#so i try to handle that to keep from fucking up again

[ubeb0nes]

Things Sevika says as your lover…

❧ ❧ ❧

Let me do it. / I'll handle it. / Don't worry, I'll take care of it.

She wants to take care of you so, so bad. Whether that's opening every door and pulling out every chair for you, or wiping someone off the face of the earth in your name.

She's in her element when she's of service. Deep down, she thinks that as long as she proves useful then your continued affection is almost guaranteed.

Can't do that anymore, my woman/partner said so. / Wrap this up. I gotta get home to them.

She is yours, no ifs or buts about it. And she makes sure everyone knows how fiercely loyal she is, she will not be doing anything to disrespect your boundaries or your relationship.

Obviously her work and her abrasive nature will put a natural strain on some parts of your relationship, but she's never intentionally causing you distress. Loyalty's her most important personal value, and you have the most of hers.

No, get behind me! / I said stay here. / I need you safe, understand?

You're a culmination of everything she's fighting for. All the beauty of Zaun, her reason for sticking her heart in this city, you are all of that personified. So you can't die. You can't get hurt.

If she has to lock you in the house to keep you from following her into a death mission, she will. You'll understand. She's always taken a beating for the ones she loves, the role thrust upon her that she now clings to like a hardy mask.

Stand down. / Down, baby. / I don't care if you don't like it, follow orders.

If you follow her into combat, good luck with getting bossed around like crazy. She always keeps you in her line of sight, preferably also within three feet of you so she can jump in front of you to sacrifice another limb if need be.

She's also absolutely zero nonense while working. She isn't flirting with you or showing vulnerability in front of her crew, but she is relishing in getting to tell you what to do (and she expects you to heed immediately).

'S all for you, doll… / Mm-mm, you're not getting up… / Pretty thing… so warm… love you so much…

She only ever talks like this when she's sleepy, or just waking up. She doesn't say I love you much (outside of when she's leaving for work), as to her, it takes away from the weight of it (WRONG imo, but in character i think lol).

The sweetest sweetheart ever when she's all wrapped up in your arms. Her voice is even lower in the mornings, with a distinct gravel to her tone. She uses it to her advantage, whispering such sweet things in your ear as she "subtly" traps you in her arms to keep you in bed.

She keeps repeating the same things over and over again, praising you and professing her love like there's no tomorrow. Her favorite love language switches to words of affirmation while she's drowsy lol.

So good to me, god you keep me sane. / I'm gonna fuckin' give you everything… / You smell so good, I could eat you (she then does actually try to bite you and you scream and push her off the bed)

Nsfw under the cuttt~

Uh uh, don't run from me. / Stop moving. / You're gonna take it either way, don't whine.

One of your favorite games is to see how long you can hold out being a brat (i.e., closing your legs every time she spreads them, shifting your hips away, etc.) before you make her snap and she just manhandles you.

Her displays of strength are usually subtle, like lifting you steadily off the floor and laying you down slowly on the bed without struggle. But when you do finally get her to snap, she's flipping you over on the bed like a pancake, and holding you up against the wall with just her human arm as she fucks you. She barely breaks a sweat holding you down on the bed, no matter how strong or how determined your bratty ass may be.

I'm never fuckin' sharing you, baby. / Look at me. Don't look away, those are *my* pretty eyes, I wanna see them. / Is that good, doll? Whose making you feel good? Mhm, and don't forget it…

Chances are that you end up being the jealous one in your relationship rather than her. But she is extremely possessive. When she gets especially in a mood, she's intent upon fucking you until your brain melts and you're nothing but putty in her hands, obsessed with her.

She reminds you how good she makes you feel, and how she's the only one that can fuck you that way. You're always extra cuddly and touchy in the days following, and she loves it because she knows it means she's stuck on your mind.

[zevrra]

Could you write overstimulated stroking Jayce until he cries and beg you to stop.

[a good boy—

includes: [mdni! 18(+), smüt, händjob, slight öräl (m receiving), praise, overstim, jayce is pathetic as always]

ft. jayce x gn!reader

a/n: this isn’t great but UGHHHH PATHETIC WHIMPERING OVERSTIM JAYCE MY BELOVED!!! thank you for this request it was yummy to write <3

“c’mon pretty boy…i know you can do one more.” you mumble against the inside of jayce’s thigh. your fingers are wrapped around his leaking cock, stroking along his thick shaft with a steady pace. jayce tenses under your touch, head thrown back against the couch, his mouth hangs open as you draw every single sweet groan you can out of the man. he shakes his head at your words, tears hanging onto his pretty eyelashes.

“no…i can’t! please, no more.” jayce sobs, bottom lip trembling as he glances down at you.

you can’t help but chuckle a little at his pathetic expression. smiling as you press firmly into the slit of jayce’s sensitive tip, watching sweetly as precum pools around the pad of your thumb. “you know you can handle it. you're so strong my love. i know you can do it.” you encourage.

jayce gasps at your touch; shaking his head once again. you had edged him for hours, stroking from the base of his cock to his head, stringing him closer and closer to his orgasm before removing your hand entirely. until he successfully begged you enough to let him come, so you let him. again and again; until he turned into the overstimulated mess that he is now. he whimpers as his hand reaches to grab at your wrist. “no—“

“don’t touch or i’ll have to tie your hands down again.” you hum.

in response, jayce rips his hand away, instantly showing his true colors. he wanted this. wanted you to keep going; even if he shook his head and cried, until he uttered that safe word…he wanted this more than anything.

“such a big, strong man and you can’t come more than three times, hmm? now, i know better than that baby. you can do it.” you mutter, pressing a kiss into his leaking head, feeling him shiver under your grasp.

jayce reluctantly lowers his hand back to his side, trying his best to relax as your hand begins to move faster. you watch with an observant eye as his face twists in pleasure and focus. jayce grunts as your speed picks up, you settle one hand on his base while the other targets the head of his cock. his back arches as you rub directly against his sensitive tip. every known curse and swear falls from his lips as his fingers grip onto anything they can find. realizing as he’s probably gotten too loud, he bites down on his bottom lip, whimpering behind his sealed lips.

“mmm, that won’t do sweetheart. don’t hold your voice back.” you mumble, pressing your tongue into the slit of his head.

jayce’s mouth falls open again at your request. “fuck i’m coming,” he sobs between ragged breaths, body tensing harshly with his oncoming orgasm. “coming, coming, i’m, i can’t! coming baby, i’m coming!” he stutters. his hips lift quickly to meet every single stroke of your hand, his words failing him now as he reaches his fourth orgasm of the night.

“mhm good.” you sigh softly, smiling fondly as jayce finally cums. his slick coats your fingers, thinner with his back to back orgasms. you press your tongue right up against his twitching head, relishing in his cries as he cums for you. and your hand never stops moving until jayce is twitching with his spent orgasm. tears finally fall free to stream down his cheeks from overstimulation, unable to properly speak anymore. all he can muster is a weak noise resembling a whine, wrapping a hand firmly around your wrist to finally stop you from moving your hand anymore.

and you allow him the opportunity to rest by removing your sticky fingers from around his softening shaft, reaching for the nearby clean up station you had prepared. while cleaning your hands you stand from your crouched position between his thighs, lovingly placing a kiss against his temple. “you did such a good job, baby.” you praise your lover as everything begins to settle down.

jayce weakly settles his hands on your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your body, tilting his head up with a pout on his lips. “do i get my reward now?” he asks softly.

you laugh a little at his sudden eagerness for his so called “reward”. even while you pleased him again and again for so long, all he could think about was pleasing you. “yes, you do.” you reply with a wide smile. his fingers are quick to undo your pants, stripping you of them with his own excited smile. his stamina was truly something else; seeing as he was no longer that exhausted if it meant it was his turn to please you.

god, what a man.

[prlssprfctn]

I awfully need a fic, where Jason gets drugged by a big dose of fear toxin and starts seeing Joker's hallucination around — kind of like Bruce in Arkham Knight game, you know — and everyone is just... confused what to do with all of it?

They can't really produce antidote because it would fuck up his mind more, so he is stuck in the cave for the next 24 hours, and no one is leaving, because they can't allow Jason to go through this alone. Again.

Jason tries to put a brave face of course (god, he is THE Red Hood, one of the most influential people in the Gotham, he can't be afraid of a stupid clown–) but the more hours pass, the less he can control his fear or anxiety. Instead of pacing around like a ghost — he did that in the first four hours — he sits down on the couch, hugs himself, and starts answering to Joker?

Yeah, he knows he is not real. He understands that feeding hallucination with conversations will not help — and Dick, the ultimate expert in handling hallucinations, really, gave him some tips on what to do — but he can't just ignore it now.

He is too scared.

He remembers what comes if he flips off Joker or stops playing by his rules, alright?

"Knock, knock!"

Joker's face is as pale and terrifying as Jason remembers it to be. And maybe it is hallucination, but he still can feel his panted, hot breath on his ear.

He is alone, of course. Or not entirely alone, but others would notice if Joker was really here, right?

"Who is this?" He whispers, sensing his family tensing a little, not being sure what to expect.

Jason either argues with his hallucination or asks to stop. Or maybe just wordlessly scraps on his temples or cheek, in the place the J scar used to be, before the Lazarus Pit erased it from his body completely, leaving no traces.

"The stray dog that can't bark! Do you know why it can not bark, Jayjay?"

"I don't fucking know," he murmurs, but the fiericness with which he screamed at this man for hours now is gone; he sounds tired even to his own ears, and it is embarrassing. "Tell me."

"Because I broke its bones with a crowbar, silly!~" Joker shakes his shoulders, and Jason can practically feel the familiar ache of shattered bones. "It– Ahahah, it is too hurt to bark! It can only whine!"

Jason laughs.

His facial expression doesn't really change — he is still frowning a little — but he laughs with a painful wheeze. Joker is pleased enough to sigh dreamily in his ear.

Good job, Jason.

"What so funny?" Dick asks carefully, a patient smile on his face — he has been trying to distract him with conversations the most; Bruce prefers to keep his silence, and Tim thinks accidental physical touches help more than talking.

"He just said a joke," Jason shrugs weakily.

"Tell it to them," Joker orders. "Let us all laugh."

He doesn't really want to. But he can't disobey. He can't allow himself to die again, and–

"Knock, knock," he clears up his throat.

"Who is this?" Tim echoes, turning his chair to him, smart eyes scanning him up and down.

"The stray dog that can't bark," Jason tugs the tips of his own hair. "Do you know why it can not bark?"

Bruce tenses in his chair. He tenses in a way, Jason thinks, he already knows this joke; he has already heard it before. He almost looks as if he wants to stop him, cut mid-sentence.

But for some reason, he doesn't.

"Uh, why?" Dick tilts his head.

"Because my– its bones are broken," Jason stutters. "You know, dogs can't really bark when they are hurt? Just whine."

He can't bring himself to laugh again, even though Joker keeps giggling over and over.

"That's not funny, Jay," Tim murmurs.

"Yeah. I guess it isn't. But if I don't laugh, he'll get the crowbar again, and I really, really want to keep barking," Jason smiles.

He tries to ignore pitful glances of his family members, and the torture continues. No one breaks his bones this time, but Jason still whines when Bruce hugs him by the end of the night, pressing to his chest.

Joker is not here anymore, but Jason still can hear his taunting whisper, somewhere in the back of his head.

You will die his son.

[olderthannetfic]

ok drama from my side of the pond.

Story: This one poc content creator got really popular in recent years. She is objectively from a really privileged background. Insanely privileged by some standards tbh. The stupid part is that nobody actually cares, she seems to make it a bigger issue herself than literally anyone ever. When she first became big she talked about her childhood and it was kinda obvious that she was really out of touch with some major things when it came to her upbringing and her privilege.

She has made posts defending other poc but always with a bit of that "I'm so humble" attitude, which some people had issues with. Not humble in the "I was raised in a privileged household" because she hates acknowledging it, but humble in the "I'm from a more privileged poc status". Literally, paraphrasing she basically said that in more words. Some people have joked that she has a bit of a savior complex.

She is friends with some random white content creator who's more popular and well known than her, but that content creator has also been at it for a decade more + has done a lot of other stuff outside internet content creation so no shit.

Recently some petty drama happened between the white content creator and some random people. You know the typical "how dare a woman be popular" crowd, and she responded very bluntly to the bullshit.

Well what would you think a friend would say in that case? Let's play a game: A) Would a friend support her friend bts. B) Publicly defend her friend. C) Would she be quiet and let her friend do her thing. D) Would she backhandedly make a defence post and then comment "I can't believe I gotta stand up for a privileged white person..." and some stuff about white women always expecting poc do their dirty work. If you guessed D: 🥇

Literally nobody has any idea what the point was. White content creator basically had it handled, never asked for support and was doing her thing, sure there was some pushback and criticism for being so blunt. But it was water under the bridge and most people were on her side. There was no need for the poc content creator to even say a single word.

Some people have been commenting that the poc creator has been more and more hostile towards her white friend for some time now, which seemed have ramped up when the poc creator was "confronted" by the fact that she has more privilege than many other poc especially of her own race/ethnicity, and that her talking on certain things feels dishonest; basically her background and upbringing and how she some times frames herself as having been less privileged than she was. Again, nobody initially cared about her silver spoon, but she started making it a bigger issue and tried to talk about things she as a person with privileged background really can't comment on.

So now people, especially poc fans of either or both have been talking about how she really needs to dial it down because she's not garnering any sympathy by trying to pretend that she's worse off than she actually is, by trying to frame the white content creator as using the poc creators voice as a poc to do her dirty work. Again, nobody even demanded nor cared about her and nobody expected her to join in. It was actually considered really fucking weird when it happened, especially in the way it did. One thing that has been reoccurring is that some people have mentioned that she might try to make herself more "oppressed" than she is, but since she has wealth and everyone knows about it, she needs to put all her cards on "I'm poc, and my white friend is actually using me."

It's been fucking wild because she's been attacking anyone who dares question her reason, and she keeps using the "You just hate me bc I'm poc" even when it's poc people questioning/calling her out, especially with all the stuff from the past years and her behavior.

--

[mahojelly92]

Beneath It All

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Kind of a selfish fic bc I had some family issues a while back. Here's some Schlatt bf comfort. Reader is gender neutral. Hope you enjoy!

Content warning: family issues and verbal fighting

The shouts of your family echoed in your ears, pounding in your head and tearing into you. You stand helplessly in the middle of the living room, shoulders scrunched up towards your ears and teeth mashed together as your dad lays into you. It's not like you did anything wrong. A simple miscommunication turned into a screaming match between your relatives. Add alcohol into the mix and the issue only increased ten fold. Everyone is blaming each other, talking over one another like pigs at a feeding trough. Their words cut into you, raising the hair on the back of your neck and making your stomach churn.

Your knees lock as you stand there frozen, unable to think straight as the screams just keep coming. Your dad didn't even let you get a word in. Tears ran down your cheeks like a fountain and your face was on fire. You were so sick of this. Would it ever end?

Your mind drifts to your boyfriend in the other room, sleeping away as you're stuck in here caught up in all this. He had gone to bed long before the room grew tense, long before the alcohol had its effect. That couldn't be helped now because the volume of your dad's cries and complaints only grew louder with each passing second you stayed quiet.

Will you ever get to sleep now? There was no point. The last time your dad started something like this, the memory of his crazy eyes haunted you until the sun came up.

Suddenly, you hear a booming voice come from the bedroom behind you.

“Hey!” You flinch and whip your head around. The room goes silent. Schlatt stands in the doorway of your bedroom, hands on hips and hair disheveled, his face contorted into a scowl. He's wearing his plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt.

“What the hell is going on? It's fucking two in the morning.” You glance back at Jay, relieved by his presence, a calming contrast to the lingering tension in the air.

He knew what your family was like. You had warned him time and time again that they were too much to handle, even for you, but he insisted on meeting them like any good boyfriend would. You told him stories of your asshole dad to try and ween him off the idea, but that only pushed him further. And now you're two years down the line with the same old family problems as before, except now you had an outlet, an escape from everything.

Schlatt ducks his head under the doorframe and calmly walks over to you, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. He darts his eyes around the room, taking in your dad's stiff demeanor as he pulls you closer to him. Your dad stutters as Jay's eyes pierce into his, making your dad's head fall in defeat. He could almost chuckle at the way they were all standing there. The cowards. He knew he intimidated them in that moment, putting them in their place -- only if it was for just a second. Good, to hell with them.

“We're going to bed.” He says sternly, sleepyness and anger taking over his words.

Tears sting your eyes as he walks you out of the living room and into the bedroom. He keeps a firm hand on you, never letting go until the door clicks behind you. Jay's grip on the door handle tightens as another string of screams howl from the other side. They never give up, do they? You tense again, your shoulders shaking violently as you hug yourself.

“Baby…” Jay coos softly and looks back at you, his eyes softening as you bite down on your lip, feeling the blood vessels curdle between your teeth. His eyes are etched with worry, feeling helpless as he watches your small frame crumble before him.

“I just want it to stop.” You sob, tightening your grip at your sides and looking down at the floor.

“I know, sweetheart.” Jay unclenches the door handle and turns to hug you, wrapping his big warm arms around your back. You untangle yourself and cry into him, shaking and nuzzling your face into his chest. You hope his shirt can soak up all the tears and pain and hurt from tonight, just so you can wake up tomorrow and pretend like nothing ever happened.

If only it were that easy. This was the reality you lived in when you came home. It was a destructive cycle that never ended.

Jay strokes your hair gently as you cry. He pulls you closer to him with each sob you heave. He hums and rocks you side to side, easing your shaking shoulders slightly as he cradles you in his arms.

Eventually you exhaust yourself, pulling back and staring at Jay's face numbly. He kisses your forehead and wipes the remaining tears trickling down your cheeks. The screaming continues in the other room, except now it’s muffled from your fatigue and frustration.

Schlatt says nothing. He just gently coaxes you into the bathroom and washes your swollen eyes with a cool cloth, running it over the back of your neck, too. For the first time tonight, you breathe out heavily, letting all the pent up air in your lungs go. At least you were fortunate enough to have one person in your life who you love and trust. He stares at you in the mirror as you absent-mindedly brush your teeth. He flips your hair back from your face and tosses it gently over your shoulder, his soft touch lingering on your neck. A small smile plays at his lips as he admires the beautiful woman in the mirror. All you can see is a shell of your former self, a hallow version of the girl you once were.

He kisses your temple slowly, gingerly, lovingly -- until you feel just a little lighter. You put down your toothbrush and turn your head up to his, giving him a weak smile.

This was all that you knew, all that you'd endured for so long. You were worried to death that he'd leave you the second it got too much for him, but no -- he stayed. He's stayed for years, never faltering or backing away from your family's bouts of insanity.

As you hobble to bed with Jay by your side, you feel your chest swell with emotion. How lucky you were to have him, to be with him for as long as you lived.

“Jay?” you ask, mumbling against the pillow.

“Yes, doll?” he stares at you with a smile, his face inches away from yours.

“Why do you put up with all this?”

“Because I love you.” He doesn't hesitate or search for his words. He just says it.

That was enough for you to break down again. But this time, it wasn't in anger or humiliation or sadness, but in joy and gratitude.

A tender finger brushes against your cheek again as your tears flow freely.

“What's the matter, baby?” Jay hums, his warm breath fanning over your face.

You shake your head, your emotions too great to bear. All you can do is crack a small smile, gaze into his eyes and say it back.

“I love you too.”

That night, you drift into a deep sleep in Schlatt's arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. As you rest, your dreams are filled not with the pain and uncertainty of your family, but with the promise of a loving future with Schlatt.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer hoped that his ruse was enough to throw heaven off of his plan to free Adam, it pained him to remove his ring and give it with that letter. He'll get it back.

Him and Charlie were sneaking around heaven, he was surprised by how easy it was to get inside he figured that it would be a lot harder than just opening a portal and walking on in.

The place was crawling with angels, he managed to find an office of some kind, maybe it would tell him where Adam was.

Lucifer: This way, quietly.

Charlie nodded and they ended up in Micheals office. Looking through the drawers, Lucifer found the letter with his ring and slipped it back on, he felt naked without it.

Lucifer: Okay Addie, where are you.....

Charlie was keeping a look out so Lucifer could find a map, it took a bit but he did find one.

Lucifer: Ow! Shit .....

He sucked on his finger, fucking paper cuts. When he looked to see how deep it was he was surprised to see his blood was golden and not deep red like a sinners should be.

Odd.

Maybe being King makes him even more special? Whatever.

Lucifer: Okay I found the dungeon let's go.

Charlie: Okay. I hope Adams not too hurt.

Lucifer: He's tough, but he still feels pain.

They ran down the hall and didn't realize they passed someone. The angel grabbed Lucifer by the horn and threw him into the wall.

Evan: The FUCK are you two doing here!?! You little fucker- ACK!!

Lucifer was stunned when Charlie tackled Evan and they started fighting.

Charlie: GO!!

Lucifer nodded, he didn't want to leave Charlie but Adam needed him. He ran and ran until he found the cell that Adam was kept in. There was a pad lock on the door, Lucifer used his fire to melt it.

The lack of guards was a little alarming.....

When he opened the door the sight that greeted him did multiple things to his insides, rage, jealousy, heartbreak, and sorrow. But overall wrath entered him like never before and he felt so hot.

Michael: CLOSE THE-........ Door....

Lucifer felt like a man possessed, his insides hot like molten lava, he punched Michael so hard he knocked him into the wall denting it severely.

Lucifer: Keep your filthy hands off my fucking husband.

His voice was low and dark, he didn't recognize it.

Adams eyes went wide: L-Lu?

What was he doing here!? Did that mean..... He didn't really end them? Adam felt a small seed of hope blossom in his chest.

Lucifer might be pissed beyond belief, but damn he looked hot as fuck.

Michael: You Motherfucker!!

Lucifer was silent and it was eerie and unnerving as he went over to the corner where Micheals blade was, he noticed the ring too and picked it up to place in his pocket.

Michael: Don't touch that you filth!

Michael got to his feet, Adam closed his eyes he couldn't help and he wouldn't watch Lucifer die again. But when he heard screams he didn't expect them to be Michael's. Adam opened his eyes and his mouth went dry.

Lucifer was beating Michael with his own fucking sword, to the point cracks and loud slaps could be heard.

Michael: AHH! OW! I SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED YOUR FUCKING SOUL WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!!!

Lucifer growled, he took the handle and bashed him in the eye with it.

Lucifer: You take MY husband, try to RAPE and KILL him, torture him to the point of missing a FUCKING ARM!!!

He turned the sword and cut off Michael's left arm, the archangel screamed in pain which made Lucifer laugh cruelly, he stabbed him through his wings so he couldn't fly away.

Lucifer: No one, and I fucking mean NO ONE fucks WITH him or FUCKS him BUT ME!!!

With one last stab, Lucifer drove it through Michael's femur the sound of the bone breaking echoed in the room. Michael passed out from the pain.

Huffing, Lucifer turned around and approached Adam and gripped the collar tightly, he was so angry he was thinking clearly.

Adam: L-Lu, you can't-!

Lucifer still on his wrathful high pulled on the part that was around Adams neck and it shattered as if it was made of glass. Adam was stunned as he felt his power come back to him.

Lucifer threw himself at Adam and held him shaking, his anger cooling and sadness setting in.

Lucifer: I-I-I love you so much Addie.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you do one where she’s breaking and she explodes on her brothers because they are trying to get her to open up but she doesn’t want to seem weak and scared. It’s not like her to yell or be aggressive towards them so they know something is wrong and it ends up in a meltdown.

A/N: Hope you like this! Requests are always open. Thanks!

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

The bunker felt like a suffocating cage, the walls closing in around you with every breath you took. You'd been holding it together for so long—weeks, months, years—but tonight, everything came crashing down. Every ounce of fear, guilt, and exhaustion, the constant strain of keeping up the facade, it all boiled over.

You were barely aware of the words tumbling out of your mouth, raw and jagged, a release of everything you’d been burying deep inside.

“Will you two ever leave me the hell alone?” The words exploded from your chest, jagged and ugly, as if you were trying to slice through the tension in the air. You turned, wild eyes flashing between Sam and Dean, your body shaking with a combination of anger and fear. "I don't need your fucking pity! I don’t need your damn help! Just leave me the fuck alone!"

It wasn’t like you to lash out like this. Dean and Sam both knew that. They had seen you angry, but never like this. This was different. The outburst, the harshness—it was as if all the years of bottling up every fear and every grief were finally coming undone, and they were getting the brunt of it.

Dean took a step back, stunned. Sam’s face mirrored that same shock. They knew you well enough to know this wasn’t you. You never cursed like this. You never screamed. You were the quiet one, the one who kept everything inside, who held it together even when the world felt like it was collapsing around you.

But now? Now you were unhinged, unraveling before their eyes. Your breath came in sharp, jagged gasps, and your fists clenched tight, but you couldn’t control the way your body was shaking.

"Sweetheart, hey," Sam said, his voice soft but filled with concern. "It’s okay. You don't have to keep it inside. If you need to scream, to yell, let it out. It's okay. We're here for you."

But those words—those damn words—just made you angrier. They saw through you. They always did. They knew you were breaking. And it made you furious. The vulnerability, the fear—it made you want to run from it. You wanted to fight it, to scream and shout until it went away, until you could pretend like everything was fine again. But it wasn’t. And it was suffocating.

Dean stepped forward, his voice low, trying to calm the storm inside you. "Let it out, kid," he said, his tone as steady as he could manage. "If that’s what you need, scream, yell, curse—whatever it is. We’ll take it. We can handle it. But you don’t have to bottle it up anymore."

It was too much. You couldn’t keep holding it back. You spun to face Dean, your hands slapping against his chest, frantic, desperate, angry.

“I’m NOT scared, okay? I’m not!” you shouted, your hands slapping his chest again, harder now, as if you were trying to force the words out of your body. "I’m fine! I don’t need you to fix me! I’m fucking fine!”

But it wasn’t true. You were so scared. The fear was clawing at your insides, and no matter how many times you screamed it wasn’t, the truth was still there, boiling beneath the surface.

Dean didn’t flinch. He didn’t get angry. He just... grabbed your wrists. His grip was tight, not painful, but firm enough to stop your slapping. You tried to pull away, to break free, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he held your wrists tightly, his hands steady against your skin, as if he knew you needed something to anchor you.

"Y/N...,” he said softly, the words filled with an understanding you weren’t ready to face, yet it was exactly what you needed. "I know you’re scared. I know you’re trying to fight it, trying to pretend you’re not. But you’re scared, and that’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way."

The words sent a shockwave through you. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that until he said it. But even then, the rage was still there, burning. You didn’t want to be weak. You didn’t want to feel small in front of them.

“I’m not scared, okay?” You repeated, but it came out weaker, shakier. You tried to wrench your wrists free, but Dean’s grip only tightened. He wasn’t letting you go.

“Stop,” he said, his voice a little sharper now, his grip on your wrists unyielding. "You’re not fine. You’re scared, and that’s okay. You’re not alone. You don’t have to hide it."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you pushed them away, frustrated with yourself for even letting them come. "I’m not scared," you tried again, your voice cracking with desperation. "I’m NOT!"

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, his hands slowly moved from your wrists to your shoulders, gently but firmly pulling you toward him. And that’s when it happened—the floodgate opened. You melted against him, your body trembling as the walls you’d built came crashing down.

You let out a strangled sob, and the anger dissolved into fear, into pure, raw terror. Your chest heaved as you collapsed against his chest, trembling uncontrollably.

“I’m so scared, Dean,” you whispered, your voice broken and small. It was the first time you’d admitted it, the first time the truth slipped out. "I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to handle it. I’m scared I won’t be enough. That I’ll lose everyone. That I’ll let you down. That I’ll lose myself."

Dean’s grip on you tightened, and he pulled you closer. His hand moved to the back of your head, gently guiding you into his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I know, kid,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, soft but firm. "I know you’re scared. I know... but you’re not alone. We’ve got you. You’re not gonna lose us. You’re not gonna let anyone down. You’re gonna be okay, Y/N. We’re here. We’re here for you."

The words felt like a lifeline, like you were clinging to the only thing keeping you from sinking. Your tears came harder now, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. You felt his arms tighten around you, his heartbeat steady beneath you, grounding you, pulling you back from the brink.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally let yourself be vulnerable. You finally let the fear show. And as much as it scared you to break in front of them, to show them that you weren’t invincible, you knew deep down that you didn’t have to be. Because, for the first time in ages, you weren’t alone.

“I’ve got you,” Dean whispered again, his voice low, steady, and filled with a quiet strength that seemed to seep into your bones. “You’re not alone, kid. You don’t have to carry it all on your own. We’re here. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

And somehow, in that moment, you believed him.

[n0vazsq]

Face of an angel | AA23 x Reader

pairing . . . guardian!angel!alex albon x insane!killer!reader

summary . . . Being a guardian angel was sure to be tiring, Alex knew that, especially when you were an insane killer

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.2k+

warnings . . . cursing, killing, blood, stalker behaviour!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . ok so i might have blanked out with this one but trust me guys i had no wifi so i had no thesaurus but the fics about the f2/f3 drivers will be better trust

. . . The world felt quiet tonight. The neon signs reflected off the wet streets as the rain poured down in a veil of silver. You stood under the streetlight, your fingers twitching as they traced the edge of the blade hidden in your jacket.

It had been a while since you’d let yourself get this… worked up. But tonight? Tonight, you had a craving that could only be satisfied by blood.

It had been too long since you'd played with your prey. And you liked to play.

You’d been watching him for weeks now, a shadow in the crowd, learning his movements like a lover tracing every inch of a lover’s skin. He thought he was smart, thought he was untouchable, but you knew better. Everyone had a weakness.

Including you.

You felt the shift in the air before you saw the familiar car pull up beside you. Red, fancy, unmistakable.

It was Alex.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered as he slid out of the driver’s seat, adjusting his jacket with that annoying sense of someone who knew exactly what you were up to. "You really can’t let me have a night off, can you?"

You grinned, taking your time to glance at him. "Alex, darling, you know I can’t help myself. I get so bored."

He was used to this by now. You could see it in the way he stood; arms crossed, eyes narrowed. He didn’t even try to stop you anymore.

He knew it was pointless. After all, he was your guardian angel, wasn’t he? Even if you didn’t need protection from anyone, except maybe yourself.

"I don’t know why I bother anymore," Alex continued, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and frustration. "You’re a walking death wish, and I’m stuck playing chauffeur to a goddamn serial killer."

You tilted your head, amused by the way he spoke as if you weren’t standing right there with blood on your hands. "I’m not a serial killer. I’m an artist. You of all people should appreciate that. I’m… particular."

"Particular? You’re reckless. You’re insane," he shot back. "What part of this do you think is okay?”

You shrugged disinterestedly, running your fingers over the handle of your knife, staring at the target you’d been stalking for weeks. He was there now, just across the street, oblivious to the fact that he was about to die.

But you couldn’t help yourself. It was part of the fun, teasing Alex like this. He was always so stiff, so serious. You wondered how long it would take before he finally gave up trying to save you.

Then again, part of you hoped he’d never give up. There was something about his unwavering commitment to keeping you alive that made you feel… wanted. Even when you didn’t deserve it.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I can handle this? You’re not my keeper, Alex," you taunted, turning your back to him and heading toward your victim.

Alex sighed, following you. "I’m not your keeper, but you know what I am? The only reason you’re still alive. You think I don’t know how much you like the chaos? The blood? You’re a fucking monster, and I’m the one who’s stuck cleaning up your mess."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Don’t pretend like you don’t love it, Alex. You know you enjoy the thrill of this game too. You’re my guardian angel, after all. You’re stuck with me."

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. "Stuck is right. But I still care about you. You know that, right? Even if you don’t seem to care about anyone else but yourself."

You paused, glancing back at him. For a moment, the playful gleam in your eyes flickered, but only for a second. Then it was gone, replaced by that familiar hunger. "I know you care. But you want to care. There’s a difference."

His jaw tightened, his brows furrowing as he watched you walk up to your target. "You’ve got to stop doing this. I can’t keep saving you from yourself."

"You don’t have to save me, Alex. You know I’m fine," you said, your voice low, but there was a faint tease in it. You stepped into the shadows, positioning yourself for the perfect strike. The guy was turning around, finally noticing the figure lurking in the corner of his vision.

Alex didn’t move, his eyes fixated on you. "I’m trying to keep you from becoming a problem, but you keep making it so much harder. One day, you’re going to piss off the wrong person, and I won’t be able to get you out of it."

You grinned."I like to live dangerously."

The guy took a few steps closer. He was too close now. You could feel your heart rate pick up, that familiar rush of adrenaline washing over you. The air was thick with tension, and for a split second, you thought you saw Alex’s lips quirk into a worried frown.

But then you struck.

It was swift, effortless, just the way you liked it. You didn’t even need to think. The blade was in your hand, and before your target could react, you buried it deep.

Blood pooled beneath him, a perfect crimson halo, and you stepped back with a satisfied smile, wiping your hands on your jacket. It wasn’t your first, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. But tonight, it felt… satisfying.

You turned back to see Alex standing there, his face unreadable. "Are you done now?" he asked, his voice tight with barely contained frustration.

"Done?" You arched an eyebrow. "I’m just getting started."

He looked like he was about to lose it. “You’re a fucking psychopath.”

"And you love me for it," you teased, stepping toward him, but he stepped back, away from you, clearly unwilling to get too close.

"I don’t love you," he muttered, but you could see through the cracks in his armor. You saw the flicker of something softer in his eyes, the faint hesitation as he stared at the lifeless body you’d just left behind. "I’m just trying to keep you from ruining both of our lives."

You stepped closer, daring him with a look. "Tell me you don’t like it. The thrill, the chaos, the danger."

His face softened just slightly, as if torn between his anger and something else, something buried deep inside. "It’s not that. It’s you. You don’t care about anyone. You don’t even care about yourself."

You stopped, staring at him. For the first time tonight, something shifted between the two of you. The teasing was gone. And in its place? Something deeper. Something Alex had never quite been able to admit.

"I care about you," you whispered, voice uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable.

He blinked at you, his lips parting, then he sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You really know how to make me insane, you know that?"

You smiled, a genuine smile, something that could almost pass for sweetness. "That’s because you're my guardian angel, remember? And maybe I'm yours too."

He chuckled, despite himself. "You’re a fucking angel, alright."

You laughed too, the tension fading, but only for a moment. Because deep down, you both knew this wasn’t over.

It never was. You were always one step away from the next kill, and Alex? Well, he’d always be right behind you, chasing you down, trying to save you from the chaos you lived in.

And you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[mimiunfiltered]

Grumpy Girl

Scott Miller x Fem!reader OC

Summary: Ellie is grumpy after a hard day at work and Scott’s motto is “A good orgasm can fix anything” Warnings: Smut, fingering, hard dom Scott, dom/sub dynamic, first-person POV a/n: I am trying a new way of writing and I really hope it's not too weird lol

I slam the door after arriving home and see Scott sitting on the couch, though he has his laptop open probably doing more work. His head whips to the door right where I’m standing, getting my shoes off.

“Excuse me?” I look up at him and huff. I walk in front of the couch to get some water from the kitchen, but he grabs my arm before I can get past him. “Scott I’m not in the mood.” He pulls me into his lap.

“What happened today? Why is my pretty girl grumpy huh?” I lay my head on his chest cause even if I’m not in the mood he’s still comforting. I sigh out a breath, I feel like I’ve been holding all day.

“It was just a day. I got into a fight with the bitch at work and Scotty why do I do so much for this company and they treat me like shit?” It feels really good to have everything off my chest to him. He rubs my arm and kisses the top of my head. I’m still so worked up. “I think I know what you need.”

The arm that’s around my waist lifts me easily like I weigh nothing. He takes his other hand and pushes my pencil skirt up.

He pushes my panties to one side and I feel one of his fingers brush over my clit. I push my hips up and drop my head back onto his shoulder. He leans his head down kissing my neck and moves his fingers around my clit more forcefully.

“You’re already so wet. What have you been thinking about all day?” I whine and say “I was kinda hoping this is how you’d handle me.” He makes an ‘ah’ sound and pumps his middle finger into me quickly.

He pumps one finger in me quickly and I grab his other hand and move it towards my clit. While rubbing tight circles on my clit he adds another finger into the mix. I make an ‘ugh’ sound when he starts moving his fingers faster and hooking them to hit that spongy spot inside me.

I moan and he moves his fingers so quickly I can’t help but writhe on his lap while he says “Baby just needed to be touched huh?” I moan and try and get out an ‘mhm’ sound but nothing comes. He stops both his hands, keeping his fingers still inside me, and says “Isn’t it?” I groan and say “Yes Scotty it’s what I needed.”

“Good fucking girl.” He says as he starts roughly moving his fingers again. I groan out and start whining as he continues to forcefully hit that spot inside me and rub hard circles on my clit. It’s getting so sensitive and I know I’m about to come. “Scotty!” I say breathlessly. I can feel myself start to fall over the edge and it feels so sensitive.

I grip his wrist trying to push him away but he’s so much stronger than I am. I scream out as I finally fall over that edge. I convulse so much I almost fall off his lap. He wraps a hand around my waist as his other continues to move within me.

I finally come down and slump into his body. “A good orgasm can fix anything.” He says as he cuddles me, bringing me down from the amazing orgasm he just gave me. A good orgasm can fix anything.

[the-woman-upstairs]

Really fucked up that, when they’re young, Patrick and Art are SO tactile with each other, so comfortable sharing the same space. Art lets Patrick touch him and move him and physically overwhelm him and easily acquiesces to it, if not outright enjoys it.

Then in the present, they’ve been so far out of each other’s orbit for so long, held such animosity that when they have their moment alone in the sauna, Art physically recoils from Patrick’s close proximity! It’s so painful to watch because even as Patrick’s goading him, it’s so obvious he wants to be able to get back into Art’s space. But Art has erected all these walls around himself, he refuses to give Patrick an inch or even admit to missing how close they used to be!

AND THEN we see Art and Tashi later and he wants her to hold him, to be gentle with him, and just TOUCH him. Like, he does miss that kind of close physical contact! He either doesn’t know how to ask for it or is uncomfortable being that openly vulnerable. Worth noting that he pretty much always defers to Tashi in regard to initiating physical intimacy (with their first kiss, though he does state his desire, SHE has to be the one to make the first move). And it seems pretty obvious that Tashi herself isn’t comfortable providing that intimacy, whereas Patrick actively seeks to provide it (the hug/forehead kiss after their win together in the early years, dragging the stool closer to him).

Art has tried very hard to act like he doesn’t need physical affection and even though his discipline and devotion to Tashi has made him a stronger tennis player, it’s made him a hollow person, which, in turn, has kept him from becoming a GREAT tennis player.

All of this, of course, is why the ending hits so damn hard.

[sidesteppostinghours]

I need to stop finishing fics when i have to sleep. but anway. heres 1.3k words of f!chentega, plus a bit of unnamed sidestep for funsies.

Chen is cutting Ortega's hair.

They've both settled into her living room, a bottle of beer set on the table. She's buzzed, not drunk, just enough alcohol in her system to get the words flowing easier. Chen, ever responsible, hasn't touched a drop. He focuses on cutting and brushing, mechanical hands careful not to get the comb tangled in her wavy hair. Julia, meanwhile, is talking, but about what, she couldn't tell you. Half of her thoughts are elsewhere, eyes closed as she lets Chen work.

Cutting Ortega's hair has become their own little ritual. Every few months or so, whenever her hair became long enough to bother her, she would call Wei over to cut it down to length. Sometimes she returns the favour, though that mostly entails grabbing a razor and shaving until it was completely cropped. Not like this, where skills actually mattered to make the results look good.

It was suggested to her, uncharacteristically, by Chen. About a year or so after she first cut her hair, she was lamenting to him about how she missed having short hair. She was just talking– she didn't expect him to take it seriously, but about ten minutes into her rant he had looked up from where he was typing on his computer and asked, "Do you want me to cut it?"

She had given him a look. "You can do that?"

He shrugged. "I know some styles. I can make it look decent, at least."

"Are you sure?" she'd asked, still skeptical. Not that she wouldn't be grateful, but-

"You don't have to deal with the stylists anymore," he pointed out, and that had been that. She found out later on that he learned how to cut hair from his siblings. He would mostly do it on his brothers, though sometimes his sisters too, when the money was tight or his family didn't feel like heading to the stylist.

It's nice, sitting here and talking to him like nothing else matters. A moment of reprieve to catch their breath in the pressure bomb that is their lives. Julia cracks a joke, and Chen huffs in amusement, though he doesn't stop cutting. She takes another pull from her bottle.

Maybe one day she'll ask the questions she's been meaning to. They still haven't talked about whatever this is. Neither Chen nor Ortega are good with their words, and there isn't much that isn't already said by the pocket moments they spend watching eachother navigate the world. The look in other people's eyes when somebody calls Wei "he". The way the stylists purse their lips whenever Julia walks into the studio. The understanding was unspoken but mutual, though Ortega could never place what. Chen might be able to, but until she decides to ask, she wouldn't know.

She will. Someday. Just not today, sitting in front of her TV, talking about God-knows-what and content to let him work till he finally steps away.

"Finished."

She opens her eyes, not bothering to look at herself in the mirror though its propped up on the table next to the beer. They've done this enough times already that she knows it will look good. Instead, she watches as Chen puts everything away, combs, clippers, the works. She nabs the scissors from the table, spinning it on her finger. When he goes to grab them and finds nothing, he looks up and sighs, the corner of his lip twitching at her antics.

"Julia, you're going to stab someone's eye out."

"Hey, I can dodge scissors," she insists, looking at him innocently. "Can you, Marshal?"

His face is caught halfway between exasparated and unimpressed. She chuckles and acquiesces, handing the scissors for him to pack into his bag.

It's not often nowadays that Julia gets to spend time with Wei outside of the Rangers. He was always busy as the Marshal dealing with the mess she left behind, and when she wasn't busy at the HQ or fighting villains, she was twelve balls of yarn deep into her own investigations. The quiet moments were rare enough that it feels precious to watch him like this, walls down, for once without the furrow in his brow as he worked. It makes him look softer.

It makes him look handsome.

"Hey, Wei?"

He turns to face her, still holding the scissors. "Yes?"

Julia could be completely wrong about everything, of course. He could recoil the minute she cups his face, or push her away as she pulls him in. He could, but he doesn't, and his lips are warm when they meet hers. His breath tastes better than she thought. She doesn't know why she would think otherwise– Julia was the one drinking beer the whole time. She traces her thumb over one of the scars on his cheek, rough yet soft, and a part of her wonders what it would be like to run her tongue over it.

It's a beat or two before anything happens, long enough that she worries she really did misjudge. Then, ever so slowly, Chen settles a hand on her face, careful, almost afraid. Not even touching the hair he spent the past thirty minutes working on. His hand moves from her cheek down to her chin, gently tilting her head upwards to make it easier from where he's standing. Julia wraps a hand around his neck and brings him down lower, and he obliges like putty. No trace of the hard edges she'd come to see as his staple, just a tenderness she never remembers seeing in him before.

It's harder to break the kiss than she would like. Wei doesn't resist. He's still holding the scissors. She half expected him to have dropped it, but instead he's gripping them tight enough that she wonders if they'll break.

"Julia?" Brittle. Out of breath. Still looking at her lips at first, but then his eyes flit to the side of her face, and with a breath that's not quite a huff, he tucks a stray strand of hair she hadn't even noticed behind her ear.

"Thank you," she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard in the silence of her apartment. For being her friend. For being the only goddamn woman left in Los Diablos that really got her. For caring enough to keep her hair out of her face.

She says none of this. She just turns back around, not looking to see Chen's face as she takes another pull from her bottle.

———

"I think Chen has a crush on you." 

"Oh." She stops, looking at you with an expression you can't quite interpret. "You do." The words are careful, hesitant. It's not a question, but it's not not one either. 

"I do," you say, frowning at her reaction. It's not the explosive confusion you were expecting, more a quiet "oh, shit" moment as the ball drops. She hasn't even raised her voice yet. "I'm pretty sure he has for a while." 

"Did he...tell you that?" 

"Not in so many words, but he has his tells." 

"He does," she mutters, running a hand through her hair. There's a sigh punctuated by a string of quiet curses. 

"Did you already know?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. She didn't react the way you thought she would. Did she pick up on it? Has she just been ignoring it the entire time? 

"In a way," she admits, looking away to the coffee machine like she wants to make herself another cup. 

"Why haven't you done anything about it?" Knowing Ortega, she should've ambushed Chen the moment she suspected that was the case. 

"It's complicated." She shakes her head, dispelling whatever thundercloud was brewing behind her static shielded mind, then turns back to you with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll talk to him. In the meantime, you can tell me why you're here?" 

You can't help but frown. She's taking this too well for something to not be going on, but from the look in her eyes, you're not getting any answers right now. 

You'll find the time to pry one of them about it. Later. It's not a secret those two can keep away from you forever.

[tariah23]

Noooo…… first it’s Yuuta and Shoko, now they’re yo-yoing back around to Megumi.

[orcelito]

ok i am actually so very angry and there's literally nothing i can do to fix it. life keeps going on. she might even be happy. and fuck dude, i'll make sure im happy too, i was a fully developed person before she was in my life and i'll continue to be one without her. but God Damn, the fact that she can just do something so blatantly awful and unfair to me and then run off without any actual repercussions is just so fucking rankling to me.

like perhaps she feels guilty. she said she did when it was all going down. but it was just something she "needed to do". so obviously she didn't feel guilty enough or she wouldnt have done it like that lmaoooo

i really did deserve to have a good solid yell at her. but unfortunately, by the time i did see her in person i just wanted her out of my fucking life. so. no yelling was done, unfortunately.

[izzy-b-hands]

im ngl i had a lil breakdown before my shower (which i took just before i went to bed to chill and watch the new eps) abt some thought-id-already-worked-all-thru-it irl stuff that resurfaced on me like trauma tends to and i just

it made everything in the show so. I don't know how to say it right. but i feel seen and understood and emotionally overwhelmed in a safe yet weird way, just like i did with a lot of s1 and I am Feeling So Much akdnfkgb (i cannot stress enough that this is a Good Thing and I'm absolutely thrilled and happy with the new eps and like. Going to be fine mentally I just gotta wrangle this like i have the times before.)

[phagodyke]

.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

He’s so cocky at first, smirking when you bottom down on his length. “Think you can handle it baby? Take your time if you need to kay? I know it might be too much f’ you.” He chuckles.

You raise a brow in amusement. “Oh i can handle it baby, can you?” Was what you’d first said. And that question hadn’t changed since.

His lips parted in breathy groans and heavy breathing as his hands find your waist. Lips red and swollen from biting them as his eyes looked up at you almost pleadingly. “F-fuck baby.. you’re— shit, going so f-fast. Wanna slow d-down hmm?”

You smile widely, back arching as you lean down to kiss his jaw softly. Giving a false hum in thought. “Mmm.. you can take it.” He lets out the most cry like moan, head falling back into his pillow as his hips jerk upwards. Body trembling lightly when his eyes met yours.

“Shit— please baby. You d-don’t know how fucking- haah.. how fucking tight she’s grippin’ me right now.” He was referring to the way your snug walls stroked up and down his length with every harsh bounce of your hips. “I’m gonna— o-oh fuck, gonna cum again.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the crack in his voice. Your head tilted to the side as you coo teasingly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy n cum f’ me baby?”

He chuckles shakily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as his cock twitches inside you. “God i fucking love you— ahh, even when you’re milking my cock like you hate m-me.” His senses were heightened, ears picking up the every squelch on your sopping pussy and his cock feeling every ridge of your gummy walls.

He lost it when you began rolling your hips sensually. Your thighs sticking to his at the mere amount of slick that joined you two. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his girth, turning your skilled movements sloppy as you rut your hips.

You brought a hand to his face, using your nail to brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “C’ mon.. let it all out.” You smiled sweetly, eyes holding a dark glint when his eyes turn teary. Small beads of water pooling at his lids before he’s crying out your name.

Overly sensitive cock aching as he spills yet another load into you. Pumping the thick white substance till you’re pumped full. The rest of the substance spurting back onto him at the lack of space.

You let out a moan, “Wow baby- there’s so much. Might.. might just be your biggest load yet.” You were getting tired, but you’d never let him know that. You swear you hear him whimper when you capture his lips with yours slowly beginning to rock your hips again.

“Shit— don’t think- d-don’t think i can give you any more baby. Feels like my cock’s gonna f-fall off.” He panted, trying to keep himself together when he felt you jerking him off with your smug walls again. A small tremble raking through his body each time your ass landed back down.

His hand left your waist to cover his reddening face. Unable to hide the cherry shade of his ears and neck as he whimpered yet again. Choking out a string of moans with tears staining his cheeks when you shush him gently, “‘S only one more baby, give me one more.”

You were the only one with the ability to truly break Satoru if you tried.