#then comes home and mercy just has a baby in their arms all

[cillians-sweetheart]

Daddy's girl- Thomas Shelby

Thomas Shelby x Daughter!Reader

Plot: Y/N, Tommy's little daughter (who can be whichever age you choose), is afraid of the storm from outside, and seeks safety and comfort for her loving dad.

Content: Fluff, cutesy dad and daughter love (Protective!Dad x Naive!Gullible!Daughter)

The deafening thunder crashes outside the windows of the large house. With the fear of the young girl, she sprints from her spacious, pink bedroom down the gloomy halls. The set of doors with bits of light peeking from beneath come closer and closer, to be quickly opened. 

Y/N’s daddy -Thomas- sits in the bed, shirtless and everything from his hip down covered by the thick duvet. His back lays against the headboard with a cigarette drooping in his mouth. 

“Still frightened of the thunder, eh?” He smirks and plucks the cigarette from his mouth, pushing it roughly onto the ashtray on his bedside table. 

Y/N runs from the doorway to the end of his bed. She jumps onto the end and quickly crawls up to him. “Daddy…” She whines with an unsettled tone in her delicate voice. Her night gown flows lightly with her quick movements.

“Oh… Come er’, come er’” He coo’s with his thick accent. His muscular arms opened and reached to cradle her. Y/N fell into his arms, and onto his nurturing, warm chest. His comfort and heat envelops her small little body. Thomas’s large, rough hand runs gently down her hair, down to her back. “Thunder can’t hurt ya while you’re with daddy, my love.” He reassured me with his low voice. His warm breath hovered over my head, and his lips gently kissed, lingering in my hair. 

The gentle breaths form Y/N against his chest bring a comfort to him as well as it did to her. He could always have the reminder his sweet girl is alive, and well in his arms. 

Most nights Y/N would come running through the halls into her daddy’s room. Not always due to fear but just loneliness of being alone in her room. Since she was just a baby, after her mother ran off, her daddy was all she had. She would sleep in the comfort and safety of his bed almost every single night. 

Thomas kept Y/N in the safety of his castle like home. She was home schooled, and would rarely leave the property. He feared the dangers of Birmingham, and the things people; boys could possibly do to his little, only girl. But it was also to keep her dependent. Secretly in his mind, he feared she would become independent, and wouldn’t need him anymore. And keeping her with no one but him, and babying her day after day, he could do exactly that. 

His hand traced softly up and over her silky thigh. The feeling made him melt with adoration. To him, she would always remain as his innocent, clueless little girl. One that’s never learned the rules of life, but the ones he taught her. 

“Hey…” He whispered softly, his breath and lips close and lingering in her soft hair. Y/N mumbled and squirmed slightly. Her eyes gently opening and her head tilting up to look at him. “Give daddy a kiss…” He whispered down to her. She lifted my head, smelling the cigarettes and whiskey coming from his warm breath. With little energy, but still with tender love, she hovered towards his face. He kisses gently on my soft, sleepy lips. The same way he has been since she was born. His lips were still just as gentle as they were the same when she first opened her eyes. It was purely his paternal love towards Y/N, and though she’s gotten older, his love never changed; nor shrunk. She was the only human on this Earth that Thomas would ever show gentleness, and mercy to. Y/N knew her daddy did bad things to people, but he never did to her so his business life; and personality didn’t affect her or how she saw him. To her, daddy is the smartest, the strongest, and the most handsome man on the planet. Her whole world, as she is to him. 

Thomas's hand lightly with affection ran down her hair and over her cheek. "Are you ever going to stop crawling in with daddy?" He said quietly, his lip turning up with a grin.

"mhmh" Y/N mumbled, lightly shaking her head. Thomas chuckled, glad to hear the answer he wanted, and expected to hear.

"Good..." His voice is smooth, and husk. "The world is cruel, sweetheart... but you are safe with daddy." His hand went back over her hair, and onto her bare back. Y/N's eyes closed, and her head lowered back onto his warm skin. "I will always keep you safe."

"why...?" She said delicately, her eyes opening, and head still lying against his skin.

"Why what sweetheart?"

"Why is the world cruel?"

"Because men are greedy." He said quietly with seriousness In his tone.

"oh..."

"The only man you need, is me." His touch on her skin became more secure as he held her closer, and tighter. "No other man shall ever touch you, my sweet. Your purity is to be treasured."

She hadn't quite understood everything he said, but she believed him with all her heart. Because daddy never lied, not to her, as she believed.

All men are greedy monsters and she needs absolutely no one but her daddy to love her and keep her safe, forever.

"Now close your eyes, darling..." Thomas soothed her, still rubbing her back. And with a gentle movement, he lifted her and pulled her up close to him. Her head laying just under his nose, and her body completely wrapped and cuddled around his. Daddy's arms held around her with a comforting embrace. Shielding the bare skin of her back and arms from the coldness of the bedroom.

Y/N's head lay comfortably in his warm neck which smelt of his familiar, musky cologne and tobacco. Her hand lay in the center of his chest in the light amounts of hair.

The thunder still crashed from outside the walls of the home, but she wasn't startled by it as her daddy's embrace has shielded her from all harm, and forever will. She could sleep at peace, and with the man she loved most.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

i really, really, really want to write accidental pregnancy au and i am frothing. i may be drawing baby ideas. like dhampir baby with durge claws, sharp teeth, and tail spikes. they'd be horrific. it'd be amazing.

[astrxealis]

shadowkeeper mount got me thinking about cylva again

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟐 — 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐉𝐎𝐁

kinktober day 002 | secretary!natalie rushman x ceo!reader

natasha's mission to retrieve a thumbdrive file involves seducing a high-ranking executive, and the seduction goes smoothly. a little too well, in fact, that she doesn't notice you're not all you seem to be.

cont. reader has a cock, power play, begging

word count. 1869

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

To Natasha, you were nothing more than just another target.

She was an unfathomably, dangerously-skilled assassin, feared across nations and intelligence bureaucracies. She was a Red Room widow gone rogue, taking things in her own stride and shifting the world upside down as she pleased. Renowned political figures and billionaire executives were dropping like flies, and you, were no different.

This time, Natasha Romanoff was going undercover as Natalie Rushman.

It had been embarrassingly easy for her to infiltrate security and create a false persona for herself. Climbing up the ranks of a corporate business like this one had been more time-consuming, sure, spanning over a few months, but Natalie would reap what she sow.

Chief Executive Officer Y/N L/N was all-too-easy to fool, even more gullible than the other targets Natasha had preyed upon. 

All it took was the classic seduction: bending over to ‘pick up a pen’, coincidentally right in your field of vision, clinging onto your arm and looking up with wide doe eyes while you talked, giggling shyly when you made a joke and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

In the end, all her targets got caught up in the Widow’s Web. You were rendered useless and completely at Natasha’s mercy, waiting to be preyed upon for manipulation and her own personal gain.

Or at least, that’s what you let her think.

“Fuck, baby,” you cursed, eyes screwed shut as your secretary bobbed her head up and down the girthy length of your cock, lewd noises escaping both your lips.

Natalie looked up at you through glossy eyes, bottle-red lipstick smeared but unarguably pretty, batting her eyelashes every so often. It had only taken a week of flirting before you took her home, your actions seemingly foolish.

“Take it all down your throat, Natalie, fuck,” you said breathily, hands tugging onto her hair as you chased your own high. Natasha almost choked on the length in her mouth at the fast pace you had set, but she quickly hollowed out her cheeks to engulf your wet heat once more.

Shit, it had been a while since Natasha had gotten such a thick cock, above average in length, too. Normally, these high-ranking executives had disappointingly miniscule excuses of a member, but this was thrillingly different. 

Still, Natasha couldn’t forget why she had made all this effort to get to your house.

“Fuck, babe, you’re too good at this,” you comment breathlessly, chest heaving as you come down from your high. “Bedroom?”

To speed up the process, Natasha finished you off with her hands working on the base of your cock, calculated squeezes and strokes that had you jerking your hips up as you toppled over the edge. Jets of hot white come went down Natasha’s throat, as she greedily sucked and swallowed.

Tastes fucking good too, she thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Natasha had to refrain from rolling her eyes. What you wanted was predictable, to have your cock inside her. She wanted something different, though. It was why she had embarked on this mission in the first place.

“Can we go to your office?” Natasha asks instead, never failing to load up on that sultry tone that had people falling to their knees. She licks her lips drenched in your seed, kissing her way up your unbuttoned shirt as she rises to her feet. Her navigation of your surprisingly well-built body ends at the column of your neck.

Calculatedly, Natasha presses her slick lips to the hot skin of your neck, her residual lipstick making an enviable mark there. 

“I want you to bend me over your office desk.”

Natasha can’t help but smirk at your affected reaction. You hastily lift your secretary up by the back of her thighs, letting her hook her legs around your torso. A sloppy kiss kickstarts your burning need to meet her needs.

Of course, the sole reason why Natasha wanted to go to your office was to retrieve a very important thumb drive that was stored there. As you were the CEO of an incredibly powerful corporate firm, being able to have that kind of information meant a wealth of power, influence, and information.

There isn’t a doubt of the sinful possibilities floating through your mind right now, as you single-handedly unclasp her bra and rid of her remaining garments, as you stumble your way over to your office.

Everything was going according to Natasha's plan.

As if on cue, you kick open the door of your office and ungracefully deposit Natasha onto your desk. The way you’re manhandling her is arguably hot, and when you trail kisses down the back of Natasha’s neck, she quite nearly forgets what she came here to do.

“Need you inside me, now,” Natasha growls out, because she needs to get this operation going. What scares her for a moment is that her statement isn’t entirely untrue, because you were evidently more skilled than any of her previous counterparts and she so craved release.

 You certainly don’t disappoint in that aspect, forcefully bending Natasha over the desk as she wished, then painstakingly slowly dragging her skirt down with your teeth. 

“Fuck,” Natasha doesn’t mean to whimper when your cock slides between her wet folds, collecting slick arousal with that huge shaft, but she does whimper, and you let out a low noise from your chest.

As you’re busy getting your cock lubricated enough to enter her, Natasha seizes this opportune moment of your distraction to slides her hand over the desk to where your laptop was, unplugging the thumbdrive just as you speak up again.

“You’re fucking naughty, hm?” you growl, and Natasha freezes.

The fear envelops her whole, before Natasha realizes that you’ve remained blissfully oblivious to her actions and were trapped in the haze of sex.

“You’re fuckin’ naughty, wanting me to bend you over my table like that. Beg for my cock, and maybe I’ll let you use it.”

Natasha gulps, not understanding why she’s threatening to start drooling onto your desk, her body building up so much slick.

She’s the Black Widow, for fuck’s sakes, and she bowed down to no one. She was in control, dictating the decisions that crafted this very situation, hooking you around her pretty little finger.

After all, she had already retrieved the thumb drive. Her mission was already over, already completed. She had no reason to stay. She could knock you out cold in a matter of mere seconds, so why was she so hesitant?

Your grip hardens at her disobedience, and Natasha can’t help the whine that tumbles out when you pull your cock way from her wet heat. 

“You want it, hm? Then beg for it,” you repeat, dangerously close to Natasha’s ear, raising goosebumps with your hot breath brushing the surface of her skin.

Natasha wails when you push her back into the desk, pebbled nipples pressing into the cold glass. She’s clenching around nothing, wet walls fluttering emptily, slick arousal dripping down her thighs. 

Suddenly, you bring your hand up and harshly slap Natasha’s ass. The moan she lets out is downright pornographic, high-pitched and long-lasting as a red blush blossoms on her rounded ass, the pain stinging her skin and pricking tears behind her eyes.

It’s been so long, her body screams at her. You need this. Need to be fucked, need to be used.

“Beg for it.”

“Please! Need your cock, please,” Natasha babbles, finally, giving in to your urges. When you thrust your whole length down her tight pussy, all in one go, Natasha almost falls apart instantly.

You thrust up into her, hard, thick length pushing past her slick walls. If Natasha thought you were big before, with your cock in her mouth, now she knew you were fucking huge.

It isn’t long before you’re fucking into her with an animalistic nature, skin slapping against skin with dirty, lewd noises. “Can’t take the size, baby?” you question dryly, pulling on her hair as Natasha drools onto your desk.

Your cock is hitting her cervix with almost every thrust. The pleasure not only stems from the fact that you were the biggest she had ever taken, but also from your sheer skill.

Natasha’s first orgasm of the night comes in a tidal wave. It’s like water breaking through a dam, hitting her with a strength she didn’t know her body possessed. Her walls flutter around your girthy cock as she squirts. 

“Oh, Y/N!” Sinful moans of your name fall from Natasha’s lips as you thrust even deeper than she thought imaginable.

In other words, that was only the beginning of the rollercoaster-esque high you would bring Natasha to.

***

Natasha awakes with groggy eyes. There’s a warm, muscled forearm splayed over her torso, and it takes a fraction of a second before Natasha remembers it’s you.

“Shit,” she whispers, looking out of the window at the rising sun. She was supposed to leave your house last night, but the events had gotten more than out of hand.

The ache in Natasha’s legs and back is a blaring reminder of that fact. The image of sweaty, slick bodies moving together in a darkened room flashes across Natasha’s mind, and she has the decency to flush a pink-red.

Checking again for the thumbdrive in her strewn clothes, Natasha nods to herself assuredly and gets herself together to make an exit. Her eyes float to your sleeping figure. Looks like she had worn you out.

“You’re kinda stupid, but you were a good fuck,” she whispers with a tilted head.

As soon as the front door of your house clicks shut, you sit up slowly, letting the blanket slide over your toned abdominal muscles and down to your waistline. 

“Just a good fuck?” you ask amusedly. “Squirting three times in a row seems better than good, if I do say so myself.” Relaxed, you reach over to your bedside and take your phone.

Dialling in a number that you’d memorised by heart, the receiver picks up in less than two rings. “You’re fuckin’ late,” a gruff voice sounds out. “What did we tell you about not fucking the targets for the whole bloody night?”

You scoff in half-annoyance and amusement. As long as you got the job done, your bosses didn’t have any reason to question your methods. "You’re just jealous you didn’t get a taste of that sweet pussy,” you drawl out contedly, delighting in the aggravated huff that crackles over the line.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” you continue, your face taking on a more serious expression. “The Widow left my house thirty seconds ago, with the false thumb drive."

"Details?" 

"Swapped it out while she was cumming on my cock, sir."

"......Microchip tracking device?"

"Implanted in the top button of her blouse."

"Audio recorder?"

"In the hem of her very scandalous skirt.”

There is a pause on the line, but you know not to fear. When a low chuckle is emitted from the other end, you can’t help but smirk in smug satisfaction. The next words you hear are almost as sweet as Natasha’s moans of your name.

"Well done, Agent. Your mission is complete."

if you liked this, please give it a reblog! it means the absolute world to me <3

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[emmyrosee]

Cold breath puffs out past his lips as he picks up the pay phone, slips in a quarter and dials your familiar number. Atsumu rarely calls you on his cellphone anymore, out of fear one of the times he does, you’ll block him clean from your life.

The dial tone hums three times before you show mercy and pick up the phone, interrupting the deafening line. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, smiling softly as your voice, unsuspecting and calm, eases over the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby…”

You’re silent, the only thing giving you away is the way your breathing seems to rag out, rasping softly as it passes through your teeth, a hurt you seem to try to fight back.

“Atsumu?”

The way his throat catches at the sound of his name on your voice has him completely caught off guard; aside from the fact that he hasn’t heard it in months, let alone his actual name on your tongue, just to hear your voice again makes him choke up.

“Yeah. Yeah, hey, it’s me,” he rambles, leaning against the wall of the restaurant he’s calling you at. He closes his jacket tighter around his torso, wondering if it’s warmer in your neck of the woods.

The ones he abandoned you at.

You were familiar. He needed the sense of familiarity as he travels, using you as a means to stay grounded after he abandoned you so promptly. Even right now, this wasn’t meant to destroy you, tear down the walls you’d spent years trying to mend, it was to seek comfort in you- selfish? Perhaps. But he is selfish.

He wished he could be like his brother, content with staying in one place and taking in every day with ease. But Atsumu has never been like his brother, growing far too stir crazy at the mere idea his roots might be planted somewhere, keeping him there for eternity. He doesn’t like feeling trapped, he hates it, even if feeling trapped meant he could be his happiest.

What Atsumu didn’t expect though, was for his roots to be you, the one thing he can’t sever himself from. You’re his drug of choice, his intoxication he can’t get sober from, and fuck, how he craves you.

“I’m… I’m thinking of coming back home.”

“Why?”

The way you snap at him your quick, firm answer makes his skin crawl. He’d been hoping, like a selfish idiot, that you’d somehow be excited for his return, like you had been every time he’d come home: you’d run into his arms like a missing piece, trusting him to catch you as you fall against his chest, your nose would bury into the dip of his neck while he cradles you close, kissing wherever his lips could reach and just for a moment, you both could pretend that this was normal. You’d meant to do this. Be apart for so long it tears you both inside, only for your reunion to be filled with joy and happy tears.

That this was normal, per se.

He thunks his head against the wall, sending a sharp pain through his skull, but he pays it minimal mind as he tries to conjure an argument to not make you hate him more than you already do.

“I want to see you,” he finally confesses. “I… I don’t know when I’m coming home, but it’ll be soon, okay?” He asks. When you say nothing, he closes his eyes, “can I see you?”

“You’re all talk,” you snarl, but he hears the tears in your voice. “You’re not coming home to stay, you’re coming home to get a morsel of attention and praise, then leave me again. I know that.”

He screws his eyes shut as you so clearly, so hurt, list the events that repeat every time he comes home. He wants to blame his success, chasing a high he can’t seem to find anymore, but he can. It’s a high with you, a thrill he gets when he sees your eyes glimmer with excited tears, an unparalleled sense of peace when you’re in his arms, one no person, place, or thing has been able to come close to.

But you… you were different. He loves you.

And Atsumu Miya is a runner.

“You should just keep playing house with one of your little friends that you make on the road,” you laugh cruelly. “Since they’re able to keep you much, much happier than I’ve ever been able to, clearly.”

“Hey, you wanna play the bigger person here? I never do shit with anyone when I’m out on the road, I’m loyal to you, okay?”

“My. Hero,” you spit from your gritted teeth. “You want a medal for doing below the bare minimum? Leaving me for months on end and coming back when you see fit, only to tell me you ‘stay loyal?’ You’re not loyal. You’re a coward.”

His heart breaks.

Coward. That’s what he is. He’s a coward, running from a life of comfort and stability to chase a high that he can only get in his dreams, a high that does not exist.

The closest he has, is you. And you don’t want him anymore. Rightfully so, Atsumu will give you that. But the idea, the mere concept of you not wanting him anymore sends him into a panic.

No, he thinks to himself, you’re bluffing, you’re all talk too, and the second you see him, your reserve will crumble and your heart will soften and you’ll love him again. You’ll plead for him to stay, to be with you forever, because you can make this work together.

He hopes that this time, he’ll love you enough to stay, too. He doesn’t bet on it, and the idea stings his eyes with tears. He screws them shut in agony. His root will only be severed when you do it. He hopes you do it mercifully. He hopes you’ll do it this time he comes home, setting you both free from the dance you’ve entangled yourselves in.

“I… I know im all talk,” he chokes, leaning his forehead against the brick of the wall he’s talking against. “But I… I know that we’ll be together soon. I’ll come home, and we’ll work it out this time. I swear.”

He sinks his teeth into his lip to try and fight back the sob that wants to break through. You hang up the phone, leaving only the dial tone to ring in his ear.

He smiles despite the tears welling in his eyes.

“I can’t wait until then.”

-

@reverie-starlight heres that angst I was teasing… 😬

[tootiecakes234]

Random Big Three One Piece NSFW Headcanons:

(I’m DEEP into my one piece era)

Luffy

First and foremost he loves using his devil fruit powers on you. Will stretch his fingers that little bit further inside you or expand his dick to fill you just that little bit more.

Honestly I feel like he has a high sex drive considering his high drive in every other aspect of life.

At the beginning he is all about his self satisfaction but over time he learns how to be a more generous lover.

He has a huge appetite and I feel like that carries over into eating you. He eats all of you. You also have to teach him to kiss cuz in the beginning he acted like he was chewing on a piece of jerky😭

Will do a swift little aftercare but he only cuddles when he is going to sleep. He can’t sit still for too long otherwise.

Zoro

Loves coming home from a mission that almost killed him! And before he’s even fully healed, sinking right into you. Chopper (who along with the rest of the crew can hear your “activities” ) tries to tell him to take it easy but no!

He also likes to touch and hit on you in front of Sanji to make him jealous. He’s not even the biggest fan of PDA but he does it cuz he knows it gets under the chefs skin.

Really likes smacking his dick against you whether it be your face, your cunt, your tits. Loves when his precum splatters all over you.

This man loves to record and critique the video afterwards. Mostly himself tho. Also learns what you seem to like most and what you don’t. Improves his technique for next time.

When he’s tired, he lays back and makes you do all the work. Teases you when you cant keep it up and takes forever to take mercy on you and help out.

Sanji

Sanji’s favorite thing in the whole world is feeding you a good meal, running you a warm bath, rubbing you down with a moisturizer while giving you a massage and then fucking you nice and slow till all either of you can do is fall asleep in each others arms

Baby boy is so obsessed with everything that is you. You breathe on him in a certain way or look him in the eye a second too long and he’s hard.

He 100% strikes me as a lady should never be down on her knees” type. But he only says that shit to be courteous. If you do tho, he’ll put a pillow down underneath you to put your knees on. Or he’ll ask you to do it while he’s laying down so you can lay between his legs.

Sneaks you onto the deck of the ship to eat his favorite meal underneath the stars.

Sanji is so vocal. Asking how you’re feeling, telling you how good you’re doing, and just generally whimpering and moaning in your ear.

[merakiui]

terror in threes.

yandere!rollo flamme, fellow honest, & skully j. graves x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight flavoring of religion (father rollo flamme strikes again), murder, death, brief descriptions of blood/gore, age gap for reader (19) and fellow (26), physical abuse (beating), unplanned pregnancy, slut-shaming, kidnapping, coercion, obsession, delusion, stepcest, non-consensual kisses, all three characters written as 18+ note - three short horrors featuring the halloween trio in: MERCY, the terrifying tale of a vindictive priest; ON A DARK, STORMY NIGHT, the chilling caution against getting into a silver-tongued stranger's vehicle; MERRY, the shocking story of a twisted stepbrother led by a one-sided love that is not meant to be. // inspired by this brilliant artwork. thank you to the bestie @heyyy11 for discussing these thoughts with me. :D

MERCY.

Bent over the sink, you watch yourself in the mirror while your boyfriend pounds into you from behind. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips; your dress is bunched up in messy wrinkles and ruffles.

“Some—ooh—someone might come in,” you grunt, attempting to lift yourself onto your arms and failing miserably when he all but pushes you against the counter with a particularly rough thrust.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, gazing at your blissed-out reflection. “Everyone’s gone home. Candlelight service’s over.”

“Yes, but—” you tamp down a bawdy moan— “I just worry.”

About someone catching us. About getting locked in. 

“Aren’t we in God’s house? It’s supposed to be safe twenty-four seven.”

“If you say so…”

“So don’t worry.” He leans over to kiss the top of your head. You collapse against the sink. “There you go. Just relax. I gotcha.”

You shrug off your inhibitions and surrender to the pleasure. One hand slides away from your ass to reach between your thighs. You mewl like you’re in heat, arching your back the moment his fingers brush your clit. Now you feel like you’re floating, every frazzled nerve smoothed out once you feel the waves of encroaching orgasm lapping at your insides. But just before you can unravel, his hand covers your mouth.

Confused, you meet his stare in the mirror.

“Shh.” He holds a finger to his lips. “I heard someone outside.”

You roll your eyes. Either it’s his attempt to scare you or make the situation seem sexier. You think it’s the latter when he tears his eyes away from the door and resumes his thrusting. His hand falls from from your mouth, and soon your voices are mixing together, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

“I’m close,” you gasp, clenching tightly. “So close. Oh, I’m—”

The door creaks open then. You almost don’t hear it until someone loudly clears their throat. Like well-oiled clockwork, you and your boyfriend turn to look at him. For a moment, you forget he’s Father Flamme. Without his black cassock and holy accompaniments, he looks like a normal person.

“Ahem.”

Immediately, you’re pulling away from your boyfriend and pushing your dress down. “F-Father Flamme, we’re so sorry!”

Stern greens flick quietly from your bare legs to your face. His arms are folded behind his back.

“Damn,” your boyfriend mutters, visibly agitated. You’d feel the same if it wasn’t for the scalding embarrassment rushing through your blood.

He regards the both of you coldly, a disapproving frown etched on his face. “Why are you apologizing on his behalf? He has a mouth of his own.”

Taken aback, you open your own mouth to apologize once again and then shut it. Your boyfriend hurries to stuff himself into his slacks and then stands protectively in front of you.

“Think you should apologize first for looking at my girlfriend,” he sneers.

Father Flamme is silent for a moment. “Of course,” he finally concedes. “I should apologize.”

“Then do it—”

“I should apologize,” he continues, sardonic, “for providing her with a love far superior than the foul, impure lust you’ve shown her.”

“You take that back!”

Your boyfriend surges forward, determined to beat a proper apology out of the priest, and you, rather helplessly, grab at his shirt. He stops rigidly in his tracks when a pistol is pulled from Father Flamme’s back and aimed directly at him. Your gasp hitches at the back of your throat. Suddenly, the world is encased in a jar of molasses. You don’t see the bullet, but you hear it go off. The bang pierces the tranquility of the bathroom, lodging itself in your ears until they’re ringing. You drop to your knees and press your palms into your ears, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear your boyfriend collapse in a heap, but you don’t see the brain matter splatter against the wall.

It’s a clean shot, but just to be perfectly precise Rollo fires once more into his chest. Right at his heart. Chancing a glance at the wall behind you, you scream when you see the blood. Some of it has even managed to get on you, staining your skin and your white dress. Instinctively, you scramble away from the body, pressing yourself into the corner.

“May God have mercy on his soul,” he murmurs, ensuring the safety lock is flicked on before placing the gun on the counter. “And may He forgive these hands that have been soiled in the name of justice.”

You wrap your arms around yourself in a self-soothing hug and stare blankly ahead.

That…just happened. He killed your boyfriend. Father Rollo Flamme killed your boyfriend.

Water rushes into the basin next. He rolls his sleeves up. You listen to him as he washes his hands of sin, scrubbing it from his skin with scentless, antibacterial soap. Your stare falls upon the gun, but the idea is promptly burned away when you meet his frigid stare in the glass. He’s watching you, his lips pursed in a thin line. Not quite a frown, but not quite a smile either.

“It baffles me that you would allow a sinner to defile you like this. You, who are so good and pure, a noble heart… Ah, but you aren’t at fault. That despicable pest has been exterminated, so there’s no need to point fingers. The blame shall die with him.”

You sniffle, tears clouding your eyes.

“I apologize you had to see that.” He dries his hands and then, wetting a fresh towel with soap and warm water, kneels before you. “To have tainted you in that sinner’s blood… I implore your forgiveness.”

Gently, he dabs at the mess. You can’t back up any further, but you certainly try with this startling proximity, squirming uncomfortably when he drags his knuckle along your cheek.

“Why?” you whisper, utterly, indescribably haunted.

“Did you not hear me earlier?” He offers you a warm smile, but it only makes you feel cold. “I intend to love you chastely. His ‘love’ is worthless—nothing but lust disguised as pure adoration. He failed to appreciate you in life, and thus it is a failure he shall die, his ugly sin exposed for the world to behold.”

Father Flamme presses the cloth to your cheek next. Not to clean blood, but to wipe the tear streaks and the nonexistent mark of where his fingertips once lingered.

“I have saved you from that monster. It may not seem so at this moment, for you are a lost lamb blinded by devilish temptations, but you will realize later this was for the best.”

You can’t form the words. You can’t even form thoughts. It’s all static. 

“Do you understand, (Name)?”

You nod, but you really don’t.

ON A DARK, STORMY NIGHT.

You pace to and fro on the side of the road, clutching your stomach every fifteen seconds. Rain pelts your sweater, soaking through that and the little backpack hanging off of your shoulder with its single strap. There isn’t much inside. You could hardly pack it when your mother was in your ear, shouting a nasty set of lines: “You whorish, two-bit cunt! What do you think you’re doing, throwing away your life like this?! Who’s going to afford that parasite? Not me! Definitely not you! Not when you ought to be in school, not hopping on some man’s dick! Where is your shame?!”

Her slipper came down upon your arm, the back of your head, your neck, unrelenting in its whacks. You scrambled about in your room like a headless chicken, shielding your face and stomach when you could. She continued to berate you in that harsh, shrill tone of hers. Whenever your vision became blurred with tears, you had to hurry to blink them away so that they wouldn’t obscure your view of the path to the front door.

On your way out of your room, you managed to snatch an old sweater. She pursued in a furious flurry and this time you were sure, should she get a firm grasp on your arm, she’d kill you.

“Out! Out of my house!” she squawked when you stumbled down the steps in a blind panic. Rain wet your face, or maybe it was the tears. “You’re no child of mine. Don’t think about coming back here.”

The door was slammed so hard it shook in its frame.

So you gathered yourself, lifted your shirt to check the rounded dome of your stomach, and then pulled the sweater on over your head.

You walked. Past houses and storefronts, crossing busy streets, peering into the windows of a bar.

You walked. Under flickering lamp posts, through chilly rain, towards the edge of your broken world.

You walked. Until civilization gave way to sprawling darkness and trees. Until the path was muddied and slick. Until you were wading through thick, tall grass.

Now you walk up and down this strip of road, far from home and freezing-cold. You’re hungry, too. It’s been hours since the last car sped past, blissfully ignorant to your flailing arms and desperate shouts: “Wait! Please stop! Wait!”

You’re beginning to think you might die out here, alone and poor, a worthless nobody.

“Fuck,” you spit, wiping the tears/rain from your eyes. “Fuck!”

You kick a clump of grass onto the road and scream at the sky.

And then headlights roll over the hill, cutting through the gloom. Headlights that are attached to a car. A car!

Hope restored, you scurry onto the slick pavement and wave your arms about. When it seems like the car isn’t going to stop, you skitter onto the dirt path.

“Wait! Please wait!” you cry out, still gesturing wildly.

To your surprise and relief, the car eases to a stop just ahead and a window lowers slowly. It squeaks noisily, and you can hear the broken parts of the mechanism rattling inside the door. Happiness surges through you, and you approach the vehicle slowly. A figure comes into view, most of his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. He looks thoroughly soaked, as does the little boy snoozing in the passenger seat. He’s hugging a shovel in his sleep, a satisfied smile on his face. Both of them are clad in grimy, oversized raincoats. You think it’s dirt when you peer closely, but you’re not certain.

The man lifts his hand in greeting and you realize he’s wearing gloves.

“Well, hello there, little miss!” He flashes his teeth at you in a sharp, close-eyed smile. “Bit late to be out and about, don’tcha think?”

“I… I’m so sorry, but I desperately need a ride.”

A pair of brilliant orange eyes open to view you. He assesses you with a subtle once-over.

“A ride, you say? Hmm…” He strokes his chin with his hand, feigning deep thought. “Awfully unsafe for a lady to be wandering around in the dark.”

He could drive off any minute and you might never get a ride. You’re not sure how much longer you can last in this rain.

“I don’t have much money on me… I just… I really need to get out of this rain.” You cup the small bump hidden beneath your sweater and then flounder for the necklace around your throat. “I can give you this! A-And everything else in my bag. It’s not a lot, but maybe you can do something with it…”

The man raises a prominent eyebrow. The window is cracked just enough so he can look out at you, but you can’t reach in if you wanted to. Not that you would. Something about the filthy appearance of this man and his charismatic aura unsettles you. But he’s the second car you’ve seen tonight. The first car to have stopped for you. You can’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers no matter how suspicious he seems.

“What’s your name, little miss?”

“It’s (Name), sir. My mother kicked me out. I don’t have anywhere to go, but if you can just get me to the nearest shelter…”

He gazes through you rather than at you, his attention pinned on your stomach. A shadow passes over his face, but it’s quickly dispelled when he smiles.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult now, does it? I couldn’t possibly leave a little lady stranded in these elements. Why, anyone who would is simply heartless!” You hear the click of a lock. “Hop in. I’ll take you there.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Not at all. Thank you for stopping me. Otherwise I might’ve just passed you up.”

“I’m so grateful. I can’t thank you enough,” you confess, choking on your joy. You pull the door open and climb into the backseat. It’s very…messy, and it smells like smoke and wet earth and overall unpleasant things. Your nose wrinkles, but you remind yourself not to judge too scathingly. After all, you don’t look very neat yourself in your shabby sweater.

“You from around here?” the man asks once you’ve buckled in.

“Yes. Well, no. Um… I’m not sure how far from home I am.” You rub at your sore arms, teeth chattering. “I’ve j-just been walking all over, sir. U-Um… If I may, what’s your name?”

He scoffs lightheartedly, almost like it isn’t important. “I’m just an honest fellow trying to get home in this nasty weather.” This honest fellow indicates the boy beside him next. “It’s a bit of a drive and my little brother can’t quite stay up for the entirety of it. Kids, am I right? They think they’re stronger than the world with all of their confidence, but no one’s stronger than the inescapable call of sleep!”

You laugh into your hand, careful not to wake the boy. “I see. You must be coming back from a road trip then?”

“Precisely so, little miss. You’ve keen intuition.”

A comforting quiet blankets the inside of the car. You watch the trees pass while he drives. Eventually, they fall away to reveal a neighborhood you’ve never seen before. The houses are in disrepair, and everything looks grey. This isn’t where the shelter is, you realize, and your horror only multiplies when he turns down another road and parks in front of a decrepit-looking apartment complex.

“Time to wake up now.” He shakes the boy, who comes to with a few sleepy blinks. He notices you and smiles, waving with a flappy sleeve.

“Sir? Mr. Fellow—was it?—what is this place?” You shrink back into the car when he opens the door for you and offers his gloved hand.

“Why, this is the shelter!” He beams proudly. “Do you not see the windows? The roof? The shape of this lovely building? Clearly it is the shelter you’ve mentioned.”

“But this is…” Not that. Not the home I’m looking for. You hold your bag close to your chest and allow the honest fellow to help you out. The rain is but a soft pitter-patter now.

His hands fall upon your shoulders, trapping you in place. “What do you think, Gidel? I’d say this is better than any old shelter. Why, this is a glorious haven! As they say, a treasure is not yet treasure until it’s polished to a shine. Every gem is rough around the edges, wouldn’t you say so?”

The boy—Gidel—nods enthusiastically. You don’t trust him or the shovel he holds behind his back.

“Thank you for the ride. It was nice to meet both of you, but I can walk the rest of the way.”

“Nonsense! A lady should never walk alone at night. It’s much too dangerous.” He holds his hand over his heart and gasps dramatically. “My chest aches at the thought of it! What horrid beasts might lurk out there… You must allow us to show you just a pinch more of our hospitality. At least until this pesky rain abates.”

He smiles at you in a way that doesn’t give you a chance to get a word in. The car is shut and locked, and he twirls the key ring on his finger as he guides you towards the dingy building. Gidel hurries along after you, nodding in time with the honest fellow’s cheery humming.

MERRY.

Christmas music floods your brain, a loud, constant thrum of whimsical bells and chimes. The headphones are pulled from your person next, and suddenly a voice invades your pleasant dreams. Over and over, calling out to you…

“Sister…” A slight nudge. “Dearest sister of mine, please wake up…” A cold finger prods at your cheek.

Groaning, you shift in your sleep. The muscles in your face twitch with every persistent poke.

“(Name)?”

Your eyes peel open slowly, searching through the lamplight to find a pale face. “Huh… Mmh… What’s going on? Oh, it’s you, Skully. What’s wrong?”

He fidgets awkwardly where he stands. He almost looks like a real younger brother when he’s so restless, but his looming height is a reminder that he’s grown up just like you. With his gangly limbs, circular frames that sit crooked on his face, and unkempt bedhead with those troublesome strands that fluff up no matter how many times he smooths them down, he looks more like a deer caught in an oncoming car’s headlights.

You sit up in bed and rub the sleep from your eyes. “It’s way too early. The sun’s not even up yet! Why’re you awake?”

“I couldn’t possibly sleep,” he confesses, the words just spilling out, and he sounds ecstatically happy. “Not when Christmas is finally here. Aren’t you excited, Sister? Don’t you wish to see what Sandy Claws has brought us?”

Aren’t we a little old to believe in him still? you almost ask, but the question sticks in your throat when you notice the crimson speckled on Skully’s sweater vest. It stands out starkly against the white of his collared undershirt. Now you’re fully awake and worried. Very worried.

“Skully—”

“Come, come!”

He tugs at your arm, pulling the limp you from your bed. You allow yourself to be dragged like a ragdoll, led from the bedroom into the hall. The lights strung around the tree shine so brightly you can see their glow against the wall from the top of the stairs. His hand, cold and clammy, slides into yours. He’s always had a habit of clinging to you, of reaching for your hand, ever since the both of you were little. At your age now, it feels…weird. But his fingers are twining around yours and it’s impossible to pull away.

You descend the stairs with him and approach the sitting room. Dread pools in your stomach. You sniff at the air and choke on the acrid stench of iron.

“What is that?!” You pull your shirt up to your nose and attempt to yank away from him. “Skully, it smells gross.”

“No, it’s okay!” he assures, taking hold of your arm. A wobbly smile pulls his chapped lips apart. There’s a giddy mania spiraling in his orange eyes, and his voice lifts in pitch. His next words are spoken in a breathless ramble. “Just trust me. It’s a good gift. A great gift, really. You’ll see.”

You don’t want to see. Not when you spy a splash of liquid red staining the floor, peeking out at you from around the corner.

“Oh! Close your eyes. It’ll be a surprise!”

“Skully, I don’t want to. I… I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, but this is a good one! I promise.” He squeezes your arm. “Please? You’ll like it.”

You doubt that, but his expression is so full of expectation that you give in with a sigh. Your eyes fall shut and Skully squeals in excitement.

“Wonderful! Allow me to escort you.” He sidles closer, his hands at your waist. “There… Just around this corner here. Oh, careful now. Watch your step.”

Your nostrils prickle at the intense smell. The path he leads you through is deliberate. You’re about to open your eyes, but then his large hands fall over them.

“Not yet! I haven’t done the count.” He inhales a steadying breath. It rattles in his throat. “O-Okay. One. Two… Three.” His fingers part and then the veil lifts. “Merry Christmas, Sister.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what you find lying in front of you. Amidst presents wrapped in glittering foils are the brutalized corpses of your parents. They’re sprawled in a smattering of blood. In fact, blood is everywhere—flecked on the curtains, on the few ornaments hanging from the lowest boughs of the tree, on the wallpaper. You’re not sure if you can even call such slaughter a simple murder. This was a slaying. An execution. You spy the deep gash carved into your mother’s throat and your hands fly to your own neck. A ghastly shriek pierces the air, practically torn from your lungs.

Skully flinches, panic twisting his kind, youthful features. “Oh! Oh, no, no! Don’t cry.” He takes hold of your head, sandwiching it between both of his hands—hands that so cruelly cut down your mother and his father. “Please don’t cry…”

“Oh, my… My God… You… Y-You killed them!”

You peek at your stepfather out of some stupid instinct to hope for the best, and another sob bubbles up when you realize he and your mother are truly dead. Unable to look upon such a grisly scene any longer, you stagger away and turn sharply on your heel. Bile tinges your tongue, but you quickly slap a hand over your mouth and swallow it down. Skully braces you before you can fall over, wrapping his long arms around you from behind.

“For you!” he insists. “I did it for you—for us, dearest sister! They… They were going to send me away. I couldn’t allow that! If we were to be separated… It would tear my heart apart.” He clutches you tighter as if you’re a teddy bear. “I tried to explain it to them—truly, I did—but they couldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. So I had to do it, (Name). I couldn’t allow them to send me away. You understand, don’t you?”

Gingerly, he wipes your tears away and then leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. When that doesn’t change anything, he frowns.

Seemingly inconsolable, you continue to bawl even though your throat is dry and your head is aching and your heart is hurting. He releases his hold on you enough for you to stumble away.

Ever the adamant one, Skully tries again. He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips. You slide down the wall and he follows you, caging you in the corner.

“Dearest sister of mine, don’t cry…”

His hand cups your cheek next, and his thumb swipes at a stray tear.

“I’m here for you. Always.”

Your shadows are splayed against wallpaper striped with blood. His looms over yours, almost swallowing it whole. In green and red lights, your reflections caught in glass ornaments, Skully seals that promise with a press of his mouth to yours.

[asterr1sk]

mirror sex with txt

mdni | this just came to my mind,, please be kind. it's my first time doing something more detailed than suggestive cw: sub fem! reader, overstimulation, brat taming, hair pulling, slapping, tied up (idk if missed out on any)

₊⊹ yeonjun

he would humiliate you. he gives off such big, brat-tamer vibes. i can't deny it. we can't.

he would force you to look at yourself in the mirror while he plays and teases you until you couldn't keep up and cry. even then, he will still wipe your tears away. you can't keep up with how many times he said “one more. it'll be the last, honey.” 

"i promise. this is the last." this is the fifth time he said that, and you felt like passing out in his arms. "i can't." you let out a breathy moan. he held your cheeks to show you how messy you got. "please let me cum," you whined again as you tried to keep your legs open for him. "like i said, baby, you can't yet." as soon as he said that, you felt a wave wash over and became weak. you heard him click his tongue, and he sat you upright, opening your legs again to slap your pussy. "what did i say?"

₊⊹ soobin

we all saw that selfie with the mirror on the ceiling, right? he’s freaky. i know it. 

he’s would be a mixture of yeonjun and huening kai. if you ask for it, he would be happy to be rough or soft with you. he also gives me someone who loves it when you grip his thighs when you can't do it anymore. idk idk 🤷‍♀️

you look up at the mirror above you, seeing his figure almost cover you completely. "you like what you see, darling?" he asked as he kept leaving markings on your neck down to your chest. in response, you let out a hum and grabbed his hair. he groaned, which made his kisses rougher. he loves it when you arch your back and your chest comes closer to his face. you felt his hand wander to your thigh and lift it up. "you look so pretty like this," he said, softly kissing your stomach.

₊⊹ beomgyu

he would tease you too. he's definitely the type to whisper in your ear, especially with his low voice.

now, knowing the power he has over you. he’ll command you to follow his words while he's not touching you, so you are left to squirm and whine at his mercy. someone stop me

"keep touching yourself, baby," he said as he just sat there behind you with a smirk. you tried your best to satisfy yourself, but you can't quite get there. you looked so pathetic in front of the mirror, fondling your desperate pussy. you needed him to touch you. you attempted to grind on his hard on, but he moved back, so you can't reach him. you whined, and in return, he just laughed at your cute little attempt.

₊⊹ taehyun 

hear me out. gym mirror sex.

he would lift you up, facing him with your legs wrapped around his waist. when he sits down, you are faced with the mirror, and all you can see is his back. he tells you that the moment you stop looking at the mirror to hide, it stops. 

"taehyun, please let me see you." you squirmed on his lap as you tried to keep up with the pace he put you on while his hands were on your hips. "we'll stop this, and you need to wait until we get home." you held on tighter to his shoulders and grinded harder. you saw how needy you got in the mirror, with your eyes slightly covered and your lips leaving small pecks on his ear. "do you want to wait?" he asked, stopping you from grinding. you shook your head. "that's it. continue then."

₊⊹ huening kai

he’ll be so loving and sweet. he will keep giving you compliments, whispering in your ear while he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

the second you look away, though, will cause him to lightly pull your hair, and it gets rougher every time you do it. and if i say, he wants to tie you up then what

"look at how cute you are," he said, kissing your shoulders and sucking on them to leave small purple marks. it was difficult to stare at yourself. you looked so dirty with your legs open and his fingers hovering over your pussy but he doesn't just play with it. you wanted to grab his hands so he could finger you already, but he tied your arms at the back with ribbons. you only looked away for a second, and his other hand was in your hair, pulling on them slightly. "i said look, right?"

[sturniololoco]

this might sound weird but her me out.

could you do one where like reader is matt(or chris’s) gf but the boys have a younger sister (like sls) and when the sister goes to stay with the boys her favourite is always gf and she tells all her troubles and feelings to her when she’s missing her mom and dad

i completely understand if this doesn’t make sense but the idea came to me randomly xx

Home Sick

Matt Sturniolo x fem! Reader

Warnings: kissing, cuddling, crying, home sickness, etc.

⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙

Y/N’s POV

My boyfriend, Matt, has been on the phone with his little sister the entire way to the airport.

This is her first time flying by herself and she just got off the plane so Matt is trying to walk her through it.

Chris and Nick have been talking excitedly about the plans they have made for her while they got their vlog camera ready.

I however, was nurvously picking at my nails, wondering what their sister will be like.

Will she like me?

I was pulled from my thoughts as I felt a hand on my thigh.

“Stop worrying baby. It’s gonna be fine.” He says in a low tone.

I smile and hold his hand, praying that he’s right.

-

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as cute as Matt’s little sister sprinting into his outstretched arms.

Normally, he would call this cringy behavior, but I know he's so happy to see her, that he secretly enjoys it.

She does the same to Chris and Nick, somehow showing all of her love for them in one tight squeeze.

Then she came over to me.

I was shocked when she wrapped her small frame around me, hugging me tight.

I looked up at Matt, giving him the Are you seeing how cute this is? look.

He smiles back at me proudly while grabbing his little sister's bags.

Pulling away, but still holding my hand, she pulls me with her to the car behind her brothers.

-

To celebrate the little sister's safe journey across the country, we indulged in a pizza movie night for the occasion.

I was snuggled into Matt's side on the end of the couch, and both of us snuggled into a blanket while we held hands.

Matt's sister was on his right, leaning into Chris on her other side.

It was safe to say that the siblings had a very close relationship, just judging by how they cuddled close together on the couch.

-

At the end of the movie, Nick stood grabbed our plates, and started to clean up. Just as Matt and I were about to do the same, Chris began tickling his little sister with no mercy.

Matt was quick to join in, the trio laughing as her brothers held her down.

Once they gave in, she was half upside down and breathing heavily, smacking her brothers on the leg as they walked away to go and help Nick.

"You ready for bed, baby?" Matt asked me, seeing me yawn from m spot on the island.

I nodded and stood, giving everyone a quick goodnight hug.

But as I went to see their little sister, she was fast asleep in her spot on the couch.

Smiling lightly to myself, I called Chris over.

"You might wanna move her before she gets too comfy." I laughed as he scooped her up into his arms and whisked her off to bed.

I wasn't far behind, only I followed Matt, snuggling into his warmth as we lay down in his bed.

-

Who knew a light coming all the way from downstairs could be so annoying.

It was the middle of the night and got up to pee, but haven't been able to fall back into my slumber thanks to the obnoxious LED light coming from the kitchen.

Giving up on any more rest, I kept out of the room and made my way down the stairs, to be met with a sight I was not expecting.

The Sturniolo sister was there, scrolling on her phone as tears poured from her eyes onto her cheeks.

I hesitantly sat next to her, and when she tried to stop her tears, I pulled her in for a hug, only making her sob harder.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Do you need me to go get Matt?" I asked, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.

She shook her head no and calmed herself, taking in a deep breath before saying,

"I just miss my brothers being at home so much. But I also miss not being with my mom and dad. I wish they could just come home with me." She said, sheepishly.

I gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Your brothers talk about you every day. They miss you just as much, but that's what makes these visits so special. You get to spend special time together." I said.

this seemed to cheer her up slightly. She sighed and smiled before leaning in and giving me a tight hug.

"Thank you," she mumbles into my shoulder.

"Any time kiddo. I'm always here, just as much as your brothers."

I feel so bad, this was so rushed! Lemme know if you want me to add more or redo it, or just do something simular. <3

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep @sturnolio-luvs @rubyjaneaxx @avatarloverlol @vickyzloserz @whoreforchrissturniolo @artloo123 @oliverstarksbae @heartzz4k @lily-strnlo @annalovesbooks-https @girlfriendvlogz @draculaura123

[diamondocean001]

JJK men headcanons

(This is going to be my view on the characters and how they'd act around you)

--------------------------------------------------

Satoru Gojo

We all know that Gojo switches attitudes in the blink of an eye. I feel like he'd do this in a relationship.

In public, he'll tease you. Maybe joke about something you said. A miss spoken word.

However, when your in private, if he hears you say one bad thing about yourself, he'll get all serious. Whether that's about your looks, intelligence, personality, whaterver it is, if Gojo senses your talking bad about yourself, he'll sit you down and tell you everything he loves about you.

When he gets home after a long day at work, he will drag you onto the sofa or bed and lay on you, resting his head on your chest.

He loves head massages. Like, just feeling your fingers running through his hair and over his head is heaven to him.

He buys you expensive gifts to show his love.

"What did you just say?"

A cold chill ran down your spine at the sound of Satoru's voice behind you.

"I-I didn't say anything..."

"Bullshit," he seethed "you said the dress made you look fat."

You couldn't meet his eyes, too ashamed of yourself to face him. He wrapped hos arms around you and pulled you to sit on his lap, caressing your hair.

"Baby, that's not true. You could never look fat. You don't look fat. At all. You're amazing. Everything about you. That's how you got me so tightly wrapped around your finger."

His voice was soft, soothing. So calming you couldn't help but lean further into his touch.

--------------------------------------------------

Kento Nanami

This man has a list of brutal insults to use against anyone who is rude to you.

He definitely sings in the shower and you can't convince me otherwise

When you found out he tried to hide his embarrassment but the blush on his face was way to noticable.

If you come home tired or just not in the mood to cook he'll either order something or immediately go to the kitchen to cook for you

He wears the pink apron you brought for him as a joke.

You are his biggest priority. The man will drop everything to gelp you with no hesitation.

He shows his love through his actions.

A sight you didn't expect to see was your six foot tall boyfriend striding around the kitchen in a baby pink apron. You'd brought it for him a week ago and never expected him to actually wear it.

"Kento," the laugher was in your voice, straining to be released.

You couldn't keep it in anymore when he looked over at you, a serious expression on his face.

He smiled when he saw you laugh. It was a sound he missed when you weren't around

--------------------------------------------------

Toji Fushiguro

This man shows mercy when it comes to your height.

This mountain of a man will make fun of you for being shorter than him even if it's only an inch.

But he will take ZERO toleration for other people making fun of you.

When he's had a hard day he will embrace you in his arms until he's bored of it (which is never)

👏Princess👏Treatment👏

He'd show his love through physical touch.

"Don't you dare move." He grumbled into your neck.

"I have things to do, Toji." You whine.

"Unless your life is in danger, which it isn't, I don't want you to move. At all."

You sigh, knowing your going to be stick in Toji's embrace for hours. I suposse it isn't too bad though.

--------------------------------------------------

Suguru Gego

No mercy to anyone who insults you. None.

When you feel insecure, he'll hold you and kiss every part he loves about you (all of you)

He'd keep you out of battles, deliberately arranging them on days you won't be there.

His favorite days are Sunday movie nights with you.

He displays everything you buy him as if it where priceless because it is priceless to him.

His love language is physical touch

"Haven't we seen this already?"

"I fell asleep during it."

Suguru laughed at your reply. "Yes, that seems about right."

"I wouldn't have if you weren't so dam warm."

"Oh, so I'm at fault?"

--------------------------------------------------

Ryomen Sukuna

Someone insults you? They die. No excuses.

He'd also be a gentleman though (only to you)

If you're having a hard week, he'll come to your door with a bouquet of flowers.

He'd also invite himself in, order your favorite food (he wouldn't lower himself to the point of cooking) and absorb you in his arms until he senses you feel better.

He'd call you things like "my queen"

He shows his love through actions

No matter how may times you blinked, this didn't seem any more believable. The king of curses was standing at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Sukuna..." you where definitely sceptical.

"What? Am I not allowed to treat my queen?"

"Not when you act suspicions doing so."

He walked passed you into your house. He gave up asking for permission ages ago.

"Get your ass here so I can cuddle the miserh out of you."

--------------------------------------------------

[aly4khq]

- 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐘 -

- xavier -

"i'm sorrryyy- ooohh i won't do it again!-" nothing could ever compare to how ruthless xavier is when his girl is being disobedient and misbehaving for no possible reason. his whole demeanour changed when he heard your language when addressing him to your friends. of course it was just to rile him up but you managed to rile him up a little too much. it was supposed to be a day to hang out with you, xavier and your friends who he obviously has only met when you're here too. "hi guys, this is my bitch boy." your friends were in on it, so they went along. "hi!!" they all said in unison as they introduced themselves; xavier nicely waved and said hi, but once they were gone to sit at the table he stared at you. "what was that?" his voice was soft yet it was clear that he had confusion and a slight rage under it. his hands gripped your arm a little tighter as he turned you around to stare at him. you could tell that his stare wasn't one to mess around with but who really likes to obey? "what? you're my bitch. don't get it twisted."

despite this interaction, during the whole dinner, he was completely fine. nothing was wrong with his kindness and he was just as respectful to you as to him. until you finally came home.

it was currently 2:30am and you haven't slept yet due to the man above you, his hands grasping your throat— not hard enough to hurt you but enough to keep you still. he was making sure to rile you up as well, he wasn't giving you a break until you were broken. his hand pinned you to the bed, his intentions clear. but he did have a little mercy, letting you have your hands. "bitch boy huh?" he slowly pulled his hips back, the tip of his cock resting on your entrance. you brace yourself for impact, awaiting the intense pleasure. but xavier was smarter than that. he didn't do anything as he glared at you. "hm?-" you opened your eyes, relaxing your body to see what was going on. that's when he struck his move. he shoved his dick deep into your pussy, not letting you run away at all. your mouth agape as a scream tried to exit, only to come out as silence. he was thrusting so deep, he might as well say that he wants you pregnant.

breathing was slowly getting harder, your breaths moving up and down with every thrust; the soft flesh hypnotising him. xavier's head went down, sucking the skin on top before using his teeth to bite the bruising area; his eyes closed in satisfaction before he pulled away with a pop! there was no hint of fatigue in his eyes or his hands or his twitching cock inside of you. you turned your head to the side, closing your eyes tightly in a way to breathe. pants escaping your lungs. "it's okay...don't- *thrust* worry." xavier comforted, his eyes narrowed at yours. "don't- *thrust* you- *thrust* worry! *thrust*. it's alright baby." at the tension increased, you began to toss and turn in the sheets to find some relaxation but xavier was having none of it, snatching you back and pinning you harder. "don't run away from me- did i say you could move?"

this was definitely the end of you. xavier's body was way too skilled and every part of him was making sure that you stay with him and only him. one things he hated about your hands was how much you ran. how much you squirmed and pulled away. tired of your antics, he roughly grabbed your wrists together in your chest. and in a few seconds, your hands were bound above your head, both of yours in one of his. his grip was intoxicating; it's nearly distracted you from the sheer force of your man's cock retracting back into your wet cunt. the sounds of skin slapping against your liquids was crazily loud yet xavier loved it; not over your moans obviously. "i said stop moving." you dug your face into his neck as you sobbed, the sensation too intense. with a deep inhale, you let out a quivering response, "i'm s-sorry...i'm- mhmm..!!!" your head threw back against the pillow as the bed creaked underneath you, banging against the wall. there was no warning when you came, only the brief moment of you swearing that you just blacked out for a good 2 minutes. "s-shit...i love you baby.." xavier's glossy eyes widened as he felt your cum rapidly shoot onto his cock; lubricating his cock as he winced. "damn baby.."

do not steal @aly4khq's work even tho they are trash!

date made: 29/8/24

i do not give permission to repost or copy elsewhere.

[supermarketbae]

You Can Take It

a/n:Anddd she’s back from the dead. idk what possessed me, but here we are. It has come to my attention that not a lot of Billy fics have him putting you in a full nelson… and that to me is a tragedy. Enjoy my little bat wings

Warnings: p in v smut, choking, degradation, mean!Billy, manhandling, overstimulation, bulge/size kink, squirting.

summary: When Billy comes back from the gym asking to burn just a few more calories, who are you to say no…

Billy comes home from the gym droning on about how some “bozo” had broken a machine that was vital to his workouts. As he fluffs some of his hair, he oh so innocently asks you if you could help him ‘finish up’ and burn the rest of some calories at home. Shrugging, you agree simply thinking you were going to use a few free weights that you had lying around. 

Oh how wrong you were.

Unknowingly, you had just signed up for the workout of your life, just not in the way you thought… It wasn’t as if you were complaining, however, one very long hour and five very flustering orgasms later?  Maybe you were, just a bit.

Currently bent into doggy style, When Billy’s strong hands grip at your waist tightly, you can’t help but to wiggle your hips away from

the onslaught of pleasure, as your boyfriend, yet again, quickens the pace of his brutal thrusts. Crawling weakly, you reach the rickety headboard, which was banging against the wall in time to the way Billy was roughly rocking into your soaked cunt. Billy tsks as your shaky form distances from him.

“Where are you going baby?” He says feigning pity, you let out a soft whine at his tone. “I- ‘s too much— y’too big.” you pant incoherently. Oh and Billy knows. He knows how cruel he’s being to you, not giving you a moments break before giving you orgasm after orgasm. But a part of him lives to see when your brow furrows, and your arch deepens, and you let out unrestrained, filthy, noises that go straight to his dick as he plows into you, not caring about your eventual slurred pleas for mercy. 

Billy truly didn’t give a fuck. 

So when he just pulls you back towards him, all you do is let out a bitten whimper, knowing that your not getting out of this unless Billy completely breaks you. And deep down you wanted him to.  “Billy I can’t— I can’t cum anymore.” You achingly moan as Billy rubs the leaky mushroom tip of his cock against your hole teasingly. “Stop runnin’ from my dick sweetheart.” Is all Billy tuts before you mewl at the feeling of his girth splitting you apart once more. 

“So much better than motherfuckin’ cardio.” Billy mutters as he traces a finger down your spine. “Billy pleaseee- hahh!” you can barely form words from how much your trembling and Billy just smirks at how fucked out you are. “Already told you darlin’—“ he cuts himself off to loom over you, whispering hotly in your ear. “ I’m not fucking done with you yet.” And when his long skilled fingers snake down to play with your sensitive clit, you truly really truly can’t stop yourself from scrambling away and collapsing in on yourself shakily. 

It just felt too fucking good. And you were way too fucking sensitive.

You open your mouth to purr out a small apology, but you never get to it. Suddenly your being hoisted into the air as Billy’s muscular arms come up to hold the underside of your plush thighs as he puts you into a vulgar full nelson. “Didn’t I tell you not to run?” Billy hisses rhetorically, as he begins to rut into you again. Your eyes squeeze shut, he felt so much deeper like this. Billy chuckled as he watches your mouth gape open into an ‘o’ but swiftly groans as he feels your pussy clamp down on him harder.

“Guess I gotta put you in a position where you can’t run.” Billy snarks placing a biting kiss to your exposed neck. Your lower lip wobbles oh so cutely as you weakly paw at Billy’s flexed biceps, trying to hold onto your sanity. “Oh my God— I- feels so good!” Is all you can squeak out. “Thought you said you couldn’t take it doll?” Billy says but he quickly lets out a drawn out moan of his own as the sounds of your debauched heat reach his ears. 

“More!” you stammer out needy and Billy rolls his eyes at your indecisiveness. “Can’t even make up your mind sweetheart.” He murmurs to you. You let out a sharp gasp as his grip on you loosen as one of his hands comes up to grip your throat. 

You keen at the pressure but a small thought persists even in your hazy state. “You’re gonna- mmfh-drop me!” you hiccup worriedly, nails digging into Billy’s arm, no doubt leaving crescent moon shaped marks that he’ll stare longingly at later. Billy merely shakes his head, curls tickling your nape as he continues to lick and nibble on your blushed skin. “ ‘would never.” He breathes huskily. “Gotta be nice to my pocket pussy if I want her to last huh?” 

Something inside of you lurches and tightens as he degrades you, and all you can think about is how close you are to cumming. “gonna cum Billy.” you warn, breath hitching, and he licks his canines at your simple sentence, slowing the speed of his canting hips, but making the thrusts hit deeper and harder. Your mouth falls open for the nth time of the night and his hand that is around your throat slides down to your belly. “Need you to know how fucking deep I am in you before you do that.” Billy hums gutturally, completely and utterly depraved for your cute messy cunt. 

He presses two fingers high in your tummy to where the tip of his cock is nestled in you. He was being so mean. “Please-ah- Please I’m so close!” you pout, eyes welling up as the throb in your core got more intense— nearly unbearable. “Go ahead, make a mess on this dick.” Billy coos as your eyes roll back instinctively and you cry out, hips bucking, as you squirt on Billy’s thick length. “Billy- BillyBillyBillyBilly!” You chant his name, a broken mantra that matched the no where near eloquent state your brain was in. 

You’re hyper aware of how your swiftly tossed back on the bed as Billy cages around you. “Keep fucking talking, I’m cumming in you for every time you say my name.”

[heavyhitterheaux]

Nice View (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Blurb

Synopsis: Jack just loves to please you, especially when he has an audience

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: the queen @a-moment-captured 😘💕

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jackman Thomas…” You said in a warning tone and his hands began to make its way lower and lower down your body as he was placing kisses along your neck.

“Yes?” He asked as his hand continued to move further south.

The two of you were in France for the Jacquemus fashion show and Maggie offered to keep the triplets while you went. So, Jack was taking advantage of him being able to have you all to himself.

“Our balcony door is open!” You said while lightly hitting his arm, but all he did was look at you.

“And?”

“What do you mean and? Someone could hear us.”

“Wouldn't be the first time. We both know how loud you can get. Besides, I'm putting in work to make my wife feel good. And when have I ever cared about having an audience?”

“You haven't.” You responded while rolling your eyes as Jack laughed and kissed the shell of your ear.

“Exactly.”

—

You currently had both of your hands covering your mouth as Jack was pounding into you when he promptly moved them and intertwined them with his as you felt him go even deeper.

“What are you covering that pretty little mouth for? I thought I told you that I wanted to hear you and you better let all of France know how good I’m making you feel.”

“Or do I need to fuck you on the railing again?” He asked and your thoughts immediately went to the time he did that in Miami at your beach house and you couldn't walk correctly for days.

You immediately shook your head no, but not being satisfied with that answer, Jack abruptly stopped and peered down at you.

“Mrs. Harlow, I asked you a question. And I suggest you answer it. I'm not above punishing you and I have all night.” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, then let me hear you.” He whispered in your ear as he began to move.

He was moving painfully slow in and out of you and he could tell that you were getting impatient.

“Baby, come on.”

“You didn't even want this at first and now you're begging me for it?”

All you did was roll your eyes as you then felt Jack's hand around your neck and he lightly squeezed.

“Who are you rolling your eyes at? That's it, get up and go near the balcony.”

“Wait, babe…”

“Get up or do I need to carry you?”

“Carry me of course. Why would I turn that down?”

Jack just shook his head and laughed to himself as he picked you up and you felt coolness on your back as you felt him place you up against the wall right next to where the balcony was.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck as you moved your face closer to kiss him and that was when you felt him enter you as you let out a gasp against his lips.

“Oh fuck.”

“Now that's what I like to hear. Tell me how good I'm making you feel.”

“Baby, go faster.” You whimpered as your head was now resting on his shoulder.

“As you wish.”

The two of you were going at it until the sun began to rise and that was when Jack finally decided to have mercy on you. Besides being on the wall right next to the balcony, you actually rode him in front of the balcony doors and knew that everyone on the street passing by was able to get a free show.

“Is it really 6 am?” You asked as Jack was now putting your hair up for you before wrapping your scarf around it.

“I was putting in work, but at least now you can sleep all day.” Jack said before placing several kisses on your lips.

“I wouldn't be surprised if we go back home and I'm pregnant.”

“If you aren't, we'll try again.”

“That wasn't an invitation, Jackman.”

“Well you made it sound like it was!” Jack replied to you as he laid down and opened his arms for you to lay on top of him.

You were slowly drifting off to sleep when you heard both of your phones go off and Jack reached over to the bedside table to grab his.

Urban- Will the two of you close the balcony door next time? Can't take your asses ANYWHERE 😒

 Taglist:

@a-moment-captured

@alinaharlow

@hoodharlow

@nattinatalia

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@harlowcomehome

[joelscruff]

hi cat! not sure if ur taking requests but i have a small idea for bf’s dad!joel .. maybe joel giving reader a facial after she’s feeling insecure abt her bf not giving her enough attn so he shows her that all he needs is her face to finish

prove it (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

tysm for the yummy request, anon!! i've decided to combine this request with another one i got the other day: "ok bear with me but what if boyfriends dad joel came in reader and then her bf wants to have sex and sees that she still has his come inside her??? i'm going to hell." i did tweak the second request a bit (sorry!!!) but the general idea is the same. this takes place in the same universe as quickie & snack break except this one definitely has a bit more plot. summary: joel shows you how much he cares about you (in a slightly depraved way) rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: daddy!kink, dirty talk, praise kink, facials, comeplay, oral (f receiving), voyeurism word count: 2.6k (woops)

"i'm so sick of him," tears are streaming down your face as you push joel's home office door open, stomping inside and slamming it behind you. he looks up from where he's sitting at his desk, poring over blueprints for some contracting job he's got coming up, a job that's been taking up all his time as of late.

"angel, what are you doin' here?" he stands up immediately, brow furrowed in concern as he opens his arms to you, "c'mere, what's wrong?"

"why am i even with him?" you groan, head coming to rest against his chest as his arms wrap around you and hold you close, "i don't even like him."

"what'd he do?" joel murmurs against your hair, stroking your back soothingly, "he hurt you?"

"he's just an asshole," you sniffle pathetically against his button down, "i try to be close to him and he just pushes me away, just wants to play his stupid games and pretend i don't exist."

"babygirl, i'm so sorry," he whispers, "what can i do?"

"just wanted to be near you," you sniff, "i only want you, i don't want him anymore."

you feel him tense a bit, tightening his grip around you, "are you gonna break up with him?"

you're not sure what to say, just cry harder into his shirt and revel in the way his arms tighten around you, keeping you safe and soothed. you both know that a breakup has been inevitable for a while, but you're both also aware of the way it'll affect the relationship the two of you share. you won't have an excuse to be at his house anymore, to sneak into his office and have your private moments. you'll have to start meeting in secret, in public. you've been putting it off for as long as you can.

"i don't wanna think about that right now," you whisper shakily, "i just wanted to feel like someone gave a shit about me."

"babygirl," he whispers, bringing his hand up to touch your chin and pull your face up to look at him, peering softly at you with his deep brown eyes, "i give a shit about you, i always will."

"but i've barely seen you lately," you figure you might as well tell him what's on your mind now that you're already baring your emotions to him, "you've been so busy with work. you haven't even kissed me in two weeks."

"two weeks?" his brow furrows again, "baby, i'm sorry. i didn't realize it'd been that long. c'mere," he leans down and kisses you softly, lips capturing yours in that quiet and secret way he reserves only for you, tender and gentle. you kiss back with fervor, tasting him on your tongue, relishing in the feeling of having him to yourself again.

"what do you need, sweetheart?" he whispers against your lips, "need to sit in my lap for a bit? need me to fuck you? just say the word, i'll give it you."

"just wanna know that you still care," your eyes still sting with tears despite the immense comfort you feel from being at his mercy once again, "you still want me, don't you, daddy?"

"yes, baby," he pulls back to look at you intensely, expression set in a sincere expression, "i want you all the time. i swear."

"prove it," you repeat, "show me."

his eyes darken then, throat bobbing as he nods and drops his arms from around you, "take off my belt, babygirl."

you do as you're told, pulling the belt from its loops and tossing it to the floor. you unzip his jeans and he helps you pull them down. you can already see the outline of his cock through his underwear, eyes widening when you see how hard he already is.

"you see that? that's what you did to me the second you came in my office," he breathes, and you feel his hand settle gently on your shoulder, thumb stroking the bare skin of your neck, "that's all for you, only you."

you reach forward and palm him through his underwear, staring at the large bulge and swallowing when it twitches under your fingers, pulses. you stroke him slowly, still inhaling and exhaling deeply to stop your tears.

"mine," you whisper, squeezing his girth gently. you make quick work of pulling his cock from the confines of the fabric, salivating immediately when you see that he's already at his full size, throbbing and leaking profusely. your lips part and he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

"yours," he replies, "you're so beautiful, baby, can't help but get hard just from seein' you, huggin' you," he pulls back and gives you one of his special kisses, directly on the tip of your nose. you can't help but smile, warmth flooding your chest, "get on your knees, babygirl."

you kneel before him, peering up at him from your teary lashes as he strokes his hard cock a few times, the tip ghosting lightly against your lips. you open your mouth for him, silently urging him to slip inside. he shakes his head.

"i wanna show you how crazy you make me, baby," he breathes, stroking a bit faster, "wanna show you fast i can come just from looking at that pretty face."

you look up at him in awe, mouth closing and tears stinging your eyes again as you watch him come undone with just a few strokes, staring directly into your eyes.

"watch daddy's cock," he whispers, "see how bad i want you, baby? see how hard you make me?"

you bite down on your lip, watching his hand stroke his length up and down over and over again, pulsating and throbbing in his fist. the wide tip continues to drool over his fingers, onto the floor. your pussy is already starting to soak your underwear at the mere sight of joel losing himself like this.

"gimme your come, daddy," you mewl, face scrunching with desire as you look back up at his face and watch him come apart.

"could never say no to you, babygirl," he groans, and with one final stroke he finishes, cock bobbing pornographically in his hand as he aims the sticky tip at your face and releases his come all over your lips, your cheeks, your chin. you even feel some spurt against your forehead, dripping down the bridge of your nose. your eyes close involuntarily, focused entirely on the feeling of his warm release covering every inch of your face.

you stay kneeling on the floor with your eyes closed, breathing in and out slowly. you hear him tug his zipper back up and then he's helping you stand, leading you over to the couch in the corner of the room. you open your eyes again when you feel him crouch between your legs, pulling down your shorts and panties in one strong tug.

"what are you-"

he interrupts your query when he ducks his head between your thighs, places his mouth on your clit and begins to suck. you let out an obscene moan, tossing your head back as your hands find a place in his hair. you tug on his greying locks as he licks and sucks your pussy relentlessly, barely coming up for air as he devours you.

"oh fuck," you whimper, and you look down just in time to see him peering up at you through hooded and hazy eyes, drunk on his orgasm and your pussy, "joel, oh my god."

he pulls back for a moment, smirking deliciously, "you know better than to call me joel, sweetheart" he licks a stripe up your center, sloppy and loud, "who am i?"

"daddy," you say, voice wrecked as you grip the couch cushions for support, "you're my daddy."

"good girl," he murmurs, then sucks your clit into his mouth with no hesitation, smiles against your heat when you begin to shake and writhe with your orgasm. your eyes shut tightly and you're vaguely aware of a drop of joel's come sliding down your eyelash to your cheek, reminding you that his release is still all over your face.

"love treating my babygirl like the princess she is," he whispers as he stands up from between your legs and inches in beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close, "covered in daddy's come, pussy all swollen and satisfied, just what you deserve."

you hum in agreement, body lax against his on the couch. you feel him swipe a finger across your face, clearing up some of his release. you whimper when you feel him bring his fingers to your pulsing pussy, pushing his come inside of you and placing his hand over your hole to keep it in.

"this is mine," he murmurs, thumbing your clit gently, "you're mine. no one else's."

"i'm yours, daddy," you whimper, eyes still closed as joel swipes another fingerful of come off your face and repeats the previous gesture, slipping it past your throbbing entrance, "i don't wanna be with him anymore."

"okay, babygirl," he says softly, "we'll figure it out."

a sudden loud knock on the door snaps you both out of your private moment. you hear your boyfriend say your name on the opposite side, loud and firm followed by, "i know you're in there."

your eyes widen, a fear you've never felt before etched all over your face as you look frantically at joel. your expression is enough for him to understand your sudden horror.

you forgot to lock the door.

you both stand up, joel reaching for your panties at the same moment you reach for your shorts. he thrusts them at you and pushes you toward his office bathroom door, not saying a word in his absolute panic, just wanting to make sure you're hidden away. just as the bathroom door shuts with you inside, you hear the office door open.

"where is she?" you hear your boyfriend say angrily, "i heard her voice, i know she's here."

"calm down," joel says, stern and serious, "give her a minute, she's upset."

"she's fucking dramatic is what she is," your boyfriend growls, "jesus, dad, why are you always on her fucking side?"

"because she comes crying to me about you almost every time she's here," joel's voice is strained, clearly angry but holding back as best he can, "if you don't start treatin' her right, you're gonna lose her."

"i don't give a shit, she's not fucking worth it."

"no, you're not fucking worth it," joel says, voice getting louder, "why she's still with you is a fucking mystery to me, i didn't raise you to treat women like this."

"she's just a girl, dad. chill the fuck out."

"she is not just a girl," joel's voice is booming now, "and you'd fucking realize that if you actually talked to her."

the entire time they've been talking you've been quietly wiping your face, cleaning up as silently as you can while you listen to their argument. you toss the wet cloth in the hamper when you're done and press your ear up against the door, feeling tears prick in your eyes again. you're not sure what you're more emotional about, your boyfriend being horrible or joel defending your honor. either way you suppose a fresh outpour of tears will help the situation seem a little more normal when you leave the bathroom.

"i'm done with this," your boyfriend is saying, almost spitting with frustration, "stay out of it dad, i mean it. let me see her."

"give her a minute," joel repeats, "she needs some space."

"let. me. see. her." your boyfriend enunciates each word, voice harsh and rough; you can tell he's getting closer and closer to the bathroom door.

to save joel from doing something he'll regret you shove open the bathroom door, eyes downcast, "i wanna go home," you say quietly, tears streaming down your face again, "someone just take me home, please."

--

joel had immediately offered but your boyfriend had shut him down, walking toward you with softening eyes.

"i'm sorry, babe," he'd said, suddenly a different person now that he saw how upset you were, "i'll take you home."

now you're sitting in his car, watching the neon lights go by through the window as he drives you home in silence. it's raining and depressing and all you want is to be back with joel, safe and desired.

once you get to your house your boyfriend parks in the driveway and turns to look at you, "you ready to talk yet?"

you stare, "i have nothing to say."

he turns away from you, grinding his teeth together, "why are you always such a fucking bitch?"

you turn silently in your seat, arms crossed as you continue to stare out the window. you could get out of the car but you know he'll just follow you, probably start yelling in front of your house so all the neighbors can hear you. it's happened before.

"why do you always go to my dad?" he asks, shaking his head, "i don't get it. he gives terrible advice."

"maybe i don't go to him for advice," you say immediately. "maybe i go to him so someone will actually listen to me for once."

"well you're annoying the shit out of him is what you're doing," he says harshly, "he's just too nice to tell you to leave him alone."

"is that right?" you ask, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from absolutely losing it.

"yeah, that's right."

you sit in silence for a few more moments, still biting back all the awful things you want to say. i'm fucking your dad, you wish you could snarl at him, i call him daddy and he fucking loves it.

"listen... i'm sorry," he says turning to look at you again, "i know i'm an asshole sometimes."

you twist your mouth, tears still spilling over as you cross your arms tighter against your chest.

"let's just sleep on it, okay?" he murmurs, reaching over to push a strand of hair behind your ear, "and if you wanna break up with me in the morning then we'll deal with it."

you sigh shakily, nodding, "fine."

he strokes the skin behind your ear and you feel his fingers suddenly freeze. you look over at him and see him peering curiously at something.

"what?" you ask, confused.

"what's this in your hair?" he asks, making a face, "looks like..."

your eyes widen and you pull back immediately, "it's moisturizer, i was trying to make my face less puffy."

he stares at you, slightly confused by your reaction. his hand slowly comes down from your hair and he looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening and then closing again. instead, he turns away from you and puts both hands on the wheel, knuckles flexing white.

"i think you should get out now," he says quietly.

your eyes are still wide, unsure if he believes your lie or not. slowly you unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the handle of the door, still peering at him with a frightened gaze. he turns to look at you again, jaw set tightly.

"tell me that's not what i think it is," he says, voice hard and firm.

"it's moisturizer," you repeat, trying to keep your voice as relaxed as possible, "i swear."

he just continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression as you open the car door and get out. as soon as you shut it behind you his tires squeal against the pavement of your driveway, pulling out fast and dangerously. you watch his car disappear down the street as you stand there, goosebumps rising on your skin from the chilly nighttime air.

you yank out your phone and quickly send a text to joel, eyes still wide:

i think he knows.

---

thank you sm for reading!! this little miniseries definitely isn't my best work by any means but it's fun to write. this one got way longer and way more plotty than i was expecting lmao but i hope it was enjoyable for somebody!

here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💖

[peaxhxhair]

Raising Kids with them - Overwatch Heroes

Featuring: Cassidy, Mercy, Moira, Roadhog, Junker Queen Warnings: Moira. A/n: this isn't exactly the official setting for each character - but this is fanfiction so we're gonna ignore it lol Navigation Overwatch - MASTERLIST Consider becoming a member! <3

Odessa Stone (Junker Queen)

She wouldn't be into having kids at first - thinking that something so small would make her weak.

It does - but she refuses to admit it.

You both decided adoption was probably the best option - adopting a sweet baby girl.

I think Dez would be all about teaching her kids to fight.

Even before they've learnt to walk.

"C'mon kiddo! I was fighting at your age!"

Sometimes you would find her playing with your baby - making it look as if they were both boxing.

It was quite a funny sight.

You'll come home from work and find them watching wrestling or something.

Probably swears around your kid.

Your babies first word is probably 'cunt' or 'fuck'

You're usually the one to take your daughter to school, but on the off chance Dez does - the rest of the parents are scared of her.

The kids adore her though.

She'll struggle doing stuff like diaper changes at first - as anyone would

~~~

As your daughter gets older - she grows into a mini version of Dez.

She wont call her 'mom' - instead calling her something silly like 'cunt' or 'fuckwit'

Dez gets a real kick out of it - and does the same.

Dez would be a little disappointed if your kid didn't want to fight, though she'd still be supportive - even if she didn't really understand.

Cries on your daughters wedding day - but tries to hide it.

"I'm not crying cunt, you're crying"

Mako Rutledge (Roadhog)

I think Mako would be really good with kids-

Big brooding dad & cute tiny daughter combo type vibe

Maybe she's really talkative, and he just listens.

He'd let her put clips in his hair and paint his nails.

It's giving Gru when his girls are doing ballet.

He's always the one to hold the kids when needed - since he barely has any issue.

His hands are just so big.

Even if you had like - 4 kids he would have no trouble carrying them all.

You were grateful that you could have some time alone sometimes, as Mako is a very competent father.

'crane's hand back while driving when kid opens snack' dad

Your kid might pretend to wear his shoes - and they can barely even stand properly in them, let alone walk.

Moira O'Deorain 

Does not want kids.

Only agreed because you would make a face at her whenever you saw a baby.

test-tube baby fr

Literally will not go to another doctor about her kids health.

Does she know anything about kids? No.

Does she think she knows more than the QUALIFIED children's doctors? Absolutely she does.

MIGHT agree to taking your kid to see Angela - if you're not too keen on her doing science on your kid.

HATES being called mom.

She's fine with your kid just calling her by her name.

This was weird on the first day of school - most parents thinking your kids other parent wasn't in the picture.

She was fine with that idea - meaning that you 'left' your old partner for her. Narcissist.

~~~

Your babies first word was definitely her name.

but in the cute baby way.

'Moiwa'

When your kid gets a little older, maybe they'll ask about Moira's arm.

"This is what happens when you smoke"

Your kid will never even THINK about smoking ever again.

It isn't until they're 30 that they realise that wasn't true.

Prefers to keep her kids away from science - as much as it was important to her.

She'll barely talk to you about it either - which may be hard if you're also a part of Talon.

Having to bring your kids to work with you is definitely SOMETHING.

You'd prefer for them to be with you rather than with Moira, though.

Your kids are NOSY, so you have to bend the truth a little bit.

Just to make sure they don't view their mom as the ruthless geneticist that she ACTUALLY is.

"Why is miss Amelie blue?"

"She didn't eat her vegetables"

Angela Ziegler (Mercy)

BIG on consistent check-ups.

Sometimes she'll do them herself, but she prefers the professionals.

She doesn't specialise in child care, but she does make sure that your child is going to the best doctor in the field.

Definitely enjoys shopping for baby clothes.

Works with baby on lap - letting the little guy play with her fingers.

Aeroplane noises while getting the baby to eat.

does NOT let the kid eat candy until they're like 10.

This was hard for you - because it meant you couldn't have candy in the house.

Secret stash of sweets hidden somewhere in your car.

One in Overwatch HQ too.

ALWAYS prepared.

Baby needs a snack? She's got cut up grapes in her bag.

Always has wipes and diapers.

"Hey babe? Where's their bottle?" She's already retrieved it from the drying rack.

Tiny first-aid kid in her bag at ALL times.

~~~

If your kid wants their ears pierced at Claire's. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Angela is panicked at any idea of infections - especially when it comes to your kid.

Your kiddo is made to wear clip on earrings until they qualify to be pierced by a professional.

Will always make sure places are baby safe before you take your kid there.

~~~

She's calm 90% of the time - she just cares about general safety and health.

Matching onesies with your kid.

Chilli and Bingo core :)

Angela would LOVE doing Halloween costumes for your kiddo.

They're always so CUTE.

If she has the time, she'll put together matching family ones.

Cole Cassidy

Baby carrier dad.

Like he'll just carry your baby everywhere.

Gets upset when he has to put the little guy down.

"We're just fine over here. No need to pull us apart"

Your child definitely prefers him to you - which you're fine with.

It's just so cute seeing them play together.

I'd say he's a girl dad - the type to teach her how to shoot, or play football with.

9 times out of ten, he'll fall asleep while reading her a bedtime story, so he always just ends up sleeping in your daughters bed with her.

The two of them cuddled up on the tiny mattress - he's holding your little girl so protectively.

~~~

The moms at the nursery you take your daughter to all think Cole is hot.

Too right.

They just need to learn to keep their hands to themselves.

Your kid is very protective of him - and your relationship.

If you're married, she'll be like;

"Daddy, show her your wedding ring!! Isn't it nice?"

It makes Cole chuckle every time.

Cole didn't even need to shut the women down - your kid was doing all the work for him.

~~~

Definitely the dad that all of your kids friends like

"Your dad is so cool!"

He's always invited to their little tea parties and stuff.

Yes, he will put on the crown and princess dress.

[mojogojocasahouse]

Home With You

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: After a long mission away, Satoru returns home forgetting he doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: E

Content: hurt comfort, Gojo has a headache and his past trauma is rearing its head, established relationship, smut (p-in-v sex, Gojo’s filthy mouth, multiple orgasms for both parties, it’s so desperate, I don’t know it’s Gojo, man has nasty sex. Enjoy)

It’s not dark enough tonight. He could still see too far in front of him, even through the curtain of rain pouring down from the skies. But that was the thing. He could see everything, all the fucking time.

He’d taken the long way home from Jujutsu High where he’d spent the night arguing with the higher-ups once again, rage and murderous intent boiling beneath his skin. They were going to tear down the Jujutsu world, there was no debating it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it either. Besides killing them all, a task he was more than capable of.

The radio is humming in the background but he isn’t listening, not to that. He’s too busy focusing on the steady pattering of the downpour on the roof of the car, cursing the street lamp to the right as it blinds him even through the black fabric he’s wearing over his eyes. His head is throbbing, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, jaw tense—he could do it so quickly they wouldn’t feel a thing. It was almost a mercy. Curses would tear them apart, as would any of the enemies that seemed to be racking up faster than he could keep count, but Satoru Gojo could end them painlessly…

Knock knock knock

The tapping is gentle, his head lolling to find a sight he was both craving and avoiding distorted by the droplets rolling down the glass.

“Baby?” Your voice was so sweet even muffled through the window and the rain. “What are you doing? You’ve been out here for twenty minutes.”

Had it been that long? News to him. Actually, it felt like an eternity now that he thought about it. It had been three weeks since he’d been home, the one mission that was supposed to be three days turned into four that had kept him away from home far longer than he’d been intending to. He’d finally put his foot down just this morning—hence the verbal lashing he’d taken for “abandoning his duties when they needed him most”—telling those good-for-nothing pieces of shit that he was going the fuck home whether they liked it or not.

But now that he was home, he was hiding.

“Come inside,” you urge again, and my God he wants nothing more than to just collapse into your arms, “Dinner is almost done.”

He’s not fucking hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“I got your kikufuku,” you tack on, and it should make him happy. But it doesn’t.

It makes him fucking hate himself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and he can hear the tremor in your voice, or maybe you’re shivering. His selfish, self-loathing ass is making you stand in the pouring rain while you try and coax him out of his car.

Emotion is still foreign to him. Well, not entirely, but you'd come at a time he'd sworn attachment off, he'd meander the world surrounded by people but always alone. It was easier that way, he'd thought. He hadn’t wanted to allow this, but he’d never stood a chance. Not after you kissed him for the first time outside the ice cream place, or when you listened to him tell a story about curses and infinity that would have sent anyone with sense running for the hills and never looking back. And you’d shrugged. Shrugged.

“You’re still just Toru to me,” you’d said, and at that moment everything and nothing at all made sense.

And still to this day years later, as he steps out of the car and threads his fingers with yours, hunching down to squeeze beneath your clear umbrella, everything and nothing at all makes sense.

The house smells like curry, your music still playing in the kitchen, and the bag of the sweet treats you’d traveled to get just for him sat on the dining table with a new set of sunglasses. He’d broken his favorite ones before the trip, and as he stares at the oblong lenses and golden frames he realizes he'd never told you he’d sat on them, snapping them right in two. You must have just known when he’d opted to wear his older circular ones. Or maybe you found the broken pair in the pocket of his pants when you did the wash. Either way, the gesture makes him squeeze your hand a little tighter as his teeth gnash together. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Oh,” he finally grunts, pulling a small box from the top of his travel bag, “This is for you.”

He’d found it in one of the towns he’d been cursed to investigate, the tiny pendant you were admiring with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Do you like it?” He can see the answer plain as day on your face, but he still feels the need to ask. He needs the god damn reassurance, the ego stroke. He needs to know that he matters for more than the curses bestowed on him at birth.

“Can you put it on me?” you ask with a grin, turning after setting the box in his palm.

The clasp is too small for his fingers to work properly, but he gets it done, laying the pink-jeweled charm against your throat and securing it before watching the way it settles onto your chest from above. Your fingers toy with the gold, so dainty and gentle, you treat everything as if it were the most precious, fragile thing. Even him. His arms practically ache to wrap around your middle, his body freezing despite the comfortable temperature in the house because the only thing that could keep him warm enough was your body pressed against his, every conceivable inch of it.

But he needs a shower. And if he starts now he won’t stop. He intends to stay glued to you, serpentining around your limbs and torso like a parasitic vine, pulling the very will to live from the heat of your skin and the steady beat of your heart. He wonders if you know how much he depends on you.

The strongest in the world. Until he isn’t. Right now he feels like a chump.

It’s not because he lost, because he sure as hell didn’t. He made quick work of each and every foe, it was almost boring. He’d pay someone at this point if they sent something his way that made him break a sweat. No. It’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being the strongest. He’s tired of trying to change things, to save people he’s still not sure he gives a shit about, and he’s buckling beneath the weight of a name and abilities he never asked for.

There’s no denying it’s fun to be the best. He gets away with more than he should, he toys with people’s minds and worth, destruction sits at his fingertips. But it’s lonely. It’s vapid. And being Satoru Gojo leaves him at the mercy of people he shouldn’t be forced to obey.

He’s never lived.

All he’s done is train, fight, bargain, argue, defend, lose everyone he’s ever allowed himself to care about. And that fear sits heavy in his gut as he watches you skitter off to the kitchen when a timer blares shrill in the air. He has to escape now because if he sees that silly smile that settles on your face when you look at him he’ll fall to his knees.

In the time he takes to debate if he can pull the roots that had grown from his feet up from the floor, you were back, and now the predator was turned prey.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again, reading everything from the shape of his mouth to the slump of his shoulders like a book you’d memorized. Answering is far down his list of desires.

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face, the mask he wore so well snapping back into place, “Hungry.” Another lie. “Tired.” That one was true.

“It’s funny that you think you can lie to me.”

It wasn’t venomous, your tone playful as you ascend onto the tips of your toes and reach behind his head, the cloth masking half of his face falling away. Through all the wondrous things his eyes have seen, you are his favorite thing to gaze upon. Despite your lack of cursed energy, there’s still an enchanting hue to you, he could pick it out of a crowd of thousands in an instant, but when the blindfold is pulled away and the sights of the world come crashing in from every angle, your face is like an oasis. Always so sweet, always so happy, so fucking pure his hands that have killed and killed and killed shouldn’t be allowed to fucking touch you.

“There he is,” you coo, your fingers brushing the hair falling into his eyes that see too much, “I just wanted to see you.”

You feel bad. You feel bad for wanting to see his face. What is he doing here? What is he doing to you?

“Glasses now, yeah?” A request he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

“Shower,” he replies, finally undoing the buttons of the high collar that suddenly feels suffocating, ripping open the top few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it, “Then whatever you want.”

A content little hum agrees to his offer, “Dinner is done in ten.”

“Then I’ll be done in five.”

Yet fifteen minutes later he’s still crouching beneath the steady stream of now-tepid water, the veins in his temples pulsing, pain shooting from behind his eyes to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t want to move, think, nothing, he just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

“Toru?”

Before you, had anyone even attempted to call him by that wretched nickname they’d have found themselves beneath the sole of his boot. And they had tried. Shoko and Mei Mei had both tested the waters, Suguru had been smart enough to read Satoru’s reaction to the first two. At first, he thought he'd allowed it because it started as a choked whine, his cock buried in you to the hilt when you sputtered it from swollen lips, in that moment he didn’t care what you called him, nor had he any other time after that. Then it just stuck.

Or maybe it was because he’d never been the Satoru Gojo with you. He had always been something else. Someone else. You didn’t care how many curses he could exorcise, to you he was the guy who delivered extra sweet boba tea and preferred sodas to sake. While others expected him to risk his life while they sat comfortable behind screens demanding too much from people who were running out of things to give, you just wanted flowers and nights in on the couch where he’d carry you to bed after you fell asleep watching a movie. He wasn’t Satoru Gojo, the prodigy. He was…Toru.

When the door creaks open as a result of his silence, he wonders how much you know, what you assume. There’s no point in trying to maintain the ruse that he’s fine, the opportunity for that had passed before he’d even stepped foot in the house.

“Stop avoiding me.” Well, that answers that. You were exceptionally well aware. “Your trip was shit. I got it. But you’ll be on another one in two days and I’ll—“

You know you’re guilting him, and you stop. It doesn’t matter, it already worked. You’d be alone again. And he was wasting this time moping over things he couldn’t change. Not yet. Not quickly enough.

With a towel in your lap you’re perched up on the bathroom counter, a scowl he could easily wipe away with a kiss set on your face. The residual steam floats around you in thick clouds, you’re ethereal, practically glowing, and long strides close the distance before he’s cupping your jaw with palms that swallow you whole and kissing you harder than he intended to.

It’s like the first breath of air after being trapped underwater. The sun of a warm spring day after a cold winter. The first scent of cherry blossoms and the briny breeze of the ocean. You breathe new life into him so effortlessly. He’d considered the day when you’d wisen up and kick him to the curb, taking solace in the fact that as long as he knew you were still alive, it would be enough. His sanity hinges on your existence and nothing else, because once you were gone there would be nothing left keeping him from losing his mind. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

Uncaring of your long sleeves and his soaked body, you press in closer, tangling fingers into his sopping hair as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. It’s been weeks. Painful, lonely, tiresome weeks since he’s felt you, tasted you, smelled you. He’d suppressed his longing, but it’s pouring out now like a river battering through a dam, there was no stopping it until the pressure is released. Lifting you requires little to no strength, and if he’s going to have you, it’s going to be in bed where we can do it properly in the way you deserve. He can have control over this, excel even, if he wasn’t getting back into the shower before the clock struck midnight he would consider it a failure. A man needs goals.

Silver lace was covering your curves beneath your sweater and pants, a sly smirk on your face as you watch his reaction to the real reason you’d gone to Sendai. It’s sheer, his mouth watering at the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric, the battle between whether to marvel at the sight before him or begin his evening’s activities waging while your nails rake over his forearms extending on either side of you. He’s nestled between your thighs, the damp spot that’s already soaked through your panties pressing against his inner thigh, and all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress until you can’t form a coherent thought. He's forgotten about his headache when he pulls your bra down to bunch beneath your breasts, greedily pulling one of your hardened buds between his lips and whimpering at the taste of your skin on his tongue. You’re scratching his scalp soothingly to disguise the way you’re holding him on your tit, your thighs squeezing around him as he rolled and lapped at your sensitive peak all the evidence he needed to justify the fact he didn’t want to stop; you didn't want him to either. With some resistance, you allow him to switch sides, giving him the chance to lavish the other with as much attention, your back arching into him in relief when he latched.

For a man who walks amongst the clouds, he is still well aware this was as close to heaven that he’ll ever get. This was perhaps the only one that existed. It was definitely the only one he wants to ever see. The smell of your perfume still faintly clings to your skin and he chuckles remembering all the times he’d spritzed it on the bottom of his blindfold, your scent wafting through his nose all day as he’d tried to focus on teaching the students. And with that reminder he craves your lips again, meeting you in a kiss you take a moment to reciprocate, shaking off the haze he’d already put you in.

While your reflexes are still slow to keep up, he slips down the mattress and nestles between your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he presses his nose to your core and inhales. It’s lewd and had you been anyone else he’d have refrained, but you push down onto his face, and he can taste the tease of what’s to come on the lace. He debates tearing them straight in half—he’ll replace them—but opts to slowly drag them up your legs, kissing along your inner thigh, knee, calf, and ankle on his way up, flicking the thin garment onto the floor behind him before reversing his path on your opposite leg and finding himself face to face with what he craved above all else.

Your slit is glistening, arousal dripping onto the satin sheets as you mewl in anticipation, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your palm as you try to hold back your eagerness for the first swipe of his tongue. He sears it into his memory, this scene of being so shamelessly desired for nothing more than how good he can make you feel. He’s a greedy man, and you’re a giving woman, nothing demonstrates that more than the way you’re willingly splayed for him to have his way with. He never leaves you dissatisfied, he’s too proud for that, but he takes what he wants.

“I’ve had to only dream about this,” his voice is low and menacing, “for too long.”

“You’re being awfully slow to enjoy it then.”

The taunt strikes a chord.

“Did you think about me while I was away?” He can tease, too. “Fingering this tight little cunt wishing it was me instead?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm. And no videos. That’s awfully selfish of you.”

His thumbs graze over your skin in every place except where he knows you want him. He wants you writhing, so desperate for his touch you’ll unconsciously seek it out all for him to deny you until you’re ready to snap.

“My fist gets the job done,” he continues, grazing his teeth over the curve of your ass, “If I imagine you on your knees in front of me.” He kisses your mound, hooking his tongue into the top of your slit and flicking. “Mouth open. Tongue out.” He gets closer to where you need him this time, but still leaves you waiting and wanting. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Anything.” You’re fucking wrecked and he’s barely done a thing.

“Anything? Anything? You should know by now that’s a dangerous word.”

Clearly, it’s a risk you’re willing to take because you don’t have a rebuttal. So the choice is up to him. He’s so pent up he considers if he commits to opting for dessert before dinner, the main course might be ruined. But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was however not ideal if it ruins his appetite entirely, and he had no intention of cutting this evening short.

“I need to fuck you,” he decides, “Damnit.”

He doesn’t love the decision, but he hates the thought of coming on the sheet while he takes his fill of the feast between your legs. That would impact his focus, and little else deserved his undivided attention. You’re unbothered by his choice entirely, in fact you’re eager, your fists tangled in his hair as you pull him back to your mouth and grab his throbbing cock from where it sits heavy on your stomach.

“I want videos too, you know,” you sigh, nipping at his bottom lip and dragging it between your teeth, “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re so wet he finds no resistance when he fills you in one hard thrust, the air being pushed from your lungs hot on his throat, "Careful what you wish for."

Memory never did the way your velvet walls swaddle him any justice. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him, your nails piercing half-moons into his porcelain skin while he made no attempt at rhythm or tact. He needs to be buried in you—the only refuge he’s ever found—but he needs the friction, the result making his movements frantic and desperate. It’s too hard, too fast, your whines choked by the punctuated slamming of his hips into yours, all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.

You let him fuck you like this because you know he needs it. There’s a piece of himself he leaves with you for safekeeping every time he walks out the door that he reclaims here in the symphony of your breathy moans between sweat-soaked sheets. He tries to kiss you, but you’re both too overcome to focus, lips just grazing and dragging with each jolt of your body upward. His eyes are wide when he clamps a hand down over your throat, the lack of oxygen sending a rush to your core as he squeezes just enough to make breathing hard. You don’t need oxygen right now, all you require is him.

“You’re a mess,” he compliments into your agape mouth, swallowing down your little sounds as he batters into you harder still, “I’m gonna slip right out.”

“N-no,” you protest, your thighs squeezing around him tighter.

It makes him laugh. “Always so needy,” he touts, pulling all the way out and staring at your gaping hole until your hand grips his length soaked in your juices once again in an attempt to guide him back. “Tsk tsk, behave yourself. Have some control.”

The frustrated groan that rips from your chest sends a shockwave coursing through him. Your eyes are pinched shut so tightly your brow is creasing in the center, your wrist so dainty in his massive grip. He pulls your fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of you clean before placing your spit-soaked fingers over your clit and sitting upright. Without him needing to voice his desire, you begin circling your swollen bundle of nerves, your aggravated tension melting away at your own blissful touch, and when you’ve finally forgotten your annoyance at him, he claims you once again.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf, he ruts into you ruthlessly with his newly established leverage, his eyes locked on the way you drift your touch down every so often to feel where your bodies meet.

“I missed you,” he whines against your ankle, pressing his lips to the bone as he throws it over his shoulder, looping his arms around your thighs and picking up his pace, “Missed your fucking pussy.”

He’s well aware you’re past the point of coherent responses, but he likes the pathetic way you try to form a sentence. It’s all gibberish, even if you could think straight the force he’s thrusting his cock into the deepest parts of you cuts you off, your entire body shuddering, and he can’t help but marvel at the way your breasts shake or how your free hand seeks him out for something to grip on to.

“You need to come,” he commands, feeling the coil in his stomach ready to snap, “Lemme feel you, baby.”

It’s immediate. Your orgasm wracks over your body, every muscle going rigid and then shattering like glass, leaving you boneless and spent beneath him. His crescendo begins as yours subsides, but he feels no relief as he spurts hot and thick into your fluttering channel. He still aches, his cock is still rock hard, so he continues as if he’d never stopped. Your cunt squelches loudly as he fucks through your combined releases, and it feels so fucking good he knows he won’t last much longer in this unexpected second wind.

“Can you take it?” he asks, and it’s not so much his filthy mouth as it is a check in, you’re still silent as he seeks relief once again.

“Y-yes,” you sputter, and deep down he knows you’re too sensitive, too swollen.

“Good girl. Move your hand.”

With caution he presses his thumb to your undoubtedly overstimulated bud, your body jumping at the contact but immediately relaxing as he rubs slow circles. Your cunt is sopping wet, your thighs and his soaked with fluids, and the stench of sex is so heavy in the room he swears it’ll linger for days. Your body is glowing in the moonlight trickling in, a thin shin of sweat making you almost iridescent, and he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll get to sleep in this bed with you tonight, a privilege only awarded to him.

“Toru, please!” you beg, and he realizes he’s so caught up comparing you to the memory he has stored away that you’re painfully close to release once again.

“Gonna come again for me?” he purrs, and when your hole constricts he collapses down, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he joins you in the steep ascent to bliss. He moans into your open mouth as fire blazes in his belly, your chin and jaw firmly in his grip as he stares into the eyes he dreams up before he falls asleep every night before collapsing onto your damp chest.

What he thinks is the calm after the storm turns out to only be its eye, the latter half much less enjoyable than the first. Pain sears across his head, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with a newfound rage, and he whimpers in agony. He’s found some sort of safe haven in the curve of your neck, and that will have to do.

Even though he protests with all the energy he has left, you flip him onto his back, the loss of your arms a heavy burden as you leave him on the bed alone. He wants to scream your name, he wants to yell, to be angry at you for abandoning him in this state, but he doesn’t have it in him. He hears a closet door, the faucet, clinking of glass, the scratching of fabric, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Not right now.

The dip of the mattress signifies your return after what felt like an eternity, a hot towel wiping from his thighs to his stomach, the familiar scent of the laundry soap hitting his nose. You’d gotten dressed into something, and he reaches up to where you’re perched in the spot his pillow usually sits and recognizes the fabric of one of his t-shirts; if you have to wear clothes at least they’re his.

Gently, you lift the dead weight of his head and place it in your lap, the soft heat of your bare thighs easing the tightness in his neck as a cool cloth is pressed to his aching eyes.

The air is kissed with the smell of orange blossoms, and he sighs in relief when you begin to massage his temples, the oil on your fingers helping them glide across his skin. You work beneath the cold fabric shrouding him from the overwhelming world, running along his brow and cheeks, stopping to release the tension in his jaw he doesn’t realize he’s holding. Traveling over his ears you move to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull where the muscles are so tight they’re hard as stone, your movements so methodical from years of practice.

“You need to sleep,” you demand in a soft, hushed tone, “you’re too tired.”

Well, he hasn’t slept in days. He’d been too busy, it had been too risky, and an empty bed wasn’t conducive to pleasant dreams. There had been enough nightmares watching you be devoured by curses as he stood idly by unable to help, he likes to avoid them by any means necessary now. So, he nods. Sleep does sound nice.

“I’m staying home tomorrow,” he decides, “Turn my phone off.”

Your hum in response has the hint of a giggle, your nails now scratching against his scalp and through his snowy strands. The deafening roar of pain has subsided to an annoying buzz, and the more you work your hands over his head the quieter it becomes. You’re waiting for him to tell you he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep, and although he is, he’s enjoying this too much. A tender touch feels so good after weeks of combat and surging adrenaline, he can’t be blamed for wanting to bask in it for a few moments longer than needed.

“I’m gonna owe you for this, aren’t I?” he finally jokes, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them to his lips where he pecks across your knuckles.

“Oh yeah,” you confirm, tipping his chin up to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, “Big time.”

After a quick sweep of the house, including both turning off his phone and hiding it in a kitchen drawer, and a change of the sheets much to Satoru’s dismay over having to move, you slip back into bed. Immediately, his arms circle you, and although you're facing away from him comfortably nestled on your side, he buries his face into your spine, falling asleep almost immediately as your heat washes over him like a security blanket.

He dreams of home. Of you. A flower behind your ear and a smile lighting up your face. He has the courage to say he loves you here, something he has yet to utter in waking hours. It’s been too long to matter now, you read it in his actions and his intent, but one day he hopes to not fear the consequences of saying the words aloud. Because he does love you, more than anyone, anything. More than himself. And one day he’ll admit it.

One day.

***Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated***