#this was such a hard day i was fighting for my life trying to come up with an idea

[lionneee]

The Enemy

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English is not my first language, please be kind

Modern!MafiaBoss!Aemond x Ex!Fem!Reader

•Warnings: smut, taking of sexual themes, murder, non-con, knife play, mention of killing someone.•

“Yeah, baby —“ He breathed out as he moaned, looking down as you circled your hips against his cock. He slapped your ass and gripped your hips tightly, stopping your movements to start pointing into you from behind again, fast and hard, like he loves it.

“Baby — Yes, fuck me —“ You moaned as you arched your back, burying your face in the mattress.

“Fuck, baby —“ He growled as he squeezed your hips, his fingers digging in your skin as he thrusted faster, close to the end. You moaned louder as you started rubbing your clit, wanting to finish with him.

“Let me —“ He panted as he leaned down and slipped a hand between your legs, his fingers taking the place of yours, rubbing your clit furiously, making you aware of how close he really was.

“Fill me up —“ You moaned as you panted, trying to jerk your hips, moving them back to meet his thrusts.

“I’m going to, baby —“ He moaned as he moaned in your ear. “You’ll be fucking leaking -“ He moaned again, the image his words created in both your mind making you come on the spot.

You let yourself fall down on the mattress of his door room bed. 

Aemond sat back on his haunches, slipping carefully out of you, looking at his cum slowly leaking out of you.

You smile, satisfied as Aemond laid behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle, pulling you back against his chest as he smiled, kissing your shoulder sweetly.

“I love you so much.” He mumbled against your skin. You smiled even more as you caressed his arm with your hand.

“I love you too.” You hummed as you looked back at him, your lips joining immediately in a soft, slow kiss.

The room’s silence was broken by a harsh knock at the door, followed by Aemond’s sigh, a mix of amusement and annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll be quiet next time.” Aemond exclaimed, raising his head towards the door.

You chuckled as you heard a string of curses from outside.

Aemond’s room-neighbor had complained already about the volume you kept during sex, just like this time.

All of you knew this wasn't the last time he would be coming.

Your last years at college was almost to an an end, but you and Aemond planned to fuck in these dorms a few more times.

It was memories like that that kept Aemond going in the prison.

He missed his girl.

He had been completely inebriated by her since the first time she saw her. She was sweet, soft, caring and gentle, something he had barely known in his life.

She was also funny, a bit sassy and beautiful.

She was also the sister to his number one rival family.

After his father’s death, the business went all in his hand, his father knew he was the best for the inheritance.

But he didn’t care. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the mafia world, she wanted to stay out of it, and her brother was more than happy to let her.

It was just the two of them, her, and her brother Cregan, whose parents died in an accident during work.

Their relationship had to be a secret.

She knew her brother would have never allowed her to date him, and he had to keep his reputation solid and fearful.

She didn’t ask about his job, he didn’t tell her about it, they went on dates, they had sex, Gods, a lot of sex, and they just… lived their life.

That, until Cregan found out.

“You stay out of this!” Cregan shouted at her, as she sobbed, her back pressed against the wall of her house.

Cregan had a broken lip, his cheek was red, and probably there would have been a nasty bruise the day after. 

Both him and Aemond were painting as they stood in front of each other, looking at each other like lions ready to fight.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Aemond quickly scolded Cregan, taking a step towards her. Cregan pulled out a gun and pointed it to him.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t take another step.” He growled.

“Cregan no!” She sobbed desperately, her face red, her cheeks completely wet, her eyes full of pain. “Please I love him!” She was begging him.

“No! I let you live your life, I gave you everything, I protected you, took care of you! And this is how you repay me?!” His voice was louder than thunder, and his face was scary.

She had never seen her brother like that, so furious.

“I didn’t choose to love him!” She sobbed back, her voice strained and weak.

“I don’t care! I don’t fucking care, you’re coming with me.” Cregan said as he grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards himself, his gun still pointing at Aemond, but he didn’t care.

Aemond took another step forward, but then Cregan raised his gun from his chest to his head, his eyes on him, his expression pure coldness.

She screamed and squirmed in the arms of her brother, trying desperately to reach for the gun, or Aemond.

“You won’t see her again. I swear to God if you try I’ll make your head blow with one of my bullets.” 

Aemond couldn’t fight more that day.

But he was going to get his revenge.

And his girl back.

“Dinner!” The guards shouted as they hit the metal doors of all the rooms with their sticks. Aemond grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose, the sound giving him an annoying headache, just like every morning.

He sighed and stood up, he washed his face in the sink and tied his hair back into a ponytail as his roommates got up too.

As the leader of the Targaryen family, he had a lot of friends here.

He was protected, not even the guards dare to touch him.

He guessed it was thanks to the nasty scar on his face.

And his name.

He took a deep breath as he leaned his head back, closing his eye.

“You’re so pretty.” Her naked body was laying beside him, her soft fingers were caressing his scarred cheek, her eyes fixed on the stone in his eye socket.

“You’re saying that out of pity.” He grunted as he turned his gaze from the ceiling to her.

“I’m not. I love your face. I could stare at you for hours.” She smiled as she bit her lip, her hand moving to caress his hair.

“Such a creep.” He huffed a laugh as he turned his body to the side to look at her better. He moved his hand to her breasts, looking at how her nipples perked at the mere touch of his fingers, how her breath would always hitch.

“Do you really think so?” He looked back up at her face. She smiled softly and nodded, caressing his face again.

“Gevie.” That words, his native language coming from her mouth was a massive turn on for him. He immediately crashed his lips against her and pulled her body close to him.

“Issa rūs.” He growled.

-My baby.-

Aemond shook his head to get himself back together, then he walked out of his cell to walk with all the other prisoners to the eating room.

He was always among his people every step he took, in his room, at his table, at his chores.

He rarely was alone.

The few times he was, he fucked his hand like a wild animal until it would be covered in cum.

All for her.

He always did everything for her.

“Cregan?” He could hear her voice through his phone, they spy hidden in her brother’s office offering a live audio of her voice.

Her sobs.

“Cregan?!” She shouted as she kept crying. 

He closed his eyes as he listened to her sobs. He could almost see her, kneeled beside the body of his brother.

At the moment, Cregan’s body counted three bullets.

He did it for her.

So they could get back together, live together.

God he had missed her so much.

He was tired of jerking off on her nudes, he needed the real thing.

“Cregan!” She shouted as she kept crying desperately. He heard some ruffling, something falling on the floor.

“My brother is dead!” She shouted. “M-my… Aemond Targaryen did it.”

He did it for her.

And she put him in handcuffs.

Days were long without her, and even more without anything about her body.

At least he managed to get one of her thongs in there.

But the scent almost faded.

“The plan is set, boss.” Jason, his left arm in the prison, said.

Aemond gave one nod as he looked down at his food.

Escape prison was easy.

He didn't do it earlier because he knew she needed time to recover from his brother’s death before she could focus back on him.

Placing a few pieces of evidence that would lead away from him and make up an alibi was like stealing candy from a baby.

His trial process was easy to finish, after all, they didn’t have true evidence that he killed Cregan, and his alibi was firm.

Turned out to be easier than ever.

With a smirk on his face he walked out of the front door of the prison, his jumpsuit replaced with a pair of black jeans and a black sweater.

He looked at his driver and got in the car.

“Let’s go get her.” He said as he made himself comfortable.

It was night when he broke into her house.

Actually, broke in was an euphemism, he owned the place.

She was living with his money, and she didn’t even know it.

He saw her on her bed. Her hair messy on the pillow, her mouth half open.

Her body was covered by the blanket.

She was beautiful.

He walked closer to her, caressing her face softly as he looked down at her sleeping form. 

She had always been a deep sleeper, it was hard to wake her up.

He was happy to learn it when he had a little something to take care of, one of the nights she slept at his house.

He slowly handcuffed one of her wrists, then he pulled her arm up, slowly, carefully, then he raised her other arm, and quickly handcuffed it to the headrest.

He walked slowly on the end of the bed, dragging her blanket with him, smiling as she saw her wearing both but a thin pajama.

He slowly moved her pants off, along with her panties.

He needed to taste her again.

His hands slowly moved her legs open, his head digging between her thighs.

He took a deep breath in, taking in her scent before licking her slightly, enough to have the taste on his tongue.

He had to bite back a moan as he pulled back slightly.

It had been so long since the last time he ate her out.

He’ll make sure he’ll have all the time in the world in the future.

What took him off guard, was her foot hitting his face at full force.

But still too weak.

He chuckled as he stumbled back. He stood up and looked down at her.

“I remember your brother teaching you to fight. He obviously failed, you wouldn’t scratch a man, baby.”

“Don’t call me like that, you bastard!” She shouted.

So feisty, just woken up.

“At least my brother taught me how to fight. And don’t you dare speak of him again!” She said as she tried to say up, but she quickly became aware of the handcuffs.

“You like those, baby?” He asked as he stood at the edge of the bed, nodding towards the handcuffs. “You know which one are those?” He smiled down at her. “The same one they used to handcuff me when you turned me in.” He sighed as he yanked the sheets completely off the bed.

“And for the record. I didn’t teach you how to fight, because you didn’t need to with me. I would have never let anything happen to you. I’m not letting anything happen to you.” He specified as he looked at her trying to get free of the handcuffs.

“I did this all for you. For us.” He said as he grabbed her ankles, her eyes snapping back at him. “We can be together now.”

“You killed my brother!” She screamed, trying to kick him again, but he simply chuckled, pinning her ankles down on the mattress.

“He spreaded us apart. He pointed a gun at my head.” He hissed.

“He never shooted!” She growled back. “He never would have!”

“And see what that brought you.” He moved her ankles apart. “You’re alone. Your business is shattered, I took it.” He said as he started tying one ankle to the foot of the bed.

“No, no!” She tried to get away, but it was useless.

“Why do you think you still have your money, baby?” He asked as he moved to tie the other ankle.

“Why do you think you’ve been spared by the destruction of your family business?”

“Fuck you. You psycho-“ She gritted her teeth as she found herself unable to move.

“Now now, no need for insults.” He crawled on top of her. “After all… I’m here to collect.” He grinned down at her. “You’re my war prize.”

“I’m not your anything.” She growled, but he didn’t even listen.

“We’re going to move away.” He said as he lifted her shirt, despite her trying to stop him by squirming harder.

He grabbed a handful of her soft boob, and leaned down to suck her nipple, his leg sliding between hers, his thigh pressing against her clit.

“Keep squirming.” He smiled against her, her movements making her grind against his thigh. She tugged at the handcuffs as she tried to lower her hands.

“You-“ She tugged again. “Killed-“ Again. “My brother!” She yelled as she started to cry. “You had no right! No right! He loved me!”

“Not as much as I do.” He said as he moved his hand between her legs, strolling her clit. “I might hate you for calling the police on me-“ He looked down at her cunt, then back up at her face, the tears running down the sides of her face. “But you are my woman. No one loves you more than I do.” He pulled his fingers back from her and pulled off a knife from the back of his pants and twisted easily in his hand.

He straddled her and pointed the knife to her throat.

“I would let this world burn for you. If you’d told me you don’t want to be on this earth anymore, I’d use all my power to find another planet to live on.” He leaned down, his face inches from hers. “And we’d repopulate it.”

“You’re crazy.” She said, her eyes filled with tears as she pressed her head against the pillow to get as far from the knife as possible. He licked the handle.

“About you, baby.” He turned the knife in his hand, the handle pressing against her skin, the blade against the skin of his hand. “You can ask me anything. Anything. I will give that to you.” He moved the handle down her body. “You just…” He moved the handle inside her, looking at her eyes widening at the intrusion. “… stay with me baby.” 

She looked away, turning her head to the side as Aemond started to move the knife slowly, caressing her inside walls with the rough material.

“Stop -“ She sobbed as she closed her eyes. She hated how her body was betraying her, feeling pleasure out of something so sick and wrong. “Stop, just stop.”

“You feel that too, uh?” He kept looking at her. “You feel this is right. That we belong together.”

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting back sobs and the confusing mix of pain and pleasure coursing through her. "No, no, Aemond!" She whispered hoarsely, her voice shaking. "This is torture.” She said, desperate, hoping to at least gain his pity.

Aemond chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "Torture? Is that what you call this?" He rocked the knife handle inside her gently, the crude motion stimulating her sensitive flesh. "Or perhaps...enlightenment?"

Her eyes flew open, wide with horror and revulsion. "Shut up!" She spat, struggling futilely against the restraints. "You're insane, Aemond. Fucking insane!"

Aemond smirked, enjoying the sight of her distress.

"Maybe I am." He admitted, his tone casual. "But doesn't that make what I'm doing even more brilliant? I'm rewriting reality for us both."

He began to thrust the handle deeper, faster, each stroke hitting that spot within her that made her toes curl as the blade started to cut his hand, but he didn’t seem to care. "You can deny it all you want, but your body knows the truth. It craves mine as much as I crave yours."

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking involuntarily against the handle. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood from her bitten lip. "Please..." She whimpered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "Stop, don’t do this to me..."

Despite her protests, she couldn't ignore the traitorous sensations building within her. The knife handle's coarse texture rubbing against her inner walls, the pressure and friction igniting a fire that spread through her core. 

She hated it, she hated the feeling of nostalgia, of happiness of having back at least part of her past, even in a maddening and sickening way.

Her thighs clenched, a moan escaping her lips before she could bite it back.

"See?" Aemond purred, his voice a seductive whisper. "Your body tells the truth, even if your mouth lies. You want this, baby. You need me."

Her gaze snapped to him, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and shame.

"You killed my brother!" She yelled again, hoping to get control of her body back with her

Aemond raised an eyebrow at her accusation, his expression unreadable. "Your brother was weak." He stated flatly. "He got in the way of my plans, and he paid the price."

The knife handle continued its relentless rhythm, each stroke pushing her closer to the edge. Aemond's free hand reached up to grip her chin, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze.

"You can hate me all you want, baby."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, the blade scraping against her cervix.

Her vision blurred, her world narrowing to the searing pain and the overwhelming urge to surrender.

"Stop fighting it." Aemond commanded, his voice low and commanding. "Let go and accept that we are not separating again."

"I hate you." She groaned as her body arched from the bed. "I will never love you again."

Aemond smiled, a cold, calculated smile devoid of warmth or humanity. "You’re so pretty when you’re in denial, baby."

He increased the pace of the handle, driving it into her with brutal force. She screamed, her nails digging into the sheets as she struggled against the restraints. But Aemond held fast, his grip unyielding as he rode her through the agony and ecstasy.

"We are two sides of the same coin." He growled, his breath hot against her skin. "You cannot escape me, just as I cannot escape you. We are destined to be together."

With a final, vicious thrust, Aemond buried the handle to the hilt inside her.

Her scream cut off abruptly as the handle plunged deep, the sudden impact triggering a violent contraction within her. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over her, obliterating the pain and leaving her gasping for air.

For a moment, she hung suspended, lost in the overwhelming sensation. Then, with a strangled cry, she came undone, her body convulsing in a frenzy of release. The orgasm ripped through her like a tornado, making everything fade except pleasure.

As the aftershocks subsided, she lay limp and spent, her mind fogged by the intensity of what had just occurred. Through the haze, she felt Aemond withdraw the knife,  licked the knife handle and then discarded it carelessly on the floor with a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched her body twitch and spasm through the aftermath of her climax.

Rising from the bed, he towered over her prone form, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. "That's the power I hold over you." He murmured, his voice low and menacing. "The ability to reduce you to this - a broken, quivering mess, completely at my mercy." He smirked. "But you know I have much more power over you than just that. Even if you did manage to leave me, baby, please tell me.” He looked down at her. “Do you think you'll be able to live a normal life? Find someone new to love, have a life with him, a future, fuck him?” He laughed as he shook his head. “No, baby. I love you. And I’m not letting you go. Ever."

Her chest heaved with ragged breaths as she stared up at Aemond, her eyes glazed and unfocused. The echoes of her intense orgasm still resonated through her body, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

She wanted to lash out, to spit venom at him for his cruel words and actions. But the strength had been drained from her, leaving only a hollow shell. All she could manage was a pitiful whine as he loomed over her.

"I-I won't..." She whispered. "I won't ever be yours, Aemond. Never." She hissed evilly, but he simply chuckled as he started to pull down his pants.

Aemond chuckled darkly, amused by her futile defiance. He reached down and grasped a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat.

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered in her ear as he settled comfortably between her legs.

He lined up his throbbing cock with her entrance and thrusted to the hilt, stretching her tight core around his thick length.

“Take it, you feisty little bitch.” He smiled. “I still remember everything you like, you know that right?” He looked down at her, watching her discomfort as she struggled to adjust. “I know you. And I’ll make you feel so fucking good, baby.” He set a punishing pace, pounding into her relentlessly, moaning and closing his eye for a moment as he savoured the feeling of having her walls being stretched out from him again.

“Scream all you want. No one's coming to save you from my cock.” He reached around to fondle her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his brutal strokes.

She yelled, her tits kept bouncing against his chest with every thrust, but he reveled in her cries, the sound music to his ears as he rutted into her like an animal.

He picked up speed, his heavy balls slapping against her ass with each powerful thrust.

“You love this, don't you? Love being fucked raw by me.” He moaned as he felt her pussy clench. “You’ve always loved it, when I treated you like you could never break, unlike everyone else did.” He leaned down to bite and suck at her nipples, adding to her torment and pleasure. “And you still do. Just like you love me.”

She clenched her hands into fists, squeezing her eyes closed as the nostalgia of their past ate her alive.

"Fuck you – I don’t love you!" She gritted her teeth.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes as he drove into her again.

“Oh, keep telling yourself that, baby.” He grinned, a hint of pride in his voice. “Your tight little cunt is gripping me so fucking tight – it knows exactly what it's missing without a real man's cock.” He reached down to rub her clit harder, determined to make her come on his cock.

“Admit it, baby. You're loving every second of this.”

His hips snapped forward, hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her gasp and clench around him.

"I'll never come for you." She growled.

He chuckled, a dark and sinister sound that echoed through the room. “Oh, you will. You're so close, I can feel it.” He pinched her clit roughly, trying to force her to orgasm and pounded into her harder, faster, reveling in the feeling of her tight walls squeezing him.

“There’s no more escaping this. No more sending me away -” His voice was strained by pleasure, he wasn’t even trying to control his sounds, moaning shamelessly.

“I-I hate you –” She said as she felt herself treading on the edge of her orgasm. “I’ll never love you again, you’re trash  to me.”

He smirked at her defiant words, finding them only more arousing.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But it’s not your body that betrays you.” He could feel her getting closer to the edge, her pussy fluttering around his shaft. “It’s your mind.” He thrusted especially hard, grinding against her cervix.

“Cum for me, baby. Now”. He demanded, his voice low and authoritative.

She shook her head defiantly, even as her body betrayed her, trembling on the brink of climax.

“Never... I won't…” Her words dissolved into a moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. “F-fuck!”

Despite her best efforts, she could feel herself hurtling towards orgasm, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his pistoning cock. The stimulation to her clit combined with his commanding presence proved too much to resist.

“No – ” She cried out as she came undone, her vision whiting out from the intensity of her release.

Her inner walls spasmed almost violently around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth.

“Aem -” His name slipped past her lips unbidden as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

He groaned in satisfaction as he felt her pussy clamp down on him like a vice, her juices flooding his cock and dripping down his balls. “That's it, cum for me – ” His voice suddenly soft as he continued to pound into her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure and using her spasming walls to bring himself closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel amazing.” With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and let out a guttural moan as he started to cum. He grunted, shooting thick ropes of hot seed deep into her womb as he filled her to the brim with his potent release.

They didn’t move for a while, catching their breaths after the intense encounter, but as soon as she bursted into tears Aemond immediately hugged her, freeing her wrists.

“Shhh, I’m here, baby -” He whispered in her ear as he caressed her hair, keeping her close, but she kept crying harder.

She couldn't help herself, even if he killed his brother, a part of her will always welcome Aemond, desperate for the old sense of stability that she had been seeking since it all went down.

Since her brother tore her away from Aemond.

Because that was the moment she felt like dying the most, and she felt the worst sister in the world for that.

So she cried, hoping those feelings would just flow out with her tears.

She hated Aemond, but not because he killed her brother, she hated him because he was still the love of her life, despite everything.

Because she tried to move on, desperately, she wanted to run away from her feelings for him, but every time she managed to find someone interesting she would feel guilty, she would feel like she was in the wrong place, like she was doing everything wrong, and she couldn’t fix it.

“I hate you.” She sobbed as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“I know.” He pressed his forehead against her temple. “I’ll fix it.”

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe @sapphirevhagar

[josiebobozie]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 - could i request a scenario with reader helping nanami relax after a hard day of work? massage, bath, cuddle however you envision it :) looking forward to seeing your work!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬- f!reader, established relationship, husband nanami, oral (male receiving), male whimpering

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞- ahhh!! my first fic on here <3 i am so so excited to share it with all of you. i tried my best to stick to the request, but i did get a little carried away haha i apologize for this being smut. i can’t wait to see what the future holds! alsooo i apologize that there is no word count. i wrote this in the tumblr app. I promise future fics will have a word count.

Kento Nanami was nothing if he was not a hard working, honest man. He had always poured his heart and soul into his work, even if it wore him out. He had you, his beloved wife, to work so hard for—to provide for.

When he married you, he had promised you that you would never have to work another day in your life. He was a man of his word, and kept his promise. Even if that meant putting in long hours behind a computer or fighting curses. He would do anything if that meant he could provide you with a good life.

Nanami was sitting at his desk in the office of the apartment the two of you share. The clock that hung on the wall above him read 6:04PM. He sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He was supposed to be off over an hour ago… yet here he was, still trying to finish a document that was supposed to be turned in by the end of the day.

In his frustration, he almost didn’t notice as the door creaked open as you quietly stepped in. You were greeted by the sight of your dutiful husband nearly hunched over his computer. A frown formed on your lips—you could tell he was stressed.

“Ken?” you called, your tone warm as you approached him from behind.

“Yes, my love?” Nanami replied, not turning his head to look at you. His tired eyes focused on the screen in front of him and fingers working diligently on his keyboard.

“It’s getting late, you know. Why don’t you close the computer and come join me for dinner?” you offered, as you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Can’t you finish that tomorrow?”

“No, I can’t, y/n… it was due an hour ago,” he huffed as his long fingers worked away at his keyboard. He didn’t mean to come off so rude, his voice was tinged with the exhaustion he was feeling.

You frowned, standing there for a moment in the silence. It was rare he called you by your name, and it took you off guard a little bit. This was a dire situation that needed to be remedied.

Your other hand moved to lay on his other shoulder, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric. “Baby, I can tell you are so stressed. I’m sure you can finish this tomorrow,” you cooed into his ear as you leaned down. Your fingers started working in firm, circular motions as you began massaging him through his shirt. “You are sooo tense…”

You could hear a low groan of relief slip from Nanami’s lips as he leaned back into your touch. He loved you so much, it probably wouldn’t take much convincing to get him to close his computer.

“I’m sorry for being so rude, my love,” he said, his voice filled with regret as he recalled how he spoke to you earlier. His focus was on your hands effortlessly working his shoulder. The tension built up in them starting to melt away.

“Don’t need to be sorry,” you promised him. “Close your computer and let me make it all better?”

Nanami turned his head to look up at you. Every time was just like the first time. You were the most beautiful woman in his eyes. “Please…” he sighed, almost pleading with you.

He quickly saved the document he was working on. If anyone wanted to complain, he would deal with that tomorrow. For now, he wanted to be in the moment with you. With his wife.

Your hands moved off his shoulders to snake around him. Your fingers quickly popping the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest. You moved the fabric off his shoulders for better access.

Low sighs left Nanami’s lips as he tipped his head back. If this wasn’t heaven, he didn’t know what was. Your fingers kneading his bare flesh was quickly washing away the stress of his day. “My love, that feels amazing…”

You hummed, pleased with the job you were doing. Watching your tensed up husband unravel right in front of you was enough to peak your arousal. Leaning in, you planted chaste kisses on the side of his neck and moving up to his ear. You nipped playfully on his earlobe, earning a growl from his lips.

“Was this your plan all along?” Nanami jested, though he had no intentions of stopping you. His trousers were beginning to grow…uncomfortably tight.

“No,” you said, a devilish smirk crossing your lips. “But I can tell my baby needs to let off some steam.”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his chair as you turned him around. And what a sight you were greeted with. Your husband splayed out in his work chair right in front of you, shirt undone and noticeable erection poking through his tan pants.

Falling to your knees in front of him, your hands found purchase on his strong thighs. The material of his pants accentuated the curves of his muscles. You took your time feeling up his thighs as your hands worked their way up to just below his crotch.

Nanami watched you from above in awe. To him you were perfect. Could do no wrong. He needed you—it was primal. “Don’t tease now…” he nearly pleaded with you as he shifted in his chair, trying to relieve some of the pressure cause by the constriction of his pants.

“Tease? I’m not teasin’ you, Ken,” you cooed as you batted your eyes up at him. You were taking your time to appreciate him, but you could tell his patience was running thin.

Your fingers worked to undo his belt before moving on to the button of his pants. You had done this more times than you could count, so it was a matter of seconds before his pants were undone and his boxers were exposed. There was not much to leave to the imagination as you marveled at the imprint of his cock.

As you freed him from the constraints of his briefs, Nanami let out a long sigh. The cool air hitting his hot, sensitive skin sent shivers up his spine. Your mouth watered as your eyes took in every inch. It had never been any surprise to you that Nanami was hung. But every time you saw him exposed like this had left you in complete and utter awe.

You reached up, tongue sticking out to draw a long wet stripe up his shaft, savoring the slightly salty flavor of his skin. Your husband watching from above, mouth hanged wide open as he ogled you. His eyes begging for more.

As you reached the top of his cock, you took the head into your mouth, feeling a bead of his precum coating your tongue. You hummed around his swollen flesh as your head pushed down further, slowly taking him into your mouth inch by inch.

“O-oh…” Nanami sighed as he felt you envelope his length in your mouth. His thighs tensed as he felt your cheeks hallow and your mouth become like a vacuum around him. He rested a hand on your head, gently guiding you down further.

You mumbled something that sounded like, “Love you.” Soon feeling the head of your husband’s cock brushed up against the back of your throat. Years of practice and training your gag reflex to take his cock were really coming in handy.

“Y/N… I love you, too,” he said, his voice low and saturated with lust. As much as he wanted to watch, your mouth effortlessly working his cock made him lull his head back. He let out a whimper as he felt himself bottom out in your throat. You wanted to giggle at the sound, loving the effect that you had on him.

You lifted your head, tongue massaging a thick vein that ran up the underside of his cock, before delving back in. You repeated this over and over again, making your husband nearly squirm in his office chair. If your mouth would have been free, your lips would have been curled into a smirk.

“So… fuck… so good for me,” Nanami moaned loudly, his eyes now back on you. His fingers stroking your soft hair.

He could have sworn that he was about to die of a heart attack when your eyes looked up to meet his. He worshiped you and your beauty and to see you taking care of him like this… he could only hope to repay the favor. “Beautiful…” he cooed breathlessly as his fingers traced along your extended jaw that had been covered in a mixture of your saliva and his precum.

Pop!

Was the sound your mouth made when you slipped Nanami’s cock out of your mouth which was quickly replaced by your hand. Your fingers wrapped tightly and firmly around his girth as you stroked him.

“Feeling better, Ken?” you purred as you rest your head on one of his thighs, watching as your hand diligently worked his cock. The saliva from your mouth acting as lube as your digits glided up and down.

“Yes…” Nanami huffed. Your hand was working miracles on his cock, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss your warm mouth. A groan slipped from his mouth as his hips bucked into your hands. He could feel his orgasm on the horizon.

You watched as his hips thrust against your hand. He was close and you could tell. Maybe it was the way his chest was heavy with each breath, or maybe it was the sweat that collected on his brow. Or maybe the way he was pumping his cock into your hand in attempt to reach his high.

“Can I… can I cum in your mouth?” he asked politely despite his heavy breathing and moaning. You giggled at the request, loving how he was always a gentleman to you even when you were doing dirty things to him.

You didn’t respond. You left a chaste kiss on his tight balls before returning your mouth to take in the red, pulsing head of his cock. You took no time to bob your head up and down, quickly pumping your mouth full of his cock. You took so much pride in taking care of him like this. To be the only one to see him like this.

Nanami was a mess. His parted lips letting out a chain of moans and utterances of your names. His toes curled inwards as he felt something rising to the surface.

Crying out your name, Nanami shot thick, syrupy ropes of cum into your willing mouth. His hips bucked slightly as his seed spilled into your throat before going limp in his office chair.

You pulled back, swallowing his cum before wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand. Your husbands hand trapped your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, finally catching his breath. He did not know how he would get through these long days without you, his wife, by his side.

Your lips curled into the sweetest smile as you beamed at him. “Don’t need to thank me, Ken,” you promised him as you stood up, feeling the soreness in your knees from being planted on the floor. “Let me run you a bath and then we can have dinner?” you offered as you reached a hand out to him.

Nanami felt content in his soul as he took your hand in his as he hoisted himself out of his chair with wobbly legs from the aftermath of his orgasm. His eyes catching the sparkle of your wedding band. He was wondering to himself how he had gotten so lucky. He dutifully followed you to your shared bathroom, anticipating a warm bath for his tired muscles.

“Darling, you are just too sweet for me.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @decodenn @matt-rym @bakugou-jpg

𝙞 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙢. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢.

[bwat5-blog]

A Heart Imprisoned: Vi's Time In Stillwater

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

Vi is all of fifteen years old, when she is kidnapped by the Sheriff of Piltover himself and thrown into the bowels of Stillwater prison. There she will spend seven years of horror, isolation, abuse, and fear. Accused of no crime, with her name not even on the record, she has no hope of escape or mercy until the naïve rookie Enforcer who will change her life comes to her cell.

What I want to try and delve into today, is the impact these seven years have on Vi as a person. Vi continues to be one of the most grossly misunderstood characters in this show. Even now I can come up with no logical explanation as to why, but that's okay. I don't think logic plays a big part in the anti-Vi crowd's day-to-day anyway. But! Still we soldier on, and hopefully by the end of this I can illuminate a tragic part of this remarkable character's story in a worthwhile way, and lend even more to the cause of helping see the humanity in her story.

Lead Up:

I have covered the events of Vi's childhood in heavy detail in other documents. So here, I will just run down a quick list for understanding.

Sees death of birth parents on bridge of progress: Age 9

Spends 6 years as part of family with Powder, Vander, Mylo and Claggor: Age 9 - Age 15

Vander, Mylo and Claggor all die violently in front of her. She barely survives brawl with more than ten armed thugs working for Silco, she is wounded during incident, she is separated from Powder in traumatic manner that leaves her ravaged by guilt.

Imprisoned for seven years until Caitlyn Kiramman frees her: Age 15 - Age 22.

To say Vi's life even before Stillwater has been harsh is a mild understatement to say the least. She begins her story in tragedy. And even though Vander and her siblings love her, the undercity is a hard and dangerous place to grow up. She is not saying things like "wanna see how that ends" to a knife wielding attacker at fifteen years of age because her life has been easy.

We also need to review a few telling things about Vi before her imprisonment to better understand the teenage girl who is sent to Stillwater.

"When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish.. whatever happens, its on you"- This lesson of Vander's will come to haunt Vi's life for years. He gives her this speech entirely from a place of love and support, talking to her about being aware of the consequences of her decisions as the other kids look up to her. But when things go so..so wrong. Vi internalizes this to the point that she is unable to move on from the guilt of what occurred.

"I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it."- Take note of what she says. She doesn't protest that she isn't less than.. only that she wants Powder to have more. Vi tells us so early that she doesn't see more for herself. Only more for those that she loves, and that she is willing to bleed for it. And she will... over and over..

"I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose?"- Again, another of Vander's lessons that Vi tries to take to heart. it leads her to try and make the right decision to protect those she loves, and through no fault of her own ends with Vander taken, and Benzo and Grayson dead. She tried to stop fighting. Tried to lead with her heart and the world crushed her as a reward.

"You've got a good heart. Don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you"- See above.

"Take Care of Powder"- Again, this one is tough. Vander's last words to Vi are not of comfort to her, but instructing her. I am NOT bagging on Vander. Had things not gotten even worse Vi would have been the leader of their family now and Vander knew she could do it and was trying to help her be strong. Unfortunately, because things go so terribly, all it is is another source of guilt driving Vi into the dark.

Losing Powder:

Tragically, Powder in an attempt to save her families life detonates a monkey bomb that kills Mylo and Claggor, and initiates the series of events leading to Vander's death as well. All when they were so close to escape. Powder is a little girl. this is NOT her fault. And she is shocked when she comes around the corner to meet Vi's rage instead of praise...

But as I have stated. Vi was only fifteen and having been through all that she had, lashes out at her little sister. Hitting her, calling her a jinx, and aggressively grabbing her face before walking away in horror at her actions, stolen by Marcus before she can make it right.

Conclusion: So what does that all mean in a nutshell? A fifteen year old girl who has already lived a life of loss, and violence, has her entire family taken away her violently in one night, save for the little sister she feels she has betrayed. She is then thrown in a terrible, hellish prison, with the only thing to focus on being the loss of her family, Vander's lessons, and how she believes she failed him, her brothers, and most importantly, her sister.

"I spent so many nights, in that shitty prison. On the freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours. The only thing.. the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."

In Stillwater:

Thankfully for all of us who don't hate this character for breathing, we see none of what happens to her while she is in here outright. But there are a few things we know:

She is routinely assaulted- When she and Caitlyn are speaking she says to just send in whoever is going to hurt her so she can get on with her night. The warden confirms this with absolutely zero shame. And when Caitlyn opens Vi's cell, Vi is rolling her shoulders out like she is getting ready to fight.

There is no record of her or her crimes - Marcus locked her up with no trial, no paper trail, no nothing. She would have been kept there forever. Routinely beaten and totally stripped of her identity. Gee, I wonder why she tattooed her name on her face. They tried to erase her from existence.

She isn't in solitary all the time, as she had access to the tattooed goon she keeps wrecking throughout the show- I'd say this is probably the only reason she is at least slightly functional and still able to socialize in the real world to some degree.

A Layman's Understanding Of The Impact On Her:

First and foremost lets dispense with the obvious. I am not a mental health professional of any kind. But as an adult with a basic understanding of people I feel confidant saying that seven years in a violent prison being victimized and assaulted are what leads to the guarded young woman who has turned her body into a weapon that Caitlyn Kiramman meets that day. Cut off from any kindness, or love, or understanding Vi has hardened herself to the outside world because the last time she tried to do otherwise, her entire life was taken from her. And I am not going for the pity points or for dramatics. But she was fifteen... I'm going to guess something akin to her crying for someone to help her, or for her sister and than being viciously beaten is not outside of the realm of possibility. Her entire life has taught her over and over that the only thing she has to offer is her ability to do violence. An article from the University Of Santa Cruz a few years ago gives us more trustworthy information than my blathering:

"many prisoners "believe that unless an inmate can convincingly project an image that conveys the potential for violence, he is likely to be dominated and exploited throughout the duration of his sentence."

"prisoners may come to think of themselves as "the kind of person" who deserves only the degradation and stigma to which they have been subjected while incarcerated."

"For some prisoners, incarceration is so stark and psychologically painful that it represents a form of traumatic stress severe enough to produce post-traumatic stress reactions once released."

The need to keep up walls and hide their vulnerability, the hidden inner belief they are not worth any better, and deep seated trauma even manifesting as PTSD. Sound familiar? Not to mention the fact that is all started for her when she was fifteen and in the wake of a terrible loss.

I have seen many people lambasting Vi over her inability to cope with change or see that her sister has changed. Let me ask you folks a question. You see your entire family die in front of you, you are almost killed, you get thrown in a horrific and violent prison for no reason holding on to the hope of your last surviving family member, and then you get out and the sweet little girl you were ripped away from is a MURDERING. MENTALLY ILL. TERRORIST (Don't yell at me Jinx fans I'm just proving a point). How well do you think your going to cope?

This is just a drop in the bucket and absolutely a layman trying to learn a-little about how something so terrible would impact someone's emotional and mental health. But it was worth exploring. Like the grouchy broken record I am I have continued to proselytize to all of you regarding the humanity at the core of Arcane being its true heart. So the misunderstanding of perhaps the most human character in the show, someone who wants so badly to love, be loved, and to stand for those she cares for, well... Suffice it to say, I will keep playing this song for as long as I need to.

As always thank you for reading! Keep standing up for stories that matter. See ya next time.

[rjthirsty]

Kintsugi

Kintsugi is an ancient Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. The gold creates visible seams where the cracks once were. This celebrates the imperfections of the pottery rather than hiding it.

I received this fanfic from @wistfulwanderingone as a Secret Santa gift, and when I tell you that I teared up several times, I'm not joking. She has given me permission to post and name the fic, and Kintsugi was what I thought of at the end of the story. That's how this fic makes me feel. Like Clavis is piecing me back together with gold to celebrate everything I try to hide.

I'm chronically ill, as some of you might know. Wist knows. She is also aware that I'm bed bound often. Sometimes for days at a time. It's hard to be seen as more than my disability, especially when my illness controls so much of my life. But, while it is part of me, it is not all I am. It has been hard to accept that this year, but I'm working on it. And I know Clavis (and Wist, and all my friends) are behind me to remind me that I'm still wonderful even with my imperfections.

Thank you, Wist, for the beautiful gift. It was so personal and thoughtful and I was literally just complaining about how hard it is being sick during the holidays. And then you gave me this. And it's perfect.

The room is quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace, casting warm shadows on the walls. Snow blankets the palace grounds outside, muffling the world in a soft hush. You sit nestled in a pile of blankets, your body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that refuses to lift. Your gaze lingers on the window, where frost has painted delicate patterns on the glass, and you wonder what it would feel like to be part of the life outside those frosted windows—free, light, unburdened.

It’s been days since you left this room, the weight of your chronic illness pinning you down like a cage. The days have blurred together into a slow, muted haze, a rhythm of stillness you’ve almost grown used to. Almost. A sigh escapes your lips, soft and wistful, filling the quiet. You’re so lost in thought that you barely notice the door creak open—until his unmistakable voice breaks the stillness.

“Ah, my poor, suffering muse,” Clavis exclaims, sweeping into the room with all the flair of a traveling performer. “Still sulking in here, I see. I was starting to fear you’d been devoured by this cocoon of blankets. Shall I prepare a eulogy?”

The tension in your chest loosens, almost imperceptibly, as you glance over at him. A faint smile tugs at your lips, unbidden but welcome. “I’m not sulking. I’m just…tired.”

Clavis crosses the room in a few long strides, his golden eyes soften as they sweep over you, taking in the weariness you can never quite hide from him. It’s a look that makes you feel seen—truly seen—in a way that isn’t suffocating or pitying. “Sulking, tragically fatigued—semantics. Worry not, for your savior has arrived.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, already fighting the pull of a smile. “Clavis, I don’t need saving. I just need rest.”

“Rest?” He clutches his chest as though your words have mortally wounded him. “Oh no, no, no. Rest is for mere mortals, and you, my dear, are anything but mortal. You’re practically divine.”

The corners of your mouth quirk up despite yourself. You roll your eyes, pretending to dismiss him, but already you feel something shift in the room—the heaviness inside you loosening, just a little. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’ve come with a mission,” he declares, dragging a chair to your bedside and plopping into it with far more drama than necessary. “I’m going to make you laugh.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. No one else bothers with this—this effort to distract you from the heaviness that fills the room. “Clavis, I’m fine. You don’t have to—”

“Oh, but I do,” he interrupts, his tone shifting to something more serious beneath the playful lilt. “You see, your laughter is my favorite sound in the world. And the fact that I haven’t heard it in a whole day? Why, that’s a travesty. A true tragedy of epic proportions.”

Your lips twitch despite yourself. “As if that’s a travesty. Do I need to buy you a proper dictionary?”

“As if I’d read something that boring.” Clavis shakes his head, tutting like a disappointed teacher. “And let’s not deflect, my love. Full disclosure: I’m not here for a polite chuckle. No, I demand the real thing—the uncontrollable kind of laughter that leaves you gasping for air. The kind that makes you wonder if you’ll survive the sheer joy of it.”

Your heart warms, despite your exhaustion. He’s ridiculous—insufferably so—but there’s something in the way he speaks, in the light in his eyes, that makes you feel like you’re more than this room, more than this illness. Like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

True to his word, Clavis dives into his antics with the enthusiasm of a man on a mission. He recounts exaggerated tales of palace mishaps, complete with elaborate gestures and voices for every person in the palace. His impersonation of Chevalier—smirking and sly, his voice an octave too high—nearly makes you choke on a giggle.

“And then,” he continues, launching into a pantomimed escape, “I, ever the hero, evaded Chev’s villainous clutches with unparalleled grace and daring!” He stumbles over the rug, nearly losing his balance, then bows with a flourish. “Ah-ha! And thus, a legend was born.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle the laugh threatening to escape. It doesn’t work. The sound bursts free, light and unrestrained, and you feel the smallest weight lift from your chest.

“Ah-ha!” he exclaims, pointing at you as though you’ve just confessed a great secret. “But no, that won’t do. A giggle? My dearest darling, I demand full-blown, uncontrollable laughter. The kind that could summon Chevalier himself, just to tell us to keep it down.”

You roll your eyes, though your smile widens. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re radiant,” he replies smoothly, leaning in closer. His words send warmth blooming across your cheeks. “But I digress. Back to the mission at hand.”

He pulls a small, poorly wrapped package from his coat pocket, holding it out to you with a flourish. “A gift for my one and only.”

You hesitate, your brow furrowing. “You brought me a present?”

Of course,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But beware—it’s no ordinary gift. This one is…revolutionary.”

Curious, you unwrap it to reveal a snow globe. Inside, a miniature replica of the palace gardens sits encased in glass, complete with tiny skaters gliding on a frozen pond. You shake it gently, and glittering snow swirls inside. It’s beautiful—breathtaking, even—but before you can say as much, Clavis leans closer.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, touched.

“Ah, but you haven’t discovered its true charm,” he states, his voice low with mock suspense. “Turn the little lever at the bottom.”

You do, and the melody that follows is anything but elegant. The tinny, off-key tune crescendos into a jumbled cacophony of squeaks and clangs, pure absurdity. Your eyes widen, and before you can stop yourself, laughter spills from your lips. It’s loud and genuine, the kind of laughter you haven’t felt in weeks.

“There it is!” Clavis exclaims triumphantly, pointing at you like he’s just won a grand prize. “The fortress is breached!”

“It’s awful!” you gasp, shaking the globe again as the absurd tune restarts. “Who thought this was a good idea?”

“Clearly a genius,” Clavis replies, looking utterly pleased with himself. “I made it specifically for you. A one-of-a-kind masterpiece, for my one-of-a-kind love.”

You laugh again, your body lighter than it’s felt in days. His antics are absurd, yes, but they’re more than that. They’re a reminder that you’re still here, still capable of joy. And when he looks at you—his golden eyes warm and bright—you feel seen in a way you haven’t in a long time. Not as someone to pity, but as someone worth every ounce of his energy.

“Clavis, this is—”

“Brilliant?” he interrupts, tilting his head like a smug cat. “Oh, I agree. But don’t let me sway your opinion. Go ahead, laugh some more. It’s my favorite part.”

The hours slip by, each moment brimming with more of Clavis’s relentless antics. He begins with an over-the-top reenactment of how he supposedly triumphed over Leon in an epic snowball fight, claiming victory not just with skill but with the “tactical brilliance of a true general.” His makeshift cape—a blanket he pilfered from your bed—is tied dramatically around his shoulders, fluttering with every exaggerated gesture. In his hand, a sugar cube serves as his noble weapon.

“And then,” Clavis declares, leaping atop the nearest chair with the grace of a performer on stage, “when all seemed lost, when the forces of nature turned against me, I made a daring move! A single, decisive strike!” He hurls the sugar cube onto the bedside table, where it lands with an unimpressive plink. “And just like that, Leon fell before me. And I? A hero crowned by destiny!”

This time when the laughter bubbles over, it doesn’t feel so foreign anymore. Each laugh feels more natural than the last, weaving itself into the fabric of the evening, no longer leaving room for the shadows that usually cling to you. Your cheeks ache from smiling, and you revel in the feeling. “I don’t think Leon would agree with your version of events,” you manage, your voice tinged with amusement.

“Ah, but history belongs to the storytellers, my dear,” Clavis replies with a wink, his grin sharper than the frost on the windowpane. “And fortunately for the world, I have an exceptional gift for embellishment. It’s a heavy burden, being this remarkable, but someone must bear it.”

As if to punctuate his words, he picks up another sugar cube, examining it with mock seriousness. “But wait,” he says, his golden eyes narrowing conspiratorially. “This is no ordinary cube of sweetness. This, fancy fiancée, is a weapon of unparalleled power, forged in the icy winds of battle. A true artifact of destruction.”

You shake your head, still smiling. The weight on your chest feels a little lighter, the tight grip of exhaustion momentarily loosening. “You’re impossible,” you say, though your tone holds no real rebuke—just warmth.

Clavis gasps, clutching the edge of his blanket-cape as though you’ve mortally wounded him. “Impossible? My dear, I am legendary.” He straightens with a dramatic flair, his makeshift cape sweeping the floor as he strikes a pose. “A true visionary never limits himself to what is merely possible. Why settle for reality when imagination is so much more thrilling?”

The absurdity of his words pulls another laugh from you, one that shakes the remnants of the fog you’ve been drowning in. For a moment, you’re not the sickly figure confined to a room—you’re just you, laughing at his ridiculous antics.

But Clavis isn’t finished. In an unexpected move, he drags a chair toward the window and flings it open, letting in a gust of icy air that sends the curtains billowing. You shiver instinctively, clutching your blankets closer as the cold nips at your skin.

“Behold!” Clavis exclaims, pointing dramatically to the snow-covered gardens below. His golden eyes glitter with excitement as he straightens his posture, looking every bit the theatrical knight he imagines himself to be. “The battlefield of legends! Where courage is tested and heroes are made! But fear not, my love—I shall defend your honor!”

Before you can stop him, he flicks a sugar cube out the window. You track its arc through the air, and to your horror (and slight amusement), it lands squarely on Prince Gilbert’s shoulder as he strolls below.

“Clavis!” you gasp, caught between laughter and panic.

Gilbert pauses mid-step, slowly brushing the sugar dust from his shoulder. Even from this distance, the chill of his predatory smile sends a shiver down your spine.

Clavis freezes for half a heartbeat before shutting the window with a flourish, leaning casually against the sill as if nothing happened. “Well, that was unfortunate,” he remarks, the slightest twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.

“Unfortunate?” you hiss. “You just sugar-bombed Prince Gilbert! Do you have a death wish?”

Clavis turns to you with a grin that’s far too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. “Darling, life without a little danger is simply dull. Besides,” he adds, with a conspiratorial wink, “I’ve always been curious about his sweet tooth. Consider it an experiment in diplomacy. I’m practically doing Chevalier a favor.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands, but even then, you can’t stop the laughter that spills out, bright and uncontainable. It fills the room, a sound that feels out of place after so many days of silence. The world outside your window is still heavy and cold, but in this room, warmth floods in. 

“You’re going to get us both killed,” you manage between breaths, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Clavis wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. The gesture feels grounding, safe.  “Don’t worry, my love. If it comes to that, I’ll charm my way out of it. Or…” He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll say it was your idea.”

You swat at him, your laughter spilling over again, but this time it’s not just his words that fuel it. It’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the center of his universe. The way he knows exactly how to lift the crushing weight you carry without making you feel small. His devotion cuts through the haze of your illness in a way nothing else has.

Clavis watches you, a look of unguarded affection softening his features, and you realize his joy isn’t just in hearing your laughter—it’s in knowing he’s helped you reclaim it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “That’s the sound I love most.”

Your laughter fades into something softer, more fragile. “Clavis…”

“Do you know what your laughter does to me?” he asks, leaning closer. His golden eyes are warm, searching yours. “It’s the most perfect sound in the world. Joyful, bright, and just a little bit mischievous—just like you. It makes me believe there’s magic in this world after all. And trust me, I don’t say that lightly.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion. Your cheeks flush, and you glance down at the blankets covering your lap. “You’re being dramatic again.”

“No,” he says firmly, his voice gentler than you’ve ever heard it. “Not about this.” He sits beside you, placing a gloved hand over his heart. 

For a moment, the world feels impossibly quiet. Clavis reaches out, brushing his gloved fingers against your cheek in a rare gesture of tenderness.

“You’ve been through so much,” he says softly, his grin fading into something more serious. “And yet, you still laugh. You still shine. That’s what I love about you. And I swear, I’ll keep giving you reasons to laugh as long as I’m breathing.”

The weight on your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. The room feels lighter, brighter, infused with his warmth and presence. You lean into his touch, letting the moment wrap around you like a balm.

The day fades into evening, the golden light of the fireplace softening the edges of the room. The warmth flickers across Clavis’s features, painting him in shades of amber that seem almost otherworldly. You’re tired—bone-tired in a way that feels insurmountable—but your heart feels lighter, buoyed by the warmth of his presence. The ache in your limbs is still there, the heaviness of your illness lingering like a shadow, but for the first time in days, it feels bearable.

Clavis lingers by your bedside, his golden eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, but not in a way that stings. It’s a gentle kind of scrutiny, one that doesn’t search for flaws but treasures. No one has ever looked at you like that before, as if you’re more than just the sum of your weakness and weariness. His gaze sees you—not the fragile shell you feel like most days, but the person you’ve almost forgotten you are.

“Rest, my lovely lover,” he says softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips lingers like a promise, grounding you in the moment. His voice is low, coaxing, as if he’s whispering a secret meant only for you. “And when you wake, I’ll be here to make you laugh all over again.”

The corners of your mouth lift into a faint smile, and for once, it doesn’t feel like a strain. Clavis’s devotion is a strange thing—intense, unwavering, and entirely consuming. He doesn’t just want to ease your pain; he wants to rewrite it entirely, to fill the cracks in your world with light and laughter until there’s no room for the darkness to creep back in.

As your eyelids grow heavy, you feel the edges of your mind soften, the weight of your body giving way to the pull of sleep. The warmth of the blankets surrounds you, but it’s his words that linger, wrapping around your heart like the coziest of comforts.

You realize, in that hazy space between waking and dreaming, that you believe him. You believe in his promise to stay, to bring you laughter when you feel like you’ll never smile again. You believe in the joy he carries, the way it spills into your life like sunlight breaking through clouds.

With Clavis, there will always be laughter—unpredictable, unrelenting, and healing. There will always be joy in the smallest moments, like the off-key melody of a snow globe or the glint in his eye when he’s plotting his next ridiculous scheme. And, most importantly, there will always be love—the kind that sees every broken part of you and holds it close, never letting go.

You drift into sleep with that certainty nestled deep in your chest. The world outside is still cold and quiet, but here, with him, there’s warmth that promises to last.

[ryuubff]

shuake week 2024

day 2: fake dating

(this is a no pt au)

extra close up on the pic

[iftitah]

.

[mer-se]

please pick friends u can argue or have misunderstandings with and actually communicate with immediately after like, it’s so fucking important

[mellotronmkll]

i like literally wish i didnt feel compelled to rewatch and relisten to the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again its like actually really annoying and frustrating because i just feel like im constantly stuck in a loop doing the same things over and over but thats just literally what its like being autistic like its just frustrating cos i dont want to have to be constantly fighting with myself over it because its like okay we dont need to get stuck in the daily loop of walking in circles for hours listening to the same songs we've heard 200 times or sitting and watching things we've seen 30 times and there are better ways we could be spending our time but the compulsion is SO strong and its just Omfg like its just annoying and horrible because I have to force myself to try to break out of patterns I wish the constant compulsion I have to do the same things over and over and over and over and OVER AND OVER wasnt there at all because it would make things way easier for me and it just makes me feel so dumb.

[cherriesandcharms]

..

[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately

[dadbots]

August… time to get spooky.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

i think i've finally come to understand why i'm so bad at communicating with friends 👍 at one point or another i've thought i was in love with every single person i've ever been friends with (for the most part, at least) because i don't expect other people to like me. OBVIOUSLY this is not true but platonic feelings are not dissimilar to romantic ones (baseline they're the same: you want to love and be loved by someone) but i always end up realizing that i'm not in love with them, just that they matter to me very much and i wouldn't know what do to w/o their presence in my life. BUT this brings me to facet number 2 of my awful communication skills: i hate it when things Get Real. i find myself retreating any time it seems like Something Could Change in my day-to-day life due to them being around and "forcing" the change. i run away from talking to one of my only irl friends on almost a daily basis bc i dread the idea of having to do anything she might want me to do. i think, at the end of the day, my problem might just be that i don't want to change... ANYWAYS

[raeathnos]

.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

computer define underdog

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[cumironi]

just imagine, your boyfriend, nanami kento, coming home all needy and hard, a tent underneath his dress pants, horny for the last few hours after the little video you sent while trying a new dress that shows too much while he’s trying to fight for his life, purposely teasing him.

nanami is not a needy person, so when he’s all whining and begging, that means he is at the bridge of cumming just by putting the tip of his cock into your heavenly cunt. fighting the curse all day makes him sick, and as soon as he got home and saw you— in bed dressed in his blue shirt with just panties underneath— he’d pounced on you like a madman.

“please, baby, please, please, pleaseeee,” he’d whine into the crook of your neck, his hips rutting against yours, his uneven and ragged breathing ghosting the shell of your ear. “just the tip, i promise.” his panting grew heavier, the sound of him unbuckling his belt filling the room.

you moan softly as nanami ruts against you, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he pants heavily against your skin.

“mmm, baby...” you breathe out, arching up into him, “you’re so desperate for me tonight. what’s gotten into you?” your fingers find their way under the hem of his shirt, tracing patterns along his lower back. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension coiled tight in his muscles. he grinds harder against you, his hardness pressing insistently against your core through our clothes.

nanami lets out a low groan at your teasing words, his hips bucking more urgently against you. his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pulling them further apart as he settles between them. “fuck, fuuuck, you know exactly what you do to me,” he growls, nipping along your jawline. “i’ve been thinking about this sweet pussy all fucking day. dreaming of sinking my cock deep inside you.”

one hand slips between your bodies to cup your breast roughly through your shirt. he pinches and tugs at your nipple, making you gasp. his other hand slides up your thigh, pushing aside your panties to delve between your folds.

nanami groans as his fingers slip through your slick folds, finding you already wet for him. he circles your clit with his thumb while two fingers plunge knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt. “look how ready you are for me, you insatiable minx,” he rasps, pumping his fingers in and out. “bet you’ve been touching yourself all day too, haven’t you? dirty girl...”

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he finger-fucks you faster. the obscene sounds of your arousal fill the room. nanami breaks the kiss, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” he promises darkly. “then ’m gonna bend you over and fuck this needy pussy raw until you’re screaming my name. gonna fuck you in every surface in this house for teasing me while i’m on mission, you better pray to god for a mercy because i have none.”