans, stretching his legs out and his foot nudges your leg to get your attention.

you rip your eyes away from his for a second, your high clearly taking over your actions, grinning at jj as he knits his brows together, a little smirk laying on his rubied lips, tonguing the little cut on his bottom lip as he watches your frame. you pass him the joint and he takes another long hit, coughing a little when you start crawling up his body, situating yourself on his lap. he reaches one hand to hold your waist as his eyes widen. “oh- hey, watch’a doin?” you just smile and giggle as you reach down to capture his lips in a kiss.

he groans into your mouth and releases the smoke he’d been holding. you start to slowly grind on him, little whines of pleasure leaving your lips as he winds his tongue with yours, kissing you back as desperately as you. pulling away for a second and using his thumb to wipe away a string of saliva from your lip while you look at him all big eyed. “jayj..” you whisper before he nods, as you fumble with the buttons of his cargo shorts, pushing them down his thighs until his boxers are exposed, flicking your eyes up to see his dilated pupils and parted lips, the joint still between his ring-clad fingers.

he brings it to your lips as you pull down his boxers, his rock hard cock standing up, his mushroom tip leaking precum. he groans, eyes widening when he sees you unbutton your tiny denim shorts you’d been teasing him with all night, slipping them down your legs to reveal your little cotton panties, biting your lip and looking up at him whilst slipping them to the side, the weed seemed to give you some new found confidence, and maybe the way jj was looking at you “jesus fuckin’ christ..” he mumbles at the sight of your glistening cunt in the moonlight, prepping your hands on his chest, lifting yourself up.

“hey, hey, hey. a-are you sure?” he asks, panicked at your sudden confidence as you nod eagerly. “are you?” you giggle, still hovering over his cock. “fuck yeah.” he grins as you finally sink down, hissing at the stretch, his eyes transfixed on your face the whole time, your tiny pussy stretching around his dick making him groan, your face comforting and whining when he’s about halfway in, him grasping both hands to your hips after putting the blunt out on the bark and dropping it to the dirt. “shhh.. you got it, yeah?” you nod slowly, teeth sinking into your lip as your resist the pain, stroking your hip with his thumb softly. “good, goooood girl. there ya’ go.” the praise sliding off his tongue so casually making you clench around him. finally getting to the hilt and he lets out a huff.

“feel so fuckin’ good..” he whimpers, as you roll your hips a little to get used to the feeling making him let out a pornographic groan. “you’re so big..” you whisper, leaning down to rest your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the stubble on his chin against your forehead as he breathes deeply. “keep talkin’ like that and i’ll fuckin’ bust.” he whispers into your hair making you giggle a little, leaving a little love bite on his neck and he reaches down to cup your ass, kneeding the fat of it in his palms as you roll your hips gently, making him suck in a breath. “fuck..you’re gonna kill me baby.”

[teojira]

Scar x fem! Reader/Rover from Wuthering Waves where Reader is trying to get Yangyang back, and Scar offers to give her back for a kiss from reader 🫦

[What's the harm?] [Scar/reader drabble]

Summary: Scar strikes a deal with you, for both your and Yangyang's freedom. (You are Rover in this!)

Word count: 1k+ (I got POSSESSED)

Pronouns: She/her implied

Warnings: Possibly OOC but the game is 3 days old, have mercy. Slightly nsfw! Scar is down bad. You're Rover in this and you're also down bad.

A/N: I want him so bad, the constant flirting with MC? The way his eyes soften at her? I'm in love with him so bad.

“Where is she?” He's already isolated you for Yangyang, bringing you into his domain.

 It's unnerving, standing alone with a man you've seen cause so much trouble, someone who constantly is trying to get into your head.

The comments he makes, there are so many of them and they just keep coming. 

Is he lying about wanting you? Lying about wanting your trust? Is this just a ploy to get you on his side? 

You're not sure, your brain can't deny that this is a trap, he trapped you, but your brain can't deny that he's looking at you with a soft gaze that you're sure he's never graced another human with. He looks like he simultaneously wants to eat you alive and protect you like he claims.

Scar himself stands a few feet away, arms crossed as his eyes trail along your form, starting from your feet, lingering a bit on your chest until finally meeting your eyes. You swear you can see a twinkle in his eye, and he doesn't even remotely try and hide the way he licks his lips at you, a predator grin making it's way on his handsome face.

“Oh come on Rover, she'll be fine~”

“I'm not doing this with you, give her back.” You steel yourself, hand resting on the scabbard of your sword, ready for him to attack.

To your surprise, he knocks his head back and laughs, shaking his head, the movement jostling his locks. He turns back to you, moving closer, step by step.

“Look at that, that fire in your eye is mesmerizing Rover, you're that concerned with a woman who only wants to use you?” He coos, voice mimicking how an adult talks to a child and you feel small, taking a small step back but the distance still closes, he's not letting you get away.

“Stop. I'm not playing this game with you Scar, let me go and give Yangyang back.” You hate how your voice trembles a bit, hating yourself for his presence having such an effect on you.

“Yangyang This, Yangyang that, what about me my dear? Why don't you say my name like you do hers? With that fondness.” He glowers, finally closing the distance, stepping into your personal bubble and cornering you against a large rock.

“What are you even-” You can't help the flush that rushes to your face, your head dizzy at the proximity. The body heat radiating off of him is jarring, but not as jarring as his smell. He smells of ash and burnt wood, and a mix of his own natural scent and it feels warm and safe. For the first time since you've woken up, you feel protected, despite him being the enemy. The same one who the nation you're supposed to protect hates.

It's so stupid, it's so stupid.

"Say my name.” He's leaning down now, was he always this tall?

“W-” He cuts you off, grabbing your jaw with one hand, squeezing your cheeks ever so slightly, only releasing to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Say it, Rover.” His face is so fucking close, you can feel his breath tickling your face.

"Scar." You breathe out, your head spinning, this is wrong, you shouldn't have let him get this close, you need to get out and find Yangyang, what the fuck are you doing?

"Give me what I want, and I'll let you both go." He murmurs, eyes zeroed in on yours.

His heterochromatic eyes are beautiful already, but the way they're so dilated, barely any of his color is shown.

"I'm not following."

"Just a kiss my dear, just one."

"How do I know you're gonna keep your word?"

"You don't, but I don't think that's gonna stop you." He coos again, moving to trail one of his hands down your back, pushing you closer to his body, your chests both heaving and resting on one another.

He's right, as of right now, there is absolutely nothing that will stop you from this, from giving in just this once.

You lean in first, shutting your eyes tight.

It's Scar who does the rest, crashing into you like a wave, trying to consume you.

He kisses you like you're long lost lovers, pouring so much passion into the kiss that you can't ever hope to return, so when he pushes you up against the rock, you know this'll be a reoccurring occurrence. It's addicting, the feeling of his lips finally on yours, all the tension finally reaching a climax. His tongue is damn near down your throat, swallowing down your moans as much as he could, his hands gripping your hips so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark later (a small part of you hope he does).

It takes everything in your power to pull away, but the second you do, he moves to start licking at your neck, you can feel his canines run along a specific patch of skin that makes your legs weak. You place a hand on his chest, trying to gently push him away.and when that doesn't work, you bring your other hand up to run your fingers through his locks and tug him away.

The groan he lets out is downright sinful. He looks up at you, his expression as if he just fucked you within an inch of your life, his hair mussed, his lips glossy from your combined spit.

"Was that good enough?"

"Oh honey, you're lucky I don't take you right here. But I am a man of my word." He hums, licking his lips and letting out a snicker. With a shocking gentleness, he pecks your lips one last time.

"Wake up now."

"Rover! Rover! Are you okay?" Yangyang has your head on her lap, one of her palms on your forehead, feeling the warmth there.

All you can do is groan and bring a hand to your face, covering your cheeks.

"What'd he do to you in there?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[shomatoriashi]

09/01/24; 04:40pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ when they’re too busy with work, but you’re needy for them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

it was the middle of the night when you woke up with a start, eyes going blurry as you blindly reached out to the opposite side of the bed-

only to realize that the sheets were cold to touch.

your sleepiness dissolves in an instant, with a soft yawn coming from your parted lips as you carefully get out of bed. a shiver courses through you upon feeling the cold marble against your feet, but you ignore such icy sensations.

opening the door out of the master bedroom, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to keep in as much warmth that you could manage while making your way towards sylus’s office. there was a bit of a drag in your steps, your slow movements serving as sole evidence of your exhaustion-

but you would not sleep without sylus by your side.

finally reaching his office, you give the rich, oak door a series of knock, alerting your lover of your presence before inviting yourself inside. yet the moment you saw sylus settled on the expensive leather couch, you could feel your mouth turn dry.

he was dressed in a suit colored in ebony and crimson, the colors matching his aesthetic as his rufescent eyes meet with your gaze. an achingly soft smile graces his features, and you felt a pang of heat running down your spine at the mere sight of him.

gripping at the sheer material of your nightgown, your breathing comes out in uneven breaths. your eyes darken, mirroring your desires for him before asking, “sylus, won’t you join me in bed? it’s getting late.”

sylus’s eyes flash, giving you a momentary glimpse of lust while letting out a string of curses. “sweetheart, as much as i’d like to join you and keep you warm while in bed, i can’t. i’ve got to get these orders ready for my client.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, already feeling the moisture collecting from between your legs. not daring to look away from him, you slowly lock the door to his office, earning a raised brow from the onychinus leader.

you remain silent, stepping out of your ruined panties as you allow the flimsy material to fall to the ground. hunger was seen in sylus’s gaze the moment you shed your body free of your nightgown, allowing it to flutter to the floor before sauntering towards your lover.

sylus wastes no time pulling you closer to him, allowing your soaked cunt to pulsate against his thighs as you gently rode him, allowing your sticky sweet arousal to coat his suit.

“thats it, babygirl. keep on riding me, just like that. let me work for a little while longer, then i’ll take care of you.”

your gasps end up filling at the room, with sylus steadily losing interest in cleaning the weapons the moment you began bouncing up and down his thigh. his eyes had long since lost its crimson shade, becoming so dilated and filled with desire for you that he could feel his sanity snap.

needless to say, when sylus tosses the gun back on the table before unbuckling his pants, freeing his erection as he harshly grips at your thighs before impaling your slick heat against his cock, you lost all of your senses. being so filled with him after riding his thighs created such a hedonistic friction that you quickly became addicted to, never once stopping as you rode him with a desperation.

meanwhile, as luke and kieran were ready to deliver the next round of weapons, they froze upon seeing the office door locked as sounds of your breathy moans and sylus’s grunts were heard coming from behind the door. both twins end up looking at each other, their flustered expression hidden beneath their masks as they slowly backed away from the door.

it was best not to disturb their boss and his queen while in the middle of their trysts, a lesson that they were all too familiar with.

it was early in the morning at akso hospital, and as the staff were prepared to switch out with their coworkers for the upcoming shift, they would remain blissfully unaware of how a certain cardiac surgeon was still tied up and locked in his office.

zayne tries to hide back his groans, having to force himself to bite down on his fist the moment you came into his office. he had simply been going over some patient profiles when you came into his office with an almost dazed expression on your face.

he was filled with concern for you, already taking off his glasses while shoving his patient files to the side. one moment, he was filled with guilt for neglecting you for a few days due to how he wasn’t coming home as much-

and the next, zayne found himself settling back against his chair, with you remaining hidden beneath his desk as his cock was in your mouth. he was already half-erect the moment you began kissing his inner thighs, so it came as no surprise when he became even harder when you unzipped his pants and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers.

“i’m not mad at you.” you continue speaking to him, already stroking his cock in a loving manner before licking away the beads of precum that leaked from his mushroom tip. “i know you’re working so hard to save so many lives, but i wish to spoil you, too.”

zayne’s eyes were screwed shut the moment you place your hot mouth against his cock, feeling your tongue tracing at his veins while letting out a gasp of your name. his large hands automatically go into your hair, gently moving your head back and forth over his cock.

you hummed in pleasure, feeling the familiar twitch within your mouth. you had every intention to take him in as far as you could, yet zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to taste his cum when he harshly pulls your mouth away from his cock.

with a strength you didn’t think zayne was even capable of, you feel your lover shove aside the items on his desk before placing you on it. not even looking down at you, he slides off your soaked panties before shoving it into the pockets of his pants. gripping at your thighs, he spreads your legs apart before sheathing himself inside of you in one swift thrust.

“i need to make up for lost time… for neglecting you…” with heavy pants of your name, zayne grips at your leg before tossing it over his shoulder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head the moment he reaches oh so deeper inside of you all while kissing at your ankles.

and when your moans were heard echoing across the department, no one dared to question it.

“you’re such a brat.”

xavier was heard hissing at you, trying to keep his voice even as he was on the phone with one of the higher ups at the hunters association. here he was, trying to gather information for his mission next week while you were trying to free his cock from the confines of his pants.

“i can’t help it. you’re telling me you’re going to be gone for two weeks, and you expect me to behave?” you scoff, finally shoving down his pants to reveal his half-hardened cock. a cheshire cat grin paints your pretty features as you made quick work of stroking him to full hardness.

xavier lets out a hiss of your name, but has to swallow his moans when a stern voice was heard coming from his phone. “xavier, are you ready to receive details for this mission?”

“yes sir…!” a low gasp escapes from xavier’s lips the moment you place your lips on his tip, giving it a light suck. it takes xavier a herculean effort not to moan into the phone, feeling your hands and hot mouth fully sending him into an almost painful erection.

he catches bits and pieces of information, but was solely focused on the way your mouth and tongue traces at every inch of his cock. his breathing becomes heavier, feeling his impending climax approaching when you suddenly removed your lips away from him. the young hunter was all too eager to shove your face back against his cock when you slowly began to undress in front of him-

and dammit to hell, you just had to wear that lacy set beneath your clothes!

your soft giggle echoes throughout the room, and as you straddle him, he saw the way you moved the material of your lace panties to the side, ready to mount yourself on his cock.

“you’ve got it sir, i’ll be there next week.” luckily, xavier had already ended the call the moment you sheath his cock inside of your wet pussy, the squelching sounds of you riding his cock echoing throughout the living room. with a growl of your name, xavier grabs a hold of your waist before proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock at an almost inhuman speed.

“is this what you want? for me to ruin you completely that you won’t be able to walk until i return?”

your mewls and eager nods were all that he needed to continue pounding mercilessly into you, eyes already going dilated as he had every intention of claiming you.

“i’m going to make sure that my cock is forever imprinted against your sweet little heat… so be prepared for it, little brat…” he finishes his statement with a particularly hard thrust, making you see stars as you had every intention to ride him for as long as you could manage.

rafayel had long forgotten about his commissioned painting the moment you began to eagerly bounce up and down his cock. the moment he felt your slickness wrapping so tightly around him was when he lost all train of thought.

you had come home from work late in the evening and wished to greet rafayel. however, when you saw the portrait he was working on, you began to feel envious of the gorgeous girl seen painted on the canvas. he tried to explain to you that a governor had commissioned him to paint a portrait of his daughter for her 23rd birthday, but you didn’t wish to hear it.

and now, he found that he could care less about finishing such a portrait with you bouncing up and down so eagerly against his cock. filled with his own desperation for you, rafayel tries to meet your downward thrusts with his own upward ones, panting as he begins to lose his breath.

being so captivated and drunk off of you, the young artist could feel a whimper being ripped from the confines of his throat when you began kissing him, swallowing his grunts and moans of your name. as you continued to bounce up and down his cock, he could feel the curve of your breasts and your hardened nipples against his own chest.

“am i prettier than her?” you ask in a breathless whisper, purposefully squeezing your cunt over his pulsating dick. it was no competition in rafayel’s eyes. “o-of course you are- fuck! you’re the prettiest girl in the entire universe. you’re my fucking princess.”

a pleased hum was heard coming from you when you lay back against his lap, moving your hips up and down his cock at this brand new angle that had the artist seeing stars. “f-fuck… princess… you’re squeezing me so tight! l-like you want to milk me dry.”

“hehe, that’s the plan…” feeling your legs and cunt tightening so sweetly around him makes rafayel gasp, stilling his hips before shooting ropes of his seed deep inside of you. with you remaining laid back, your back against his thighs, you allowed your release to wash over you, earning a grunt from rafayel.

as your honeyed arousal further wets his softening cock, your lover leans over to press a searing kiss against your lips all while returning your body closer to him. his tongue fights with yours for dominance, and he lets out a pleased hum the moment you yield for him.

when the need for air proved to be too much, rafayel was the first to pull away from you, giving you a gentle smile before asking, “did our copulation manage to ease you of your envy?”

you give him a thoughtful expression, placing your pointer finger against your lips before smirking at him. his eyes end up going wide when you began to bounce up and down his limp cock, stroking it back to full hardness with a determination seen deep within your eyes.

“not quite yet, rafe… i’m going to need this to go on the whole night to make me convinced that i am the only woman for you.”

and with one final groan of your name, rafayel knew better than to deny you of your needs.

end notes: i am still soooo thirsty for my lads men, so have this post 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[6esiree]

How They React To You Not Wearing A Bra

Imagine Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, Adam, and surprise, surprise, Sir Pentious and Saint Peter notice you’re not wearing a bra underneath your shirt? You’re not in a relationship with any of them.

Alastor:

When you showed up to one of Charlie’s meetings with no bra underneath your shirt, Alastor immediately noticed, his ears falling flat against his head as you took the only available space on the couch next to him. The room was cold, and it was evident in the way your nipples peeked through the thin cotton material, teasing him from his peripheral vision, almost.

“Hey, Al, is everything alright?” You whispered to Alastor, your eyes flitting down to see him pulling his dress shirt over his crotch.

“Yes, now, listen to Charlie, darling,” Alastor responded curtly, his face forward, set on ignoring you for a reason that was unknown to you. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

His tone definitely got to you, so you did just that, listening to Charlie babble away. Meanwhile, Alastor was doing everything he could to conceal his growing erection, from buttoning the rest of his coat to crossing his legs. But he couldn’t stop stealing glances at your perky breasts, eventually manifesting out of the room without a goodbye to relieve himself, feeling utterly weak.

Lucifer:

The day Charlie’s dad was supposed to visit the hotel just so happened to align with laundry day. You made sure to wear something loose but also presentable, not worried about your lack of bra underneath…until Lucifer started to personally introduce himself to everybody, your nervousness making itself known through your shirt. How fantastic.

“Hi, hello! You must be—“ Lucifer started, but then he interrupted himself with a squeak, his face at level with your chest. “I, uh—it’s nice to meet you too?”

“Oh, wow! You’re Charlie’s dad, huh? Did she warn you that I was a hugger?” You said quickly, panicking, bringing him in for a hug to preserve what little dignity you had left. “Yes, yes—nice to meet you.”

Before any of the other residents could notice your hardened nipples, Lucifer’s face was buried into your chest, peering down through your lashes to see him staring up at you with a dazed look. You offered him an apologetic smile, completely unaware of the fact that he was secretly enjoying being in between your breasts, his pants getting just a little bit tighter.

Husk:

If there was anybody who could care less about what you were wearing, it was Husk. That’s what you told yourself as you approached the bar, tugging at the bottom of your shirt, stretching it so he wouldn’t see your lack of bra underneath. Of course, the man immediately noticed your discomfort, but he didn’t say anything as you sat on the stool in front of him.

“Just give me a beer,” You said, neglecting to offer him the usual pleasantries. Husk hummed, placing the beer in front of him instead of sliding it to you. The bastard.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, flinching as your nipples hardened upon feeling the cold counter. Husk’s pupils dilated, but besides that, he hid his surprise quite well, averting his eyes with a ‘Uh-huh, yeah, of course.’

When you sat back down, you tugged at your shirt again, completely missing the way Husk readjusted himself behind the bar. A slight blush dusted his cheeks as his fingers shakily tucked away his erection, all while he continued to steal glances at your breasts, tail slightly whipping at the sight of your nipples peeking through the thin material. God, did he feel like such a pervert.

Vox:

You walked into the Vee’s shared living space, carelessly plopping down onto the couch next to Velvette. She looked up from her phone with a smirk, her eyes teasingly raking over your chest. “Letting the girls breathe, I see.” You would have responded if Vox hadn’t suddenly showed up, paling as he sat down next to you. Fuck, wasn’t he supposed to be away at a meeting?

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, folding your arms over your chest, trying to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Well, hello to you too,” Vox replied sarcastically, turning around to look at you. “Meeting got canceled—oh, are you cold?” He said, a wicked smile taking over his initial annoyance.

When you folded your arms, you actually pulled down your shirt, the already thin material displaying the outline of your breasts. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” You mumbled sheepishly. “Hey, we’re all adults,” Vox told you, turning away. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to look, however, storing the sight of your hardened nipples in his hard drive for later.

Adam:

The last thing you ever wanted to do was go braless around Adam, but most of your laundry was in the washer. You made sure to wear the loosest dress shirt you had for work, but even that wasn’t enough, his eyes bugging out of his head as you stepped into his office. Fortunately for you, Adam didn’t tell you anything…until he decided that he’d had enough of your supposed teasing.

“What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” Adam asked you, pressing himself against your back, his hands sliding up your body.

“Sir, what are you talking about?” You squeaked as he groped your breasts. “This,” He hissed, feeling the lack of padding underneath your shirt. “I can see them, you know? Ah, fuck, they’re so pretty.”

Adam’s pointer fingers traced the outline of your soft nipples, your thighs clenching together, but not at his ministrations. His erection was unashamedly poking at your ass through your skirt. Maybe going braless around the angel wasn’t such a bad idea, you thought, especially as he kicked open your legs from behind, his pants falling to his feet with a thud.

Sir Pentious:

Oh, Sir Pentious. He was so sweet and innocent. You looked up at him in amusement as he chucked off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, purposely neglecting to fasten the buttons. If he did, he’d risk brushing over your nipples, hardened from how cold it was in the parlor. A simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed, but you decided to tease him a bit first.

“How’d you know I was cold?” You giggled, sliding your arms through the oversized sleeves, leaving the coat unfastened.

“I, uhhh, well,” Sir Pentious stammered, his eyes nervously darting across the room. “I saw your…” He started, but then he thought about something else, “…arms littered with goosebumps! Yesss! That is why.”

Of course he’d tell you a lie in lieu of the truth. You approached Sir Pentious, looking up at him through your lashes as you wrapped your arms around his torso in thanks, your breasts pressed up against him. If the serpent wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now, his heart beating rapidly as he tried to focus on anything else but the feeling of your hardened nipples.

Saint Peter:

With an iced coffee held against your chest, you approached the pearly gates, feeling slightly nervous as you saw the back of Saint Peter’s head. You decided not to wear a bra for once, which you were starting to regret, especially as the angel turned around at the sound of your footsteps, the smile on his face falling almost instantaneously.

“Hey! I, uh, came over here to drop off your coffee,” You said, holding it out for him to take, but he was too busy staring at the way your nipples peeked through your robes. “Peter?”

“Oh my goodness, I am so, so sorry,” Peter quickly said when he snapped out it, looking away as he went to grab the drink, missing entirely like the fool he was. “Thank you very much—oh, oh my.”

You gasped, a blush crawling up Saint Peter’s neck as his hand landed on your breast, tentatively squeezing the soft, warm flesh, realizing it wasn’t firm and cold like an iced coffee should be. Horrified, he tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him, introducing his other hand to your neglected breast instead. “We can’t—“ Peter started, but when you let out a soft moan, he immediately folded.

[mystellenia]

riding bound abby's strap

summary: abby has teased you all day, so you decide to get back at her by taking away her most treasured sense: touch.

content: dom abby turned sub abby, strap on sex, like very very brief mommy kink? (it was literally one time), dry humping, bondage (pretty vanilla tho, just hands tied by a belt), kinda strip teasing

notes: this is so yummy omg. i've also had this idea for prob a solid two months but i’m just now writing it 🤗

(wc 1.3k)

abby lived to tease you. whether it was fleeting touches or whispering nasty things in your ear in public, she loved to see how you lost all composure from seemingly innocent actions. 

today, though, it was too much. she decided to wear her strap the entire day while you two were out shopping, constantly standing behind you and pulling your hips into her own so you'd feel her packing. she also refused to kiss you all day, promising she'd make up for it once you two got home. she'd pissed you off and you needed to get back at her somehow.  

with your pent-up frustration, you found yourself straddling abby's lap while she sat at the dinner table, work papers splayed across the stained hardwood. your hips mindlessly ground into the impossible-to-ignore bulge beneath her jeans, moaning while she sucked marks around the pulse of your neck. 

snaking your hands down her torso to unbuckle her pants, butterflies warm your lower stomach at a brewing thought. swinging your leg back over hers, you settle on your knees in between her meaty thighs and pull her belt from her waist and place it on the floor near you. you grab the hem of her shirt and rip it over her head, throwing it to the other side of the room and leaving her in her bra. 

abby leans back in the chair and smiles at you on your knees before her. "getting straight to the point, are we?" she smirks. 

your hands keep moving to undress her, pushing her jeans over her butt and moving her boxers down just enough for her faux clear cock to spring out, your mouth nearly watering at the sight. pressing your lips to the tip, you spit down the length and wrap your hand around it to lube the silicone up. 

you then smirk up at her, half mischief and half seduction as you rise from your knees and trail your hand up her chest. walking around the chair to be behind her, you drop a kiss on the crown of her head, her leather belt hidden in your hand behind your back. 

her head turns back to look at you, and you grab her chin and smash your lips against hers to distract her as you grab her wrists and pull them together, quickly wrapping her belt around them and fastening the buckle, tightly. 

she pulls back from the kiss and flicks her eyes between yours, arousal painted brightly across her features. 

"did you just..." she chuckles in disbelief, her eyes squinting. "did you just tie me up?" 

"someone thought it was funny to tease me all day, touching me in places you know will rile me up. well, you've touched me enough for today, so this'll have to do." you pat her cheek twice, your words dripping in mock sympathy. 

she incredulously shakes her head and smiles, wetting her bottom lip with her tongue. "you know what? you can have your fun," she concludes, sure that she'd be able to wiggle her way out of the restraints before you came so she could properly fuck you the way she wanted to. 

"perfect," you breathe out, kissing her cheek before walking back around to stand in front of her. you make a show out of undressing yourself, taking your sweet time with caressing your curves and soaking in how her pupils dilate at the sight.

after pushing your black leggings over the curve of your ass and pulling them from your ankles, you pull the loose-fitted t-shirt over your head, looking at the simple seal on the breast once you drop it to the floor. 

all that's left is your underwear and your bra. you kick the polka-dot panties down, but decide to leave your bra on. it was simple: black with small, pink hearts covering the cups. abby seemed to like it, too. her eyes were locked on your bra-clad boobs, only moving to switch from one to the other. 

you take the two steps to stand in between her legs, placing your hands on her shoulders to stabilize yourself as you look down at her dick. your eyes catch her pubic hair below the strap, and you think about going down on her with her tied up but she cuts your thoughts off with an impatient groan. 

"come on, baby, you wanted to tie me up so bad. play your little game and ride me already," she orders, her eyes drinking you up.

her words and poorly masked desperation leave a warm feeling swirling in your stomach, so you swing your legs over hers to straddle her and grab the base of her cock to line it up. 

your jaw drops open as you slowly sink down onto her length, long and breathy gasps making your chest rise and fall as you adjust to the thickness. you hear abby mutter "jesus christ" under her breath, and if your head wasn't thrown back, you'd see her strong arms twitching against the belt tying them together.  

her hips jerk up into yours and push the rest of the length into you, making you hiss at the intrusion. "god," you whisper, and lift yourself back up before slamming your body back down. 

"i- fuck!" abby yelps, not used to being unaware of the next move. 

you fall into a steady rhythm, your thighs lifting and dropping you onto her dick. the way you were moving—the sounds you were making—would quickly push abby over the edge, but she was done letting you take control. she needed to touch you, needed to see the way your pussy swallowed her in with every thrust. 

her hands begin to try and undo whatever maneuver you'd done to restrain them, but nothing budged. you notice her abs starting to tighten, a telltale sign that she was getting closer, and begin rocking your hips against hers and rubbing the base of the strap against her clit. 

she starts getting frustrated at how you have full control over her, but deep in a place she'd never admit, it spurs her on more.  

"wait, baby, wait wait. i can't- fuck. i want my hands. i need to touch you. i need my hands now," she pleads, her eyes starting to water at the oncoming orgasm. 

you ignore her and start praising her, knowing it'll make her thighs shake. 

"ohh, fuck," you say, your voice 90% air. "it feels... feels so good. you feel so good. always are so good to me, baby." 

right on cue, her thighs start shaking beneath you, tears falling from her glossy eyes.  

"oh, i can't- i can't, baby. i’m gonna cum," she whines, her groans replaced by needy whimpers. 

"come on, mama, let it out," you groan, giving her permission. "want you to feel good. let it out." 

she lets out a string of rushed thank yous before her stomach muscles completely tighten as she cums, unable to control the loud whines that leave her mouth as she does. you follow closely behind, allowing the sensation of her cock pushing against your cervix to wash over you. 

after what feels like an entire minute, the two of you come down from your highs, a light sheen of sweat highlighting your skin. abby has her head lolled back and is trying to catch her breath, her limbs like jelly after how intensely she came. you suck kisses on her exposed neck while she calms down. 

"holy shit," she gasps. 

"who would've thought abby anderson could get so whiny?" you tease. 

"i just wanted my hands back! god, you're evil." 

"i love you, too," you grin. 

dom turning into a sub because of desperation kink go brrrrrrrrrr

reblog if you think murder is bad and that children shouldn’t die

also ignore how these tags are it's the only way i could make sure all of them work. little tip to writers: after about an hour of trying ive figured out that only 5 tags can be in one line. every five people you tag, you gotta indent and start a new line. couldve saved me a lot of time ☺️

@abbysbug @victoria9687 @abbys-gay @serevena @r0binbuckleyswife

@moonalumi @atyourmerci @grey-jedi12 @andersonsprincess @bookpagecandlescent

@lilsmartiepants @tohoko @sevenneves @prettyinpinkcat @slagmagnet9000

@msmsmsms8 @thyjinji @lesbian-useless @cattjull @itzkimi

@h00d-tr4sh @abby-anderson-wifey @abbyshands @llllbtrz @thyjinji

@idkwhattoputherelol @she-canyon @ellieisheretoo @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @picklesarenice69